#but I do not want to be responsible for another person

[creatingblackcharacters]

Lesson 7: "That's the Black one!"- Imagery and "Black-Coded" Characters

Now, you see me writing it!! I'm writing the lesson on Black-coded, non-human characters!! Y'all better go tell your friends and reblog, y'all been asking me forever about it!

This one was a bit hard for me to write. It didn't feel… New. It felt like a regurgitation of everything I'd already discussed. I was honestly confused every time people sent me questions; I thought we all understood how it worked. But I realized: that's not a bad thing! We can consider this an application of everything we've learned so far, because that’s all coding is, is an application!

The Definition

Coding (in media): giving a character or a group certain traits (physical or cultural experiences) that are similar to/that of a real-world specific group, without explicitly saying this fictional group is the real-world group. One may or may not mean to do it in their writing (which is where the opportunity for racist stereotype can leak in).

E.g., “queer-coded characters” gets used a lot on Tumblr; whether accurate or not, it is understood to mean that the blogger sees their/a queer identity portrayed by that character, or that the character was written with ‘queer’ traits in mind. Another example; Darwin Watterson is a goldfish in a world with no humans, but Darwin is Black-coded. The Fishmen in the One Piece Live Action are fantastical creatures, but they are Black-coded (of a very specific type of Black person; even!)

Youtuber KermitCurry explains and reinforces what I’m also going to explain here, but with a cool drawing of (the gorgeous) Grimmjow. She’s a Black artist and animator; go check her out and support her!

Here is a list of a few characters both canonically and Black-fanonically Black-coded:

When Coding Characters as Black

To keep it simple: if the rules apply when designing and writing a Black character, the same rules apply when designing and writing a Black-coded character! The moment you decided that this nonhuman entity was going to resemble a human group of people, you were obligated to be aware of the cultures and stereotypes of those people!

You can’t have a Black-coded character, emphasize a stereotype of Black people, and then say “oh, well, it’s not actually racist because they’re actually a cat-wolf creature!” Yes, it is. You’re still being racist, and upon noticing or being told, there’s no need to be defensive about it- just acknowledge ‘ah yes, I’ve messed up, I'm sorry for my actions’ and then actively work towards a better design or writing that does not include those things.

Example: Hair

Let’s say you want to draw hair on a fish-like Mer species, and you want them to be Black-coded. It would still be racist to give that Mer-woman pickaninny hair, even if "well they're not really Black!" You could find fancy fish scales or seaweed or something fish related to draw ‘Black hair textures’, so that we understand what it’s visually supposed to represent while still being fantastical. Or a robot! Someone mentioned tubes for locs, and you could do curly wires for twists. It's possible! Get creative!

I’ve been asked numerous times about Black hair on furries. Not that I’m the most educated on furries or furry culture- I am not- but they’re already anthropomorphic animals that talk, have human hobbies and habits, and often have pretty rainbow colors. It should not, then, warrant a complaint of “unrealistic” if you respectfully add Black hairstyles to them.

Example: Species

The point about furries actually brings up another good point. Watch out when you're coding Black characters on animals or animal-like species. Often people will have the “dark-skinned, struggling with balancing their humanity monster” Black/Black-coded, and the “pale skinned monster that somehow understands this battle more than them and can save them from themselves”. This is rooted in racist imagery.

I have mentioned it before in response to an ask, but if the only people you find yourself coding as your ‘monkey/animal/monster/beast’ creations are Black and/or dark-skinned, you are- however intentional it is or isn’t- replicating a racist, dehumanizing pattern in league with King Kong and ‘ravishing the white woman/body’. I’m not inherently ‘rugged and masculine’ as a queer Black woman, thus meant to be pushed into the werewolf role. Black men aren’t beasts that can’t control their violent impulses, thus meant to be pushed into the animalistic role. Why do you think Black bodies being beast-like is sexy? Why do you think we are not physically capable of delicacy? Of gentility?

This doesn’t mean that Black characters can’t be werewolves or those sorts of creatures- but you need to be writing/designing with intent, and that means recognizing when you just ‘thought it looked cool’, and that thought turned out to be a racist belief upon further reflection.

Example: Skin

Let’s say your demon species has dark grey skin bc they're rock people or something- yes, the grey skin is because it's a demon species, we recognize that it's not desaturated brown skin. Fine. But God forbid that this grey-skinned ashen group of Black-coded characters are the unequivocal villains? And everyone else that isn’t Black-coded are the ‘good guys’? But ‘it’s okay, because they’re not Black, they’re grey!’? Yes, this is still racism. There’s no getting out of it.

Example: Intelligence

If your Black-coded species is the one that is ‘less cultured’, ‘talks funny’, supposed to be ‘stupid’, or in need of some good (white) character to ‘change their ways and become better people’… Just don't do that. I should not have to say this. Black people are not less intelligent, or ‘more inclined to brawn over brain’, 'more likely to act out of instinct', ‘in need of more education/direction’, or every other reason that was used to justify our enslavement and now, present arrest and imprisonment rates.

Example: Culture

This segues from my last point on intelligence. There’s arguments on coding species that are meant to be "savage" or "inhuman", giving them stereotypical loin cloths or tattered clothes and having them "need to be saved". Now, I'm not informed enough about D&D to make valuable commentary on the existence and history of orcs. However, if you've decided to create an Orc culture, and it's clear that your imagery is taken from Black and/or Indigenous cultures, in addition to the language of savagery and white saviorism itself… That's extremely racist. And if you're thinking "Ice, of course no one would do that in 2024", Yes. Yes, they would. The bar is low, but don't ever assume people can't, don't, and won’t find a way to limbo under it.

Black and Brown people don’t need to be ‘saved’ from our own cultures or ‘introduced’ to anything. We don't need to be 'made better'. If that’s the narrative that you find yourself buying into while you write your story, Black or Black-coded characters, you need to step back and evaluate.

How This Imagery Lasts

Jim Crow Museum- Racist Cartoons and Anti-Black Imagery

This is obviously not everything I could put here as a example, but I wanted to offer a small example of how heinously racist imagery has made its way into the present. From depicting Serena Williams as an overgrown, childish, large-lipped Black woman (and whitewashing Afro-Japanese woman Naomi Osaka into the ideal, victimized blonde white woman), to Lebron James’ Vogue photo (this Black, married man now suddenly slave to the intensity of ball and white women for this cover), to the entirety of the Black Pete festival in the Netherlands.

This is imagery and behavior that evolves and lasts. What you put to paper will have an effect on someone else's ideas. You might not even think you believe these things, but someone looking at your art or reading your work will think you do! You should not want to be evoking any of this, coded or not, regardless of ‘if there’s a human involved’ because frankly… well, people already don’t see Black people as humans. We need to be treating our Black and Black-coded characters with care, and that means doing good research and avoiding replicating caricatures.

[astonmartingf]

NOT MY FAULT ; FA14

dbf!fernando alonso x ex-red bull engineer! reader . . . if there are many fish in the ocean then fernando alonso is a catch, and it's not your fault if you fell for his hook, line, and sinker.

amgf a lot of appearances from other drivers, an actual plot! allusions to toxic work environment, red bull drama, the math is not mathing but okay. enjoy!!! thank you for still being here pwahaha it's been a while lbh but i hope you enjoy it like always!!!! wchagt update soon along with other wips <3

The only good thing that came out of your mother remarrying was the new found relationship you built with your step father, granted it took a while to get there- you first met him he was twice your age and dating your mother. Growing up you spent your formative years in the Red Bull garage answering math equations with Adrian Newey behind you, Sebastian Vettel laughing as Newey hands you a different worksheet after another.

It was an unusual dynamic, you mother 13 years older than your stepfather, being friends with your stepfather’s rival and teammate, it was unlike any other, but something you wouldn’t replace for the world. 

“Is it true you’re leaving Red Bull?” You were greeted with an over enthusiastic Oscar Piastri as you visited the McLaren motorhome using Mark’s pass. Your lip presses into a thin line, brows raised with a shrug from both shoulders leaving the younger groaning in frustration.

“I’m taking your silence as admission, also entering a McLaren motorhome on a race weekend? Seems like they finally fired you, it’s giving jobless.”

You roll your eyes, “This is a motorhome Osc, not your garage, I doubt they’d be hiding any of your data here, not like they’re secrets to me. Also they didn’t fire me, technically I was the one firing them since I will be leaving the team.”

“So you are leaving Red Bull.” Oscar deadpans, while you hiss as your tongue slipped faster than the thoughts in your head. You just promised yourself you won’t tell anything to anyone before you discussed it with your stepfather. 

Arms crossed to your chest, you face Oscar with the biggest smirk plastered on his face, proud for taunting you out on revealing your plans for the next seasons. “Well now that you know, I personally would like it if you kept your mouth shut. Mark doesn’t know yet and I plan to tell him before finalizing the contracts.”

Raising his hands with a small nod, Oscar moves leading the way to his quarters where you find your stepfather. “You’re free?” Mark looks up from the files in front of him glancing back and forth from you and Oscar. “Are you two in trouble?” 

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, “No, why do you immediately think that? I for one am responsible, as for Oscar he can handle himself and no, we are not in trouble. I need your help.”

Just hearing the four words leaving from you, Mark closed the folders in front of him grabbing his keys, standing up. “Where do you want to go?”

It’s been known that the team principal has a preference for Daniel Ricciardo, the same can be said for Helmut with Yuki and Max, but for Newey it was you. Everyone in the team was well aware of your relationship, Newey taught you everything you knew about engineering and cars.

News of you leaving Red Bull wasn’t broadcasted on any social platform as you wanted to quit the team quietly, not bound to any long term contacts, yet within the team, your move was associated with Newey’s future whereabouts as whispers of him leaving Red Bull increased as the days went by. “You didn’t tell me you’re leaving Red Bull.” 

In front of you sat Newey, bringing forth a cup of coffee and the waffles you ordered prior. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving as well.” You scrunch your nose, whispering touché under your breath before taking a sip of coffee. 

“So, I’m assuming you told your father. Why did you leave?” You take a stab of the waffles, mulling over your conversation with Mark last week. “I told him what happened of course. You know why I left, it’s because of him. Well, partially. Everything was just slowly building up you know, they pushed me to the corner, I left. Simple as that. Mine’s boring, tell me yours. Why’d you leave?”

You felt Newey’s heavy stare into yours, “I heard what he told you, after that I left hoping to convince you to leave but you’ve surprised me once again.” Blinking, you put down the forkful of waffles in shock. Studying his demeanor, Newey continued taking bites of his club sandwich as if he didn’t drop the biggest revelation in front of you.

“You know you’re contractually not allowed to poach anyone right?” Newey rubs the crumbs off of his hands glancing at you with an incredulous look on his face. “I thought you knew me better than anyone, people always assumed I put Max in my clause. He’s a big guy who can handle himself, I put your name in. If I were to leave, I could take you from me. You know Horner said something along the lines of that when I ended my contract one year earlier. He asked about you- if you convinced me to leave. I told him you’re smarter than that, then I- are you crying?”

You raise your hand to your cheeks, wiping the tears you didn’t notice were falling off. “I just thought you’d stay there, and of course I would 100 percent support you wherever you went, I didn’t think you’d stick up for me when I left.” Now you were just full on bawling in front of him, early morning in a semi-busy cafe on a Friday morning. 

Newey laughs at you, throwing a napkin at your face. “I hope you’re ready to receive love calls for the next few days, we’ll be looking for some new prospects.”

You know time is of the essence, and when Newey advised you to keep an eye out for calls, you didn’t think they’d be calling you in the early mornings. Maybe it’s timezone differentiation but with the calls you’ve been getting for the last months have been more than alarming. A groan leaves your lips, before glancing over a familiar contact photo.

“Are you coming to China?” “It doesn’t seem like I have a choice now does it? Sounds like you want me to go now.” You hear movement from the other side of the line, “Yes, we’re stopping by to pick you up, get ready in 30 minutes.” “30 minutes? Am I not given time to prepare?” “Just bring yourself, if you’re worried you can use my money to buy whatever you need.” You scoff, jumping out of bed. “Just because I’m unemployed doesn’t mean I’m broke.” 

“Are you sure you want to pay?” 

“Hell no, I thought unemployment meant time for myself, didn’t think I would have to wake up at 4 AM catching flights to the Chinese Grand Prix.” You hear Mark’s laughter from the other side of the phone. “You better start getting ready, I’m on my way.”

“Never thought I’d see you sell me to another team. I thought I was sitting with you in the McLaren garage?” You explain to your stepfather as he walked with you to the Aston Martin garage.

Mark shook his head from your antics, “It’s a favor for a friend, you know to learn and see the company and team… it might make you enthusiastic to join.” You raise your brows listening to him sell the idea. “Are you not poaching me to join McLaren? Or are you worried about nepotism?”

Mark raised his hands to his face, panicking at the mention of nepotism right in front the Aston Martin garage, glancing around before shaking his head in disapproval while you’re giggling as he fusses over you. “I know you’re old enough to do this but please behave yourself, I just want you to see for yourself and not just because my friend asked for a favor, but I hope you enjoy yourself. I doubt McLaren is having any issues but if they wanted you, they would have to talk to you themselves instead of beating around the bush from me.”

You smile to yourself, “What about Aston Martin? What’s so different? And this favor from your friend, you must be really close with them, you’re offering my time so easily.”

“Fernando personally asked me to invite you.” You raise your brows glancing at the mechanic working on his car, “He couldn’t do it himself huh… Okay. I guess he had to go through such lengths seeing as he’s using you to invite me.” You take the ID Mark prepared for you, your name embossed with Fernando Alonso’s Guest below.

Your eyes wander around the green walls of their garage, you envision yourself in a dark green uniform, sitting on one of the pit lane garages looking over data. When Newey told you to prepare for new prospects you began looking around different teams, McLaren first and foremost due to Mark being involved, dabbling in offers from Mercedes and Williams, even from the junior Red Bull team which you immediately turned down, not wanting to be associated with the team any further. 

The news of Newey leaving hasn’t left the confines of Red Bull, despite Newey mentioning you as the reason he left, you don’t believe it’s the whole truth. You could be a partial reason, but there are many more underlying reasons behind his leave, especially to him who spent almost 20 years with the team, Newey leaving came as a shocker even to you, but what you’re waiting for is his future plans. 

You watch Mark slowly disappear from your sight, leaving you alone and for the first time in the 20 years of your life you felt exactly that. No one would have prepared you for what happened in the last two months of your life all leading to you leaving the first team you joined and spent your childhood in.

Sending a message to the only person you knew who spent his time in both Red Bull and Aston Martin garages, your phone rings as Sebastian calls you instead of answering your message. “Fernando invited you to the Aston Martin garage?” You stand from your seat to a quiet corner in the garage, away from the hustle and bustle, but more for your privacy. 

You rather no one listen to you talking about one of their drivers in his garage. “He asked Mark for a favor apparently, I was whisked away from my apartment to come here in China, now I’m in his garage, only for qualifying though so that’s that I guess.” The silence on the other side starts to make you question your own response.

“That's not the reaction I was hoping for. That’s that? That’s it? Where is the energy?” You roll your eyes at his implicating tone.

“It left the moment I got unemployed.” Sebastian laughs on the other side of the line, “Sounds like he’s trying to promote you as an elite employee.”

“Where the fuck are you learning these from? It’s so unlike you, has retirement made you younger?” You shout at your phone appalled by the words you never once thought would leave his mouth. “I kid, I kid. But you know what I think that message was?”

You sigh, trying to ignore the clammy feeling of your palms as you inch the phone higher to your ear, “I think that was a call for help. All those years of denial haven't changed? I’ll say this, green doesn’t look like a good color on you.”

“Fuck you Seb, calling you was a mistake.” Pressing the button furiously, you end the call. It’s funny how Sebastian always knows how to get on your nerves, maybe you were somewhat similar to your stepfather. That, or Sebastian is easily a mischievous prick who you’re unfortunately friends with and one of the only people who knew about your little something with a certain driver in the grid.

Your phone chimes, a reply from Seb, “I hope you get uncomfortable in his garage while you think back to your escapades in Barcelona, in the summer of 2019.”

It’s not your fault that of all the men available on the face of the earth, your eyes linger a little longer on Fernando Alonso, even if he is your step father’s friend he is hot, is he not?

[suhkusa]

TO THE TOP.

PAIRING. Sakusa Kiyoomi x f!Reader

SUMMARY. Sakusa Kiyoomi was ranked #1 in his class. Was, at least until you came along. After this revelation, he makes it a (personal) challenge to overtake you. Sakusa Kiyoomi is a genius at everything he does, but for once he finds it a challenge when it comes to you.

CW. hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, rivals to lovers except kiyoomi is the only one competing, idiots in love (but theyre actually geniuses), high school setting, ~3k words

A/N. Got inspired from a tiktok and came up with this word vom hope u enjoy

Everything came easy for Kiyoomi. Academically, at least.

While all his classmates found themselves struggling to take tests or study, it was as natural as breathing for Kiyoomi. There were some cons to being as incredibly intelligent as him, but he found himself drowning in the gratification of being #1. 

At least until the 2nd semester of his third year. At least until you.

———

Class Rank: 2

Sakusa finds himself staring at the transcript in his hand, as if his ogling would have an effect in changing the number presented before him.

His eyes scan through his class history, looking for any clues as to how he might’ve dropped in ranking. But there was nothing. All A’s, and as many extra classes stuffed into each year as possible. 

Kiyoomi’s home room was rowdy as students caught up with one another, as winter break had just ended. While in his own little world, his ears catch onto a couple of words his classmates threw around.

“I heard Sakusa isn’t the top in our class anymore, is that true?”

“Woah, hasn’t he been the top of our class since the 1st year? I wonder who was able to catch up,”

His eye twitched a bit at that one.

“It was that new girl, Y/N,”

The paper crumbled slightly under his grasp. Y/N?

The ring of the bell, signifying the start of class, caused him to slightly jump in his seat. Kiyoomi crumbles his transcript before tossing it in his bag, it’s going to change soon anyways.

He would just have to step up his game.

———

It was ironic really. The world really loved to test Sakusa Kiyoomi, and not only at his school subjects. Of course, you were his desk partner in his math class. Only he had the amazing luck of being seated next to his new self-declared rival.

Kiyoomi knows it’s rude to stare, but he can’t himself because you’re the number one student? You?!

Honestly, you don’t seem like the academic type. You seem too pretty to be caring about stuff like that. At first, he considers the fact that you could be using your looks to get people to do the dirty work for you. But he witnesses first-hand as you write down every math equation, answer every question correctly, and even check your work not once, but twice.

His hyperfixation on you is bad. So bad, he missed the whole introduction lesson and is trying to rapidly copy down what’s on the whiteboard as the teacher is erasing it. Fuck-

“Would you like to see my notes?”

Kiyoomi’s pencil comes to a halt as he looks back at you, your papers are being pushed towards him on the desk. He watches as your eyes widen, as if you suddenly became self conscious. 

“I-Is there something on my face? You were staring at me so I wasn’t sure…”

Shit. 

“No,” he tries to make up something, but what comes out of his mouth is stupid, “I was just looking past you,” it appears it’s sufficient though, as you nod in response.

“I see, well, did you want to see them?” you gestured to the notes between the two of you.

Kiyoomi tells himself that if you hadn’t offered, he wouldn’t have asked. But since you oh so kindly offered them up, who was he to say no? He doesn’t need them. He could always ask his cousin, though his handwriting resembles chicken scratch more than human writing.

“Sure,” he takes the papers and positions them in a way where he could just look between them and his own.

In his head, Kiyoomi is scolding himself over and over again for not paying attention. This cannot be a regular thing. If he was going to take back his rank, he needed to be on his A-Game. 

His pencil slaps against his desk as he finishes, quickly sliding your papers back towards you.

“Thanks,” Kiyoomi offers.

He watches from his peripheral vision as you smile and give back an “Anytime,” before gathering your things and getting up to go to your next class.

Kiyoomi doesn’t know what it was about you, but he could tell he was going to need to up his game. This was war.

———

By the second week of sitting by you, he decides you’re annoying. More annoying than the people who talk while the teacher is talking. Which, in his book, is hard to beat.

Maybe you weren’t as smart as he pinned you to be, since you kept helping Kiyoomi with his work when he did not need it. 

Though, you were only able to backseat his work because you somehow finished before him. He’s used to being the only one who sits back and relaxes as the rest of his class struggles to complete the practice problems. 

It’s weird though. Because as much as Sakusa hates your yapping, he doesn’t find himself putting an end to it. Instead your voice plays in the background as he completes his work.

He hates it, or at least that’s what he tells himself, the way you praise him like a little kid when he finally completes the work sheet. 

“Nice job!” you smile at him, “but, how come you don’t check your work to make sure you’re right?”

“Because I’m always right,” he replies with a slight roll of his eyes.

You laugh at that, I’m not joking, he thinks.

“You’re funny, you know that?” you tell him. 

Kiyoomi gives you a shrug, “Whatever,”

———

A month in, he begins to indulge in your shenanigans. But only because he had felt bad.

During the third week of sitting by each other, you had taken his short and dry responses personally. You halted your chatter and no longer offered to help like you usually did. The way the classroom felt quiet without your talking was eerie, so Sakusa reluctantly decided that he’d rather hear your voice instead of nothing at all. 

So a month in is when your friendship, or whatever you called it, began with him.

“Why do you use erasable pens? Just use a pencil,” he questions you, eyes peering down at your pen.

You look taken aback as you respond, “I don’t know, is there something wrong with it?” you examine your pen, “I just found it on the floor and stuck with it,”

First of all, gross, remind him not to touch you or your belongings ever. “It’s just a hassle, sometimes it doesn’t erase,”

“Well, it hasn’t given me any problems, so!” you exclaim as you get back to write on your practice quiz. “This is kind of challenging, huh?”

“Nah,” he lies, “You’re just stupid,”

You laugh in his face, “Rude,” Kiyoomi watches as you glimpse at his paper before going back to yours, “That’s why you got the first problem wrong and I didn’t say anything,” 

Sakusa can feel his eyebrows scrunch up, he’s quick as he glances at it and then yours. Fuck. He’s mumbling something under his breath and he begrudgingly erases the circle around his answer. 

“Told ya,” you smile before moving onto the last problem, “you know, we should hangout or something,”

“No,” he’s quick to cut you off, catching you by surprise.

“Whaaat, it doesn’t have to be like that, weirdo,” it seems like you’re going back on what you meant, “Like to study,”

“Still, no,”

“C’mon, don’t knock it till you try it,” you nudge at him, and to be honest, if you were anyone else he might’ve punched you, “please, just once,”

You’re annoying and pushy. But he supposes that if saying yes to you would get you to leave him alone, he’d say, “Fine, whatever, it has to be my house, though. Your house is probably messy,”

Kiyoomi watches as your face slowly brightens before silently celebrating to yourself as you get your way with him once again.

———

“Wow,” you’re amazed as you walk through Sakusa’s house, “your house is so nice, do you have a maid to keep it clean or something?”

“No, just me,” he says before leading you into his room, “please don’t make a mess,”

“I won’t, I won’t,” you say before settling down on his rug, playing with the soft threads, “Okay, I was hoping to review the practice quiz, I know the teacher said I got it right but I feel like there were some parts that had me second guessing myself,”

You’re quick to open up your textbook and blab about whatever problem you were having trouble with. You actually came over to study. Kiyoomi was under the impression that once you got over to his house you’d make him do whatever silly shit you usually have in mind. But no, you actually respected his wishes. Which in turn, earned you some respect from him as well.

“So you’re number one, huh?” He asks, looking up from his textbook to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s surprising that all my credits from my old school carried over,” you mindlessly say as you continue to write on your sheet of paper.

The sound of the pencils scribbling on paper fills the room before you interrupt it, “You were rank one before I came, right?”

His pencil stills, “Mhm,” It was a touchy subject, though he never thought he’d hear it from you.

“I’m sorry,” you surprised him, “When I found out I took your ranking spot, I was nervous because people are serious about that stuff. And then, when I got seated by you and you stared me down, I thought you hated my guts,”

Well, you had it down to the T, but he wouldn’t tell you that. 

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s out of your control,” you smile at his words.

“Thank you,”

It’s then, in his room, when he realizes he’s losing sight of his goal. To overtake your position. As he watched you look back down at your textbook, he found himself locking in as well. 

He needed to get serious, now.

———

These hangouts, or study dates, or study hangouts, whatever, became basically practice. Always at his house, though. Since he couldn’t fathom the idea of how dirty your room might be. 

“I don’t know how you balance volleyball and school, Omi,” you say from your position lying on his floor.

“Don’t call me that,”

You laugh before continuing, “All I do is school and I’m always exhausted. I had to quit my shifts at the cafe down the road because I would fall asleep before making it to my room,”

“Dangerous, Y/N,” he says, frantically writing down practice problem after practice problem. 

Picking yourself off the ground, “Wow, you’re serious about this final, huh, Omi,”

He glares at you, causing you to laugh again, “Sorry, sorry,” your eyes meet his for a brief second before he looks back at his paper, “but you know it’s okay to take a break, right, that’s all you’ve been doing. We haven’t even gotten to try to compete for today’s Wordle yet,”

“Mhm,” is all he offers you.

You sigh in response to that, “Boring, so boring,” you say as you lay back down

“You can go home if you’re bored,”

“Ugh, rude,” you roll around to make yourself comfortable, “I would but sadly I like being in your presence,”

“Whatever you say,”

“Do you like being in mine?” you question, causing Sakusa to hesitate on the problem he was on.

“You’re tolerable,”

You find yourself cheesing, “That’s a yes in my book,”

———

Finals are coming up. There’s so much on your mind, that you finally decide to let one of the thoughts that have been driving you crazy go. The fact that you like Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

It’s nerve wracking. Not only because you’re basically confessing your feelings, but also because he’s your only friend you’ve made since being here. A lot of people think he’s rude and condescending, but to you he’s different. 

He lets you talk your head off about whatever your brain decides fits best. And while he gives you short responses, they show you that he’s listening and observant. He’s on your level regarding academics and can keep up to your train of thought. He just cares.

And while you hope he might feel the same despite only knowing you for the past couple of months, you chalk it up to fate as to whether or not your intuition is correct.

As you approach the gymnasium, you slow and quiet your steps as you hear familiar voices by the entrance.

“You’ve been hanging out with Y/N quite a bit, huh, cous’? Your mom told mines,” you assume is Komori based on his words.

“Yes. It’s not like that, though,” you recognize as Sakusa. 

You assume he might be fronting since it is his cousin, and feelings are embarrassing at times.

“C’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t like her, she’s like one of the prettiest girls in class and she’s smart. So like, your type,” Komori pushes. And while part of you likes that he said that, you soon take it back after Kiyoomi’s words.

“I don’t like her. I only put up with her because she’s so pushy and always hovers over me while I try to do my work. Plus, she took my ranking spot,”

The world feels silent for a second, the only sound audible to you is the sound of your heart slowly breaking.

“She’s just a nuance, honestly,”

Your feet are moving before you realize. Slowly backing away before running the opposite direction.

He doesn’t like you? You were right that he hates you because you’re number one? He let you into his house but only because you pushed him? Your thoughts are running faster than your own legs, you don’t even realize the drips of water slowly running down your cheeks. 

If number one was what he wanted, then you were going to give it to him.

———

Kiyoomi finds it weird. Finds you weird. Well, he’s always found you weird, but particularly as of recent. But only because you’re quiet. And have been for the past couple of days. 

At first, he assumes it’s because the finals had finally arrived and you wanted to focus on your work. Which, respect, because it also allowed him to focus on his own. 

But even after the finals had passed, you were still quiet. You opted for doodling in your notebook instead of talking to him about a new video game you’ve hyper fixated on or this new show you started to watch. 

It’s even weirder when the teacher is going around passing out the graded math finals, that he stops by your desk, letting out a whispered, “I’m disappointed in you, Y/N,” 

Kiyoomi hears, and it calls his attention towards your paper before even his own. His eyes widened.

A big, fat, red 0 marked at the top of your quiz.

“Y/N-”

“Are you happy now, Number 1?” you ask, still looking down at your paper.

He’s about to ask you what the hell you’re talking about before the bells conveniently cut him off, allowing you to take off without a second glance back at him.

His mind is caught up on your words, Number 1. Kiyoomi has never brought up his disdain regarding the rankings to you, ever. Yes, it bothered him at first. But eventually he didn’t mind it, since the only person he’d ever allow to be above him is you. 

Kiyoomi thinks back on any time he’s ever mentioned it before he remembers the one time he had ever verbally brought it up to anyone. But there was no way… unless.

Fuck, Sakusa thinks as the bright red 100 on his paper stares back at him. It mocked him, poking at his head uncomfortably. Without a second thought, he crumbles the paper before stuffing it into his bag. Kiyoomi had finally gotten back what he’s been working for this whole time, so why does he feel empty?

Kiyoomi realizes then that while you may have lost your Rank 1 position, he was the true loser. Because he didn’t have you.

———

He finds himself at your door before he even knows it. He’s giving an excuse of “she left her notebook,” to your parents as they direct him to where your room is. 

When he finally walks in, he’s shocked. Your room is clean. 

Even as you lay in your bed so peacefully, the space around you is clean, and he feels like it’s safe to walk in. 

“Y/N,” is his first attempt at waking you up, before he’s walking closer to your bed, crouching down a bit to pat your back, “Y/N,” again.

It’s by the fourth or fifth time that he calls your name that you finally look up at him, and you look heavenly.

He’s always known you were pretty, but even more so now you were gorgeous, hair messy, eyes droopy with sleepiness. You were perfect.

Your eyes blink a couple times before you look like you’ve processed who is standing before you. Quickly sitting up, hands moving every which way to fix your appearance, “Omi- I mean Sakusa what are- what do you want?”

Ouch.

“You need to leave, I-I don’t want to see you,” your voice is beginning to tremble and it hurts him, “You finally got what you wanted, I don’t know what more you want,”

“You, I want you,”

Your face drops in disbelief, “No, you don’t. I heard you, what you said,”

“Y/N-”

“No, you hurt me, Kiyoomi. I like you,” you cry, “You can’t just say all of that and then show up out of nowhere claiming otherwise,”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he’s kneeling now, allowing him to be the same height as you as you sit in your bed, weeping, “I-I’m sorry,”

His rough thumb smoothes away your tears as they fall, “I didn’t mean it, I was frustrated- and that’s no excuse for what I said, I fucked up really bad,” with every word another sob breaks loose from you, “And I’m sorry,”

“At first, all I ever wanted was to be rank #1, but then you came along and changed everything… Then I realized that it wasn’t being #1 I wanted, it was you,” he continues, “and that’s scary, because my ranking was all I’ve known all these years,”

“But even so, you made it okay. I was okay with being #2, I was so caught up in you that I forgot I ever wanted to be #1 in the first place,” your eyes finally meet behind the thick tears in your lashes, “I like you, Y/N,”

He can tell you’re at a loss for words. And for once he can finally say he has out-talked you. 

Until finally, you decide words aren’t sufficient in this situation. Before he knows it, you’re leaning forward, and your lips are on his. The kiss is short, but definitely more than a peck. But it felt infinite to Kiyoomi. He never wanted the moment to end, and found himself sad as you finally pulled away.

You stared him down for a brief second before tackling him down to the ground in a big hug, “I hate you, Omi,” you laugh angrily.

“Sure,” he smugly replies, watching as you smile into his shirt.

“My number one,” you sarcastically mutter as you fake pout at him.

He cringes, “Ugh, don’t. I feel guilty, why would you even do that? You’re crazy,”

“Because I don’t care about the ranking. I never did. Plus it somehow only dropped me to #2 since the rest of our class failed and I’ve taken too many extra classes,” you say, “I only cared about you,” 

Kiyoomi smiles at you before crushing you in his hug. 

Everything came easy for Kiyoomi. Especially now, his feelings for you.

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[puck-luck]

moving along | john marino

warnings: established relationship, general complaints about Jersey, minor brat!reader but it’s not part of the sex, untraditional sex in the sense that they do not have furniture, unprotected p in v, sex as means of resolving an argument i guess?, fingering (fem!receiving) (sometimes i wonder if i need to clarify that because i personally am not into fingering my man’s ass and i doubt it’ll ever make its way into my writing), reference to oral (m!receiving), eating come (so true) pairing: John Marino x fem!reader request: “Could I request John Marino smut where after he’s traded to the Devils from Pittsburgh his girl is upset about the move but when they get to New Jersey he decides the best way to handle the move is for them to christen the new apartment to make it feel like home?  Like literally no furniture has arrived yet and they’re already going at it.” wc: 2570

Pitt had been your home since John first signed his contract with the Penguins in the summer of 2019. You’d moved there with him because he asked, you two had curated a shared apartment space that you loved and considered your first real home as an adult. You were happy in Pittsburgh and John was happy with the Penguins. You hadn’t really known about the trade until it came, just ten days shy of the three year anniversary of Pitt becoming your home base, your foundation.

You knew that the NHL was a fickle business when John first joined. Injuries were abundant, trades happened more often than you thought they would, and at weird times. Hell, people lost their teeth all the time in hockey. It was a weird sport, but for three years you and John had made a place for yourself in Pitt. 

John had just signed a six year contract extension with the Penguins a year and a half ago– so, yeah, you were still in denial about leaving Pittsburgh. It just didn’t make sense and you couldn’t wrap your brain around it.

You had packed up in what seemed like lightning speed, ditched the town that you knew, and now you’re arriving in Jersey. You don’t know anyone or any places except your new apartment complex, your new home. 

You’re cranky because you’ve been in the car for six hours. Not because you hate New Jersey and everyone there for uprooting your life in a mere instant.

Obviously.

John has been a saint about the move and the trade. It’s not his first– since he was originally drafted with the Oilers, he’s been through this process before. The difference, as you’ve reminded him multiple times now, is that he never played with the Oilers. He was picked, but he went to college. Then, he went to Pitt. And Pitt, John, was home. Not New Jersey.

That’s the gist of the same argument you’ve been having with your boyfriend over the past week or so. It’s never escalated because John is patient with you and so great, but you’ve noticed the tick in his jaw when you huff and puff and tense up in his arms. You don’t want to be angry at him, of course you don’t, because you know that it’s not his fault he was traded. It’s just the way the cookie crumbles. However, his presence has been a reminder of the fact that you were so happy in Pennsylvania and you’ve been nothing but bitter about New Jersey.

And now, standing in your empty apartment with a frown on your face, John has reached his limit.

He sneaks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and hooking his chin over your shoulder. He presses a kiss to the side of your neck and one of your hands finds its way to his curls. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” John murmurs into your ear, another kiss adorning your neck.

You scrunch up your nose and side eye him. “Duh,” you reply. John knows that you two have been together long enough that you’d damn near follow him to the ends of the Earth, even if the end of the Earth is in New Jersey. 

Your response causes him to chuckle, kissing you again. He turns you in his arms and smiles down at you. 

You glare, pouting, but John can tell that you’re more upset than angry. It’s been a lot of change over the past few days, and even though you’ve been a little bit of a brat, your behavior has been justified. John’s heart clenches a bit when you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

It’s quite the sight– a sweet, long embrace between partners in their newest home.

At least, it’s sweet until John ruins it.

“I have an idea about how we can make this place feel a little more… homey,” John says. You know the lilt in his voice by heart, having been with him for years. 

Pulling away, you roll your eyes and making sure John sees, knowing exactly where this is headed. You play along anyway. “What’s your idea?”

John grins and whispers conspiratorially, “We need to christen the apartment. It’s not a home until it’s been christened.”

You hold back a laugh, but a smile slips through. “We don’t have a bed yet.”

“We don’t need a bed,” John says. He slides his hands down to your hips and walks forward, only stopping when your back hits the wall and he’s crowded into your space. His head dips down and he mouths over your jawline. “I can fuck you right here, against this wall.”

“Mmm, dreamy,” you quip, your hands smoothing over John’s shoulders. You tilt your head back so he has more access to your neck and he rewards you by sucking a hickey near your pulse point. “You really know how to woo a girl, Johnny.”

John’s hips press against yours and you can already feel him stirring in his pants, growing harder as he continues to suck bruises along your skin. His hands have found your waist and hold onto you desperately. His lips make their way to yours and you share a brief kiss before he pulls away. “Just want to make my girl feel better,” he says, blinking innocently at you with his beautiful brown eyes.

Oh, how you fall for those eyes over and over again.

You draw out a sigh, looking around the apartment. One of your hands returns to John’s curls and pets through them, making him wait for your response. John, patient as always, waits for your response with an attentive smile and a tiny tilt of his head. His eyes rake over your face, taking in all of the details. His thumb comes up to your chin, tilting your head up. He leans in for a kiss.

You offer your lips up willingly, letting him control the pace. When he pulls away, you relent. “I guess we can christen the apartment,” you faux-complain, like it’s a job to keep up with John and his libido. 

John growls, teeth finding your bottom lip. “Let’s see if I can convince you to be a little more enthusiastic,” he teases, sneaking his hands up your shirt and lifting it over your head. He tosses the fabric behind him. Out of sight, out of mind. 

You hadn’t worn a bra today, since all you had done was sit in the car all day, and John reaps the benefits of that fact almost immediately.

He latches onto your chest, licking over one of your nipples and pinching the other. You pull on his hair, arching your back away from the wall. Your mouth opens in a silent moan as you puff out your chest, chasing the sensation of his tongue swirling against the peak of your nipple. He switches sides, looking up at you with hooded eyes.

“Johnny,” you say, and he smiles against your skin. You bring him back up to your lips, groaning when his tongue finds its way into your mouth and makes contact with your own. 

He runs his fingers all over your body, cupping your breasts and tracing your sides. He takes a handful of your ass and squeezes, making you jump against him. His length is fully hard now, still pressing into your hips, and he breathes out a moan when you roll your hips, grinding against him. 

You tug at his t-shirt, a wrinkly old stained thing from college, and he pulls away from you just long enough to get the offending clothing over his head before reconnecting your lips.

Now, your hands are the ones roaming his body, mapping his details through feel alone. He’s always been lean, but his skin is warm against yours and he’s defined in all the right places. He’s also soft and solid and he moves with your hands, making sure you’re always touching him in some way. You place the flat of your palm against his stomach, and the other against his chest, and you can feel John’s heart beating underneath your touch.

John sinks to one knee, pulling your shorts down and kissing over your stomach as he does. He removes your shorts and your panties, leaving you bare against the wall. He holds you steady, completely unnecessarily but sweet nonetheless, helping you step out of the clothing. He kisses his way back up your body.

Pecking your lips, he runs a finger through your folds. “So wet,” he mumbles into your mouth, pride filling his tone. He brings his finger up to his mouth and sucks it clean, then traces his tongue over yours. You can just barely taste yourself and it makes your knees a little weak. 

You lean into him, pulling him close. John works his finger back into you, pumping it slowly into and out of your entrance. It’s barely enough contact, barely fulfillment, and it isn’t long until you beg John to add another finger.

You’re scrambling, holding his bicep with a vice grip as he hikes your leg up onto his hip to give himself more access. You’re fucking against his hand, chasing the feeling of the orgasm that’s just out of reach, and it makes your eyelids flutter shut.

You moan aloud when John crooks his fingers and traces the spongy spot inside of you, teasing it. When you open your eyes, you find his trained on your face, lips parted and eyes wide. He never gets tired of seeing you like this, seeing you come apart on his hand.

“Please,” you breath out, voice cracking. You know you can come anytime, whenever you’re ready, that you don’t need permission, but you need John to give you just a little more.

“Touch your clit for me, baby,” John replies, kissing just under your earlobe.

You reach around and pet over your bundle of nerves, the contact making you clench down on his fingers. John groans at the feeling, sagging against you. You’re trapped between the wall and his warm, solid, strong body. 

“Make yourself come,” John encourages, voice soft. “Wanna see you.”

A wanton whine rips from your throat as your climax overtakes you. You arch into John as much as you can and he brings his mouth to your nipple once again, sucking harshly as the waves of your orgasm overtake you. It elongates it, makes your mind reel with pleasure, and you’re shaking in John’s arms by the time you come down.

He kisses you until you’re on solid ground again, the hand that’s not covered in your come crading your face. The other hand pushes at his shorts until they’re low enough that he can kick them away, then he does the same with his boxers. John grinds against you, his cock twitching against your oversensitive folds, but not breaching your entrance just yet.

He rubs himself against you until you pull away from his kiss and blink up at him, eyes hazy. Both of your hands find his cheeks and you smile at him, a little dopey. He returns the smile, goofy and oh, so pretty before dropping a kiss on your forehead.

“Gonna let me fuck you?” He asks, rolling his hips forward again with a bite to his bottom lip.

You nod, a quiet “please” falling from your lips. Your arms loops around his neck again and John brings his hands to your thighs, lifting you until your legs wrap around his waist.

“I’m gonna fuck you in every room of this apartment,” John promises, lining himself up with your entrance. You sink down on him as much as you can, as soon as his tip pushes into you. “Make you come over and over again, until you love our new home–” He thrusts his hips forward. “Just as much as you love me.”

“Impossible,” you reply. “Love you too much.”

John grins, a hand on your hip and the other bracing himself against the wall. “We’ll see.”

He drills into you, the sound of his hips slapping against yours filling the empty apartment. It seems to echo off the walls, surrounding you. John’s grunts and moans fill your ears, and your whimpers fill his. He bites your neck, then soothes the skin with a pass of his tongue, letting his saliva cool over your throat. It’s almost as satisfying as the weight of his hand would be.

He fills you so well, and he’s pent up, having been waiting to fuck you for hours. His favorite way to satisfy you, to make you content, is to fuck all of the negativity away and make it so your head is full of thoughts about him and the pleasure he’s giving you, nothing more and nothing less. The move was the perfect excuse to fuck you hard and fast and dirty, the way John knows you love.

As evidenced by your walls clenching down around him, the wet slick dripping from your cunt and gathering at the base of his cock. God, if he can get you to come before he does, he’ll have you lick it all off until his come paints the back of your throat.

Just the thought has him fucking you harder, faster. You’re barely able to make any noise because it’s just so good, and John relishes in the feeling of your fingernails digging into his back. Back in its favorite place, one of your hands pulls on his curls, grip so tight that his head has to follow. 

John brings both hands to the globes of your ass, leaning into you so that your back against the wall supports you both. He presses into you, fucking so deep that he swears he can feel the tip of his cock against your cervix with each thrust. 

You cry out, tensing against him as he fucks you through a second orgasm, your legs shaking around him. You’re breathless and despite the overstimulation, you’re still fucking down onto him, rolling your hips to meet every thrust. 

John ditches his other plan on a whim, burying his face in your neck and allowing his hips to stutter, his warm seed shooting off inside of you. You moan aloud at the feeling and John almost buckles, and would have if the wall behind you hadn’t been holding the both of you up. He catches his breath, his thrusts slowing as he continues to fuck his come deep inside of you, feeling the way your walls drag against his shaft. 

“So good,” you sigh as John lowers you to the floor.

He slips out of your warmth with a wince, his cock softening. His mouth waters as he watches the come slide down the inside of your thighs, a milky mixture of both of your releases.

You laugh a little at the feeling, dragging your hand over the skin to stop the flow and licking the liquid off your palm to clean yourself up. 

John groans at the sight. “Fuck, baby, don’t do that,” he complains. “I can’t go again yet.”

“Mmm,” you hum around your fingers, drawing them out of your mouth with a pop that has John wilting. You smile, sickly sweet and teasing. “Just like at home. Nice to see that a change of location doesn’t affect your refractory period.”

[deadghosy]

Platonic slytherin boys with a keeper friend🐍

Ft: Tom Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire

Warning: it may be bad cause I only wrote this for fun and I don’t know "much" about the Slytherin boys 😭 but I only did this cause I’m getting Hogwarts legacy soon for my birthday!

Tom Riddle

You hold ancient magic? He’s using you like the evil bastard he is until he actually feels a connection with you. Maybe protectiveness. He might just still use you though.

Waking you up in the middle of the night in his uniform, towering over you with a dark look as he just kicks your bed. Vibrating it. Making you jolt up disoriented from your woke.

“Get up. I require your presence and help for something. And don’t ask for anything.”

“What the fuck?”

He absolutely loves it when you do your magic spells, he finds them unique and intriguing. You easily doing your blue lightning.

Especially he finds it very easing how you can one shot your enemies and make them disappear into thin air. He’s surely gonna make you his right hand.

Mattheo Riddle

“I want you to strike that bitch right over there.”

“Mattheo no.”

I feel like mattheo would try to make you blast a person he hates to dust just for fun. He is definitely a Kendrick type of hater and he knows it.

He found it secretly hot when you did struck down an enemy that tried to harm you. Mattheo would be that mf that would joke about wanting you to smite him. He also wanted you lift him up and down as if he was flying. He was high when he asked.

“Smite me. Just once.”

“Get the fuck out my room riddle.”

But honestly he likes how powerful you are, and with Mattheo being the son of the dark lord. He deems the two of you a powerful duo and he’s living for it.

Theodore Nott

Idk how to write about this one…but stick with me.

This beautiful Italian man honestly wouldn’t ask a lot of questions and just roll with the fact that you are a keeper of ancient magic. He only would ask one question a month, probably overthinking that he might annoy you with a lot of questions.

“Do you ever wish to have normal magic?” He asked you as he leans against your lap.

You look down, combing his hair with your fingers as you hum. “Eh I guess so. But I was chosen to be a keeper. To have this responsibility to harvest ancient magic.”

He only hummed and closed his eyes. And just like that another question would pop up another month.

Draco Malfoy

“Wait until my bestie hears about this!” “Wait until L/N destroys you!” Is all people hear when they have "crossed" the malfoy boy.

Harry was a victim to this of course, he was slightly scared because of the rumors went around that you held ancient magic. He knew you were practically unstoppable.

So when Harry first met you, he was shocked that you were kind and told him that you weren’t gonna fight him. It was funny to see Draco scold you and drag you away with your arm.

His father might consider you worthy of “courting” his son, but really Draco sees you other than a spouse. And more like a good friend he can count on when times are rough.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Immediately wants you to teach him some of your ancient magic skills if you can.

When he watches you dual with others, he’s taking notes with a smile. Happy to have you as a friend but mostly he has something to do.

He would asks you questions, like random in the night type stuff. The stuff where you’re asleep until he’s shaking you in the crack of dawn just to ask you a simple question.

“When you feel a burst of magic, do you just throw it at enemies like that muggle show called dbz?”

“What?” Straight up you turned to him shocked as you didn’t even expect that from him.

Honestly he just wants to learn more about you, he loves to listen to you. So why not educate him on your magic.

[miffette]

‎ ˖ ࣪ ⊹ ༺ BLING OUT .ᐟ ༻ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

02 ⁺ lie, lie, lie ᯓ⛧

༺ PAIRING soccer player!jungkook x mcbling!fem!reader

༺ SYNOPSIS every single person who was acquainted with choi yn knew she wasn’t big on soccer, she never even came close to a soccer ball, it just wasn’t her thing. following an event with her ex that left her rattled, she was determined to prove him wrong. even if it meant pretending to be her twin brother and attending the school rivalling hers just to join their soccer team. she never planned to fall in love with her pierced and tatted roommate, who just happened to be on the aforementioned soccer team. when her feelings became far too much to handle, she cursed the fact that she was under a disguise, as it was the only obstacle in her way. that and the cute girl in their chemistry class, who was oddly infatuated with her.

༺ GENRE soccer au, college au, mid 2000s au, roommate au, she’s the man inspired

༺ WARNINGS lowercase intended, profanity, suggestive content/jokes, gender stereotypes, cringy 2000s slang, yn tries too hard to be a man, shirtless jk, locker room scene, not proofread bc i got mad, this is fiction it doesn’t reflect the personalities of the idols in real life

༺ WORD COUNT 6.8k

༺ NOTE this was supposed to be longer but the more i wrote the more i became frustrated with where the story was going. i def need to plan it out more sorry if this isn’t very long :( + this is barely proofread there might be grammar mistakes + typos i’ll fix them later. tysm for the love u’ve given the first part && lmk if at any point u want to be removed from the taglist

prev ⁺ masterlist ⁺ next

“I WANT to tryout for the team. do you know when tryouts start?”

yn’s question lingered in the air, the noise of pixelated game sounds mingling with the sound of her deepened voice. she watched how jungkook’s doe-like eyes slightly widened in reaction to her inquiry.

“you play soccer?” jungkook voiced, somewhat dispelling his apprehensiveness from earlier, as he sat on the side of his bed, that was adjacent to her bare one, his hands still in the pockets of his sweatpants.

jungkook seemed so eager when she asked questions pertaining to soccer, he was likely expecting a response that she does play, that she has a set position in the sport, but she doesn’t.

yn never touched a soccer ball, the most she participated in the sport was when she was forced by jaehyun to watch him practice from the bleachers, his reasoning being that he played better with her around. now though, it just sounded like a poor attempt at flirting that made yn want to roll her eyes to the back of her head.

yn didn’t have the heart to tell jungkook that she had never played soccer before, and that the tryouts would be her very first attempt at playing, in fear of disappointing him.

he just looked so cute every time soccer was brought up, his eyes instantly lit up, it was as if he stole all the light in the room so they could reside in his eyes.

alas, lying wasn’t an option, no matter what yn’s soul was screaming at her to do, it’d come back to bite her in the ass during the tryouts.

“uhhh…” yn uttered, scratching her head covered by her wig, sensing the fake hair strands through her fingertips, that served to remind her to stay in character, “not really bro, but i really want to play!”

“don’t bother.” taehyung chimed in, with his eyes settled on his game, his thumbs tapping on the buttons of his controller, “coach doesn’t go easy on newcomers, much less noob players.”

yn bit her bottom lip in agitation, imagining the coach, tall and stern, with a permanent frown on his face, glaring at her when she failed to do every single drill, in other words she was, “i’m fucked.”

laughter erupted from the three men in the room, amusement collectively glimmering in their eyes, their laughter bounced off the walls and into yn’s ears.

it made her smile reluctantly to partake in the joy they exchanged with one another, despite the worries that were brewing inside of her.

“don’t worry.” jungkook began between breathy chuckles, catching yn’s attention, “coach has a soft spot for people who are passionate about soccer.”

yn strained a smile on her plump lips, nodding her head at his words, while she thought of how there was no way she’d get on the team. she had no experience playing the sport nor was she passionate about it.

yn wondered if it was too late to go home, and leave it all behind her, which would only make jaehyun’s words the truth. to her uttermost dismay, the truth does hurt.

though when yn caught sight of jungkook’s twinkling gaze, the crinkling near his eyes and the wide bunny smile that took over his entire face; yn thought that maybe it was worth giving it a try.

if she doesn’t succeed, then she’d definitely run away and lock herself in her room for eternity. for now, she could stay put.

“no he doesn’t!” mingyu denied, turning his eyes away from his game to incredulously gaze at jungkook, “remember when i sprained my ankle? coach almost kicked me off the team when i couldn’t play!”

“that’s because you weren’t serious enough.” jungkook rebutted, shaking his head with a cheeky grin on his lips, “coach loves and i mean loves players who are willing to die for soccer. so if yeonjun’s like that then coach will look past his inexperience.”

“that’s why jungkook’s the star player.” taehyung remarked, glancing at jungkook, who rolled his eyes, revealing the whites of his eyes.

“i’m not that passionate about soccer.” jungkook retorted.

mingyu snorted with laughter, suppressing himself from laughing even harder, “you’d fuck a soccer ball if you could!”

yn watched jungkook pick up his pillow and throw it across the room, it landed on mingyu’s face with a resounding thump before he picked it up and threw it back at jungkook, who nimbly caught it with his hands. all the while, the three men were laughing amongst themselves at mingyu’s last comment.

yn stood there, blinking, watching the men interact with one another, as a question loomed over her head, nagging at her being, “when’s tryouts? brother, you didn’t tell me when they start.”

“ah, fuck! you’re right, sorry.” jungkook apologetically grinned, placing his pillow back in its place, “they start at noon.”

“cool.” yn expressed, and sat down on the edge of her bare bed, forcing herself to spread her legs wide, nudging her head in the direction of mingyu and taehyung, “are you two on the team as well?”

“yeah, mingyu and i are midfielders.” taehyung responded, moving side to side using the swivel chair he was seated on, “you do know what that means, right?”

“of course i do! i know soccer positions, dawg!” yn imparted.

after all, how could she not when jaehyun used to talk her ear off about the sport, and when she’d stop paying attention, he’d pull her right back into the conversation.

because she was in love with him, she’d listen intently to everything he had to say, and would at least try to understand the gist of soccer even if it wasn’t her thing.

yn supposed that after all that nagging, it turned out to be a good thing, since now she needed that knowledge.

her eyes trailed back to jungkook, who was gazing at her in amusement—she really couldn’t get used to that—, “what’s yours?”

“i’m a striker.” jungkook replied.

“front and center! nice!” yn exclaimed, raising her hand for jungkook to give her a high five.

jungkook huffed through his nose in amusement, thinking of how odd his new roommate is, while lifting his hand to lightly slap the palm of yn’s hand.

yn hastily stood up, the room suddenly felt very stuffy after jungkook’s hand touched hers, she needed a breather, “anyway, i’m gonna go look around campus, get familiar with this place. see ya.”

it wasn’t like yn had a crush on jungkook, she just met him. she only got nervous considering he was hot, really hot.

which was a little peculiar, seeing as normally she never got nervous around men she deemed attractive, it was how she pulled jaehyun, she was the one who made the first move.

maybe it was her disguise that changed things about her, or maybe it was the fact that she didn’t have her bedazzled outfits to hide behind. she never realised just how much her confidence relied on her appearance.

the soft chirping of birds surrounded hybla’s campus, accompanied by the chatter of students idling around, as yn traversed the campus, her eyes greedily drinking up all the intricate buildings encompassing her.

hybla was luxurious compared to sherwood’s rather simple design, yn had no clue how yeonjun managed to transfer to this school of all places. perhaps, they had a strict transfer annoying brothers to our school policy.

it was a sunday, yet there were plenty of students dawdling around campus, conversing amongst themselves with food or drinks.

yn promptly detected how not a single soul looked her way, contrasting how people usually stared at her when she walked into a room, due to how demanding her presence was for the spotlight.

she wasn’t sure whether she liked being invisible for once, but deep within her there was a sense of ease that thrived at the lack of attention. she could get used to this.

yn retrieved her flip phone from the pocket of her baggy jeans, her phone was pink but the jewels that were previously on it were removed, leaving behind circular shapes with rings of glue.

yn grimaced at the sticky feeling of glue residue on the surface of her flip phone in her hands. she noted that she definitely needed to buy a new phone once the two weeks were over.

yn flipped her phone open, sifting through her contacts, choosing aeri’s contact with a click, and began swiftly texting her.

TO: aeri :P

SOS MY ROOMIE IS HOT

aeri, just as yn expected, responded immediately. yn felt her flip phone buzz in her hands, she opened the text and squinted her eyes in faux disbelief at what was illuminated on the screen of her phone.

FROM: aeri :P

LOL send pics

yn exhaled with laughter, her thumbs doing a little dance in preparation to reply back, until a particular view made her stop in her tracks.

a juicy couture tracksuit. a pink juicy couture tracksuit.

yn closed her flip phone shut with an echoing snap, and migrated closer towards the sight; the girl who wore the tracksuit was animatedly speaking to her friend, who appeared exhausted of her vibrant friend, staying silent while tracksuit girl kept on babbling.

yn had been dying to get her hands on a juicy couture tracksuit, but each time she went to a clothing store with the goal of purchasing it, it was sold out.

it was in high demand, and stores didn’t have enough time to restock it. despite being aware of this, it still didn’t stop yn from feeling frustrated, knowing she could’ve had her own juicy couture tracksuit in her wardrobe if it weren’t for how trendy it was.

envy bubbled under yn’s skin as she gazed upon the pink velvety texture of the tracksuit, betting it felt soft and silky, wishing she could flaunt it by wearing it as well.

if onlookers took notice of yn staring at the tracksuit girl, notably with yn dressed as her brother, they’d think she was romantically interested in the girl. luckily, yn as yeonjun was basically camouflaged.

unfortunately, of all people, tracksuit girl’s friend noticed, “eunha, that guy’s staring at you.”

eunha swivelled her head around, her dyed pale pink hair moving alongside her head, as her wide-eyed gaze met yn’s frightened stare.

yn cracked an awkward smile in reaction to being caught, and lifted her hand to salute eunha before bolting out of there.

ah yes, just what yn needed. her first day as yeonjun and she was probably already labelled as a creep that stared at women unblinking.

as if she wasn’t enough of an oddball as it is, and it was all because of that damned tracksuit.

“eunbi, he was cute.” eunha hummed, her eyes hazy and fixed on the spot where yn previously stood.

eunbi deadpanned, “that’s your type in men?”

eunha pouted, returning her now pointed stare back onto her friend, “why do you always have to be so judgy?”

safe to say, yn was not labelled as a creep.

yn’s eyes were positioned on the white clouds that were clashing against the bright blue sky. the birds were flying overhead in flocks, their chirping resounding in her ears.

the sight tranquillised her, quieting down her never-ending thoughts about her interactions with people she met while in a disguise; she felt like she consistently embarrassed herself to the brim and the day hasn’t even ended yet.

still, nothing compared to how jaehyun humiliated her, so she supposed it wasn’t worth stressing over.

yn expelled a breath out of her nose, and brought her gaze back down. she was standing in the middle of the soccer field, dressed in baggy sweatpants, an oversized long sleeved shirt and soccer shoes.

she flitted her eyes throughout the field, observing the students that were loitering alongside her, scattered across the field.

yn spotted three silhouettes stepping closer to her, as shadows were cast on their backs, thanks to the glowing sunbeams behind them.

she first noticed jungkook out of the three, he gave her a close-lipped smile once he saw her, approaching her with mingyu and taehyung in tow.

they were wearing hybla’s mens soccer team uniform; candy apple red soccer shorts, knee high red socks with white stripes wrapped around the cuffs, and a white t-shirt with the team’s logo imprinted on it in red, implying they were already a part of the team.

“you’re ready for tryouts?” jungkook wondered, when his soccer shoe clad feet were situated across hers.

“fucking terrified.” yn grunted, slumping her back forward, “i doubt the coach will go easy on me.”

mingyu slapped yn’s back, not intending it to hurt her but it hurt nonetheless, as it rapidly straightened out her posture from the impact, “you’re right, coach won’t go easy on you.”

“wow. way to cheer him up.” taehyung chortled, shaking his head.

“what? he needs to take it like a man and deal with it.” mingyu claimed, gazing at jungkook and taehyung for approval.

when taehyung only shrugged, mingyu began playfully pushing his shoulders in response, which led to a small play fight between them.

while the two were preoccupied, yn let out a small ‘ouch’ and twisted her arm to caress her aching back.

an unexpected tap on her shoulder startled her, she turned around and encountered jungkook’s doe eyes that held a concerned glint in them.

“listen, i can talk to coach for you if you want.” jungkook began, his voice hushed in order for his friends to not butt in, though, all it did was make their interaction seem intimate.

well, in yn’s mind it did. jungkook only thought he was being nice to his new roommate.

“he really isn’t as bad as those two doofuses make him out to be.” jungkook continued, briefly side glancing at mingyu and taehyung, who were now talking to one another, prior to bringing his eyes back towards yn, “he has a soft spot, trust me.”

“it’s not like i don’t believe you, dude.” yn revealed, placing her hand on jungkook’s shoulder, squeezing it—woah it was one sturdy shoulder—, “it just, this whole never played soccer before thing really isn’t doing me any favours.”

yn dropped her hand back to her side, “i’m fucked whichever way you look at it, and fucked raw.”

yn thought that she was surely getting better at talking like a guy, albeit it was all very exaggerated.

however, jungkook was none the wiser, he only silently laughed with his teeth peeking out from his suppressed smile.

“you still showed up for tryouts.” jungkook noted, “it means you really want to be in the team, and coach will love that. if he doesn’t, then i can talk to him.”

why was he being so sweet to her? well not to her, to yeonjun, to her dressed as yeonjun. as if it wasn’t enough that he was so alluring with a body of a greek god, he was also so kind. if he keeps this up, then she’d definitely…

abruptly, mingyu and taehyung drew near, enclosing jungkook with their statures at either side of his body, and cutting off yn’s incessant thoughts about him.

taehyung patted jungkook’s back, with his gaze set on the bleachers, “look over there, at the bleachers.”

“but don’t make it obvious.” mingyu hurriedly added, already staring at the bleachers.

yn watched how jungkook’s eyes darted upwards, doe-like eyes widening at what he was witnessing.

jungkook quickly raised his hands, running his fingers through his slightly messy hair in an attempt to make it look more presentable.

yn furrowed her fake brows, perplexity whirling in her eyes, before she turned her head towards the bleachers, catching the gaze of the juicy couture tracksuit girl.

yn immediately recognised eunha by her pale pink hair and that stupid tracksuit, as she walked down the bleachers with eunbi by her side.

“i can’t believe you dragged me all the way here when we could’ve done something productive.” eunbi murmured, sitting down on the bleachers with her arms crossed over her chest.

eunha followed suit, sitting herself down beside her friend, before taking out a compact mirror from her shoulder bag, opening it and aiming it at her face.

eunha observed the way she pressed her own lips together, sliding them side to side to make sure her lipgloss remained intact, prior to releasing them with a pop.

eunha averted her eyes away from her compact mirror, and stared at eunbi, “this is something productive! by the way, do i look good?”

eunbi rolled her eyes as a groan resounded from the back of her throat, “you look fine.”

“what’s eunha doing here?” mingyu pondered, glancing at jungkook, who was endlessly chewing on his bottom lip.

“do you think she came to see you?” taehyung asked jungkook, his hand moving from jungkook’s back to the nape of his neck.

something gnawed at yn’s very being, she brushed it off but it only resurfaced with a vengeance, she couldn’t stay quiet even if she tried, “is that your girlfriend?”

she hid her feelings well, as a teasing smile took over her plump lips, her eyebrows cheekily lifting up and down.

mingyu and taehyung burst in a cacophony of laughter, their laughter echoing on either side of jungkook’s irritated figure.

“guys, stop fucking laughing.” jungkook grumbled, slapping both of his friends to shut them up.

as mingyu and taehyung’s laughter slowly died down, jungkook looked at yn, “she’s not my girlfriend.”

“he just thinks she’s pretty.” taehyung drawled out, his voice lilted in a singsong tone.

jungkook raised both of his hands that were formed into fists, prepared to fight his friends if they didn’t cease their teasing, “oh will you stop that!”

yn returned her stare back towards the bleachers, once again locking eyes with eunha, “is eunha the one with the pink hair?” completely omitting her knowledge of the tracksuit eunha wore.

when jungkook nodded his head, yn wasn’t sure how she felt. eunha’s style was similar to hers, with the twinkling jewels, the pink colours and the sparkling accessories.

yn wondered if she were to appear standing in front of jungkook, dressed like herself, will he find her pretty too? or did he find eunha pretty for a different reason?

what was yn even thinking about, she barely even knew the guy. but for some odd reason, she felt disappointed.

yn didn’t get to dwell on her confusing feelings for too long, since jungkook hauled her, taehyung and mingyu towards the other side of the field, farthest away from the bleachers where eunha and her friend were sitting.

yn stood in silence, as the three men chatted with one another, once more she was deep within her own thoughts. she kept peeking at the bleachers, and each time she did, she caught eunha staring straight at her.

mingyu’s large palm smacked against yn’s back once again, she nearly yelped in reaction to the pain stinging throughout her back, “stop thinking, i can smell your brain fumes from here.”

“you still worried about tryouts?” jungkook questioned, lifting his brow.

yn casted her eyes downwards, kicking her soccer shoe clad foot absentmindedly, “a little, yeah.”

liar. she forgot all about the tryouts until jungkook mentioned them, making them enter her mind, yet they didn’t overpower whatever hold he had on her at the moment.

seriously, she was getting sick of herself.

“well, it’s your lucky day because the coach is here.” taehyung informed, getting closer to yn’s figure and forcing her to face the incoming coach.

it was as if every single thought related to the tatted man beside her evaporated into thin air, as she watched the coach, that she imagined to be tall and stern, trek through the field.

he wasn’t tall nor stern; the coach was of a short stature, with a round face that almost made her emit an ‘awe’. he looked young, most likely in his mid twenties.

maybe yn was worried over nothing.

once the coach stood in the middle of the soccer field, he grasped the whistle that hung around his neck, and blew on it, signalling the students to approach him.

“c’mon.” jungkook patted yn’s shoulder, and nudged his head in the coach’s direction, “you’ll be fine, trust me.”

yn found herself standing in between jungkook and taehyung, watching the coach in front of them squint his eyes, while he glided his gaze across each student that stood before him.

some were returning players, which the coach recognised, and some were new, like yn.

“my name’s yoongi but you will call me coach yoongi.” yoongi introduced himself, his gaze fleetingly lingering on yn’s face.

yoongi noticed that she looked oddly cherubic, and wondered just how old this kid was.

“the soccer season would begin in a week, and our first game would be against sherwood.” yoongi announced, placing his hands that held a clipboard behind his back, and walked back and forth, staring at each student.

“as returning players would tell you, sherwood isn’t exactly a difficult opponent.” yoongi continued, lightly grinning when restrained chuckles echoed from the students, before he wiped the smile off of his face, glowering, silencing the students, “that still doesn’t mean you can slack off. i want you all to do your best, especially right now, during the tryouts. if you want to be in the team, then you won’t take it easy.”

yeah, no, yn wasn’t worried over nothing. this coach was terrifying. she nervously gulped as yoongi’s calculated stare met her anxious one.

yoongi turned away from yn, putting his whistle in his mouth, blowing on it, “shirts and skins!”

huh?

yn jerkingly eyed the way jungkook, taehyung and mingyu, amongst others around them, slid their shirts off of their upper bodies.

panic settled in her stomach, causing her to lift her hand up, and part her lips, her faux deep voice resounding in the air, “sir! i have to be a shirt!”

yoongi ceased all movement, prior to stepping closer to yn, his sharp eyes gazing down at her, “why’s that?”

“i have a really bad skin condition that gets worse in the sun.” yn promptly fabricated a lie, her eyes not daring to stare back at yoongi, instead staring off into the distance, whilst praying he’d believe her fib.

whether he believed it or not, yn wasn’t sure. yoongi simply nodded, his expression unreadable, and whirled his body around, “fine. you’re a shirt.”

yn let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, the shrill sound of yoongi’s whistle ringing in her ears.

great, it was time to produce more material that would leave her awake in the middle of the night, utterly embarrassed at her own actions.

hell.

yn felt as if she was in hell.

if she had to guess what hell felt like then she’d assume it felt precisely like this exact moment, with her limbs burning and her head feeling like it’s going to explode.

yn was sitting on the grass, on her folded legs, her trembling arms barely holding her up, palms on the grass, as she struggled to fully breathe in, each breath sounding more laboured than the former.

the amount of times she fell face first while trying to kick a ball, or tripped on a ball while attempting to pass it was no longer just embarrassing, it was bordering on dishonourable.

there was just no way she’d get on the team, not even as a second-string player, who sits on the bench during games.

yn sat upright, moving her legs from underneath her and swinging them in front of her, stretching the sore muscles in her legs.

she glanced at yoongi, who was too busy skimming through the pages of his clipboard to notice her gaze on him, before sullenly positioning her eyes on her hands that gripped her sweatpants clad knees.

jaehyun was right, jaehyun was absolutely right. she was just a girl, who only cared about her appearance and wasn’t capable of doing anything else. she was so superficial, the thought immensely stung her inwardly.

she badly wanted to prove him wrong, only for him to be absolutely right about her despite all of her efforts. yn supposed it was time to pack her bags and return home.

tears accumulated in yn’s eyes, wetting her long eyelashes, whilst she hurriedly tried blinking them away before anyone noticed that they were threatening to fall.

warmth erupted on her back, in spite of the fact that her body temperature was higher than normal post tryouts, the warmth didn’t feel unpleasant at all.

yn glimpsed a tatted arm slither across her shoulder, before settling just above her chest, tatted fingers barely grazing her shirt.

jungkook.

he was seated behind her, his bare chest flushed against her back, with his arm dangling across her shoulder.

screw men and how touchy they are with each other. yn could never get used to it, not with him at least.

her heart was quickening its pace, beating so loudly in her ears, that she swore jungkook could hear it too.

jungkook made yn feel so strange, it was as if she wasn’t in control of her heart.

his every word, every touch, she felt like her heart could escape her chest and run off to him.

it’s only been half a day, and yn could already confidently say she was undeniably attracted to jungkook.

she could only assume it was a sexual attraction, she wasn’t in love with him, not yet.

he was capable of making her fall in love with him, but luckily, she’d leave later in the day, drop her facade, and possibly never see him again, given how she won’t be getting on the soccer team like how she planned she would.

yn won’t show up for the sherwood against hybla game anyway, she wasn’t dating a soccer player anymore, it was now trivial to her.

“you did really well for somebody who never played before.” jungkook grinned, his free hand patting her clothed shoulder, the rhythmic thumping of his hand against her shirt matching her beating heart.

“don’t patronise me.” yn muttered, bitterness lacing her voice.

“no! i’m serious!” jungkook giggled, a big smile breaking out on his face, “i’ve never seen someone dribble a ball like that in my life.”

a vexed throaty sound exuded from yn’s mouth, “bro, i’m telling you. there was something wrong with my ball.”

“sure there was.” jungkook chuckled, amusement glinting in his eyes.

“sorry to disappoint but i’m not getting on the team.” yn frowned, her voice sounding mournful.

jungkook lifted his eyebrows with an entertained smile on his lips, “yeah, you are. coach took a liking to you.”

yn shifted her body to face jungkook, the movement causing him to drop his arm from her shoulder—to her immense relief—, and narrowed her eyes at him, “that’s not funny dude.”

“i’m not kidding!” jungkook insisted, with hints of laughter scattered in his voice, “you’ll see for yourself.”

jungkook nudged his head in yoongi’s direction, who already had his whistle in his mouth, prepared to blow it.

yn once again found herself standing next to jungkook, though this time mingyu took taehyung’s spot on her other side.

yoongi stood in front of the students, that were encircling him, with a red plastic basket full of orange scrimmage vests by his feet.

“the next people i mention are second-stringers.” yoongi announced, gazing at his clipboard, “you all did very well today, but unfortunately some did better than others. however, don’t let that discourage you. it should motivate you to do better.”

yn squeezed her eyes shut, tuning out yoongi’s voice that called out the names of the second-stringers, and focused on her breathing. breathing in and out, in and out, in and out.

there was no way her name—well, her brother’s name—would be mentioned, and the longer she thought about it, the more it upset her.

all she wanted to do was hide somewhere and cry her eyes out until she was spent.

she did all of this for nothing, why did she ever think her plan would be successful when it was far too—

“choi yeonjun.”

yn’s mind was silent as yoongi’s call of her brother’s name reverberated in her ears. she fluttered her eyes open, noticing yoongi standing before her, holding her own orange scrimmage vest in his hand.

“you’re a second-stringer.” yoongi revealed, extending his hand, that held the vest, towards yn, and watched her curl her fingers around the fabric, before he let go and turned around.

yn could feel jungkook’s hand pat her back as a way to congratulate her, which aided to remind her that now that she accomplished the first step of her plan, she wasn’t going anywhere and would stay with him, a total danger to her emotions. oh merciful brother.

nonetheless, she succeeded; joy pulsed throughout her body, through every limb, completely overwhelming the aches and pains with elation.

she was one step closer to beating jaehyun in his own beloved game.

now the question was, was it possible to get good at soccer in two weeks, much less twelve days? yn guessed she was about to find out.

“the rest of you are first-stringers. as expected, all first-stringers are returning players.” yoongi continued, swivelling his body to face his new team, “that’s it from me. you’re all dismissed to go to the showers.”

wait.. showers? oh no no no.

yn cursed herself for not thinking of the possibility of there being public showers.

it wasn’t even a possibility, it was common sense. every single sports team goes to the locker room to shower and wash away the amalgamation of dirt after practice or a game. it was totally her fault for not considering it occurring.

for the second time that day—yn had a feeling it won’t be the last either—panic surged throughout her body, locking her body in place, her soccer shoe clad feet firmly pressing against the grass, as she inspected the way her teammates sighed a breath of relief and trudged out of the field.

“choi yeonjun, no shower for you.” yoongi proclaimed, emerging from the huddled crowd that his team unintentionally formed, and stopped in front of yn.

oh, thank god.

yn never thought she’d be so thankful to not be able to take a shower in her life. that’s a sentence she’d never say out loud.

when eunha caught sight of hybla’s mens’ soccer team depart from the soccer field, gathered together in a small group, she figured it was time to leave as well.

eunha’s leg that was crossed over the other, dropped to the ground, the sole of her foot resounding with a thud against the concrete floor of the bleachers.

eunbi knitted her brows together in confusion, her eyes following eunha’s every move as she rose up from her seat.

eunbi remained seated, her monotonous nasal timbre entering eunha’s ears, “you’re leaving just like that? you didn’t even get to talk to him.”

“i know.” eunha giddily responded, while slightly hopping in place, “it will make him want me more.”

“that doesn’t even make sense.” eunbi got back onto her feet, lifting her arms in order to stretch them.

eunha stuck out her tongue at her friend, “yes it does! the more he sees me, the more he’ll be curious about me.”

“you don’t even know his name.” eunbi mentioned, rolling her eyes at how foolish eunha sounded to her.

“he’ll want to know mine soon.” eunha concluded, nodding in agreement to her own words, which eunbi reacted to by only staring at eunha with a blank expression on her face, “anyway, let’s go get that coffee you wanted.”

“i want to speak with you.” yoongi disclosed.

by now, hybla’s mens’ soccer team had left the field, leaving behind silence in their wake, to the point where yn could make out the soft swooshing of the wind.

“about what, sir?” yn wondered, prior to dread gleaming in her widened eyes, “you regret putting me on the team, don’t you?”

“quite the contrary, really.” yoongi answered, a tiny smile conquering his lips, revealing a small bit of his teeth, “you don’t know how to play soccer at all.”

yn deflated, the corners of her lips turning downwards, “is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“you’re horrible at it. never seen someone play so amateurly. you played as if you had two left feet.” yoongi imparted, acknowledging that with every word that came out of his mouth, yn was visibly more upset.

“i get it, sir.” yn mumbled, gloomily gazing at the grass blades swinging in the wind.

“i didn’t finish.” yoongi addressed, “despite all of that, you showed more passion than your teammates who won awards. i’ve never seen someone fall so many times, scrape his knees and elbows, almost break his nose, just to get back up like nothing happened.”

“you must really want it, huh?” yoongi raised one corner of his mouth, and folded his arms over his chest, with his clipboard peeking out from underneath his arms.

you don’t even know how much was what yn wanted to say, but refrained from doing so, opting to nod instead.

“do you think i’ll get good by the sherwood game?” yn questioned, her eyes set on her fingers that fidgeted with the fabric of her scrimmage vest.

“i doubt you’ll get better at soccer ‘til the sherwood game, but if you continue at that pace, then you’ll be able to play as a first-stringer in the upcoming tournaments if we beat sherwood.” yoongi ended.

but yn won’t be there for the upcoming tournaments following the sherwood game, she was only attending hybla for two weeks, twelve days to be exact, though yoongi was unaware of that.

if she doesn’t get better at soccer until the sherwood game, then that would only prove jaehyun right, and she hated that.

yn’s mood didn’t seem to lighten up, it was evident on her face that she was ruminating, over and over, thinking of how she’d improve her soccer skills, how she’d beat sherwood and watch jaehyun fall to his knees near the goal net.

yoongi appeared to have realised that yn was overthinking, he patted the side of her shoulder, offering her a comforting smile, “go shower. it’ll make you feel better.”

a hot and heavy smell blending with scented soap and fresh laundry entered yn’s nose as her feet inattentively brought her to the locker room that was filled to the brim with her teammates, occupied with getting dressed after showering.

yn’s gaze was cast downwards, her mind too overloaded to notice that she arrived to the room that she swore she won’t set foot in.

jungkook’s voice she already became so familiar with, his lisp she began to adore, rang in her ears, practically being the only cause that brought her out of her stupor, “yeonjun, go shower while the water’s still hot.”

shower? yn wasn’t going to wash up in the public showers, unless she wanted everyone to know she was a woman disguised as a man.

she was going to avoid the place entirely, there was no way she entered the room absentmindedly, right?

doubt breached yn’s mind as to where her feet took her causing her to unceremoniously raise her head up.

her eyes dilated at the overwhelming view before her. the men, who were her teammates, were walking around with just towels wrapped around their waists, some even had nothing on in the process of getting dressed.

yn was entirely immobilised in trepidation, ahead of the front doors leading to the locker room, as she breathed through her nose, whilst attempting to think of what to do in her current situation.

what should she do? if she panics everyone would look at her and it would make her look questionable. and if she were to leave abruptly, then that too would make her look questionable.

why would she stay all grimy, in her own perspiration with specks of dirt on her skin? that wouldn’t make sense even to men.

“yeonjun?” jungkook echoed, positioning his body in front of her unmoving figure, concealing the rest of the crowded locker room with his broad shoulders and toned bare chest.

as if that was a sight any better than the previous one—it was—nonetheless it also brought upon agitation in yn but for a completely different reason.

“yeonjun, you good?” jungkook repeated, quirking his eyebrow.

yn wasn’t even listening to a single word jungkook was saying, she was utterly distracted by the lone drop of water that trickled from his soaking wet locks and dropped onto his rounded pectoral muscles, gliding down his firm abs, his bellybutton, then his—

“yeonjun!” jungkook exclaimed, both of his hands moving to grip yn’s much smaller shoulders. however, only she noted that fact.

jungkook slightly swayed yn’s figure back and forth, solely halting when she finally got out of her daze.

jungkook sighed, his hands still pressed against yn’s shoulders, as he partially lowered his head between his arms, “seriously, i thought i lost you there. what’s up with you?”

yn’s throat felt extremely dry, her voice hoarse when she spoke up, “nothing’s wrong, dawg. just a little tired, think i’ll go to bed.”

jungkook lifted his head, gazing at yn while wrinkling the skin between his brows, “but you didn’t take a shower yet. you want to go to bed with all that dirt on you?”

just looking into jungkook’s eyes was enough to deflect yn’s thoughts, no longer was she obsessing over soccer and the upcoming sherwood game, no longer did it take excessive space in her mind and worry her to no end.

now all she could think about were his gorgeous doe eyes that twinkled under the dim light of the room, and his eyelashes that kissed his cheeks every time he blinked.

oh yeah, he asked her something. she should answer, but staring into his eyes just sounded more inviting.

unquestionably, yn had a problem that’d only grow bigger if she’d allow her feelings for jungkook to develop even further, especially with her dressed as a man, as her twin brother. not to mention, jungkook was into another woman.

but she just couldn’t help herself, she couldn’t function with him standing in front of her with just a towel. it was astonishing what kind of power he had over her without even being aware of it.

her silence was starting to frustrate jungkook, he exhaled and took his hands off of her shoulders, carrying his warmth with him, and pushed his wet hair away from his face.

“did coach say something to you?” jungkook speculated, implying yoongi was the reason for yn’s stupefied state.

oh, how wrong he was.

yn visibly shook her head not only to respond to jungkook’s question, but to also bring herself back to reality and out of her mind, “well, he did ask me to stay back to talk, but it wasn’t too bad because i’m still on the team.”

“then why are you acting like that?” jungkook lifted his brow, crossing his arms over his chest, which assisted in making his arms appear bigger.

“dude, i told you!” yn retorted, after swallowing her own spit at the sight before her, “i’m just tired. i’ve never exercised this much in my life! give me a break.”

it wasn’t a lie per se, yn wasn’t used to kicking soccer balls; she was more acquainted with a sewing machine than with a ball.

it wasn’t the entire truth either, yes she was exhausted, terribly exhausted, however, jungkook was the cause for her strange behaviour, though she wasn’t going to admit that to him.

jungkook snorted in amusement, “fine. go take a shower and rest.”

jungkook whirled his body around, slipping his thumbs under the fabric of the towel wrapped around his waist, before yn recognised what he was doing. he was going to take his towel off.

a barely audible stuttered breath escaped out of yn’s lips, as she speedily turned the other way, her ears picking up the sound of his towel dropping to the floor.

yn couldn’t stay there, let alone shower, otherwise her sanity might vanish.

she needed to come up with an excuse, fast, one that won’t make her appear dubious.

oh screw that, yn didn’t care if she seemed suspicious, she needed to get out of there.

yn cursed under her breath, her eyes darted across the room, being careful not to glance in jungkook’s direction, while her mind went into overdrive.

the words came out of yn’s mouth before she even had the chance to think them through, it was as if she was on autopilot.

“oh, shit!” yn swore, twisting her face in reaction to her terrible acting skills, “i think i forgot my phone on the field, i’m gonna go look for it. i’ll be back!”

yn didn’t give jungkook the possibility of responding, neither did she get to see what kind of reaction he would have from her words, since she burst through the large doors of the locker room. the doors noisily swung behind her due to the force she used to push them open.

yn didn’t come back.

༺ TAGLIST @cookysstuff @sftykth @jkslvsnella @httpjeonlicious @coralmusicblaze @lussuria-zephyr @kissyfacekoo @nellyboosworld @midnight-summer @diamondjeon (italic means i can’t tag u)

[firein-thesky]

on the death of skirt chasers

a small think piece on how media has been stripped of romance, sex appeal, and charm over the last 20 years using trigun and trigun stampede as an example—specifically looking at this through wolfwood and vash as a tangible way to track this evolution.

it’s interesting and also unsurprising to me that trigun stampede stripped vash and wolfwood of some of their biggest personality traits from the 98 anime, which were their love of women. to be frank— they were both dogs lol

but vash was this sort of forlorn man who, meryl, upon meeting him, adequately describes him by asking, “are you the type of man to fall in love right away and get your heart broken?” or something to that effect. and he says what, no way! and then proceeds to fall in love with the next beautiful woman he sees and gets his heart broken by the end of the episode. and we were seeing this constantly throughout the show, then even in the later movie of the early 2010s badlands rumble.

and the 2000s are notorious for dubious, sexist comments from men who are women-obsessed. our action movies are packed with sexy female characters only existing for romance, etc. etc. we’re sort of at the tail end of it in 2010. so arguably, vash is almost worse here to me? he’s really pushy and borderline inappropriate with how stubborn he is. in a way that, while persistent in the 98 anime, he had a little more boyish charm to him and they never made him so forceful.

and then the middle and later 2010s happen where marvel takes over our action movies and romance and sex and womanizers are all but killed—originally, in reaction to the sexism. it’s important to note that the me too movement picks up in the middle and later 2010s too and becomes well-known by the end of this decade. and in response, i think we nosedive into puritanical ideas and sentiments by the end of the decade.

now we must always remember when a movement (ie feminism in this case) has a critique or reaction that catches on (the me too movement, men being pushy and overly flirtatious in our media, treating women in action movies only as sexy romance options, or showcasing toxic dynamics that subconsciously tell men to keep chasing her, even if she’s not interested) then the oppressive force (patriarchy in this case) will always transform as a way to take control again (bringing puritanical ideals back—we shouldn’t be showing sex or romance in our movies. we should not be consuming any dark content, ever. etc etc.)

i believe we killed romance and sex in the later 2010s because of an over correction of our sex-obsessed media of the 2000s—or rather, the patriarchy over corrected in order to maintain control. there were critiques of the 2000s that were valid, but like i said, the oppressive force will always transform to maintain power, so we hit puritanical beliefs again. “political correctness” if you will.

(capitalism surely has something to do with this too and it’s definitely along the lines of—be more beautiful and even hotter, but your body is not a sexual one, but a visual or capitalistic one. etc. etc. another topic, another time.)

and so here we are and we don’t really have any flirty or womanizing characters like we used to. and we see this very plainly in 2023s trigun stampede, where they have completely stripped vash and wolfwood of any of those traits.

and i sort of miss them? i think a 2023 forlorn vash who loves great and hard and gets his heartbroken would not be a bad thing—one who is effected and charmed by women, maybe rather than nearly stalking them like in the 2010 movie. i think it shows another piece of vash and that is quite literally that he wears his heart on his sleeve. and he gets hurt for it, endlessly. more than that there is a little more whimsy to him? and aching. he’s this lonely man who wants love so, so badly.

now, wolfwood in 98 version was less this forlorn chaser and more this suave womanizer. many jokes are made where vash is chasing a girl that wolfwood sorta already has if he wants her. but he’s this lone wolf who leaves everyone a little high and dry. (of course until the end—with milly —where, in a very classic lone-man way, he dies after leaving a woman with his child. the tragedy being that when he was ready to stop roaming and settle down with her and meryl and vash, he dies, thus still leaving everyone). and i mean even his appearance in the 98 version—big chested with low-buttoned shirt, shaggy hair and stubble. he looks like a 90s rockstar. he looks like your lone cowboy. he’s reminiscent of spike from cowboy bebop who has a similar charming air to him that never leads anywhere because he’s destined to be solo. the unintentional, intentional womanizer.

then the later 2010s hit and we kill the charming womanizer. (tony stark kills the womanizer. another topic, another time.)

and now in 2023, wolfwood is completely stripped of any of his sex appeal and suave personality that the 98 and even 2010 version of him oozed naturally. gone is the cool, tough, lone wolf. replaced with a sort of boy-bandish, squeaky-clean, semi villain, semi hero. he’s crass and he’s snarky and he’s supposed to be rough around the edges. but he doesn’t look it? and he lacks the charm that 98 wolfwood naturally had. which aided him when he talked to kids—he was softer. charming. people liked wolfwood, even when he was being crass. he knew how to talk to people, maybe even how to con them when he wanted.

2023’s wolfwood is tough to get along with. and while fun sometimes, i think it does lose this…romanticism to him? there is a softness in wolfwood that is sorta lost in 2023s version. while we get a fuller and better written backstory, we sort of lose this other aspect of him. we’re supposed to infer from his backstory and his relationship to his brother that he is a good man, just one put in a horrible situation, always had bad luck. whereas the 98 version, we saw that wolfwood was good with kids. gentle. women loved him—he charmed rowdy men, even swindled when he needed to. we saw that there was something good in wolfwood, even if he remained mysterious.

all this to say i do miss the romanticism? i do miss these men being…romantic? flirty? charming? and not even in a fangirl way but in a…humans are romantic creatures way? we are sexual beings? and romance and sex can tell us a lot about characters and their personalities.

and i think looking at vash and wolfwood in particular is a good way to track how we lost this romanticism in our media over the last 20 years—we literally see it in them, in their remaking in 2023, where they are stripped of it.

i think the mid and later 2020s will continue to return to it in some way—we already see this with the resurgence in romance novels (or these dark fantasy romance novels gaining popularity) and even fandom spaces being more “mainstream” on social media. but in late stage capitalism (and thus late stage patriarchy, racism, etc.) it looks a little like a carnival mirror of romance and sex to me.

another topic, another time. etc. etc.

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Surrender Part 2

Yay!! I loved the response the first chapter got, thank you so much for your warm support.

This is MATURE DO NOT ENGAGE IF UNDER 18.

This isn't the longest chapter (side-eyes the final chapter) but it's pretty close.

The CC boys misunderstand Steve a bit, Steve and Eddie go star gazing, and they have their first time.

Part 1

****

To say Eddie was nervous would be an understatement. It was one thing to hang out with Steve between classes and after school, it was quite another for Steve to willingly want to be seen with him during school hours.

Only he didn’t have to worry about a single thing. Steve still sat next to him during the classes they shared. And at lunch, he ignored all the calls to have him sit with them, and sat at the end of Eddie and his friends table. It was a clear rejection of the popular crowd and even Nancy and Jonathan, who had been among those calling out to him. But at the same time not deliberately throwing his lot in with the freaks either.

Eddie and his friends approved. But then that was what made Steve so good at the social thing. He knew exactly when to the toe the line and where, otherwise he wouldn’t have lasted as early as he did and as long as he did on top of the social ladder.

Because despite what nonsense Billy Hargrove threw around, he didn’t take the crown from Steve, Steve had willing given it up piece by piece.

Steve made eye contact with Eddie and the older teen blushed, shoving his hair in front of his face, shyly.

Steve smiled fondly and dug into what was supposed to be meatloaf. What it actually was, Eddie couldn’t figure out. He could have gotten hot lunch for free, Wayne and he qualified for it. But he could never stomach the smell.

Eddie and his friends goofed off like there was nothing strange about a deposed king hanging out at the end of their table.

He could tell that the other tables on the other hand were having trouble with the new development. They kept darting looks at Steve and then Eddie, like it was Eddie’s fault that Steve had sworn off socializing with them all.

Well, they were right, but not in the way they thought. They were more than friends. They had kissed and if everything went well tonight, it wouldn’t be Steve’s bed that he woke up in tomorrow, it would be Eddie’s.

God, Eddie prayed that everything went well. Just the thought of having that beautiful boy in his bed would be the culmination of every daydream and fantasy he had ever had over the last three years, when Steve blossomed into the hottest thing on campus.

“You doing anything tonight?” Gareth asked him breaking him out of his revery.

Eddie forced himself to keep his eyes on his baloney sandwich and not look up at Steve. He tapped his pretzel on the table. “Mhmm.”

His friends didn’t have the same restraint, however as all three of them turned to look at Steve. Steve looked up at them with that adorable head tilt that drove Eddie to near feral status.

“Jesus H. Christ!” Eddie hissed. “Yes, that beautiful person is the reason that I have plans, but if you could stop staring at him before other people catch on, that would be great thanks!”

Steve chuckled and stood up. He passed by Eddie on the way to the garbage. He leaned over and whispered, “You can tell them if you want.”

Eddie shoved his hair in front of his face again to hide the deep red blush that dusted his cheeks. He looked up at Steve and the boy winked before he made his way out of the cafeteria to the hallway.

As soon as Steve was out of sight, all three of Eddie’s friends turned to him, chin on their hands, and batting their eyelashes at him.

“Yes, Eddie,” Brian said with a pout, “you could tell us if you want...”

Eddie looked around making sure there was no one listening and then leaned forward to whisper, “We went out on a date last night and he wants to take me out again.”

Suddenly they were all piling on him and hugging him. Once they had thoroughly mugged him, they sat back down, smug, like a trio cats that had gotten into the cream.

“So where did you go?” Gareth said, cloyingly. “Did he take you out to dinner?”

Again Eddie looked around, before leaning in to tell them about the date last night and how special Steve went out of his way to make it.

“I need me a rich girlfriend,” Jeff huffed. “Shit. All that stuff just to woo you?”

Eddie shook his head. “Guys, don’t be like that. Come on. It wasn’t about the money. He knew that it would be some place I wouldn’t get to go to on my own and wanted me to have fun. And I did.”

The three other boys shared glances, but Eddie could tell they really didn’t believe him. He opened his mouth to tell them about their date tonight, but the bell rang and they were off to their own classes.

He shook his head and glared down at his unfinished lunch. He would just have to hope Mr. McLaughlin would lenient on the food in his classroom today.

****

Alas, Mr. McLaughlin made Eddie put it away immediately and he was forced to eat a stale sandwich and the rest of his pretzels after school.

He had all afternoon to wait until their date, something poor Uncle Wayne was forced to endure of his twitchiness. He would get up to do something and end up pacing. He would try to play guitar and nearly snapped a peg with how tightly him and the B string were wound.

“Ed.” Wayne’s voice was firm but kind. “You’ll make yourself sick with your wild imaginings. What’s going on inside your head?”

Eddie sighed and sat down on the floor looking up at him. “My friends think I’m only with Steve because of his looks and money.” He played with rings, hanging his head, letting the curtain of his hair hide his expression.

“And are you?” Wayne asked gently, running his fingers through Eddie’s hair.

Eddie’s head snapped up. “What?! No of course not! Steve being hot is the cherry on top of the icing on the cake. And yeah he got me some nice things yesterday, but it was because he wanted me get things I wouldn’t normally be able to. We had dinner at Benny’s for fuck’s sake! If it was about the money, I would have swung for something a little more high class than that.”

Wayne scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Okay, maybe not,” Eddie admitted. “But still! It’s not about how much he spent on the date, it was how much thought he put into it, you know?”

“So ignore them,” Wayne advised. “They aren’t going to change their minds unless they see it for themselves.”

Eddie nodded.

Suddenly a knock came on their door and Eddie sprang up like a spring and leapt for the door. He threw it open to see a warmly dressed Steve Harrington holding a box of chocolates.

“The best chocolates are the ones on clearance after Valentine’s Day,” Steve admitted with a half shrug.

Eddie pulled him into the trailer and slammed the door. He kissed Steve senseless.

When they finally came up for air Steve breathed, “I take it you agree?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” Eddie said with a great big grin. “Here, let me put these in my room and I’ll grab my coat.”

“M‘Kay!” Steve happily chirped.

“Back for round three, I see,” Wayne said, standing up to greet him.

Steve ducked his head and nodded, biting his bottom lip. “The first round started with me against the ropes and it did not look like I would be able to make a comeback.”

“I’m glad you did, son.” Wayne gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I haven’t seen my boy this happy since his mama died, so you take good care of you him, you hear?”

Steve nodded and Eddie came bounding out of his bedroom, smiling like a loon.

“You ready, baby?”

Steve nodded and then said goodbye to Wayne.

“He likes you by the way,” Eddie said as he slipped into Steve’s car. “Wayne I mean.”

Steve scoffed as backed out of the parking spot. “He’d be the first parent figure thingy who did.”

“Parents don’t like you?” Eddie asked cocking his head to the side. “I thought you were every white, Christian parents’ wet dream when it came to dating their daughters.”

“You forget my other reputation.”

Eddie frowned for a moment as he tried to think what there could possibly be about Steve that parents didn’t like.

“The sex, Eds,” Steve said after a few moments of him trying to puzzle it out. “They don’t like that there is a pretty good chance she’ll be losing her virginity with me, if she had it in the first place.”

Eddie’s mouth formed an ‘O’ and nodded. “I guess that makes sense. I thought you would have managed to charm the parents as easily as you charmed their daughters.”

They pulled up to the quarry and got out of the car. He opened his trunk and pulled out what looked to Eddie a whole shopping center’s worth of blankets and comforters. He picked out the most worn and the softest down comforter Eddie had ever seen and laid it over the hood of his car and windshield. Then he piled all the blankets up on top of it. Then the last thing he pulled out was a large thermos with two tin mugs.

He helped Eddie get up on the hood and then handed him the thermos and cups. He got on the hood and proceeded to wrap them up.

Just Eddie got settled, he looked out on the quarry just in time to see the most beautiful sunset.

“You are one smooth motherfucker, Stevie,” he muttered, “you know that right?” He pointed dramatically at the sunset.

Steve looked over and burst out laughing. “Hate to break it to you, sunshine, but not even I can control the sun.”

“Uh huh,” Eddie said rolling his eyes. “This is nice actually.”

Steve’s smile was incandescent as it took over his face. He carefully poured them the hot cocoa and handed one cup to Eddie.

“It’s my favorite thing to do in summer,” he said softly. “Just come out here by myself and watch as the stars race across the night sky. Night after night they chase each other.”

Eddie smirked over his cup. He was pretty sure he was talking about the planets, but he wisely kept that to himself. “Sounds lovely, Stevie.”

They talked about their classes and Eddie’s friends. They talked about his band and the club.

“Dustin wants to join the D&D club,” Steve said solemnly. “I talked to Mr. Conklin, the teaching advisor for the club. He over heard some older kids talking about it at the library and he’s really excited. And of course he told all his friends and they want to join too.”

“Stevie sweetheart,” Eddie said, his voice low and dangerous, “please tell me that you knew that I am president of the Hellfire Club. Like I wear the club shirt, that I designed myself all. The. Time.”

Steve blinked at him a moment, his mouth hanging open in shock. The D&D references, Kas, the dramatics. “Oops.”

Eddie drained the rest of his hot cocoa, made sure Steve’s cup was empty and set safely to the side before he absolutely tackled Steve to the hood of the car. He began tickling him and Steve burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Steve shrieked.

But Eddie kept tickling until Steve cried uncle.

Once he could breath again, Steve murmured, “I thought we both knew I'm not the smartest person on the planet.”

Eddie pulled him close and kissed him deeply. He ran his fingers through his hair and used his blunt fingernails to scrape Steve’s scalp. Steve leaned into the touch and let his eyes flutter closed.

“Baby,” he murmured gently as soon as Steve fully relaxed. “I wasn’t mad or upset you didn’t put the two together. We’ve only fully started getting to know each other in the last two weeks. I couldn’t name any of your interests outside of basketball and I don’t expect you to either, okay?”

Steve eyes slowly opened and he looked at him, searchingly.

“There you are, beautiful,” Eddie cooed. “I can tell people don’t treat you right, and probably never have, but all that changes with me. Okay?”

Steve nodded and then buried his head into Eddie’s shoulder. They eventually turned back to the stars above them. Eddie pointing out constellations and Steve talking about the Greek myths behind them.

Far too soon, it was too dark and cold and the hot cocoa had long since been drank. So Eddie and Steve piled all the blankets back into the trunk and started the drive toward Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie led Steve back to his room with a shy smile. “It doesn’t look like much, but it’s home.”

Steve was fascinated by all the posters and instruments. The great big Corroded Coffin banner and the piles of books and knickknacks.

“It’s amazing!”

He had been to other people’s bedrooms, he knew they weren’t like his. But this gentle chaos was nothing like he’d ever seen before.

Eddie shoved his hair in front of his mouth to hide his blush as Steve darted around the room like a kid in a candy store. Or rather like Eddie in the best game store Bloomington. He explained what all the different things were. He giggled as he flopped on the bed with a laugh.

“I like it,” Steve murmured. “But I think I like its owner more.”

Eddie grinned and advanced on the other boy. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm...” he said softly, stretching out on the bed underneath him.

Eddie licked his lips slowly, his eyes raking down the lean body of the most beautiful boy in Hawkins. He didn’t understand how this was his life.

“I like you too, sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss him. “So much.”

Steve got his hands into those curls that had been haunting his dreams, pulling Eddie as close as possible. Eddie flattened out and moaned into his mouth.

Fuck!

Their bodies slotted together like puzzle pieces and holy hell, did that do things to Eddie’s libido.

Steve’s hands began to roam, down his sides and all along his back. Eddie’s desire fueled Steve’s in a feedback loop. Eddie forced himself to stop so that he could sit up. He pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it to the side. Steve reached out and stroked Eddie’s now naked sides.

“Fuck, Eds,” he breathed. “I want you.”

Eddie smiled down at him and then helped him get out of his own shirt. Eddie took a moment to admire his boyfriend’s strong body. He ran his fingers over the smooth expanse of his chest. All the way down to his belt.

“Yeah?” he panted.

Steve nodded and that was all Eddie needed. He undid the belt and yanked it out of Steve’s belt loops. Steve huffed out a laugh.

“Someone is eager,” he teased as Eddie worked the jeans and briefs down and off.

Eddie mere scoffed, ignoring the statement. “Sorry, the socks have to go too. It’s too weird.”

Steve really did laugh at that one. Eddie quickly divested himself of his own clothes and flopped back down on the bed. Steve shrieked in delight as the motion caused him to get a couple of inches of air off the bed.

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffed as Eddie climbed back on top of him.

Eddie gave him a big kiss complete with the silly sound effect. “This is what you get when you’re with me, babe. It’s not too late to back out.”

Steve pulled him in for deep, searing kiss. “Lucky for you, I’m a dork too.”

“You? Steve Harrington is a dork?” Eddie gasped in mock shock.

Steve reached up and began tickling those exposed ribs. Eddie let out a shriek of his own. Then they were tussling and rolling around on the bed as they tickled and teased each other.

Eddie found himself on top and looked down at him in awe. Then he leaned down and kissed Steve hard.

“Eds...” Steve whined, thrusting his hips up to gain friction.

Eddie’s hands drifted over Steve’s body and sought to memorize every moan, every whine, every utterance Steve made as Eddie mapped out his body with his hands and mouth. Then finally Eddie was leaning over his cock, breath panting heavily as he fought for composure, but Steve wasn’t having it, having lost any sense of patience at all.

He grabbed Eddie’s hair and lowered him on his cock.

Eddie licked the tip and pushed down the foreskin. He kept it light as Steve bucked underneath him, hand still in his hair.

Then at last Eddie gave Steve exactly what he wanted. He crawled his way back up Steve’s body and took both their cocks in hand.

It was messy and rough, and everything Eddie ever wanted and if the sounds coming from Steve were any indication, he was pretty sure Steve thought so too.

Eddie came first, but Steve followed soon after their combined cum painting Steve’s chest.

Steve threw an arm over his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. “Fuck, baby. That was the hardest I’ve ever come.”

“That so?” Eddie teased as he went into the bathroom to get a wash cloth.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “That’s not hyperbole either.” Though he pronounced it as hyper-bowl.

Eddie chuckled as he wiped down Steve’s chest and abs. “I’m pretty sure it’s pronounced hi-purr-bah-lee.”

Steve frowned and uncovered his eyes to look at his boyfriend. “That can’t be right. It doesn’t end in a Y.”

Eddie kissed Steve’s tummy and threw the washcloth toward his laundry basket. He didn’t even see if it had made it (it hadn’t), he just crawled into bed with Steve.

“I love you, Stevie.”

Steve pulled the blankets on top of them and cuddled up close. “I love you too, Eds.”

****

Do you know what the best part about writing Steve is? That you can be confidently incorrect about something and it will be ABSOLUTELY in character. If you want another character to correct him you have to look it up, but otherwise, nah!

Tag List: ONE SLOT OPEN!!!! (please check the comments before asking to be tagged to make sure it hasn't already been filled, thank you)

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10- @w1ll0wtr33 @kultiras @sadisticaltarts @micheledawn1975

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + one

authors note: hi! this is a complete rework from another roman story i wrote but needed to redo. it's a mafia au, so understandably super dark. a 'blink and you'll miss it' bit of a beauty and the beast retelling. not meant to be anything groundbreaking or unlike most mafia stories.

i've found that my writing is best when 2nd person pov, so i wanted to challenge myself to make this third person to better my writing, thus, bear with me, ya'll. :)

if any cw/tw's are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: language, violence against women, mention of parental death, vague hinting at past sexual trauma

song inspo: 'looking through your eyes' by leann rimes

words: 5.2k

Through trial and error, mostly error, a lot of error, Solana Miller has learned and mastered most of the things that upset her father. 

Speaking out of turn. Meals not being ready on time. The house being a “mess.” The actual list is a living breathing thing that grows with each day and every unfortunate occurrence, but always at the very top of this list is lack of punctuality. 

There’s nothing Xavier Miller hates more than lateness. 

And that’s exactly what she is. 

Solana nearly faceplants into the three steps leading into the house with how fast she’s running. Her shaking hand and sweaty palm make it take longer than usual to unlock the front door, and the force in which she slams it shut behind her should be enough to knock the nearby family photo off the wall.

The photo that she is not included in, of course. 

She’s brushing off invisible lent as she rushes into her father’s office. “I’m sorry, there was an—” Her panting mouth snaps shut when she reaches the doorway, hand holding onto the frame of the door. “—accident.”

The minute Solana saw the flashing police lights and array of red brake lights was the moment she realized that she was in for a brutal punishment. She’d started to mentally prepare for such, trying to recall if she’s restocked the first aid kit kept in her bathroom and frequently retrieved. But, it’s not until she’s standing in the doorway of her father’s office, an office that’s filled with not only him and her brother, Wes, but other men that she realizes the ferocity of this punishment may be unlike any she’s received in some time.

Not only is she late, but she’s now interrupted some sort of meeting that he wanted her present for. 

Xavier’s eyes land on Solana with faux happiness that conceals flames she recognizes as a precursor for what’s to come. Naturally, like he’s not imagining all the cruel ways he can hurt her, in a way that only he can do, he slaps on a tight smile. “Ahh, there she is.”

Solana also realizes how almost everyone’s gaze is on her, and that doesn't make for a good response because she finds herself asking, “what’s going o—”

Xavier’s smile is very much unlike the ice in his voice. “Silence, child.” 

The sharpness of his command evokes an immediate response. Her shoulders slump and head drops. The displeasure just keeps growing. Solana can already feel the bruises forming, the sting of the ice on her busted lip. 

One of the men, an oversized, middle aged white man with a sharp gaze speaks. “I take it, this is your daughter?”

“It is,” her father confirms. If she didn’t know any better, Solana could almost swear she hears a hint of proudness. “Please forgive her lateness. She knows the importance of obedience.”

And the repercussions of obedience. Repercussions Solana knows await her once this meeting ends.

“I hope she does.” The same white man clears his throat. Solana hears the ruffling of papers but refuses to look up. Her gaze is better served focused on the ground, her silence and submissiveness certainly music to her father’s ears. “We received the requested medical report, and it appears you weren’t lying, Miller. The girl is still a virgin.”

That….that is the moment where it takes all willpower for Solana’s head not to snap up, eyes wide with both confusion and partial recognition. She’d wondered why her father asked her to schedule her yearly check-up with her GYN when she wasn’t due for another couple of months but knew better than to question, so she went ahead and did it. 

And she wondered why this checkup was so….different. Labs were taken, more questions asked, and a vaginal exam that had her leaving more uncomfortable than she’d ever been with Dr. Boyd. Not that seeing the woman was ever an enjoyable time in the first place. She's cold, stoic, an obvious doctor on the mafia payroll, but she's still a woman. 

Solana can't have a male GYN. She can't have a male doctor in any sort of specialty.

The confusion, however, comes into play at this man’s words.

“The girl is still a virgin.” 

That couldn’t be farthest from the truth.

“Her blood work also indicates she should have no problems conceiving a child.”

Emotions overpower reason as Solana breaks her silence and lifts her head. “What?” One furious glance from Xavier, and immediately, she knows that she’s fucked up.

She also realizes that she’s failed to notice one very important member whose sheer size takes up almost the entirety of her father’s onyx black loveseat.

Solana has heard the name Roman Reigns more times than she can keep track of over the years. It’s inescapable to live in this life and not know of the brutal ruler of the Bloodline, one of the most notorious mafia bosses in the underworld. But never in any of her 28 years has she seen him in person. Maybe somewhat in the same vicinity but never in close proximity, not like now where he’s sitting mere feet away from her.

He’s reclined back into the seat, thick legs spread, a blank expression on his handsome, bearded face. His features are sharp and predatory, yet there’s something about his eyes, a beautiful, light shade of brown that’s such a contrast to the cold blooded killer he is. Bulging, rippling muscles seem to be at battle with the plain black shirt he wears, and she notices his silky black hair is pulled back into a surprisingly neat bun of sorts. 

Solana knows that she shouldn't stare, but it’s hard not to. The man is objectively beautiful. He’s also staring directly at her. 

Panicked, her head drops down, eyes returning to continue counting the amount of beige swirls in her father’s persian rug. 

“Shut up…. ”Wes speaks from the other side of the room. He’s leaned up against the column near the bookshelf, lazily spinning around the pocketknife he never goes anywhere without. 

It’s the same knife that’s cut into her skin at least more than a couple of times over the years, drawing various amounts of blood depending on the extent of his anger.

Wes is always angry.

“I’m a man of my word, Mr. Heyman.” Solana doesn’t even need to be looking up to know her father has his hand over his chest, that faux sense of honor painting his harsh features. “I would never disrespect the Tribal Chief by wasting his time.” Solana’s throat goes tight. “My daughter is a worthy candidate.”

Candidate. Heir. Virgin.

It doesn’t take long with these major clues for Solana to piece together what they’re discussing, why her presence was required when never before has her father wanted her anywhere near one of his meetings.

Arranged marriage.

They’re discussing a possible arranged marriage between Solana and Roman Reigns. 

Her fingers flex and suddenly start to rub nervously against the soft material of her dress. Any appetite she had prior to entering the home is no longer present, vacated, replaced by a thick, heaping layer of anxiety.

Arranged marriages are far too common in this life. There’s not a week that’s gone by since she became of age that she doesn't hear about some union between two members of rivaling or partnering families. It's just how these things are done.

However, at 28, much past the typical timeline that daughters are married off, she’d accepted that that was not her fate. And she was okay with that, more than okay. Is okay with that.

Solana has a……complicated relationship with men, anyway. With people in general, but especially men.

The thought of her being paired off to Roman is so bad that it’s almost laughable. Their compatibility is in the negative range. He would never give her a second look, not even a first. A man like him needs someone who matches his prowess. She isn’t even on the radar.

And yet…..

And yet her father has somehow garnered interest, provided his counsel with her medical information “proving” her worthiness, and secured a meeting.

Circling back around to the medical report has her chest feeling tight and heavy. Lies. Her father has clearly paid off Dr. Boyd to write up whatever he believed needed to be said to increase his chances of locking in this deal.

She doesn’t know about the fertility portion, never really bothering or concerning herself with that part of her health. Someone has to have to have sex to conceive a child, and as far as Solana is concerned, that's never going to happen.

Not....not again.

But the virgin part is most definitely a lie. The physical exam certainly would have confirmed that.

And yet, the exact opposite was stated. 

Chills instantly move down her spine. Her father is perpetuating a fraud. Even more, he’s perpetuating fraud to a man who’s rumored to have a body count in the thousands. The same man he’s trying to pawn her off to.

This���.this is not good.

It’s not good at all.

—----------

“She’s weak.”

That’s the first thing to leave Roman's mouth since they entered the Miller Manor, and it’s not announced until they're back in the SUV and on their way back to his estate.

Checking emails and clearing notifications that piled during the time his phone was tucked away, he continues. “Too young. Has no backbone. It’s embarrassing.” Roman’s tone, much like everything else about that pointless meeting, reeks of boredom. 

“Her father clearly has her on a tight leash,” Rikishi adds. He brings the handkerchief he keeps in his shirt pocket and swipes it across his forehead, dapping up the light sheen of sweat that’s already formed in the walk from the house to the SUV. “But, a very pretty girl.”

Roman cannot and will not disagree on that. She’s undeniably beautiful, but everything else about her is unappealing. And saying Miller has her on a tight leash is an understatement. She’s terrified of him. The brother too,  and Roman would take a solid guess that one of the two is responsible for the slightly faded but still visible bruise he noticed on Solana’s upper forearm. 

There’s some conflicted emotion present at that piece of information, though he mostly leans in one direction.

Women and children should be off limits. Specifically, women and children who aren’t already indoctrinated into the life to the point of training. Roman knows plenty of kids who completed their first kill while still in single digits and women who fight better than some of his men. For them, it’s free game. They’ve proven they can handle themselves.

Solana doesn’t fall in any of those categories, and he’d be shocked if she even knows how to hold a gun.

Thus, in his mind, she’s off-limits.

Nonetheless, his family is full of fighters, regardless of sex.

So there's the other part of him that can't understand her passivity, that believes she's just weak. 

The thought process generates a list of other, much more adequate options. “What about Belair?”

“Engaged to be married in the Montez family.” Roman rolls his eyes. That fucker is an irritating prick. Seems like a desperate match. 

“Cargill?”

“She….” It’s slightly comical for Roman, watching the older man work his hardest to explain what was inarguably a disrespectful rejection. “---is not interested.” 

A dark chuckle leaves his throat. “She said fuck off, didn’t she?”

“More or less.” 

Roman smiles. He would expect nothing less. Cargill is a beast of a woman, a sure fun time in the sheets if she would ever remove the stick from up her ass.

“If I may, my Tribal Chief….” When Roman remains quiet, he takes that as his cue to continue. “The girl may be young and docile, but that also makes her moldable. She will do whatever you want with no protest. Is that not a possible advantage?” Roman continues to look out the window, allowing Paul to add on, “and she will have no problem giving you an heir, which is inarguably the most important thing at this point in your life.”

“He brings up a good point, uce,” Rikishi chimes. “With your temper, it’s probably best for you to take a wife who is more passive than dominant.”

Logically, it makes sense, but the idea of a stuttering, stammering wife who can’t even maintain eye contact for more than a minute doesn’t appeal to him in the slightest. 

“And as far as age, she’s closer to 30 than anything. You go for any older, and you might run into fertility struggles. This is the perfect age.” Rikishi’s crooked smile is followed by a small chuckle. “You ain’t so young yourself anymore, uce. Gotta have an even balance.”

There’s a difference between a balance and a child. Roman is prepared to say as such when Jimmy speaks, deciding to add his two cents from the passenger's seat.

“Look, Big Dog. All you need is for her to give you a kid, and you heard Paul. She can do that. Ain’t no need in making this bigger than what it is.” His insertion and contribution to the conversation ends up being valid. Granted, if he was anyone else, the delivery would have resulted in a maiming. But, this is Jimmy. He’s like a brother to Roman. Him and Jey. Hence their privilege with speaking so bluntly. “Shit, and did you see that body? Mannn, I’d never pull out of that.”

Also a valid point. Her dress was fitted around the chest area, accentuating heavy breast he could most definitely see himself palming as he fucked her from behind. The rest of the dress wasn’t as contoured, but it flowed against her shape when she walked in, and he could make out the curves he was certain she preferred to keep hidden. It’d been a while since he’d taken a woman to bed with a body like hers, a preference, but also not as easy to find in his world of fit assassins and killers who spend more time in the gym than anywhere else.

His latest set of women were on the slimmer side, moderate thickness, nothing like this girl.

But sexual desirability aside, her passivity indicates she’d be….that kind of woman. The woman who expects words of affirmation and quality time. A “gentle” kind of woman who’d want him to be sweet and patient in the bedroom, to make love to her. Roman is neither and none of those things.

He fucks, and he fucks hard. Subsequently, his wife should be cut from the same cloth. 

“Just….think about it, my Tribal Chief, hmmm?” Paul’s voice is tentative, laced with that tone that indicates he believes the decision should be made sooner rather than later. Granted, he values his life and standing in the bloodline, so he opts to not implement time constraints. 

A wise decision. 

“The scars.” Roman counted eight of them total, the one most pronounced on her face, slashing across her right eye and into the top of her cheek. The type of scar that’s embedded into the skin. And the soul. With a few of his own, it’s one of the first things he noticed. “What’s the story there?”

Paul quickly pulls out the portfolio from his briefcase, hurriedly flipping through papers when he settles on the one he’s looking for. “Ahhh….” Paul clears his throat, a telltale sign that’s he uncomfortable with what he’s about to say. “2005. It was a hit. Her mother was killed in the attack. Knifing. Solana survived, clearly.”

Roman turns his attention from the passing cars to look at his Wise Man. For the first time since this whole interview process began, Roman is intrigued. “She was there?” Paul confirms as such and says something else, but Roman’s attention is out the window again, haphazardly watching the flow of traffic, assimilating and accommodating this new piece of information. 

This may be the one and only thing he can understand about this girl. Something…something he can relate to. 

Survival

One doesn’t go through something like that without coming out on top or letting it bury you. Unlike him, she’d clearly gone the latter route. Granted, just making it out alive, physically, he knows better than anyone, is a feat in and of itself.

“Give me her file.”

—-------------

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry I didn’t write yesterday. It was…..a day.

I’m not even sure where to begin, because I’m not sure what to even feel at this moment to be honest. Dad is trying to marry me off to a mafia head, which would be fine, except….except that head is Roman Reigns. He’s….he’s a monster, mama. Has no soul. Not that many men in this life do, but there’s something about him that’s even more terrifying than the others. To make matters worse, dad had Dr. Boyd lie in my medical report. She wrote that I’m still a virgin, I guess something about my hymen still being intact. Mama, that’s a lie. There’s no way that’s possible. 

Not.....with what they did to me.

I’m trying hard not to panic, because there’s no way Roman would go for me. He’s a monster, yes, but even Lucifer was God’s most beautiful angel. He’s a very handsome man. He would never want someone like me.

I don’t know any man who would.

“Solana.”

Solana quickly snaps her journal closed, using the pen in her hand to mark her spot. She’s met with the gentle smile of 73–year–old Meryl Jensen, a widow who’s worked at this library for almost forty years.

Solana still remembers the first day she met Mrs. Jensen. She was 6-years-old, and her mom was looking for a certain book she’d read about in the newspaper. A book that she hoped would further and better her English speaking skills. A native of Mexico, Nina Miller taught herself English by immersing herself into American literature, film, and music. 

Similarly, Nina taught her Solana Spanish by immersing her daughter in Spanish literature, film, and music. A secret among the two as an always hostile, paranoid Xavier “banned” Nina from teaching their daughter a language he couldn’t understand.

If he couldn’t control it, it was a no-go.

But it was when Mrs. Jensen was helping Nina locate her book, Solana noticed another book sitting near a kids display. Goodnight Moon.

If Solana tries hard enough, she can still remember the warm smile her mother gave her as she allowed her to check out the book, her very first "purchase" from the library. It started a love of books, aided by Mrs. Jensen who always provided appropriate recommendations to Solana and her mom.

Not that Solana tries to think too much about memories with her mother. They’re almost always ruined and replaced with the sounds of the butcher knife slicing into her mother’s body as Nina used the last of her strength to shield and protect her daughter from the violent assault that would end up taking her life.

Solana’s smile, however, does dim and her stomach drops when she realizes that Ms. Jensen isn’t alone. 

“This girl is always writing, I swear.” It’s only when the older woman refers to her book that Solana quickly closes up her journal, shoving it to the side.

Her eyes never leave Roman though.

And his certainly aren’t leaving her, even as Mrs. Jensen places a hand on his arm, laughing at her own joke.

Mrs. Jensen then squints her eyes and leans over the counter. “Child, did you fall again?” It takes a second for recognition to dawn. She’s then hit with the memory of her father backhanding her across the room, the force sending her to the floor after the dispersion of yesterday’s meeting. A truly pale punishment compared to some of his prior assaults. “My goodness.” Mrs. Meryl laughs, shaking her head. “An everyday klutz I tell you. I can’t think of one day she hasn’t come in here without some kind of mark from her clumsiness.”

Roman’s staring directly at Solana while acknowledging the older woman’s casual observation. “Interesting.” He then darts his eyes, offering a smile that, if one didn’t know any better, could be considered genuine. But Solana does know better. She knows much better. “Could you give us a moment?”

Of course, Mrs. Jensen obliges, saying something about hushing up some boisterous high school students on the first level before it’s just Solana and Roman. 

She has a million and one questions, starting with why the hell Roman Reigns is at her job. Whatever the reason, it can’t be good. A man like him only brings about chaos and mayhem.

And death.

Swallowing and powering through the onslaught of anxiety, she starts off in an unsurprisingly soft voice, “if you’re looking for my father, he’s—”

“If I wanted your father, I would be speaking to him right now.” Roman’s interruption is dangerously calm, but Solana detects a hint of irritation. “You’re the one I want.”

Oh.

What in the world this man could want with Solana is beyond her. To make matters worse, Solana catches his gaze on her bruised cheek again. Makeup could only do much, but she's really starting to wish she went for heavier coverage. She drops her head, focusing on the denim of her jeans to avoid his burning stare. “I—umm.”

Solana’s body registers before her head does that Roman is lifting his hand to touch her. She responds accordingly, jumping back and away from the interaction. He chuckles, darkly, lowering his hand to his side. “That was some fall.”

Solana unconsciously brings her hand to hover over her cheek. “I’m—clumsy.”

“No, you’re not.” It takes a second for Solana to register his blunt comment and another for her to digest that he’s calling her bluff. “But, you are a terrible liar.”

He’s not wrong on either note, but she’s unsure just how to respond. “What—what do you want from me?”

Roman straightens up, and just the sheer size of him makes her swallow in fear. He’s a beast of a man, more beast though than anything else. “To make sure you understand what this is. It’s obvious Miller didn’t inform you about the meeting, and I won’t go into anything with anyone unless they’re fully aware of what they’re signing up for.”

If he’s waiting for Solana to acknowledge the first part of his reason for showing up at her job, he does a poor job waiting because he goes straight into his disclaimer. 

“I have no desire to be with you or any other woman for anything more than a sexual release. We’ll ensure my bloodline continues, but that’s it. Financially, you’ll want for nothing, and I can assure you, your clumsiness won’t be an issue. But, I will never love you, never see you as anything more than a business arrangement because that’s what you are.” He’s studying her facial expressions, reading all of the emotions oscillating around. “Do you understand?”

There’s a couple of different thoughts racing through her mind at this moment, but the dominant thought is wondering just what in the hell would possess someone like him to ever even consider someone like her? He is the definition of brute strength in all areas. She is beyond broken. There can’t be anything appealing about that.

But then….maybe there is. Roman knows she will not cause him any trouble, can recognize this brokenness and sees it as an easy way to get what he needs while still having the freedom to do whatever, and whoever he wants. It’s a bit of a win-win. 

And as far as the love aspect…..

Solana learned a long time ago that all of the fairytales lied. There is no prince that rides in and saves the damsel in distress. No one to swoop in and save you from the monster. It’s either killed or be killed, and her death already occurred on August 7th, 2005.

As ironic and fucked up as it is, Solana recognizes this is the best deal she’ll ever get in her life. 

With quite literally nothing to lose, she acknowledges him.

“I understand.”

—---------

The minute Solana steps into the house, she’s immediately shoved into the freshly painted wall behind her. A strong hand is on her throat, restricting her breathing.

“What did you say to him!”

Fingers foolishly grasping at the hand suffocating her, Solana tries to speak even with knowing that it’s impossible when she can’t even breathe. This only pisses her brother off even more. He bangs her head into the wall, causing the nearby pictures to shake. “Answer me, you stupid bitch!”

“Let her go, Wes.”

Xavier’s command is followed with a delayed acquiescence. Solana falls to the floor, coughing and gasping violently. She brings her hand to the back of her head to check for any blood, but her gaze is soon on the black leather shoes her blurred version is able to make out.

Solana cries out when her father grips her hair, yanking her head back and forcing her to look at him.

“We know Reigns came to see you at your job today.”

At some point in her life, Solana would be stunned and partially disturbed this, by how her father is aware of this piece of information.  But, this is no longer that time in her life. That time when she was naive enough to think that she could ever escape this life, ever leave and never look back.

She’d tried once. Foolishly. And it landed her in the hospital for two weeks. 

Solana can still remember her father’s dry, cracked lips pressing an insincere kiss against her temple as he said in the calmest yet coldest voice. “You ever try to leave this place again, and I’ll make sure to finish the job.” 

That was the last time she ever fooled herself into believing better waited for her.

“Now, what did you say to him?”

“I—I—nothing.” It’s not a lie but not the entire truth. She didn’t say anything that should have pissed him off. Then again, with a man as temperamental as Roman, anything and everyone could piss him off. Look at her dad and brother. “What did he—”

A phone ringing possibly saves, or just delays, the next set of hits. And even better, it’s Xavier’s phone.

He pulls it out of the back pocket of his pants, eyes lighting up. With a mischievous smile, he taps the screen twice, answering, “my Tribal Chief.” Solana’s eyes widen. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Cut the bullshit, Miller.” Roman’s deep, baritone voice is powerful and authoritative, even when he’s not even in the room. “You know why I’m calling.” And before her father can further upset him, Roman jumps straight to the point. “We have a deal.”

It’s been some time since Solana has been so thoroughly surprised by something she’s heard that she briefly loses awareness of where she is. But this….this is one of those moments. 

He can’t…..he can’t have said what she thinks he just said. Her acknowledging understanding was just a formality. She didn’t think he was actually considering marrying her.

Xavier’s smile is broad, signs of a man who just got exactly what he wanted. “Wonderful. We shall start planning.”

“Two weeks. The wedding will be two weeks from today.”

The tightening in her chest has returned. Solana is certain she’s about to start hyperventilating. This….this can’t be happening. 

Xavier and Wes share a look as he stammers with a response. “Uhh, yes, of course—whatever you wa—”

“Oh, and Miller?”

Irritation flashes in Xavier’s eyes, but he shoves it back for a polite acknowledgment. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“You or your boy lay a single fucking finger on her again, and I’ll gut you both where there’s nothing left to bury.”

Solana is almost certain there’s not a single one of them that’s not taken back by Roman’s icy warning. However, she swallows when her father’s fire gaze lands on her. She knows immediately she’s in for a matching bruise on the other side of her face.

Xavier laughs quietly. “That girl has always been so clumsy. I assure you—”

“One.”

Xavier is understandably confused by Roman’s single-word response. “Pardon?”

“Everyone gets one chance to lie to me. You’ve just used yours.” For the briefest hint of a second, Solana believes she sees fear flash in her father’s eyes. “Consider yourself warned.”

The phone disconnects. 

Silence settles over the three of them, but it doesn’t last. 

“I–I don’t understand.” Solana finds her voice, unable to stay quiet in a moment that’s completely just changed the course of her life. “I–I can’t marry Roman.”

For a lot of reasons. Many reasons that she can list out and defend if given the chance.

Solana is consumed by her thoughts and pending mental breakdown, so much so that she misses when her brother stalks across the room. He throws her back up against the wall, and the minute her eyes land on the silver, she’s frozen in place.

His grin is predatory and satisfactory as he murmurs, floating the knife in front of her. “It seems you’ve finally made your existence have some type of purpose.” Solana has to close her eyes. Just seeing knives sometimes brings her back to that night, and having one pressed against her….

Wes knows exactly how agonizing that is to her, hence his favorite method of torture. 

Swallowing, she weakly protests, “you—you told them I’m a virgin.”

That’s a major reason why. Her father has made her out to be some chaste, pure woman when she’s anything but. And to lie to Roman, of all people, about something like that.

They’ve more or less signed her death decree.

“No. Dr. Boyd’s medical reports confirmed you’re still untouched, and you’ll go along with it for however long is necessary.” Xavier’s rebuttal is smooth and to the point, like he doesn’t see the issue with his actions.

He never does. 

“Don’t you understand?” Wes lazily slides the knife up and down her skin, smiling at the terror in her face. It’s his greatest motivation, witnessing the extent of her fear toward him. “We’d let Reigns and his entire bloodline fuck you if that’s what it took to get what we want.”

Solana has no shock value at his words. Wes stopped caring anything for her the minute she got their mother killed, and it’s not as if she can entirely blame him. 

Nina would still be alive if not for Solana. It’s something she accepted ages ago, an undeniable truth. 

However, she does have to ask in a pained voice, “what do you want?”

Xavier supplies, taking a hit of his cigar she didn’t realize he was holding this whole time. “We want and will have control of the bloodline.”

If not for her current situation, she’d laugh. Control of the bloodline. That’s….that’s not even a dream. That’s a delusion. Still, there’s an undertone to his voice and words that alarm her. In a quiet voice, she protests. “That’s—that’s impossible.”

Solana hisses as Wes presses the knife deeper into her throat, nicking her skin and drawing blood. “No, it isn’t, not anymore. Because we have a way in.”

And it’s with widened eyes and a constricted throat that Solana finally understands what’s happening, what they plan to have happen. 

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “No….”

Xavier answers with a cruel, wicked smile. “You’re going to kill Roman Reigns for us.”

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Can I get some steter with morally dubious Stiles?

You sure can! @kevaaronday made this list.

A Darkness Follows by havok2cat (9/9 | 41,994 | Explicit | Steter) Stiles serves his community service at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. He's assigned to a mysterious patient and finds himself quickly becoming obsessed.

As most wrong theories are by PotatoYoghurt

(46/46 | 35,150 | Explicit | Stetopher) The world takes everything from Stiles.

Stiles decides to take it back.

Null & Void by skargasm (18/18 | 28,762 | Explicit | Steter) In a world full of the supernatural and superpowers, everyone eagerly awaits their 18th birthday to ‘receive’ their gift. On his 18th birthday, Stiles Stilinski comes into his powers and finds out in the most horrific way possible that his gift is more of a curse – one unguarded touch, and he absorbs both a person’s gift andtheir life-force. 

Determined to keep his friends and family safe, he moves away from his home and takes a job with the government, taking away the gifts of those who would abuse them. As one of the most powerful – and potentially dangerous – people in the world, Void feels completely alone. 

Peter Hale’s gift is incredibly prized – mainly because no one is allowed to openly discuss what their gift is. Working within the P.A.C.K. bureau, he keeps his family safe and does the world a service. No-one’s gift can touch him, and he is one of the very few who can tell what someone’s gift is from one simple touch. 

So what does he do with this ruthless but attractive new partner who refuses to let Peter touch him?

To Court a (Oblivious) Werewolf by StilesIsMySpiritAnimal (5/5 | 25,437 | Explicit | Steter) There was no mistaking that this was the Spark.

He walked with a lethal grace, hands in his pockets and head tilted down slightly. His entire body had a soft glow to it.

Three bodies moved in unison to flank him, and they walked the remaining distance to the pack.

As if sensing his perusal, the boy looked up, right at Peter, his whiskey-colored eyes flashing in the sun.

Oh. Peter briefly wondered if the young man hid his face for safety, or because every ‘wolf within ten miles would be looking to court him.

Perhaps by Triskuit (1/1 | 7,168 | Explicit | Steter) Stiles and Peter run into each other when attempting to kill the same people. They get together and go a-murderin'.

-----

“Should we be comparing lists or something?”

There was an amused snort. “Perhaps.”

They stood around awkwardly for a few moments and then Stiles went to get a closer look at the thoroughly shredded Body Formerly Known As Todd.

“You’re not going to ask?” the werewolf blurted.

There was surprise and incredulity in his voice. And was that a hint of disappointment? Stiles bet he had a whole spiel prepared. He smirked.

“About what? You’re a guy who turns into a wolf-bear creature. And? Do you have another trick up your sleeve? Some fascinating hobby?”

The werewolf erupted into a full-body laugh, mouth open and eyes sparkling — Stiles was close enough now to see that they were blue — and he was pleased to elicit such a response. He wanted to hear that sound again. 

Aconite is Forever by threedices (1/1 | 5,636 | Teen | Steter) Magic helps Stiles find his soulmate. Knowing Peter exists is a comfort after his mother's death.

While magic doesn't stop the Hale fire it allows Stiles to bring Peter back when he thinks sacrificing himself for Stiles is a good idea (the fool).

Too Good to be True by stellewrites (1/1 | 5,256 | Teen | Steter) “This is a big fucking job, Ali,” Stiles said tiredly as he looked over the blueprints for the banks. “I’ll be doing you more than a favour if I do this. It’s peak time for tourists, so that means that cops are going to be more alert than usual. We won’t have much time.” 

“So, you’re in?” She confirmed. 

“Yeah, I’m in,” he said

“Who the fuck actually robs a bank in Las Vegas?” Peter murmured, feeling hysterical when he saw the masked group spread around the bank. 

--- 

Peter's on holiday with his friends in Las Vegas when he gets caught up in a bank robbery. One of the robbers has really pretty eyes - not that Peter noticed…

To Captivate a Killer by Noxnthea (1/1 | 2,000 | Teen | Steter) “The problem is that I’m not sure whether I want to kill him or kiss him.”

There’s silence from the Sheriff’s end of the spell before his father says, “Really, Stiles?” 

Stiles has accepted a contract to assassinate the Hale prince. It’s not panning out quite like he expected.

Just Calm Down by SnakePit1995 (1/1 | 1,085 | Gen | Steter) Stiles putting wards on Peter's apartment was easily the best decision he ever made. They worked perfectly and saved them time and time again. The intent wards were an everlasting argument but Stiles was never going to take them down. 

OR

The intent wards don't let Peter into the apartment when he's angry and Stiles finds it endlessly entertaining.

[iwriteloveletters]

Sickly (Shigaraki Tomura x Reader)

WORDS- 1,797

WARNINGS- NONE

All you heard were back to back coughs coming from your boyfriend's ‘room’, they echoed within the empty hall he resided in, while you weren’t a villain who frequented or stayed at the villains hideout you often visited him and him only. You usually provided him food and sometimes new shirts if the previous ones were tattered due to his careless combat skills. You didn’t mind it at all, you loved to treat and take care of him. 

“Tomura?” You said as you knocked on the door. 

There was no response coming from the otherside of his door. Only coughing. 

“Tomuuuu,” you sang as you opened his door anyway, “why didn’t you answer? Is everything okay?”

“Go away.” He rasped and let out another harsh cough, you were able to come to the conclusion that he was sick. 

“Oh don’t be like that my love,” you said as you got closer to him, the room was somewhat dark and the only thing illuminating the room was the small TV that was in his room. 

He had a video playing on the screen, to you that meant he was extremely ill if he couldn’t get the energy to do what he loves the most; play video games. 

Based on the dark blue light that exposed him, he was paler than usual. The only thing that had color was his flushed cheeks that could be easily explained by a fever he had, and you could see him shake under his thin blanket–his black unwashed hoodie being the only other thing keeping him somewhat warm in his freezing room. 

“I don’t want you to see me like this, go away.” He grumbled as he turned to face the wall. 

You chuckled at his stubborn responses and made your way to a nearby light switch to turn his room lights on. 

As the light went on he hissed as his immediate reaction, not having a chance to prepare himself for the sudden flash of light. 

“You look terrible, what happened?”

“Was trying to fight in the cold.” He admitted. Based on his defeated tone of voice, he barely made it out alive. You heard about his loss recently but didn’t want to think about it for too long, his ‘career path’ terrified you everyday, one day he would wind up dead and there would be no way for you to save him or mourn. 

You shook your head, his hideout barely had any heat. Of course he’d get sick, it was the middle of December. 

“Come to my house, it’s warmer.” You insisted.

He shook his head, he didn’t like depending on you at all. He wanted to prove himself to you as a strong man who could protect you. Yet to you, there was nothing to prove; you loved him regardless. 

“C’mon get upp.” You said as you put your hands under his arms in order to lift him up, he hasn’t eaten much lately so it wasn’t hard to sit him up. 

“You don’t wanna get caught with me.” He sighed. 

While he was right, you didn’t. You didn’t want him caught out in the open at all, it wasn’t out of shame but rather fear for his safety.  

Luckily, you had an unwrapped mask in your bag from a prior cold you had. 

“With a mask and your hood up, it should be no issue.” You grinned, now he couldn’t say no to your offer. 

Before he could reject your offer again his hood was over his head and covering all of his hair within seconds.

“Hey!” He grumbled. 

“Stop being such a big baby, I’ll make you some soup. I know a really good soup I made when I was sick last month.” You said as you handed him the black mask. 

“No, you’ll get sick again. And I don’t want to bump into a dumbass hero.” He said, you weren’t caring about any of his excuses. You wanted to get him out of this cold place. At least till he recovered.

He met his match when he met you in terms of stubbornness. You wouldn’t take a ‘no’ for an answer in this situation. You couldn’t watch him get worse, there is no underground doctor you personally trust and there is no real doctor he’s allowed to see. You both were aware of that. And he agreed with your feelings on these so-called ‘doctors’. 

You stared at him in silence for a bit longer so he could rethink his answer. He caught on to this. 

“Fine.” He sighed but not without another cough leaving his throat. 

“See, this is why you’re coming over.” You chuckled. 

He got up and unwrapped the mask and from then on you made your way outside into the harsh cold.

Before you two made it out Kurogiri stopped you.

“Where are you headed?” He interrogated the two of you, mostly Tomura though.

You didn’t answer him, you never felt obligated to answer to him or anyone else that wasn’t Tomura. 

“Out.” He flatly said. 

“But you’re ill.”

Tomura groaned, “we’re going for cough medicine. I’ll be back later.”

He didn’t want anyone to know he was going to your house, and he didn’t want Kurogiri to take him there as that would expose your location to someone that could expose him to AFO. Your love was somewhat under wraps and that was okay with you considering no one else could know you were dating a villain. That’d just be trouble for everyone, especially you. 

He nodded and stepped out of the way. 

The two of you stepped out into the cold, his shivering got worse. Luckily, you were only a ten minute walk away from his hideout. Before you know it you would both be entering a much warmer home. A real home for him.

He kept quiet for the majority of the walk, he had no energy and was in and out of sleep before you got him out in the first place. The fresh cold air was nice to breathe in for him however. This meant the walk wasn’t all that terrible for him.

You approached the door just in time, he was starting to drag his feet into the snow and began to lean against you for extra support. 

You dragged him into your home and sat him on the couch. 

“You have some of your things here that I washed, I’m going to start a warm bath for you.”

“Y/N, I am twenty-one. I’m not taking a bath.” He argued.

“You can barely stand.” You said.

He couldn’t make a comeback on the spot because you were right, he was weak and he was in aching pain. Especially in his legs; a shower would be torture to him.

You quickly went to fill up your tub with warm water, not too hot because his skin was rather dry and sensitive. You offered lotion in the past but he couldn’t stand the feeling of it on his skin.

During the time it took to fill it up you came to collect him and get him ready for the bath, you believed it’d soothe his aching body a bit before some soup. 

“C’mon Tomu,” You lifted him and took him to the bathroom where you helped him strip into nothing.

He complained about you seeing his sick body but you didn’t listen to him, you were more worried than anything and nowhere near close to grossed out with someone as beautiful as himself. While he didn’t shower for a few days, you didn’t judge him. The hideout wasn’t necessarily a place you could shower in. 

“C’mon you know I’ve seen you before, I love you regardless.”

He grumbled and ‘I love you too’ before he eased himself into the bath. He sighed in relief as he felt his muscles slowly relax in the warm water. He doesn’t remember the last time his body felt so relaxed and calm.

You grabbed a luffa set aside for when he visits or stays the night and lathered it with soap, you began to scrub his skin gently. 

“But…” He was about to protest. He was ready to prove to you that he could at least wash his body himself, he was a grown man and an established villain! He believed he could wash his own body.

“Let me take care of you Tomura.” You smiled, reassuring him that he was in safe hands and he could finally feel safe.

You continued with the scrubbing and rubbed his shoulders after you were done with everything, you let him relax for a bit more while you took care of his clothes on the ground. 

You then brought over a fresh set of clothes–a black shirt and black sweats–for him to wear. 

He continued to rest and relax his body in the bathtub while showering you with love and thanks as you were in and out of the bathroom. 

He soaked for an extra fifteen minutes while you prepared soup for him. It was a simple chicken noodle one, perfect for when you’re too sick to make a full on meal for yourself. 

While you left the soup to cool off a little you gathered Tomura and he insisted he can dry himself up alone but let you assist him with dressing when the ache came back.

You noticed he washed his hair while you were away, you went ahead and dried that quickly too so his flu didn’t worsen. 

He smelled like lavender and no longer of sweat and illness, you didn’t care either way no matter the state but you loved him so much when seeing him so well taken care of. He deserved it considering he couldn’t get this care from anyone else. 

The two of you walked to your room where you got him situated in your bed and quietly enjoyed the soup together. 

He finished within minutes and wrapped himself under the covers and watched you finish your soup. 

This was when he realized you were the one, the one he could think about leaving villainy behind for, he would fake his death right now and never regret leaving his ‘beloved’ mentor behind. He knew his life of crime would someday come to an abrupt end and he couldn’t stand to leave someone such as you behind. You were the one for Shigaraki Tomura and Shigaraki Tomura was the one for you. He would fix himself overnight if possible to make sure of it. 

You then finished your soup and adjusted the covers so it would be evenly distributed between the both of you. 

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too,” you kissed the middle of his forehead, “thank you for letting me take care of you.”

Thank you so much for the request @nionou !! I know I said give me a day or too but god i was wayyyy too excited to not write this in one sitting, I really really hope you like and enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it. <3333 And as for the one levi request I will finish it as soon as possible im super duper sorry to the person who requested it a while, lifes just been hectic...

[kana-de]

silence.

tomioka giyuu x gn!reader.

⭒ summary: everyone knows that giyuu isn't much of a talker, so this depicts the silent moments with him that you both have come enjoy.

⭑ cw: sfw. mentions of giyuu's past (final selection w sabito). a bit of angst. reader is bad at comforting. giyuu loves you sm. like loves.

⭒ wc: 2.8k.

⭑ a/n: this took me too long wth, almost a month i fear lol. this was written during my demon slayer hyperfixation comeback (it's gone now) so uh. also acheron fic coming soon (i hope soon)! pls like and reblog !!

it wasn't exactly silence after giyuu finished speaking. there were sounds of birds chirping, wind occasionally blowing, resulting in sounds of swaying leaves on the trees being more audible. some even fell because of the invisible force of the air, ending up meeting the gravel ground near the engawa.

having told a good share of his past to you—precisely about sabito and the final selection, which were the main reason he wasn't exactly thrilled about taking part in the hashira training—giyuu decided to stop himself from telling you any more, choosing to leave other topics for later.

but will you still have this 'later' now that he's shared even a small bit of himself?

to you, the silence was awkward. not having the faintest idea of what to say in reply to that wasn't exactly what you would want to experience, yet here you were. it felt useless even trying to think of something, to try and make something up in your mind, even taking a bit more time than you usually do when thinking of a response, bur nothing could've prepared you to thinking of what to reply to this.

it made your stomach churn with how you realisex you couldn't seem to know what to do, what to say, how to comfort him; the closest to you person finally started to open uo, little by little, bit by bit and you instead feel like an immobile log, only being able to sit there and listen, not being able to muster up a word of comfort.

and you know, you know that it's because you've never heard the said words of colsolation in your life; thus, you didn't know how to comfort giyuu.

another gust of wind blew through the air, nearly ruffling your and his hair, and for a moment you think of giyuu with his hair no longer in a low ponytail, but instead it being messy and disarranged and you think of running your fingers through it. you hope you'll have such opportunity, even if only once.

another fallen onto your lap leaf helped you out of your thoughts; it would be even more awkward if you hadn't managed to say something at all, daydreaming and continuing on staying silent. you take the left between your fingers before it manages to fly away and take a look at it; elm.

"i'm... sorry," you finally spoke, voice quiet as to not disturb anything around. you felt so meek just hearing your own voice. "i don't really know what to say. but i'm sorry for what happened with sabito."

you took a pause; you were never one to have a good way with words, and it made everything even worse in this situation.

"just know that... i'm here for you whenever you want to talk to me about anything. i'll listen."

giyuu's head was in the same position as yours—lowered to look down at his lap. he couldn't say the atmosphere was tense, no, not at all. he knew this was a lot to digest in such a small period of time, no matter how long you've been silent, and he could see your hesitation in choosing the right words; you surely didn't voice your inability to properly comfort him, but didn't blame you for your lack in knowledge about it. he could guess why.

"it's alright," he said just as quietly, silently exhaling a small breath. it felt as if it was easier to breathe now that he had shared this bit of his past to you. "it was about time i told you anyways. i'm already glad you listened. don't bother with words."

you still felt that just listening wasn't enough.

"have you eaten yet?" giyuu broke another silence after a few more minutes of listening to the wind's unregulated breathing, wishing to change the topic to not overexert you mentally any further—what he's told you was enough and it wasn't like he wanted you to dwell on that story. he simply wanted you to know.

"forgot to."

giyuu knew quite well as of now that you tended to, much to his dismay, forget to have some of the meals throughout the day, and it didn't make it better when you could even skip lunch because of training or meetings or anything at all. once, he even told you that he was going to forbid you to enter the training grounds unless you've had at least two meals throughout the day. it's safe to say he physically couldn't do so, so for that period of time you and your exercises were safe.

giyuu didn't need to hear more from you. standing up from his sitting position on the engawa, he then offered you a hand to help you up. and with the gesture, you both knew that there was no need for more words.

the silence in the small soba restaurant never bothered you; it's a place where people came to eat, not to talk, after all. you two were the only people inside for now, but the sounds of utensils clanking and the smell of more food being cooked in the kitchen were very much present, and still, besides that, it was silent.

and still, your mind never seemed to get over how giyuu just brushed your inability to utter something reassuring off. maybe he didn't even want and didn't need the comfort you failed to provide; maybe he expected something like that from you, judging from your earlier reaction to his words just as he'd started talking. yes, he must've known you were bad at feelings, especially other people's, but was he used to it? he undeniably looked like he was, and that was just sad.

chopsticks carefully picking up the soba and guiding them into your mouth, noticing giyuu doing the same near you, your mind picked up the thought that, probably, saying something regarding what he told you about would be inappropriate, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of needing to get something out; something that could just show him that you understand him that much, at least.

"sabito would most definitely be out to get you for the mindset you have now."

out of the corner of your eye you notice that giyuu's hand, previously holding his chopsticks with a bit of noodles picked up, stops. it's not at all an abrupt stop, more like when coming to a thought one's mind has been chasing for a while already. you stop, too, having finished chewing.

and when the silence between you two starts feeling a little too long and a little too tense, and you start thinking that you may have said a very wrong and inappropriate thing, giyuu speaks up in a such relaxed and unimpressed manner that you involuntarily start questioning your choice of words. you'd expected him to get mad or upset, but not—

"you for yours, too."

oh.

"...touchè."

well.

the nights are—mostly—always silent.

the nights spent with giyuu are silent in their own, unmistakable way.

you two seem to create another form of serenity together—everything becomes as still as possible, wind appearing barely once for a few moments to ruffle the trees' leaves and then disappear without a trace.

your head is gently laid on giyuu's lap and gaze fixed on the night sky above with the stars filling the inky abyss, each sparkling more than the previous, as if trying to catch your attention, your eyes move from one to another, wanting to get a look at them all, wanting to engrave the look of them in your mind and keep it here; but there was just so much — you aren't sure if there even exists a number as big as the number of stars up there.

("do you think we get a star out there after death?"

"...maybe."

"would you try to look for mine when i die?"

"..."

"...sorry."

"...i would.")

with giyuu still looking somewhere in front of him—you can't quite decipher where, maybe he's just spaced out—your hand somewhere a bit lower your chest and his hand laying loosely over yours, you close your eyes and slowly inhale the night air; it smells of pine and momentarily happiness.

a few moments later giyuu's head tangibly shifts, and, having little self-restraint when it comes to curiosity, you open your eyes again—maybe he'd be looking at something different now?

and as your eyelids open, you find him to be staring at no one other than you.

eyes usually cold as a snowstorm and endless as the abyss above you both have now descended to endearment and devotion as they look into yours. they twitch slightly lower and to the side, watching your lips for a few seconds, before coming back upwards to your eyes.

he's so enchanting—close to being as enchanting as the stars he's now blocking your view of. maybe he even looks like one in your mind, or maybe it's just his endless eyes, the colors of which blend into the matching endless night sky. you notice yourself not minding the blocked view if the one doing it is giyuu.

with the main sight now being his eyes instead of the gleaming celestial bodies—you can't exactly complain—you feel like staring into them an eternity more, and then another and another until you've memorized each and every pattern in them. and you're sure that if eyes could talk, both your and his would scream affection.

"you're blocking the view," you say, having no more stars to see right in front of you, them being replaced with giyuu's face.

"you seem to be enjoying it all the same," giyuu declares, unimpressed, despite his eyes narrowing the slightest bit in amusement. you're pretty sure his mouth's corners nearly curve upwards. you would've loved to witness him smile, especially at the moment.

you hum quietly, eyes wandering over his face—how can one attract so much? and it's not just about his beauty; he's everything you've ever needed and didn't know you ever needed in your life. "i never said i wasn't enjoying it."

giyuu, too, can't seem to be able to tear his eyes away from you—starting from your eyes as well, they descend lower to your lips (he's a very patient man), neck—and he regrets both of you being too shy and humble to try and leave hickeys on each other, he would enjoy that sight very much—then your uniform which just suits you so much, and, in the end, your hand, one of which is held by his—when did he go from it simply lying on top of yours to holding it?—and he involuntarily laces your fingers together slowly, eyes following each and every movement. your hands are almost just as his—arms a bit scarred underneath the clothes, skin on the palms calloused from holding your katanas, along with healed nicks and occasional cuts.

humming as well in acknowledgement of your words, his gaze follows the trail back to your face and settle back on your eyes. he has to remind himself to not look into them too long, fearing he'd get too lost in their infinite beauty.

"we could stay like this forever," giyuu suddenly speaks up, and with the quietness of the words said they don't seem to disturb the silence at all.

"we could."

you get what he's trying to say. there was never enough time for both of you since the moment you've joined the demon slayers, and then the hashiras, signing yourself a death warrant when doing so; it's pointless to deny the truth and the inevitable, and you both long learned to embrace it.

but all the sadness and inevitableness can be forgot at times like these, right? even just foe the night or for a few hours before the two of you go back to your routine duties.

"but what would you do then?" you continue, being tempted into asking the question with the smallest teasing lilt in your voice, as if prompting him to speak about his feelings about you.

feelings are hard, especially for someone like him—especially for someone with the past and job he has—but slowly, bit-by-bit, step-by-step, you try to get him to understand them, even if you're lost in your own and sometimes can't find a way out of your own feelings. you guess it comes with the job.

guyuu stops to think for, maybe, a bit more than a minute or two, and lets the silence embrace both of you again. again, it's never tense with him (you don't really want to remember the time he told you about sabito, though it still lingers in the back of your mind and comes up in the most unpleasant times), as you two gratefully grab onto the every little bit of serenity and peace you have.

while he thinks, your gaze, once again, roams over his face, with the twinkling stars now serving as a simple background for what—who—you're seeing, being a pleasant compliment to the sight in front of you. moonlight obligingly illuminates a great half of his face, letting you see most details on it, and who would you be if you missed on this opportunity?

nearly just as he's about to start talking, his lips opening and, dear gods above, he can sense your eyes shifting to his moving lips. it's always with you that he feels like a teenager—not really lovey-dovey, but it's a fact that he lets himself be more open to feelings with you.

"i would..." giyuu starts, taking a small break before continuing—to gather his thoughts, knowing you're watching him as intently as you can, and it's not in the least bit uncomfortable as it would be if it wasn't you.

"i would look at you," he says. "for the rest of eternity. i wouldn't want to do anything else besides it."

as he finishes speaking, you slowly but surely feel the tips of your ears becoming a shade of red; thankfully, it's not your face. yet.

"is that so?" you manage to whisper out, taking slow and barely audible breaths to try and calm your fast beating heart. he probably can hear it with how your back lays on his lap, but that doesn't really matter. "wouldn't you get bored?"

"never."

you're sure your face gets a small tint of red.

you, involuntarily, hold your breath after his words, eyes widening a tad bit, and it's only a few seconds later that you quietly exhale the air you didn't know you have been holding in.

the words he says are so simple—but he does have a way with them, and that's what makes you love him more and more with each syllable leaving his lips.

there's moonlight illuminating his—and your—face, and you seem to notice it just now. it shines onto a great half of his face, letting you see even more details on his skin, and if it was illegal to stare for so long, you'd be long behind bars, living your worst ever imaginable life without having something as precious and pretty as giyuu to look at.

his eyes shift. you get the hint just as his gaze moves onto your lips—you've been looking at them so attentively, it'd be a shame if you didn't notice that.

having taken a, supposedly, not so fitting of a position to kiss, you have to sit up using your hands and place them on the grass beneath you to hold yourself up, and your face moves just enough for him to understand. you don't make any rash movements; you're careful but your intentions are evident.

giyuu's face shifts closer, too. it moves forward until he feels like both your and his lips are soon to meet together. one look into each other's eyes is all it takes for his appearance to soften and lean towards you.

your lips touch in a kiss and you feel like you could die right now and there because of how soft it feels, coming from him, usually so sharp and harsh; it feels like your lips are melting together but you don't have it in you to mind—it's been far too long since you two have had any time to yourselves and your small affections and you don't know when you'll have another night like this.

his eyes settle closed the same time as yours do, and as much as you like looking at him, it just helps the atmosphere around you even more. giyuu's lips slowly, gently move against yours and you just happen to think of how tender they are, and that warms your chest more than anything.

it's silent and wordless with giyuu, and you just happen to love it.

[stevesnightmares]

I'm sorry but I really don't get how people can be mad at mu qing for leaving xie lian when he did. I'm willing to accept many and varied opinions on the mountain incident (to a degree, even there I have some strong opinions), but when it comes to him asking to leave and then leaving, I just don't get it.

Mu Qing had a mother he had to take care of, a sick and poor mother, how could he spend every second of his life taking care of Xie Lian, Feng Xin, the king and the queen when his only family also needed his help? Who would put anyone else's safety and well being over their own mother's safety and well being? Even if it was your bestest of friends, would you still be able to pick their life over your own mother?

"The King and Queen are his Highness parents but I have my own mother to worry about. She also needs my care. I can't neglect my own mother for the sake of someone else or someone else's parents."

Not only that, but while Xie Lian obviously considered Mu Qing his dear friend, Mu Qing was still his servant and even while the five of them were now all in the same situation and were all poor and hungry, Mu Qing was still the only one who had to take care of all of the chores. They could've divided, could've helped him, but no, even when they had all fallen into poverty, lost their riches and titles, Mu Qing was still treated as everyone's servant. So sure, they were friends who cared for each other, but he was also their servant and who would ever chose their master over their own mother?

"Mu Qing had always been responsible for looking after the money purse, and he had constantly kept track of their finances."

"With Mu Qing gone, they had also lost the one who brought food to the king and queen."

"But he didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Could’ve what? Could’ve had the palace attendants do the washing? Could’ve had Mu Qing do the washing? None of that was possible now."

"Mu Qinghad acted as their personal attendant on their never-ending road to escape, and his duties had included taking care of all personal necessities—including caring for the needs of Xie Lian, the king, and the queen. With him gone, there was no one to attend to all the mundane daily tasks. No one to cook, no one to wash, no one to fold the blankets. The simple days of the past suddenly became difficult."

They were all in a terrible and hard situation and yet Mu Qin still had to be their servant, work with Feng Xin and Xie Lian and then also take of his mother.

In addition to that, Xie Lian and Feng Xing had never been poor before and thus they had a lot more pride than Mu Qing did when it came to making money: we see them starting that fight and losing their money, we see them refusing to become street performers. Mu Qing needs money to feed himself but he also needs money to feed his mother and Xie Lian and Feng Xin weren't willing to do what needed to be done, which left him in a difficult position.

“Another reason is that I feel we’ve become mired in this situation and have very different ideas on how to pull ourselves out. Pardon my honesty, but if we keep going like this, nothing will get better—even in a million years. And so, our paths have diverged.”

Feng Xin being angry at Mu Qing in the past makes sense: not only is he loyal to a fault and always seems to put Xie Lian first but he also seems to often see the worst in Mu Qing, so it makes sense that he would chalk it up to Mu Qing being a leech who stood by Xie Lian side only when things were good because he wanted to reap the benefits of being Xie Lian's friends but leaveing once there were no more benefits. But readers know that's not what happened or what was going on in Mu Qing head because he straight up said the reason why he left, and while Feng Xin might not believe him, I don't see why fans wouldn't either when we've seen him care from his mother from the beginning.

“Your Highness, you hear that? Remember what I said back then? I said that he’d be the first to run off if you were ever banished. Didn’t I tell you?”

“Well, don’t you have a load of sour, veiled excuses? I don’t give a damn,” Feng Xin said. “Is it so hard to admit you’re an ungrateful traitor?”

“Goddammit. That bastard was happy to share the wealth but not the suffering. He ran away the moment things got tough. Does he remember nothing of your kindness?!” “I’m the one who told him not to remember it,” Xie Lian said. “So…you don’t need to bring it up constantly.” “But he couldn’t possibly forget it for real?!” Feng Xin refuted.

And even Xie Lian almost seems to think that the only reason Mu Qing left is because things just got too bad and Mu Qing didn't want to stay with him because it was just too hard instrad of thinking about Mu Qing situation.

He never expected someone so close to him to leave just like that. Xie Lian had always believed in “forever”—friends would always be friends forever, with no betrayal, no deception, no breaking up. Perhaps there would come a time when they had to part, but it wouldn’t be for a reason like “things got too horrible.”

Of course I don't blame Xie Lian for being a little "self centered" after everything the poor boy had to go through, after everything he had to endure, everything he had to lose (including faith in himself). My point isn't about Xie Lian, who had to endure more than he could handle and now he also had to lose one of the people that he considered his closest friends while being at his (at the time) lowest, but simply about some posts that I saw about Mu Qing leaving that I didn't agree with. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion of course, this is simply mine.

[hayleyscommet15]

jealousy suits you

relationship: billie eilish x female reader

warnings: smut, fingering, cursing, VERY intense sex, mature, dni if under 18!

word count: 2.4k

summary: at a party, billie sees you with another man. well, good thing jealousy suits her…

a/n: paaart two?

billie and you had been dating for a while now, you were at the point where you’d be comfortable saying i love you. so basically a pretty solid place in your relationship where you’d gain your trust. yet that didn’t mean billie didn’t get jealous anymore, she was still a freak. every guy or girl who had the slightest intention of flirting you would regret it. billie was overprotective, and you didn’t mind.

you sat at the bar at a party billie had invited you to. it was another well known person hosting the event. billie had been dragged into conversation, catching up with a couple of old friends and chatting with new identities. it didn’t bother you one bit, yet you were alone at your seat mainly because you got bored. of course it didn’t seem like an issue that billie was making conversation with other people. you were just bored because you didn’t know anyone else, and also needed space because of the flashy lights, loud music and fierce atmosphere.

you stirred you cocktail with the short black straw as you stared deep in to your drink. the thought of being home scratched your brain. the comfort that being out of the black mini dress you were wearing would give you was amazing at that moment. all you wanted in that moment to be in comfortable clothes, a less noisy and overwhelming place and to be sat with your girlfriend watching tv. that’s all you wanted. but no, you were in this stupid bar, with scratchy clothing, and your girlfriend no where to be found.

“bored?” a young man sat next to you on the pressurized bar stools. he joined his eyes with yours. the man was dressed in a black suit and a matching black shirt with crimson details. his crimson tie matched the small features on his shirt. his dark black eyes and slick back hair caught your eye. “exactly.” you responded, keeping it short. you didn’t want a random guy hitting on you. that was the last thing you wanted.

you drifted your eyes away from his and you turned a bit away from him, facing your almost done drink once more. “the reason you’re bored might be because you’re not talking to anyone. you do realize this is a party, right?” he continued. “i’m very aware.” you said as you faced down to the ground. your eyes caught the gentleman’s shoes. he wore very shiny, designer loafers. he somehow managed to wear his outfit very well, something a dude almost never does. “then, why aren’t you talking to me?” he said, turning his stool so he’d face you.

you lifted your head up, and brought your gaze to his. “listen, i’m really not interested. i’m in a relationship and i would just like to-“ the man cut you off. “oh, are you kidding me? i’m gay.” he said. you cocked an eyebrow before continuing, “oh! i’m- i’m sorry. i just thought” you got cut off once more. “no no- i totally get it. you’re at a very crowded party, you’re bound to get hit on. i know. how did you not guess that I was gay though,” he said, chuckling a bit at the last bit of his sentence. “literally, have you seen a straight guy dressed as good as me before?” he continued. you laughed at his joke, “well, than let’s get you a drink. you might be the highlight of my night.”

he laughed in response, “could I get a martini and a margarita?” he said, raising his hand at the bartender. “you drink heavy.” you said to the guy. “what? i ordered a martini for myself and a refill on your drink?” he said. his what seemed to be an australian accent really showed with his words. “oh! i really shouldn’t be drinking more actually, i get drunk really-“ you got cut off once more by the guy. “c’mon! this is a fun event. another drink won’t hurt!” he pleaded with a soft smile. the bartender placed the drinks in front of you. you sighed in response. yeah, fuck it. another drink couldn’t hurt anyone.

time went on as you chatted with the gentleman. you’d learned that his name was chris and was 33 years old. he had a boyfriend of a year named scott and they lived together in liverpool. he was apparently a successful semi-producer and business for an upcoming artist you hadn’t heard of. in that hour you laughed with him countless times, he had great humor.

meanwhile, billie was outside talking with some friends. she must be having a blast as had forgotten all about you. “hey, i’m gonna get a soda.” she used as an excuse to go find you. she squeezed past you as she climbed up stairs to the second floor which was where you were the last time she saw you. there you were. you sat on the same bar she last saw you at. her view was blocked by the crowd and the fact that she was short. she took a steps towards you, and that’s when she saw you. laughing your ass of with a guy, a guy which seemed to have a charming gaze. billie angrily walked over to you, her steps furious. her immediate thought was that you were flirting with another man. you had to be drunk. no other explanation.

“stop cause i love that movie so much!” you exclaimed in the conversation using hand gestures when you felt a hand snake up your waist. you jolted as you turned around to see your girlfriend with a very obvious mad and jealous look. “i also love that movie where an imbecile of a guy keeps the fuck away from my girlfriend, asshole!” billie yelled towards the guy. “oh, i-“ chris defended himself with hand gestures before geting cut off by billie yelling “i said fuck off!”. she quickly pulled at your waist, dragging you up from the stool you sat on. “billie-“ your words got lost in the crowd. billie directed her hand towards your waist, getting you outside of the house. she walked furiously to her car, pulling you all the way there. she slammed the door as you got in the car.

“billie why-“ you got cut off by her. “don’t make a fucking noise before I drive off a bridge.” she said furiously. jealousy took her to a different level of anger. oh, but how hot she looked being jealous. the drive home was silent like she ordered. when you arrived, billie threw herself out of the car mumbling words. you also got out, following billie. “you’re overreacting, billie.” you said walking. “oh yeah? i’m overreacting that you got drunk and started flirting with a guy?” billie said as she jiggled her keys into the entrance of your house. “flirting? where did you get that?” you defended. “oh, please” billie said as she slam opened the door. “billie it’s not like that! the guy is-“ billie cut you off. “what? the guy’s what? handsome, charming, hot, better than me?” billie kept on yelling as she threw her keys onto the mantle. she stood still at the front of the door, the door was still cracked slightly open.

you grinned. “gosh, you look so sexy jealous.” you said quietly as you took a step towards her. your hands roamed her top before they grabbed her collar. “stop drifting this to another place. you were about to cheat on me!” billie yelled as she threw your hands off your body. “cheat on you? how could i cheat on you? maybe i was doing it to get you fired up.” you said, inching even closer to her. your faces were inches apart. “maybe i was doing it to get you jealous. you’d have to see how hot you look when you’re burning with jealously. so then maybe you’d lay me down, you’d strip off my clothes. you’d tease me until i’d start to beg. i would beg for you to fuck me.” you leaned down so your lips could be inches apart from each other. you whispered, “i could be your doll. you’d fuck me merciless, until i can’t take it anymore. i’d scream your name.” before billie slammed her lips onto yours, taking both arms and wrapping them around your neck, pulling you closer to her.

you slammed her against the door, making it close. you let your free hands roam all around billie’s back. billie’s tongue pressed up on your entrance, you let out a moan before allowing access. you pull away to get a breather. “i told you you’re hot when you’re jealous.” you said, billie moaned at your words before latching her lips onto yours once more. you starting going backwards as billie followed you into the living room, not once breaking contact from the heated kiss. the back of your legs hit the couch as you let yourself fall on it with billie on top of you. you laid still on the couch, sometimes whimpering from the sensation on your lips, which was made by the woman on top of you. billie pulled on the edge of your dress, demanding it off.

“wait” you said breaking the kiss. you stood up slightly on the couch as billie reached for the zipper on your dress. you latched your lips onto billie’s neck, leaving small marks as you trail down. billie whimpers at the touch as she works on getting your dress off. billie looked at your perfect body, mouth salivating. she got back into your kiss as this time you tried to take her clothing off. you unbuttoned her shirt before cupping her breasts, gaining a moan. billie broke the kiss to make contact with your ear. she nibbled on your sensitive earlobes, savoring you. she then went down your neck, sucking and placing kisses as you already started pleasure building up. she reached your lips as she hungrily made out with you once more. her hands roamed all around your body, before landing on your earlobes. she toyed with your lobe as she went on kissing you. she latched herself onto your neck once more. she left a trail down as she reached the valley between your breasts.

she gave a lick, shivers went down you spine. “take this off” billie demanded as you reached to take your bra off. “you knew we were gonna do this today?” billie said, glazing at the matching lingerie you wore. “i knew i was gonna get laid,” you said as you took of your bra, “just didn’t know by who.” you said as you stared deep into billie’s ocean blues, smirking. that sentence just made her mad her even more. she started working on your breasts, pinching and rubbing your hard nipples. she worked on your body like it was the last day ever, acting harsh trying to get her anger out. her fingertips traced your waist as you trembled at the cold touch. she trailed until the inside of your thigh. you whimpered at the touch.

she let go of your breast and trails down kisses until she reached down to your clit. she pressed a kiss at your clit covered up by your underwear, earning a moan from the pressure. “not so fast” billie said as she brought herself back up to you as she made deep eye contact. she hovered on top of you. “i’m gonna punish you.” billie whispered into your ear. “are you gonna be a good girl for me?” she continued. her voice was so attractive. she traced her cold fingertips around your bare body. “i will.” you said firmly. “good. so, you’ll be able to keep yourself together watching me touch myself?” billie said teasing you. you could feel her grin. “i guess we’ll have to find out.” you reply. billie stops her hands right on your underwear, and gives you a slap on your pussy, targeting your pussy. you tremble at the pleasure. “you better. or i’ll make your punishment way worse” billie whispered before moving back to her original spot.

she sat on your legs, you placed your hands behind your head. billie took off her bottom slowly, your eyes watched her every move. you bit your bottom lip as you watched billie’s hot moves. she moved her fingers towards your mouth, “lick them for me” billie said as you got her fingers wet. she later moved her wet fingers to her clit, rubbing in circles. she let her head fall back as she picked up her pace. “fuck” she softly moaned. her fingers slid down her slit. she teased herself by pushing the tip of her fingers in and out. she moaned at the pleasure. you watched her please herself, mouth watering.

billie started penetrating herself, going at a fast pace. billie started moaning uncontrollably. she pulled her head up to connect her ocean blue’s with yours. you just couldn’t take it anymore, watching her give insane amounts of pleasure and you just staying there. maybe you’d get way more punishment by her, yet you needed her.

you hastily got up from your position laying down, you picked billie up by the waist. her eyes widened on what you were doing. i’m one movement you switched places so you were on top of billie. “y/n what are you- FUCK!” billie exclaimed when your fingers entered her hole. you went into pull her into a hot kiss. you started making out with her, tongues fighting into your mouths as you pump into her. billie moans into your mouth occasionally. you add another finger into her, making her gain even more pleasure. you curl your fingers inside of her, just hitting her stop. “fuck, y/n!” she says moaning your name. you grin, and pick up your pace even more. you lick her bottom lip and pull away from the kiss. your other hands thumb softly presses on clit, “i’m gonna- fuck” billie exclaimed, letting her head fall back. you go even faster, at those words. you feel her walls start clenching closer around your fingers. her moans get louder, sweat around her forehead makes her bangs stick to her face. you feel her juices come out as you ease her through her orgasm.

“oh you’re so fucked.” billie whispers breaths heavily against your ear. she lays her head down as she takes a breather from the intense orgasm she just had. oh, but billie doesn’t rest. “i’m gonna fuck the light out of you.” she says before connecting your lips once more.

paaart two?

[lady-boketto]

Hello friend, I have a request if you're up for it , it can be a as long or short as like. How would a first kiss would go between Senshi and a (gender neutral) bard?

Senshi x Gn!Bard Reader (Dungeon Meshi)

(A/n: Thank you so much for the request! Senshi makes my heart flutter so much it's crazy but anyway, Enjoy reading!)

The group finally found a safe place to rest for the night after a particular rough battle, that left everyone tired and desperate for a decent meal and a good night's rest.

As the group finished settling in for the night, Senshi found it to be the right time to start cooking a meal for everyone since he thought it would be the least he could do for the people he grew so fond of ever since he joined, his gaze softened as it shifted towards where you set up your sleeping bag, your figure already pulling out your instrument to begin to pluck some inspiration in hopes of making a new tune to play for the group.

Senshi had come to realize how much you joy you put into other's lives by soothing them with calming melodies or with a lively tune, he is a little ashamed to admit he didn't care much for your songs when he first met you but with time he has come to enjoy every note you play.

While he’s busy working away trying his best to prepare and cook dinner, he’s also listening to you play while he’s peeling or chopping vegetables with a small smile and a slight tap of his foot in beat of the tune.

Just as you play the last note to complete the song as the noise fades into the background, Senshi calls out to the group that the food is ready and he always gives before he takes, so he ends up serving you the first plate of food and then everyone else before making himself one. He loves watching everyone expression as they enjoy the meal he cooked and he especially is delighted when he sees your eyes light up as you take a bite and compliment how good it tastes, it makes him proud that he can bring you as much joy as you bring him.

It’s only when everyone is done eating and is winding down for the night, that Senshi glances once more in your direction only to find you gently cleaning and maintaining the overall wellbeing of your instrument, that he finds himself stuck in his own thoughts about his feeling towards you. Now, Senshi is a clever man and he can recognize when he has a crush but it’s another story when dealing with said crush, since he has been isolated from people and he can be quite blunt at times, he worries that some how he will say the wrong thing and you will be upset with him but that doesn’t stop him from showing you with his actions how much he cares.

You notice how Senshi seems troubled since he is grumbling how he always does when he’s thinking and offer to let him sit by your side and even offer to put him at ease with a song if he wanted but as Senshi moves to sit with you, there’s a slight alarm in your mind as he moves to take off his helmet, a simple act to make the situation more serious than you previously thought.

But as you move your legs you properly turn to face him, you are relieved to hear Senshi’s deep calming voice,

“You fought well today, I’m glad you only had minor injuries. ”

As you are thanking him for worrying about you while being slightly flustered, you notice how he seems to want to talk to you more but can’t seems to find the words to keep the conversation going, so you compliment him on dinner to which he replies with a genuine smile as he rubs his hands together nervously before you continue to talk to him while placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I was worried about you as well, and I couldn’t let anything happen to the person who enjoy my music the most. ”

Your words catch him off guard with your words and actions as his eyes grow wider while he adverts his gaze towards the floor, before taking a moment to recollect his thoughts to think of a response and deciding that he should let you know his feelings towards you rather than let them keep flooding his mind with ‘what if’s’

“Listen, I know we've only known each other for a short time but there's something that I'd want to tell you before we continue traveling in the dungeon... ”

Senshi pauses for a brief moment to recollect his thoughts, before shifting his gaze towards the floor in front of him, becoming a bit more determine as he continues talking

"I've grown to enjoy your company more as the days pass and, how I find myself looking forward to your music and the sound of your voice... it's something I find myself looking forward to these days. "

He admits before watching for your reaction to his confession and when he finds you are as equally as flustered as he is, Senshi suddenly becomes more nervous but when he notices you are not rejecting him, he gains a more confidence to move closer to you, gently making eye contact and leaning forward

“Senshi…”

You breathe as you find yourself also leaning in towards him and your lips both hover over each other’s, you can feel the tension as you both slowly close your eyes and leaning in to seal the deal. As your soft lips find Senshi’s, he raises his hand to cup the side of you cheek as he melts more into the kiss, as you pull away for air that moment feel cut short but when you open your eyes to see Senshi’s brown eyes connecting with your own, filled with awe as his gaze flickers between your eyes and lips with a content smile on his face before he speaks, his voice filled with a fondness you can only describe as loving.

“Whenever I hear your songs, it feels like I’m home. ”

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Fateful Love in Motion

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

2024 General Election (JP)

ღ Prologue

That night, upon arriving at Ōoku.

Mai: "Nngh, come on!"

I was desperately trying to climb the mansion wall.

Kanetsugu: "What are you doing up there? Get down."

Mai: "Kanetsugu? Whoa!"

Kanetsugu caught me as I lost my footing.

Kanetsugu: "If you're going to fall in a panic, don't climb in the first place."

Mai: "S-Sorry."

Kanetsugu: "So, who gave you this idea?"

Mai: "Huh?"

Kanetsugu: "Who helped you?"

Mai: "No one! I just wanted to get out of here."

Kanetsugu: "You mean you were trying to escape without any plan? That's a sloppy move for a princess."

Mai: "But I couldn't stand it! I understand my responsibility to take over the family, but it's only possible with the right partner."

Mai: "It's not okay to get close to someone you don't respect or date multiple people simultaneously!"

Kanetsugu: "You're right. Your point is valid."

Mai: "Really?"

Kanetsugu: "But if you're dissatisfied, don't act impulsively. Plan your moves and outsmart those around you."

Kanetsugu: "If you're that determined, I can at least help you become wiser."

Mai: "You're not going to tell my father?"

Kanetsugu: "Your methods are wrong, but I agree with your stance."

Kanetsugu: "Even if you're a princess, your dignity as a person should come first."

Mai: "………"

(He respects me not just as a princess but as a human being.)

It was from this moment that I started to like him.

The very next day, his lessons began.

Kanetsugu: "Your father has instructed me to educate you through Chinese poetry."

Kanetsugu: "However, the essence of poetry and songs is not merely their beauty; it lies in their spirit and passion."

Kanetsugu: "Understand the thoughts and emotions of the poet, and make them your own."

Mai: "Got it!"

A few days later一

Kanetsugu: "Are you an idiot? You can't even distinguish between Mencius and Confucius."

Mai: "Ugh. Please, one more time!"

Kanetsugu: "You seem to have more guts than I thought."

Mai: "It's because you're serious about teaching me. I want to give it my all in response."

Kanetsugu: "That's the only thing I'll praise you for."

(He smiled for the first time.)

I immersed myself in studying, wanting to see him smile again.

Sometime later一

Father: "Enough is enough. If you have time to read books, choose a husband!"

Mai: "With all due respect, Father, this is for our family's sake."

Mai: "If I lack education, I won't be able to pick a good husband. The quality of the husband directly affects the quality of the heir. It's a serious matter, you know?"

Father: "Kuh. You've become unusually clever!"

I let out a sigh of relief as his footsteps faded away.

Kanetsugu: "I see. That was a good comeback."

Mai: "It's the first time I've outwitted my father! Although, it seems like it'll be the first and last."

Kanetsugu: "Is your escape plan ready?"

Mai: "Yes. I'll leave for the port tonight and set sail."

Mai: "That's why you should escape with me!"

Kanetsugu: "What?"

Mai: "I love you. I've made preparations so we can be together."

Kanetsugu: "What are you saying?"

Mai: "I'll become even smarter to avoid being caught. I'll do anything to live with you."

Mai: "I love you."

Kanetsugu: "........."

Kanetsugu: "I have no right to be with you."

Mai: "Huh?"

Kanetsugu: "If you leave the palace, you will lose everything. Initially, I intended to dissuade you from escaping."

Kanetsugu: "But I grew attracted to you and became selfish, not wanting to give you to another man."

Kanetsugu: "So I taught you how to survive. Someone as insincere as I am doesn't deserve your love. And yet..."

Kanetsugu: "I don't want to give you to anyone else. I want you in my arms."

Mai: "Please, love me!"

Unable to hold back, I hugged him, and a sweet scent filled the air.

Mai: "I don't think you're insincere. The fact that you helped me when I was about to flee without a plan remains unchanged."

Mai: "So please, live with me."

We kissed over and over again, pledging our love to each other.

ღ Collection Events Masterlist