#for someone who I consider very stylish in drag

[petrovna-zamo]

[shinjisdone]

Female! MC and Friends - Deuce Spade

[What's it like to hang out with Deuce and be dragged into his Events as a female]

(Very much and I mean very much and I mean super duper, incredibly unbelievably, HUMONGUSLY AND GIGANTICALLY based on my oc's reaction)

Oh, sweet, sweet Deuce.

Your meeting may have been rocky and awkward but he quickly grew on you as he realized that he can be himself around you without any judgement. He's sweet and thoughtful, a bit dumb but such a great guy that it is impossible to dislike him.

Though it was really, uh, surprising to find out that the guy who first wouldn't look you in the eye, would stand frozen in your presence or stutter like crazy because he doesnt know how to be around girls, to vehemently threaten to beat two guys black and blue for cracking eggs - and never did you think he'd become one of your closest friends.

You consider him your best friend and vice versa (but don't tell Ace or Grim).

As much as you enjoy being around him, this...'gap' that he has of switching between a hard-working good boy and straight up delinquent is...uh...

Well, you do end up in odd situations due to it.

At Helloween...

At Helloween, Deuce was eager to show his best.

No matter your costume, Deuce will let you know that you look good - er, scary!

Even if it objectively sucks and Ace is laughing at you, Deuce will compliment the effort you put into it! That's what counts!

If you dress up in a way that's anything but scary (maybe stylish, cool or cute?) then Deuce might be...confused? It's Helloween. You're supposed to be scary.

Like; You could be the cutest witch or the trendiest ghoul but Deuce is like ???? Where's the blood and gore??? Where scary???

Will support your decision no matter what though even if he doesn't get it!

But when he gets possesed during the night, crying and calling for his mother, you were concerned and maybe a bit weirded out.

"Would you like to talk?" You place a hand on his shoulder and he's grateful for it, though too embarrassed to show it.

Once everything is settled and normal, you talk before Deuce feels good enough to go out there again.

Maybe there's more to discuss but he's happy you were so considered. Might be squealing inside and tear up (Deuce no, you just stopped crying) before wiping it off and proclaiming to be the scariest monster tonight! He'll scare the shit out of everyone, they'll forget what happened earlier!

Might invite you to trick-and-treating. Well, it's Helloween and it's fun and you are his b-best fr-friend, so...

Whether you can do that or not, be sure to share some sweets with him (those with eggs or egg-shaped will make him happy!) After your spooky tour.

If you are spooked easily, Deuce will first be like "??? For real?" But then explain to you that no one really wants to do you harm. It's all in good fun!

But...if someone takes it too far with scaring you, be sure that delinquent!Deuce will teach 'em a lesson! Switches his personality real quick, good boy to 'haaAAAH? WHAT DID U SAY TO HER?!" real quick.

Goes full into his scary costume persona and threatens people to bury them alive.

When others try to brush it off as a joke or him just playing his role, they are playing with fire. Deuce is more serious than they think.

'Dude...calm down, you're living the role a bit too much!'

'Hah? A gravekeeper gotta do his duty and yer being too loud for a corpse...'

You're his best friend...he won't allow anyone to talk to you or mess with you like that!

Plus, Deuce is especially protective of you since you are a girl.

Please stop him before he ruins Helloween (and worse, Riddle finds out...)

Haunted house? Sure, Sounds like fun! Let's go, my besuto furendo! Ah, but don't tell Ace and Grim, they're just gonna keep making fun of you two and ruin the atmosphere by 'booohing~' all over the place, thinking they're scary.

Deuce would enjoy it much more with only you two. :)

Cmon, lets take this haunted house on!

He first says with great vigor but feels himself get unnerved real quickly by all these effects and spells.

N-no, he aint scared! N-n-not at all, what are ya talking about????

Will jump silently at each spook and unwittingly get closer to your side. Please don't tease him OR promise to protect him. He's not scared after all! HE'S NOT!

If YOU get scared, Deuce got a problem. He says he'll look out for you no problem...! But has to act like he's not pissing his pants as well...!

Gets kinda in front of but also next to you, holding his fists up. Eerily quiet as he acts like a Bodyguard while trying not to squeak in fear.

However, if somehow something's targeting you especially, Deuce will once again go into delinquent mode.

Screaming profanities while also shaking to the bone. HUUUHHH? W-Whaddya think you're doing, t-targeting his best f-friend! Don't get on his nerves...!

Really wants to get out of there.

At New Year's...

You make sure to keep being a regular for him and be his gREATEST SUPPORT AND FAN, YOU WILL BUY EVERY PRODUCT HE RECOMMENdS BECAUSE THAT IS HOW FAR YOU WILL GO FOR DEUCE

My man is so humbled and touched, like he just wants to keep giving you discount after discount with the goofiest smile. Sam has to stop him before he loses profit.

Will. Do. His. Very. Best. Until dawn. Deuce feels so supported by you, he feels like he could carry mountains!

Shows off his new Yukata to you. Did you know that you can hide things in those sleeves? And look how many layers these clothes have! Really interesting, he never has worn something like a Yukata before so he gushes about his experiences of it with you.

Oh, would you like to wear one, too? Sam can surely prepare one. Oh, would you like a kimono instead?

Looks forward to your visits - ahem, patronage! Sam probably told him how to speak with customers so he puffs out his chest, clears his throat and adresses you with 'Miss' or Ma'am' (the latter you found funny. Bro, we are both first-years.). He might play his role really well and bow to you and recomend you things that a 'Miss' like you might want or need. It's humoring but there's a chance he might slip up and talk to you like usual.

If old-school stuff like that makes you laugh, it makes his experience as a shop clerk 100% better. Hearing you giggle recruits his spirit on times where he feels tired.

Might get all sappy and genuinely thank you for the support, not only as a customer but for all that you've done for him this year. He looks forward to the next...! And hopes you'll still be there with him.

When he cooks...

People will keep you from being the judge because they just know, THEY JUST KNOW you're gonna be nice to Deuce even if he presented you actual garbage on a plate.

No judging for you! Giving a nine for a undercooked dish with bits of eggshells in it is lying, dummy.

Nevertheless, you cheer Deuce on! Ace sarcastically calls you his 'cheerleader'. And you can bet Deuce turns his head and cheers back with a big grin, waving around the utensil in his hand (he's getting food all over the place and the stove is burning - but his homie is cheering him on!)

If there are leftovers, Deuce will give them to you. Now you have to be nice because he's really looking forward to your critique and will take it very much to heart.

Will keep on improving his cooking skills and chooses you as his judge everytime. It's nice to get extra free food but you're always being nice...Ace says he can't improve like that when you aren't honest. He's right but...you can't crush that big hopeful glint in his eyes, look at him 🥺

Besides, Deuce kinda gets fired up and extra careful when thinking of making food for you. It's extra motivation. It hits different when he makes things for people he cares about; his mom, grandma, friends and you.

Ngl, he has preferances and really likes to make things for you as thanks for always sticking by him. Sometimes Deuce believes he doesnt deserve it.

Expect a lot of egg dishes.

When YOU cook for him or in general, man, prepare to have him be fired up!

A five-course meal? A bento box? Or a simple sandwich? It would not matter, Deuce would eat them all equally carefully, delicately and savoring each bite. He'd give his opinion with a full, chewing mouth.

And if it makes you happy? BRO he will do ANYTHING FOR YOU. Cheer on your cooking, volunteer to even eat garbage for you, protect your food, utensils, kitchen, EVERYTHING!

It's just...so nice. No one but his mom cared enough to make him food. All he ever did was cause trouble for everyone and those he considered his 'friends' were just as shallow and troubled as him.

But you here care. And it makes him so happy.

Stay in his life forever, won't you?

(He might say that outloud all of a sudden after thinking hard and silently, the food spitting out of his mouth as he looks at you and says this. Ace is a bit flabbergasted and yells out 'OI. That sounds almost like...! Like...! Ya know?! Deuce, dude, think before you say anything! Is the food laced with some potion, is makin' ya say weird shit????'

Deuce doesn't quite get it but he didn't really mean it in a way for you to always cook for him. But these dishes are just another reminder how much you care for him.

Though once he does...and the fact that a girl is cooking for him in the first place...and who is not his mom...and he said those things right after...it makes him incredibly shy and he WILL blush.

HE - JUST...kinda got flashbacks of his mom when he ate home-cooked food, so the thought didn't cross him mind, okay?! Shut up, Ace and Grim!

When you gaze at the stars...

Very hyped and determined boy!

A good boy! So good that he doesn't get why Trey and Idia are making such a fuss about the dance and outfits. It's an honor, is it not?

Will be confused by their embarrassment and turn to you, asking if their dances and clothes are too much. When you answer no, he turns to the other two and is like; 'See? (Name) doens't find it weird either.'

Trey just shakes his head while Idia is like dude

Idia might want you to NOT be anywhere near Deuce and kinda not-subtly pushes you away. 'Listen, heroine, if you're presence turns Spade into that 'childhood-friend-crush-guy-who'd do anything for you and becomes puppy - then don't. I don't need those vibes.'

????? What's he talking about??? (Childhood friend? You met Deuce at NRC just like Idia...)

Well, let's just say that you pop in here and there and ask about the wish-collecting state. Deuce would gladly tell you of his progress (no matter if good or not).

Wants you to watch and critique his dance. You might follow along, just so you can hold the long, long, long sleeves and silks of his outfit up so he won't trip again. It's like you become his second robe.

Will blush if you end up dancing too close.

With each meet-up you have Deuce will always ask you what your wish is! He's very eager to fulfill it!

What it truly is depends on you...but if it does involve going home, Deuce will unwittingly get saddened by it. Of course. This isn't really your home.

But even so...he promises he will do his best to make it come true. If Crowley cannot find a way, then Deuce will not only try his hardest to become a full-fledged honor student, but also a mage powerful enough to send you back home!

He says all of this and believes it. Nevertheless, he tries to bury his sadness of your inevitable departure deep within him. At least for tonight.

When you dance to a masquerade...

Deuce looks soooo good!

He looks so proud of himself and really admires the work put into the outfit!

You openly tell him he looks handsome! And he kinda clams up, face red.

Handsome? Not good, not nice, but handsome? Out of all the things you could have chosen, you choose to call him handsome?

O-oo-o-o-o-oo-oh...

Blushing profusely and avoiding your gaze he tries to regain his voice.

"O-Oh, you l-look..."

He struggles. Should he call you handsome too even if you are a girl? Would you like that? Or would that be too much? How does he think you look like anyway?

He looks back up to uh, get a look at you to know how he feels about your outfit and his head is swirling with thoughts.

Cool? Fitting? Cute? Dashing? Lovely? Handsome? Good????

Uh....

He doesn't know!

"Uh, thanks. You l-look...really nice, too. It suits you...everything kinda does."

(It is not meant as a pun if you are wearing a suit by the way, he's just dumb.)

Yet...he is honest when he means that everything suits you. The Helloween costume, the chef cook wear, the Yukata or Kimono...and now this. You look good whenever.

HIS HEART WILL MAKE EXTRA LEAPS IF YOU TELL HIM HE LOOKS LIKE A MUSKETEER!

HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS BUT YOU SMILE SO BRIGHTLY WHILE SAYING IT SO IT MUST BE GOOD???

yEP, his heart is skipping a beat when you explain that a musketeer is a hero. Him, a hero? A good guy, like the magic police? Not a delinquent? Oh, man.

Well, compliments aside, it is time to dance. Deuce practiced with Riddle but he'd like his first dance to be with you. On one hand to get into it first with someone he is comfortable with and trusts but also because he wants to.

Just know that he only practiced the waltz and knows no other. (Oh, there's just the waltz? Phew...)

Calms a bit down since he focuses on dancing well but when he looks back up to your eyes through the holes of your mask?

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

(〃艸〃)

It'S even worse when he doesn't know where to put his hands (he does, Riddle showed him) but putting it on your waist? It's...a bit much.

Enough to make a delinquent like him blush.

And now as he looks up and sees your hands tightly holding the other...which isn't the first time you've done but here, in this very town, in this very hall, it feels different.

Deuce tries to enjoy this dance and he does. There are just new thoughts and feelings daring to distract him from time to time.

[icycoldninja]

Helloo can i request dmc boys finding out their fem s/o has a twin brother (fraternal twins) Who is protective of her since they both don’t have their parents with em. Thank you if you do this 💖

Ooh this is fun! Hope you enjoy 💜

Sparda boys + V X Fem!Reader with a fraternal twin brother headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Couldnt believe his eyes when he met your brother for the first time. You said this was your twin? Why doesn't he look identical to you? It seems Dante doesn't understand that there are other types of twins in addition to identical ones.

-After introductions were made and misunderstandings cleared up, Dante decided that he really liked this guy. After all, it seemed they had a shared purpose: protecting you with their lives.

-Your brother and Dante get along quite nicely, occasionally going out for drinks or just being bros at home. At one point, Vergil got jealous because your brother seemed to be more of a brother to Dante than he was, so they dragged him along and, well, now you have 3 dudes hanging out in your house.

-Your brother likes him, too, considering they have a lot in common. It seems your relationship has his blessing.

-Dante doesn't want to bring your brother on devil hunting missions for fear of him getting hurt, but if he has combat training, Dante might reconsider.

-Who knows, in due time, your brother might end up becoming a stylish devil hunter too.

■ Vergil ■

-The moment he laid his eyes on your brother was the moment he declared war. It may have been nonverbal, but it was war all the same.

-Vergil was very possessive; perhaps even a bit clingy. He has abandonment issues bigger than his biceps, and therefore can't stomach the idea of someone else devoting his life to protecting you.

-While your brother is happy you have someone so dedicated to taking care of you, he doesn't like this guy's attitude, and how he's always so cold and dismissive towards him. Just what did he do to offend him?

-Whenever your brother tags along to your outings or tries to make an effort to get to know yojr boyfriend, Vergil is silent the entire time and only glares at him. It's unnerving.

-Your relationship has your brother's blessing, given that it seems healthy and happy enough, but both of you wish Vergil would put more of an effort into improving his relationship with your brother.

-All you can really do is hope Vergil warms up to him someday.

□ Nero □

-Ohh, Nero hates this bastard. He can't explain why, either, he just knows something's up with him. He doesn't care if he's your twin brother, older brother, younger brother, or distant cousin--he has this feeling that something's up.

-He hides his negative feelings very well though, putting on a grin and shaking your brother's hand with gusto.

-It's only when his grip gets a tad too tight when you and your brother realize at the same time that he isn't all that comfortable being around your twin.

-Your twin is understanding; for some people, making new friends is hard, but despite this, your brother still wants to try to get to know you. At the very least, he can make a good impression.

-Nero complains to you about this, but you convince him to at least give it a shot. Since Nero loves you and will do whatever you say, he relents.

-It takes a while, but Nero and your brother eventually find common ground, (you, and their love for you) and manage to get along rather well. All it really needed was some work.

● V ●

-Is very thankful that you have a brother to protect you, because he doesn't have the physical strength to do so himself.

-He makes an effort to get off on the right foot and is very friendly towards your twin. Even his familiars (particularly Shadow, but Griffon likes him too) have grown fond of him.

-He wishes there was more he could do with your brother besides sitting and talking but sadly, there isn't.

-Wants to train your brother to fight devils so he can take him on missions with the two of you, but, unfortunately, his skills are not teachable, so he turns to the guys Devil May Cry for help.

-Once your bro has spent enough time practicing on dummies in the backyard, he gets to tag along with you, and it's a lot of fun.

-Though neither of you know it, V is preparing your brother for the day V eventually must go away, so your brother is ready to take on more responsibilities, such as protecting you from devils and other monsters.

[sachermorte]

Ok, so then who did you actually name yourself after? Or was it the vibe that drew you in?

i've gotten two anons about this since I last checked my phone so this is the real story.

it was the third week of september in 2019 and I had just launched myself out of the united states after living there my entire life and getting my bachelor's in linguistics summa cum laude. I knew if I stayed there any longer I was going to die, and I'd had this supernatural surety that I was going to live a full life in vienna since I was nine years old at the oldest, so against the vehement objections of family I had accepted a teaching assistantship position jointly facilitated by the BMBWF and Fulbright Austria. before I began my misadventures, of which there have been many incredibly crazy bullshit stories you would never believe in a million years, I had to attend a week-long sleepaway orientation in a tourist town in Salzburg called Zell am See, where I would meet the other TAs (including someone who remains like a brother to me to this very day), learn what was expected of me, and drink quite literally and without exaggeration for every waking moment.

believe me when I say that this was fucking wild. we had classes in the morning to teach us how to do our jobs but we were pouring full bottles of vodka and gin in our water bottles and taking it to class with us. one of the hotel receptionists started supplying us with weed and pills. people were hooking up left right and center. I ended up at one point being dragged away without any greetings or explanation to make out with a lovely but very drunk british girl named holly in another room. believe me when I said that not a single one of us drew a solitary sober breath for the entire seven days straight.

so because they wanted us to acclimate culturally (which is unneeded because I've always been a dramatic, cranky, whiny, pessimistic, ambiguously gay complainer genau nach wiener art), one night they brought in a trio of dance teachers to teach us some traditional folk dancing. so we, being generally hospitable and gregarious taken as a whole, decided to invite these three to party with us that night.

we.

got.

HAMMERED.

this is the drunkest I've ever been without having to go to the hospital. and as the night proceeded it became exceedingly clear that one of the dance instructors could not hold his liquor, and what's more, had been going through some stuff as of late.

cut to the end of the night. the man who is now like a brother to me had given the dude, out of the kindness of his heart, nearly a full bottle of 7€ hofer brand gin, which he drank without a mixer in nearly one go. shortly after, this man had punched through not one, but two windows. the police had been called, and a friend of mine had managed to grab his phone and literally call his mother. someone else was guarding him to make sure he didn't break anything else, while he kept shouting "MIR IST SCHEIẞEGAL, MIR IST SCHEIẞEGAL" to anything and everything that was said to him.

this event lodged itself solidly in my short term, long term, and everyday working memory. I thought about this three or four times a week at bare minimum. not only because I considered it rather embarrassing and distasteful, but because I thought if you were going to be a good for nothing dipsomaniac (as I considered myself to be as well, even then), there were far more stylish ways to go about it.

when my egg shattered during quarantine his name was the one that wouldn't leave my head. when I went public with my transition, I received several messages from friends who had witnessed the event in question, going "did you really name yourself after That Fucking Guy. why"

to which of course I responded "mir ist scheißegal"

[evilasiangenius]

TITLE: Anthony J. Crowley is Going to Burn Down a Goat (Yule)

SUMMARY: …and Aziraphale is going to try to stop him.

PAIRING: Aziraphale x Crowley

TAGS: Aziraphale is So Done with Crowley, Crowley is a Little Shit, Crowley Wears Pink, Love, Fluff and Humor, Food, Travel, Gävlebocken, Swedish Yule Goat, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kissing, Birds, Hot Springs & Onsen, Seasonal but Non-Holiday

STATUS: Ongoing, 2/5

WORD COUNT: 4.2K

For @thelaithlyworm and @sigmastolen.

Chapter Two: Serious Regret

“It was not very nice,” Aziraphale said, “for me to be left dragging you about like that.”

An elderly person walked by, giving Aziraphale a skeptical look. A mother with young children gave him a wide berth, crossing the street to avoid him.

“Why?”

“Because everyone who saw us thought I was a murderer carrying a corpse in a carpet. A gangster. Some kind of vicious criminal. Until you wriggled free, and now they think I’m some...some kind of kidnapper or something. Or worse yet, a kidnapper and a pervert!”

“Relax, angel. They probably just think you’re doing a performance art. Or that I am doing a performance art. Perhaps we are both doing one together. It’s fine, it just means that people will leave us alone while we do a performance art.”

“That sounds perverted,” Aziraphale whispered sharply, dropping his voice so as not to be heard by others. “A performance art. In public? Goodness gracious, Crowley.”

“That’s always useful for getting nefarious doings done. The hint of perversion. Or the hint of performance art,” Crowley said, as he waved cheerfully to a man walking by who averted his gaze and hurried past without a word. “Adds a little spice. Perhaps I shall think up an interpretive dance to go along with the nefarious doings?”

Then again, perhaps it wasn’t just the insinuation of something questionable so much as not many men or man-shaped creatures in central Gävle stood around in a very stylish formal all-black ensemble with shiny snakeskin boots and a suit and shirt and tie on the razor-sharp papercut edge of fashion but then swathed themselves in a cheery bright pink fluffy blanket/scarf/shawl with a pink silk sleep mask slipped up over their forehead making bits of their hair stick up, despite already wearing a pair of fancy designer black sunglasses, all while staring at a straw Yule goat.

Someone walked by muttering invective about British tourists.

“But must you really burn down the goat?”

“Hmm, good question.” Crowley gave the goat a long considered look. “No, you’re right. Now that I see it, burning it down really does seem rather uninspired. And I aim to do something inspired.”

“Would inspiration be improved perhaps by a hot drink? Something caffeinated, perhaps, or mulled.”

“Temptation to inspiration: accomplished,” Crowley said wryly.

It was warm in the coffeeshop, but Crowley did not take off the blanket which was now draped about him quite stylishly in a way that suggested a model or an influencer to fashionable humans but really suggested something more like an ancient chlamys, pinned at the shoulder by infernal means.

“In case you were wondering,” Crowley said, his hands around a mug of hot mulled wine that was warming his fingers though not as comprehensively nor as comfortably as Aziraphale could, “I don’t know how I did it alone.”

“What?” Aziraphale blinked, glancing up from his mug of hot chocolate, swimming with plump marshmallows and whipped cream. “I was actually wondering how you convinced a barista to serve you mulled wine. I’m quite certain they don’t serve wine in coffeeshops...”

“On the train. You asked me how I managed to do it alone. I don’t know. I just did,” Crowley shrugged. “Every year, every month and week and day and hour. For thousands of years, just doing whatever it took to do the job. By myself. Trudging through mud, or on horseback (blech), or what have you. Lots of dusty roads and heaving ships and such. I don’t know how I managed.”

“When you put it that way...I don’t know how I managed either,” Aziraphale mused. “Yet at the same time, I can’t imagine what it would have been like otherwise.”

“Sorry,” Crowley said.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry. I should have gone with you to Scotland. And Caerdydd. And that time to Dublin. Tokyo. Paris. Tenochtitlan. And you should have come with me those other times. Scotland. Caerdydd. Dublin. Tokyo, Paris, Mexico City, Alexandria, Rio. Kaffa. No wait, maybe not Kaffa, that was an unmitigated disaster. But remember Kyiv? That was fun when we went together, that time before the war. Not this last one, but the other one. The previous, previous one. The turn of the century one. Anyway, not enough witches on Bald Mountain, that was disappointing. Do you think there are still not enough witches there?”

“I suppose anything’s possible. It’s been some time since we’ve been. Perhaps they have multiplied over the years. But you don’t have to be sorry, my dear...”

“No, I am. Maybe that’s my only real serious regret, angel. Er, at least one of the top ten Real Serious Regrets. All those times I should have gone with you and I didn’t. All those times I left you to go alone when I should have come too. We could have managed better, if we had done it all together.”

“It’s all right, my dear. I don’t mind that you didn’t accompany me. I know you don’t like to travel,” Aziraphale said, omitting the part where it was ungodly difficult to travel with Crowley.

“I don’t dislike everything about travel. Okay, I hate a lot of things about traveling. Hot dusty days. Wet rainy days. Mud. Bad hotel beds. Airport security. I mean, I don’t know how many bones I’m supposed to have, who the hell knows these kinds of things? They’re, they’re always on about me not having enough or having too many or they’re in the wrong place...

“Oh and horses. I hate anything to ride that’s four-legged, really, except camels. I like camels, but not to ride. But I like driving,” Crowley said thoughtfully, watching the humans pass by the cafe windows. “And I like walking. And ships, especially ones that depend on wind and sails. I like seeing new sights, listening to new people, and I like the things you can do by yourself. But...I don’t mind any of that if it’s with you. Even the things I don’t like, or the things I like doing by myself. It’s fine when it’s with you.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, with a blush that made the demon smile.

“Now finish your cocoa, angel,” Crowley said, downing the steaming wine in one go, licking his lips. “I’ve got a goat to burn.”

“Oh no...”

[0oolookitsme]

Title- Shoot (sorry I just couldn't pick a title)

Type- Multiple blurbs, but in total word count, they make a One-Shoty blurb. So, consider this a One-Shoty Blurb!

Verse- Model!Harry x Fashion-Designer!Y/n

Word Count- 1.6k

Warnings- Slight smut. Not proofread.

A/n- I had been planning this one for days but when the teaser came out, the inspo hit.

Sort of a description- Harry is a model and doing a photoshoot, and the clothes are obviously designed by the woman we all love, Y/n. Hahah xD Also, this one includes the dazed photoshoots, as well as what he wore in the teaser, so let's assume that all of these are for the same: Dazed (including the teaser one <3).

A sigh leaves Y/n's mouth from the back of her throat as her mouth hangs wide open, eyes never seeming to leave the beauty that just walked in and is standing parallel to the doorframe.

"Y- you look, oh- ugh, oh my lord. You look so pretty," she trailed off, standing up from where she had sat down on the wooden floor due to the chair being full of Harry's home clothes he had arrived on the shoot wearing. And then again, it's a dressing room, you can't expect it to have ten chairs and three sofas.

The sofa being full of the next clothes he's gonna wear, is just whole another story.

Y/n walks towards him, eyes glued to his frame as he poses for her. "You look gorgeous, Harry. Just the way I had wanted you to look," she says, her hands coming to touch him.

She slowly slides her hand all over his body, checking out her work on him, or checking out him in her work, she's not quite sure.

"Harry! Everyone's ready!" The photographer calls for him.

The Designer was about to kiss him good luck when she halts her actions. "Holy- wait a second," she asks, causing him to chuckle as she rushes towards the tiny desk in the room and fishes out a few things from her purse.

"Here," she quickly applies some of her lip-balm on his lips, and yells that Harry is going out there in 5 to the crew, in the process.

Very frantically but smoothly, she draws a thin line of black eyeliner towards the end and just above his pretty eyes-lashes. She moves back a bit to observe her work and checks everything out as the makeup artist had already worked on him.

She just hopes that they won't get mad, the make-up artist.

A sloppy smile stretches out on her lips. "You're good now. Look like an absolute angel," she admits, kissing the tip of his nose.

-

"Come take a look, Harry," the photographer says, leaning back from the camera and standing up, moving and taking a seat in front of the screen which showed all the pictures he took.

Y/n also jogs to his side to steal glance and grinned from ear to ear as she saw the results. "These look absolutely fantastic," she mutters under her breath making the older yet stylish man chuckle while Harry also grinned, turning to look at her.

"I agree," another crew member laughs as the designer walked back in the corner she was watching the shoot from while sipping on her juice. She took a seat and brought the worn out notebook she had been given by the magazine to fill in the details about all the designs in the same order the photos are taken.

She had just picked up her pen and placed her sunglasses on her head when a sound of husky footsteps reached her, as though someone was dragging their feet instead of lifting them up to walk.

When the shoes came in her line of view, she knew who the person is. "What's the matter, hmm?" she asks, looking up.

Harry brings his hands and intertwines them with hers. "How do I look?" he meekly asks, and y/n is instantly reminded that she praised the photos, not him.

"Looking as pretty as ever baby," mumbling, she brings the back of his hands to her mouth and presses a soft kiss there above his knuckles.

The tip of his ears turn pink and he smiles. Soon it turns into a shy lopsided grin as he mutters back a 'thank you' before rushing back inside the dressing room.

-

"It's actually just the pants." Y/n states as the people who were dressing up Harry got worried that they had lost the other piece and are successfully going to make the sweet designer, mad.

She saw as a look of relief flashed on all of their faces.

The hair stylist stepped in, once again, and she was actually happy with the model as he didn't try to make his own innovations in whatever style she makes, unlike the other models.

Harry sits there on the chair peacefully, manspreading as his thick thighs looked more prominent in the light-lavender/lilac shaded pants. He was aware how y/n was ogling at them.

He spreads his legs farther and is immediately glared at by his dom. Y/n slowly stands up along the hair stylist as the old ad moves out of the room. Y/n knew that the majority of the crew members are busy as they had to bring in the bike for this shoot and the rest of them were choosing which shade of white sheet would make the perfect one.

"My my," she raises her brows at him, watching him try to adjust the hard-on he was getting. "Look who's trying to push their look today," she says with an amused chuckle which sounded hollow.

"Don't do that again or you might regret it, baby." Sliding her hands down his chest she stops them when her finger-tips brush the waist of the pants. She pushes down his hips when he buckles them up to somehow get her hand where he's starting to want her more and more.

He was so easy for her. So fucking easy.

"C'mon Harry!" the photographer calls for him and Y/n almost rolls her eyes in annoyance. What stops her is the groan that comes from the back of Harry's throat.

She turns her head back to see him cupping himself. Right in front of her.

"Oh baby, y' shouldn't have done that," she says, her voice a little sterner now but she still said it as though there were no consequences he'd have to face later when they reach home.

-

Harry was little nervous right now as y/n wasn't looking down at her notebook and writing in it as to deprive him of her attention as a punishment, but staring at him with a sweet smile playing on her lips.

"Let loose Harry. The pose is supposed to seem stiff, not you," the photographer says for the third time, kind of frustrated which told every person that he wasn't a patient one.

Before he could say anything else to Harry, whose mind is slipping in a subby state, Y/n gets up on he feet and jogs towards Harry. "Just a sec please," she tells everyone and takes Harry back in the dressing-room.

"Hey, look at me-"

"I'm sorry, shouldn't have done that. Didn't think before doing it," he quickly says, cutting y/n off as the weight of what he did was starting to feel heavy on his shoulders. Now he looked better.

"Listen. Calm down and focus on what you're doing, yeah? We'll talk about it when we're home," she says and stops herself from cupping his face. From some distance, she places a soft kiss on his lips. "I'm not mad at you. Now go and rock," she cheers, pushing him towards the door lightly and carefully.

Harry takes one last glance at her before going back. He knows he's going to be punished anyway but he doesn't know if she'll do it softly or roughly. Wat he does knows is that he will love it either way.

The red circle which is to perform the head of the mushroom is attached to his back at he's dressed up as the stem-ish part of the mentioned. The creativity was heavy in this one but the most fascinating part was that she had designed the white spots on the stem and not on the mushroom, where it usually is.

And well, Harry liked to look different.

-

Both of them just dressed up in each other's t-shirts after coming out of the shower. Harry's head lays on y/n's chest as he tries to drift off to dreamland after a tiring day.

He did get punished but in the soft manner this time. She had took him to bathroom after the bathtub had been filled with water and helped him in. Just like the other days, she washed his hair and body in the shower before going in and sitting in the warm water with his back to her chest. Pressing soft kisses on his neck and muttering sweet nothings as he rested.

He thinks back to when she had softly asked him to lift his arms up so she can dress him and then helped him get in his boxers, just mere seconds ago. No matter how many times she does that and tells him that it's normal to do so, he still feels on cloud 9 every time.

Her rhythmic heartbeat matches his very own, yeah he pressed his palm over where his heart is to check -just out of curiosity. He wants to sleep but his mind just can't seem to stop thinking. He has yawned so many times that the tears formed due to it are slipping out of his eyes.

"They showed you a few, told you they'll mail you a few and said that they'd surprise you with a few. Right?" Y/n questions him out of blue -according to him- and he hums back in response, cuddling closer to her.

Also humming she reached for her phone. "I mean... I'm not bad enough to give not give you a surprise," she chuckles and watched as his head jerks up from her breasts and he's looking at her with a frown between his brows.

"What are ya talking about?"

"Look," she tilts her phone so that he can see what's on the screen and watches as his face lights up. (the photo chosen for this blurb)

"You sneaked out a photo!" he squeaks and laughs, surprised.

- - -

Don't forget to reblog and give feedback if you liked this! <3

[calehenituse-brainrot]

I know you probably have a lot of requests so please ignore this if you don't want to do it! Reminder to stay hydrated, eat, sleep well and take care of yourself.

But in one of your fics you made an allusion to the reader having self harm scars and just alluded to it to the one you posted today.

Soooooooooo ✨ could you write a reaction from Cale to readers self harm scars.

Cuz he apparently 'filed it away' in the fic where paseton appears

lol, couldnt turn away from this ask.

i dont think cale is the type to bring it up the moment he sees them — he's more of a "let's look for the perfect time to talk about it" kind of person. that's just my opinion.

because of that, im making this as transported!reader. hope you don't mind :/ i'll be writing about the conversation after it.

ngl, thinking about this was kind of hard (as in, brainstorming) because i couldn't exactly think of the healthiest way to bring up sh scars since i didn't really have the best experience with people finding out about mine .

i tried my best with this one and hopefully, i did well. extremely self-indulgent.

WARNING : SELF HARM SCARS AND DEPRESSION, PANIC ATTACK. this is very triggering so please proceed with caution. please say something if you think i should add another warning. btw this is LONG because i got carried away, something i do a lot apparently

Cale wasn't an emotionless bastard.

He might be a bit dense to others, but he had always shown that he was someone with a compassionate heart and had plenty of love for his family and friends.

With the bleak years of childhood from his previous world, Cale understands those who suffer the most and wishes for them to never go through what he did when he was a child.

This did not mean that he will help out everyone who suffers. He knows the boundaries of others and tries his best to respect them. After all, being in pain and unable to do anything was something people considered their vulnerable side. Something they wish to hide from the world and others.

You were no exception, no matter which world you came from.

As said before, Cale had always been dense -- no, maybe he just choose to not mind several things in front of him.

The fact that you had always chosen to wear things that modestly cover up most of your skin was not something he pays attention to. He does, however, pay attention to the fact that you always try your best to dress in the most stylish way possible -- be it a coat, a vest, or maybe even some accessories to your hair.

You avoid doing things that get your shirt dirty, but when things come down and you should roll up your sleeves, you never did. Cale always thought that maybe it's because you don't really mind getting messy when working.

Then he saw what seems to be the reason why.

When you had injured yourself back in the villa where they had stayed in the Ubarr territory, Cale had seen them.

At your thighs and coming up your shoulders were multiple pale bumpy lines.

Cale was familiar with self-harm. He had a pretty rough childhood and had perhaps even considered doing so back when he was in the orphanage. But he couldn't.

He couldn't lift the razor to his skin and drag it across because as much as he was used to getting beat up, he did not like pain. He hated it. But he was familiar with it because he had seen his loved ones does it -- be it his little siblings from the orphanages or his friends from school when they have a terrible home and school life.

Life was hectic and he never truly had the chance to sit down with you and talk about whether you were struggling or not -- it wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation, Cale knew that, which is why he's always been keeping out for the perfect time for the both of you to talk.

He also knew he wasn't supposed to point out scars and he shouldn't be asking about things he wasn't even sure people are comfortable talking about. But some of your scars looked less than a month old, which was worrying.

Back when he was Kim Rok Soo, he received a lot of scars by going on hunting and slaying monsters. He remembers the feeling of each wound and how long they would heal. He can differentiate which scar was older and which was new.

He leaned back in his chair and close his eyes, but the memory of those lines across your skin comes into his head again. He felt like his guts were being twisted as he remembers and he frowned, his eyes stayed close as he remembered it all.

"You look like you have a lot in your mind."

Cale opens his eyes, seeing you walk past by with a grin on your face. "I knocked a few times but you didn't respond."

'I must've been too immersed in using Record,' Cale thought.

For the first time, he pays attention to your clothes. You tend to wear trousers and waistcoats whenever you're working, sometimes there are days when you wear simple dresses that was adorned with accessories.

Today, you wear a long-sleeved white button-up with a grey waistcoat. Your trousers were dark and looked clean. You looked modest and fit right into the world's period (x). 'Her arms are covered as usual.'

"Is there something wrong?" Cale asked, wanting to know why you had come into his room.

"Can't I spend my time with you?" You asked with a teasing grin that has Cale raising an eyebrow. "A workaholic like you spending time?"

"Give me a break." You groaned, plopping yourself on the couch across him and stretching your arms above your head, letting out a groan to slip out of your lips when you feel your muscles begin to lessen the tension they had from working all day. "Working feels great."

You tapped your temple as you continue, "It chases away all the other noises in here."

Cale went quiet. He never really considered that for you. Ever since you had come to this world, you had always been eager to help despite never properly having the time to sit down and process everything.

"You shouldn't be running away from your problems," Cale voiced out his thoughts. You raised an eyebrow, amused. "Are you giving me life advice? I'm not an actual 18-year-old, you old man. Did you forget?"

"I'm not that old," Cale said and you laughed. "To me, you are."

"And I'm not running away from anything," you continued, glancing to the side to avoid his gaze. "I'll deal with them one day once I'm capable to do so. For now, instead of overthinking about it, it's better to work and think about other things."

"But don't they come back after hours?"

You and Cale stared at each other as silence fell upon the room. What exactly are you supposed to say to that? Of course, they come back after your work. It's scary to sit and do nothing because the moment you're alone, these thoughts began to emerge and bother you.

They're not necessarily bad things, but they make you think. They make you question things. They make you anxious.

There is anxiety hovering over the thought that you might ruin this world's flow -- ruining the plot or whatnot -- and being the one to carry that burden sets you off the edge. They make you fear that even a small decision that you make could change everything -- that a small flap of the butterfly's wing could make even a tornado happen.

Sometimes they make you question why you're here in this world, sometimes they make you jittery over the thought of whether or not you can return, sometimes you wondered if you want to return.

You didn't have things that makes you want to keep on living, but you had worked hard. You went to school for years, endured horrible things as a child, and even when you were an adult, and even though your days in your previous world were not the happiest -- living in a small apartment and living paycheck to paycheck -- you worked hard to reach that point in life.

You worked hard to live.

Because if Cale's sole reason for living was because he could not die, yours was because you worked hard for it and want to see the fruits of your labor.

More than anything, you wished that the decision you made as a child to endure the pain for the sake of coming out better and victorious could come true. You wished to see it happen but before you could, you were sent here, your body morphing back into the age where you believed you suffered the most.

"Of course, they come back," you told him honestly. "But the night comes and goes and so will those thoughts."

"Do you not mind living in that cycle?" Cale questions. He finds it horrible -- he would rather deal with the problem at hand instead of letting it stay and became a habit.

"It is what I'm used to," you told him with a small nervous smile. Even you do not believe your own words. "I've become strong."

Cale stares at the smile on your face. He usually likes it when he can see you smile because your smile means everything is safe and going as planned, it means you were having fun, but the one on your face right now makes him uncomfortable. It didn't feel genuine and that does not suit you who had always been sincere and so honest.

Cale doesn't like to see this smile on you.

"Strong?" He repeats, voice low. "Have you become strong or have you gone numb?"

Cale stares at your wide eyes, knowing he might have hit a nerve or maybe you just realized it yourself. Either way, you stilled in your seat while Cale waited for you to answer him.

"[Name]." For the first time since you walked into this room, he called for your name.

You looked at him, still having no words to say and Cale concluded that you refused to talk any further about this. But if not now, then when? He couldn't let you go on knowing you were struggling in silence. He refused to let you be like that.

He was a bit anxious. What if he let you be like that and just like how you let those thoughts come and go, he will treat your struggle as something that he thought about in passing yet never addresses them? Even he is not immune to mistakes like that.

"[Name]," he called for you again. "I've seen them."

You stared at him, a bit confused about what he was talking about. Cale stared at your arms, covered with the long sleeves of your shirt, and as usual, you caught up quickly. You've always been observant when it comes to him, one of the reasons why Cale entrusted you with the power to make decisions for him.

You immediately rubbed on your left arm, self-conscious.

"The scars," Cale said. "I saw them back at the Ubarr territory."

"I didn't think you'd brought this up." You sounded frustrated and a bit irked.

"Do you think of me as someone heartless?" He questions and you shake your head, frowning. "No, no, never. I just... thought that maybe you'll be considerate enough to ignore it. Mind your business or something, I don't know. I didn't think you'd brought it up."

"I can't do that," he said, clenching his firsts that were placed on his thighs. "Some of them looked new."

"I was vicious," you told him, shrugging your shoulders with an anxious smile. You were uncomfortable like you wanted to just brush this away as something light and have the conversation ends quickly. You wanted to escape this conversation.

Cale watched your body language, looking at how you were actively avoiding his gaze and rubbing your arms, either as a way to calm yourself or because you were self-conscious.

"[Name]," he spoke again, this time softly. "If you are uncomfortable with this, we can stop. I don't want to push you to speak of things you aren't ready for yet."

You stilled a bit, feeling the bumpy lines of skin underneath your sleeves as you listen to Cale speak. In your previous world, you weren't exactly given the chance to feel comfortable talking about this issue but then again, self-harm had never been a comfortable topic to talk about.

At least for you.

No, you were forced to sit down and talk about it. Your father had told you how he was so disappointed in you for being so weak in faith when he found out. Your mother had told you that you were inconsiderate, that you didn't think of her when you had slashed your skin.

"How do you think I feel knowing you hurt yourself like this?"

She was ashamed of you, ashamed because you were weak and because self-harm is something only mentally ill people do.

"You're not ill," she had said to you. "You're just stressed and you probably do this because you saw it on the internet."

Your classmates who had seen it announces loudly that you had them, some offering advice on how to keep your depression away like "go and hang out, listen to music" which did nothing.

Some obnoxiously joked around when they had seen it, questioning if you were into narcotics and reporting it to the teachers. A friend you thought was close to you had seen the cuts when it was fresh and the first thing they did was slapped it as hard as they could as a way to discipline you, calling you names like "idiot" over and over again, questioning why you did it but covering their ears when you try to explain.

The looks the counseling teacher sent you when they received the report from others. The way they'll tiptoe around you but then talk of the issue so lightly.

You stared at Cale, seeing that he was patiently waiting for you. You want to talk to him. The fact that he was so considerate with you made you want to open your heart to him, but isn't that the bare minimum? Will this be something you will come to regret?

Will this be one of those times where you gave in because they gave you the bare minimum?

"Can I trust you?"

Cale went quiet for a bit, not because he hesitated to answer you, but because he thought that what the two of you had was already something deep. Do you not think of him the same way he thinks of you?

"Of course," he answered you. "I'll earn your trust if you still think less of me."

You let out a sigh and Cale noticed how your breath was slightly shaking. He stood up slowly and instead of looking at his face, you stared at his torso as he moved closer to you.

"Can I sit here?" He gestured to the spot next to you, now able to see that you were shaking. The worst-case scenario was you'll be having a panic attack or something of the like.

"Mhm." You nod your head.

Cale sat down next to you, watching as you rub your face multiple times, running a hand throughout your [h/c] hair. Your hands were shaking and he can see that you were starting to sweat. Your hand went to touch the couch below you, feeling the texture of the couch cover while murmuring something.

"[Name]," he called for you, hand slowly going to your shoulder and gently pulling you so you would face him. His other hand reaches for your hand, gently gripping them as his thumb brushes the back of your hand slowly.

"Breathe," he told you, remembering how he had told you to do the same when he first met you. You weren't shaking as badly as then and Cale was relieved.

"Hey," he murmured and you turn to him, eyes shaking and glossy.

"This is like the first time we met," he pointed out, squeezing your hand. "Do you remember what you said?"

You closed your eyes for a moment, shaking your head to process what Cale said. Your head was slowly getting rowdy and you still try your best to understand what Cale had said. 'When we first met. What I said to him.'

Cale heard you let out a chuckle albeit still sounding shakey. "I-I said you're a cosplayer. A-and uhm--"

"You complimented me for cosplaying Cale accurately," Cale added. "Do you remember that?"

You let out a weak laugh. "Y-yeah, I think I did. I thought my friend made an elaborate prank for me."

"Yeah, you were pretty shaken up after that," Cale hummed. "I had to hold you and calm you down. A bit like this."

You gulped, swallowing the bile that had risen to your throat. You forced yourself to smile a bit, realizing that it may have been stupid of you to ask whether or not you could trust Cale or not. Hasn't he seen you in your weakest moments? He's seen you be so vulnerable so many times and to think you question him whether you cant trust him or not felt wrong.

"It was embarrassing," you told him with a smile. "I was so... panicked."

"It's normal," he told you.

You stared at his reddish-brown eyes for a moment, your brain finally able to work properly after being so overwhelmed. You remember back how he had been so calm after possessing the body of another person in another world and managed to let out a giggle. "Yeah. It's normal."

Cale gave your hand one last squeeze before he lets go of it and your shoulder. He sat facing you, watching as you rub your face again.

"Are you okay with talking about it?" He asked and when you nod, he feels a bit of the tension he had been feeling from earlier leave his body.

"I mean, it's better to talk about this now instead of later," you murmured. "And I'm okay, I guess. You won't say anything funny about it, won't you?"

Cale raised an eyebrow but still shook his head. "I wouldn't."

You began to roll up your sleeves, fingertips still a bit trembling and you work slowly. Cale waited, staring at your face instead of your arms. "You don't have to show them if you're not comfortable."

"You've already seen them when I was only with a bathrobe," you mumbled. "There's no point in hiding them any longer."

"Is that why you always wear long sleeves?" Cale asked, planning on making this whole conversation easy for you the best he could.

"A bit," you answered honestly, smiling. "I don't have any issue with showing them since back in my previous world, you're not supposed to point them out but this world is a bit different so I took precautions."

"I expected you to do the same — to not point it out — because our previous worlds aren't so different," you continued and Cale nodded. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't leave you be after seeing them."

You smiled listening to his response. You should've known that he would initiate this conversation sooner or later when he had seen your scars.

"Are you still hurting yourself?" He asked, no judgment nor disgust laced in his voice. There was no tone that indicates that he was interested to know more like he was asking for some gossip.

Instead, there was a hint of warmth and concern when he spoke. His face was nonchalant when he asked but his reddish-brown eyes seemed so welcoming and warm, a slight frown of concern on his thin eyebrows.

Cale watched as you stared back at him as if you were looking for something in his expression but then you had a soft smile on your face, shaking your head. "No. No, I—I stopped."

"I started cutting when I was seventeen and stopped after I graduated high school," you continued. "It's how I found out this body was eighteen."

Cale remembers how you had immediately figured out that despite being 24 years old, you had claimed that you turned back into your 18-year-old body when you appeared in this world. When he had questioned how can you tell the difference, you only told him to trust your words.

"I see," Cale murmured, his heart relieved but at the same time felt like he was getting it squeezed so tightly he almost had to start breathing manually.

He was relieved that you stopped. The smile on your face when you said you stopped made him feel soft and warm because he was glad you managed to stop hurting yourself, but there was also some sort of disbelief at how unfortunate you had been to struggle for years with self-harm. His throat felt tight and he wanted to say something to you, about how he was sorry, how he wished he could have helped at the time, but they all sounded so superficial because not any words can describe how much sorrow he feels for you.

"Did anyone help you at the time?" Cale asked. He wanted to know whether or not you had been struggling alone - God, he hoped so very much that you had people to support you throughout those years.

"I wasn't very open about it," you told him with a shrug. "It wasn't a very a comfortable topic to talk about and I try not to impose on others."

Cale exhaled. "[Name], seeking help--"

"I know, I know," you cut him off, rubbing your temples. "I know, but it's so hard to let go of that mindset. My mom never liked it when I talk about these types of things and always accuses me of blaming her for everything. Says I could have handled it all myself because it always seems easy."

"Your mother's a bitch, then," Cale immediately replied. "Talk to me if things start bothering you. I want to help you. Or you can talk to someone else if you think I won't understand -- do what makes you feel most comfortable. No one would turn away from you."

"That's what everyone says," you murmured. "They always say they're always gonna be here to help, but no one is there. No one is willing to listen because it's uncomfortable and when they do listen, things they say make me feel so much more horrible - that my struggles aren't as hard as someone else's, that I should forgive my parents, that I have to go out and get some sunlight."

"[Name]," Cale called for you sternly, his hand moving to yours and gripping them. "Listen to me. Those people aren't here anymore and you're surrounded by people who will never downplay your struggles."

You were a stubborn person. No matter what Cale would say, he knows that you'll always reply back to shut down his words and while it was frustrating for Cale, he also understood that you spoke from experience and his chest ached knowing that you never seemed to be able to find a way to seek help, that no matter how desperate you had tried to help yourself, it seemed things never had gone into your favor. They caused you to stay quiet, to suffer in silence, and forced some sick mindset into your head that the only person who will be capable of helping you is yourself.

But how can you aid yourself when you're the one that's hurt? How can you comfort yourself when it is your own intrusive thoughts that haunt your nights? How can you stop the hurt when it is your own intrusive thoughts that push you to keep on hurting yourself?

"[Name]," Cale calls for you again, his voice had turned softer than before. "I need you to know that while I very much respect your wishes to be reserved about this problem, I need you to know that if it's too hard to handle by yourself, I'm here to help you and I'm sure everyone else is willing to help as well if you opened up to them."

"I genuinely want to help you," Cale pressed. "You told me you wanted to help me achieve my slacker life and I don't think I can slack off if I know you're struggling."

Your finger twitched underneath Cale's hand. "Then is this you paying me back for helping you?"

"No," Cale answered you. "No. Never. This is me wanting to help you because you're someone I care about."

"Careful," you murmured, leaning back to the couch. "You might make me fall in love with you."

Cale lets out an exasperated sigh. "[Name], please."

Silence engulfed the room, uncomfortable and unusually loud. The silence was loud with how the two of you can hear each other's breath, the warmth radiating from each other's bodies, the faint sounds of working servants outside of his door, and the sound of the rattling balcony door whenever a wind passes by.

You were staring ahead, eyes burning hot as you began to process what was happening right now.

Someone was actually trying to help you. You believed that Cale was the most genuine person you have ever met and you know that he wouldn't say things only to make you feel better - he'll always help you to be better and be there with you to solve your problems.

When was the last time someone offered you help?

People asked about your self-harm scars, whether or not you're seeking help, what and who caused this habit, to send pictures of your fresh cuts, to run their fingertips across the bumpy lines just to simply feel and know. They have never asked to help you. They asked because they wanted to know more about what could shake you to your core and then leave you be.

You've had a few lovers who'd kissed your scars and told you that you were beautiful, saying that you should just think of them as "battle scars", begging you to no longer cut yourself for them.

But you never once asked whether or not you were beautiful. You were sick -- you didn't need any reassurance about whether or not you were beautiful, you needed help. Battle scars? It isn't someone else who had taken a razor and cut your wrist so many times as you sit on your bathroom floor until you were lightheaded from blood loss. It is your own doing. You survived what you did to yourself and people utter such horrible words when they know of this.

"Why didn't you just finish the job if you wanted to die so much?"

Because death isn't what you wanted. You just needed to feel something and cutting yourself was the only thing you could think of.

"Please, stop doing this. For me."

Then they leave you at your lowest, becoming one of the reasons why another line is on your wrist. They begged for you to make them be the reason why you'll stop - why? Was it to make them feel more special? To prove that you love them enough to stop? 

People are so sickening.

This feeling is so sickening.

"[Name]."

Cale calls for you, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket. Tears are running down your bloodshot eyes, dripping down to your cheeks and chin. He reached for your face, gently wiping away the tears.

With a choked breath, you spoke, "I'm sorry."

Cale shakes his head, slowly turning your head to face him. "No, you don't have to apologize."

You stared at Cale. Those russet eyes show no hint that he was curious, that he was disappointed, that he was uncomfortable with you. Instead, you can only see genuine concern as he dabs away your tears.

"People ask," you began and you watched as Cale's eyes that were focusing on your tears averted to your eyes. "People ask. But just because they want to know."

"You promise you'll always be there for me? You're not asking just because you're curious, right? You actually want to help me out. You promise?" You asked in a brittle voice, hand running up to touch Cale's that was on your cheek as tears run down your cheek even more. You sound so desperate and so weak -  you were talking to him as if you no longer have anyone to rely on and could only follow him based on your blind trust in him. "That you'll help me? You won't judge me if I ever relapse in the future?"

Cale's breath hitched at the thought of you going back to that horrible habit. "I'll make sure you won't ever consider it ever again," Cale said, his voice breathy, letting you grip at the handkerchief before lowering his hand. "Even if you relapsed, I would never judge you. Your struggles don't define you and will never do."

Cale thought that if you ever relapsed, he'll probably curse himself for being so neglectful to your wellbeing. His wish to be a slacker life includes your happiness, too.

"I'm always going to be here to help," he stated to you. "So, please, lean on me."

You wiped away your tears with Cale's white handkerchief before leaning to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Albeit still a bit shocked, Cale lets you rest your full weight on him, your face tucked to his shoulder. He can feel his clothes starting to get wet and your labored breaths. He lifted his hand, rubbing your back gently.

"I'm here, [Name]," he murmured, lips nearly pressed to your shoulder. "I'm always going to be here."

You nod in his embrace, still sniffling. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Cale returned your hug, looking up at the ceiling, wishing that nothing can ever push you to cut yourself again. He reminded himself to always pay attention to your feelings the best he could and help you heal.

"I'm here."

[palettepainter]

How the teachers play favourites

We all know Aizawa and All Might have their favourite UA child, Shinsou and Midoryia. And yeah I know Bakugo and Todoroki are also their UA kids but shhh, Midoryia and Shinsou where the first UA kids they adopted. 

And you can’t tell me Aizawa and All Might play favourites with them, All makes Deku lunch like..hello?? Aizawa gave Shinsou his capture weapon, HELLO?? 

So here are some dumb headcannons for how the other teachers play favourites to their UA kids

Ectoplasm and his UA kid Jiro:

-When he gives back marked tests he’ll sometimes write small encouraging notes for his students to read, he does this to some students when he feels they need a pick up but he always leaves a positive one on Jiro’s 

-During lessons where students are allowed to study in the lesson Ectoplasm lets them listen to music on their phones, everyone thought he would say no so everyone - mostly Kaminari and Mineta - peer pressured Jiro to ask. To no ones shock except Jiro’s Ectoplasm replied with a calm “Sure, but only if you use your headphones”

-Jiro talks about new songs that have been released and Ectoplasm will listen to her geek out about music

-Sometimes Jiro will tell Ectoplasm what her and the rest of the band (herself, Kaminari, Momo, Tokoyami and Bakugo) have been doing and if they’re working on any new songs in-between their studies. Jiro jokes that Ectoplasm is their biggest fan but Ecto is genuinely supportive of their band and admires their creativity

-Jiro once entered maths class and said “Hey miter Ecto, what’s shakin’ bacon?” and while the whole class was stood there in silence thinking Ectoplasm wouldn’t reply he said “Not much double dutch” and then Jiro went to her desk as thought nothing out of the ordinary happened. Kaminari tried to do the same thing to him and Ectoplasm just went “Kaminari your shoe lace is undone-” Jiro was very amused

Powerloader and Hatsume:

-This one started out more like this - Powerloader: Who’s idiot kid is that?....*realises it’s Hatsume* Oh shit- THAT’S MY IDIOT KID-

-Hatsume showed up at the design studio and never left basically, so Powerloader got used to her. He knows Hatsume overworkers herself so he keeps spare energy bars, fruit and bags of crisps in the design studio. He brought a small microwave and kettle for the winter so Hatsume could make hot drinks and food since she insisted on finishing her ‘babies’

-Say’s he doesn’t worry but still insists she goes to recovery girl when she gets a scratch or blows up the studio, sometimes dragging her there himself, ranting all the way about how she’s an idiot. One day Hatsume ended up breaking her leg during a bad explosion and Powerloader very nearly had a heart attack-

He kept a close eye on her while she worked from a wheelchair at her desk

-Makes her wear a god forsaken jumper in the winter when the design studio is freezing, stupid dumb teenager you’ll catch your death of cold

Present Mic and Kaminari:

-This man is shameless with playing favourites

-He greets Kaminari with his signature finger guns and an enthusiastic “AAAYYYY KAMINARI!” Kaminari shoots finger guns back with an “Ayyyyy teach hozit hanging?!” Everyone in class knows Kaminari is a teachers pet despite how Kaminari insists he’s not

-Mic knows Kaminari has a crush on Jiro and Kaminari is an embaressed child who is like “omg msiter Mic STOP-” while Present Mic is coeing and being all like “Aw that’s adorable!”. He always puts Jiro and Kaminari together in group projects, Kaminari shoots him a flustered glare cuz Present Mic knows what he’s doing 

-Kaminari teaches him meme/slang language for laughs and everyone in class hates it, Kaminari finds it hilarious. Eventually Mic gets the hang of it but he sucked at using the language correctly at first 

-Calls him lil listener and Kaminari calls him loud mouth 

Midnight and Yaoyorozu

-Another teacher who is shameless with playing favourites

-Midnight being a teacher does have to enforce the dress code if she sees a student wearing their uniform incorrectly - loose tie, untucked shirt, odd brightly coloured socks, chockes, etc. Midnight really doesn’t care all that much if a student’s socks aren’t the sae colour as their shoes...buuut she’s a teacher so she has to enforce it. Except when it comes to Yaoyorozu. Yaoyorozu one day had to wear light blue socks into UA as her tights where damaged, and she was worried she’d be called out for not following the dress code. Midnight saw, and turned a blind eye. She was in the middle of telling someone off for not dressing correctly, saw Yaoyorozu with the odd coloured socks and went “-Oh hello Yaoyorozu you have a good day sweetheart! ^^”

-Always complients Yaoyorozu when she comes into class. Oooo did you try a new hair style? Honey it suits you! New note book, such cursive hand writting! Glad to see you got those new pair of shoes, trying a different shoe brand this time? Very stylish!

-Had been tempted to kick Mineta like a beech ball on more then one occasion when he wouldn’t back off from Yaoyorozu

-The kind of teacher to say “I taught her that~” when Yaoyorozu uses one of her combat techniques

-Girl gossip. She tries to guess who Yaoyorozu will get with, meanwhile Momo is just blushing and blabbering because that isn’t very appropriate for history work. Midnight bats a hand is like “Pft I’m the teacher I can gossip in my own lesson”. Puts her with Todoroki during group projects and she, like Mic, 100% knows what she’s doing

Hounddog and Shishida

-Hounddog: I am not soft....*holds up Shishida* EXCEPT FOR MY 1B CHILD WHO IS VERY STRONG AND HE’S GOING TO BE A HERO DON’T @ ME HE’S AMAZING-

-Encourages Shishida to let loose with his beast form, with his rish upbringing Shishida isn’t used to embracing his more wild and uncaring side, having been raised to always be propper and polite when not in combat. Hounddog geuenily puts in effort to be a little less grumbly around Shishida cuz he doesn’t wanna peer pressure him, he’s giving him time

-Keeps a spare cloth so Shishida can clean his glasses off when and if they get dirty from training

-I imagine Shishida having a quirk called beast and having a more posh upbringing prolly has a little bit of anxiety, having to always be polite and propper even with a quirk called Beast. Sometimes he vents to Hounddog about this and he listens, insisting that it’s better Shishida get it off his chest when he apologises for drowning on

-During training Hounddog basically throws him about like a beanie bag at first, Shishida was still a kid and Hounddog had years of experience. The day Shishida finally knocked him down with a hard punch to the side of Hounddog’s face he felt...bad. But Hounddog was beaming! Shishida may have cried a little bit

Snipe and Hagakure (picked hagakure inspired by a suggestion @snipe-enthusiast made a while ago)

- Protective af

-Hagakure screams the innocent dorky girl of 1A, and thought Snipe makes sure none of the girls deal with Mineta’s bull while he’s around he’s especially protective of Hagakure just cuz...well, have you seen the way she acts? She’s innocent, peppy, happy, cheerful, and Snipe does not want that tainted by Mineta’s preverted ways

-After the exam with Hagakure and Shoji Snipe apologized for what happened and so did Hagakure, admitting that she over-reacted. 

-Hagakure admits one day to Snipe that she’s worried she won’t make it as a hero cuz her quirk isn’t flashy like her classmates. Snipe reassures her by saying that no one thought he could be a hero when he was little (this headcannon was inspired by @frelmidja and a post this did with Snipe) - guns weren’t exactly considered heroic and he got teased in the beginning when his quirk first activated. He told Hagakure to keep working hard and that she had the potential and the drive to be a hero, Hagakure was very thankful for the reassurance

-Hagakure really wants to see what Snipe’s face is like and constantly asks him if he could take his mask off and show them, Snipe has yet to break and take off his mask but Hagakure is very persistant 

Cementoss and Bondo

-Chill babies, they sit and have tea together. 

-I imagine Bondo to be the kind of person to accidentally call Cementoss dad, it happened once during one on one training and he got so embarrassed. Cementoss kept telling him it was fine but Bondo left in a hurry after

-Bondo tried to make certian shapes out of his glue one time but ended up getting himself stuck, Cementoss helped him out and reassured a disheartened Bondo that everyone makes mistakes and that he was progressing well 

-Being one of the taller boys in 1B he often has to hold back Monoma from going over to 1A when Kendo isn’t around, often tries to diffuse conflict before it gets worse, Cementoss is very proud

-After one on one training the two go to the lunch hall to get a hot drink after cleaning themselves up, Bondo tries to bring a different type of tea sweet each time - something like biscuits or chocolate. Cementoss returns the favour by bringing Bondo manju to have after his training

Thirteen + Gunhead and Uraraka

-Proud mum and dad because I couldn’t decide between the two

-Uraraka researches into the affects of zero gravity and how to better use her power, due to this she’s become a bit of a space nut and enjoys thinks like star gazing. When she was a kid and saw Pro Hro Thirteen on the TV she was ecstatic! Her parents brought her a Pro Hero Thirteen plush on her seventh birthday, Uraraka still has that toy. One day the toy got misplaced in the students washing and got mixed up with the teachers, Thirteen was a bit confused why a plush of her - and a well loved one by how old it looked - ended up in the wash. Uraraka hurridly rushes over to explain when Thirteen comes into the students dorms asking if it belonged to anyone. When Uraraka explained she got it when she was younger cuz she’s a big fan of Thirteen...heart squeeze

-Asked Uraraka if she could teach her the gunhead martial arts move, Uraraka was so honored she got to teach one of her idols a combat move! Through the gunhead martial arts move Thirteen met Gunhead and the two become good friends

-One day when Gunhead is teaching Thirteen the martial arts move with Uraraka to help demonstrate Uraraka wanted to take a picture of them all together. Gunhead was too tall to fit into the picture so he kneeled down to be at the same height as Thirteen and Uraraka (he did bunny ears behind Thirteen’s head and Uraraka thought it was adorable)

-Gunhead pretty much puts two and two together with Uraraka having a crush on Midoryia, so one day when Thirteen mentions in passing conversation how giddy Uraraka gets when she’s around this one green haired kid Gunhead just chuckles behind his hand. Thirteen and Gunhead think it’s very sweet how Uraraka totally has a crush on him (unlike Mic and Midnight thoug they don’t force anything and let Uraraka figure things out on her own)

[theladyofdeath]

Heels {Rowaelin}

The prompt: walks in front of their crush in stripper heals and a short skirt because they want their attention

Rowan x Aelin os

Written with @snelbz​

There was no way this could be a good idea.

Aelin was sitting on her bed, watching as Lysandra flicked through her closet. She had told her that tonight was the night and had recruited her to help her do what she considered nearly impossible.

She was going to get the attention of Rowan Whitethorn.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know she existed, it was quite the opposite. He was one of her friends, having met during orientation week their freshman year, and as their group grew, so did their friendship. But after three and a half years, she had very solidly gotten her stuck as just that: his friend.

“You’re wasting your time,” Aelin crooned, flipping through the timeline on her phone. 

“Bullshit,” Lysandra muttered, flipping through the clothes in her closet. “You need to feel confident, Aelin. Rowan is obsessed with you, and you’re obsessed with him. This whole thing is ridiculous.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, but remained quiet. 

“How about this?” Lysandra asked, pulling out a denim mini skirt and black halter cropped top. As Aelin was about to reply, Lysandra said, “Say nothing. Put it on.”

With a roll of her eyes, yet again, Aelin did as much. Once she had the skirt and top on, she looked in the mirror. 

And she looked hot as hell.

“Shoes?” Aelin asked, despite herself. 

“Oh, I have the perfect heels,” Lysandra said, fleeing from the room. She came back a moment later with a pair of black stilettos that were Aelin’s  size. 

Scoffing, Aelin held them up. “I’m going to break my neck.”

Lysandra snorted and flounced back into the bathroom where she continued to straighten her hair. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Fine,” Aelin amended. “I’m going to break my ankle.” She set the shoes on her bed and joined Lysandra in the bathroom to finish getting ready.

She let Lysandra curl her hair, but drew the line when she offered to do her makeup. They had very different styles when it came to that and while Lysandra looked drop dead gorgeous with her cat-eye liner and ruby red lips, Aelin would never be able to pull it off.

“Where is this party even at?” Lysandra asked, pulling her hair back into a stylish ponytail.

“Lorcan’s.” Aelin was trying to keep her hand steady as she applied the thin line of liquid eyeliner to her upper lid. “I think Elide convinced him to throw it.”

Lysandra snorted, applying her mascara.  “Sounds right. Lorcan isn’t exactly the host-type.”

Aelin grinned, tossing her eyeliner in her makeup bag. “Alright, hurry up. I want to make my entrance.”

With a roll of her eyes, Lysandra took one last look in the mirror and declared herself ready and they were off.

Lorcan’s apartment was just on the edge of campus, so the two girls walked and earned the eager glances of many as they did so.

Aelin took it as a good sign.

“Will Aedion be here tonight?” Lysandra asked, shooting a glance over at Aelin.

She groaned. “Probably.” She still couldn’t believe that her roommate actually had the hots for her cousin. He was practically her brother and the thought of him in any sort of compromising position made her want to gag. “If you hook up with him tonight, please do it at his place. I can’t afford therapy on my barista’s salary.”

“Trust me,” Lysandra said, adjusting her ponytail as they approached the steps to Lorcan’s. “I plan on giving you complete privacy at the apartment tonight. And you better take advantage of it.”

Butterflies grew in the pit of Aelin’s stomach. 

She planned to, hoped to, wanted to…but, she had to catch Rowan’s eye first - something that made her nerves go haywire. 

Lysandra must have caught it, because they stopped outside of Lorcan’s door and Lysandra made Aelin face her. 

“You look gorgeous,” she said, and brushed Aelin’s hair back. “He’d be an idiot not to come after you.”

That was the goal, after all. Aelin was not going to be the one doing the chasing. She wanted Rowan to see her, want her, not be able to take his eyes off of her. She knew he’d be here, the party was at his best friend’s apartment, knew that everyone from their friend group would show up. Yet she was absolutely fucking terrified he’d see her and have zero reaction.

She played it off with a joke though. Scoffing, she tossed her hair over a shoulder. “He’d better. I didn’t book an emergency appointment with my waxer for nothing.”

If Lysandra noticed the fake bravado — which she absolutely did, she and Aelin had become as close as sisters over the past three years — she didn’t call her out on it. Instead, she smirked, smacked Aelin on the ass, and said, “Then let’s go get your man.”

The music could be heard from a block away, and when they opened the front door, the apartment was already packed.

People definitely noticed them come in, though, including Elide who was running towards them, a drink in hand. “It’s about time you two showed up!”

“The host himself isn’t here to greet us?” Aelin mocked, giving Elide a hug.

Elide chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “He’s been out on the balcony for about a half hour, avoiding all human interaction.”

“Sounds about right,” Lysandra replied, rolling her eyes, but then she began looking around the spacious townhouse Lorcan and Elide shared. “You haven’t seen Aedion tonight, have you?”

Elide gave Aelin a knowing glance, but said, “Last I saw, he was playing beer pong with Fenrys. Don’t know who the poor bastards getting their asses handed to them were, but they’re probably still in the kitchen.”

Lysandra gave Aelin a wink. “Good luck.” And then she was gone, lost in the bodies dancing to the music.

Her part in tonight was done, to help Aelin get Rowan’s attention. It was all up to Aelin now, so Lysandra was free to find someone to occupy her own time. Even if the thought of who she’d be with made Aelin want to shudder.

Alone with Aelin, or as close to it as they could be, Elide let out a low whistle as she finally took in Aelin’s outfit. “I have a feeling that outfit isn’t just to impress me.”

“Does that mean you’re not impressed?” Aelin asked, pretending to pout. 

Elide looped her arm through Aelin’s and led her to the bar. “I’m always impressed, but I don’t think you care so much about my opinion, do you?”

Aelin snorted as she began to look around, but Elide saved her the struggle.

“He’s on the patio with Lor,” Elide said, simply. “Don’t worry. I’ll drag his ass back in here soon and Rowan will follow.”

Elide poured them both a shot, which Aelin gladly took and even asked for another. But when Manon and Asterin Blackbeak showed up, she waved Elide off to go greet her friends, and leaned against the bar, debating on a third shot.

She wasn’t trying to get shitty tonight, just a little messy, but her nerves were beginning to grow again.

Just as she decided to say fuck it, and get another shot, and heard a whistle from behind her. She turned and found Dorian Havilliard staring at her legs.

Or maybe he was staring at her ass.

They had messed around her freshman year, when his dorm room was just down the hall from hers, but it had never been anything more than that between them, and they agreed that they were better as friends. It didn’t mean they didn’t have fun though.

She smirked as she tossed the glass back and set it down on the bar top, before turning to him. “See anything you like?”

“I see quite a few things I like,” he said, raising his drink in salute. “Then again, only a fourth of your skin is covered, so there’s a lot to look at.”

Aelin laughed, quietly, and clinked her empty shot glass against his full bottle. “Gotta show off what the gods gave me.”

“As you should,” he agreed with a wink. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Well, it is school, and I actually study,” Aelin said, turning to refill her shot glass.

Dorian had the audacity to look offended. “Hey, I study, too.”

Aelin laughed as she turned back around. “Reading a bunch of books that have nothing to do with any of your classes doesn’t count as studying, Dor.”

“But they’re so much more interesting,” he replied, chuckling as he thought of the boring curriculum he studied for his pre-law degree.

Aelin rolled her eyes as she tossed back the shot and set it behind the bar. Four shots was enough. She’d be fun, she’d be confident, but she wasn’t tipsy enough to make an ass of herself.

Yet.

“I assume all of this skin isn’t for me, so who are you trying to impress?” Dorian asked, and then added, with a wink, “Chaol?”

Huffing a laugh, Aelin shook her head. “Absolutely not. That ended in a disaster and I’m not inclined to repeat it.”

The sliding glass door opened and Aelin’s eyes snapped to the door, before she quickly turned away before Lorcan and Rowan stepped inside.

“Oh,” Dorian chuckled, softly. “Whitethorn then.”

It wasn’t a question.

He had moved imperceptibly closer and she knew how it would look to Rowan. For whatever reason, she decided she wanted him to be jealous she was talking to another guy.

Even if she had no idea whether or not he’d even noticed her.

“Is this who I am now?” Dorian asked, quietly, leaning into her ear, fully aware that it looked like he was coming onto her. “Your super hot wingman?”

Aelin snorted, and didn’t bother moving away. “My overly cocky wingman, maybe.”

Dorian huffed a laugh. “I still take it as a compliment.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be flirting up Manon instead of fake flirting with me?” Aelin whispered, quietly. She glanced at Rowan, who was filling up a red solo cup.

“I like to make Manon wait,” Dorian said, running a finger up Aelin’s forearm. “She gets jealous, too, and it makes things so much more exciting in the bedroom.”

“Thanks for the image, Dor,” Aelin said, pushing away the need to roll her eyes and flick him in the nose.

He and Manon weren’t exclusively in a relationship, but everyone knew they hooked up with each other, and only each other. But, again, totally not exclusive.

“Besides,” Dorian mused, his finger skimming Aelin’s arm. “She’s busy doing body shots with Asterin. I’ll enjoy her later.”

Aelin snorted, reaching behind the bar and pulling an ice cold beer from the open cooler. She handed it to him and he opened it for her, flicking the cap in the air as if it were a coin.

He let it fall to the bar top as he leaned in to whisper in her ear one last time. “Pretty sure that’s my cue.”

She followed his gaze across the room, and found Rowan looking at her. Watching her and Dorian both.

“Have fun,” he added, before sauntering off towards the kitchen.

Rowan watched Dorian walk away to the other side of the room where he sat to watch Aedion and Fenrys continue to dominate in beer pong.

When Rowan’s eyes trailed back to Aelin, she was already watching him, a slightly-forced mischievous smile on her lips.

On the inside, she felt like she was going to puke.

He made his way across the room, pausing in front of her and slipped his free hand into his pocket. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” she said, and she wasn’t sure why it sounded so breathless.

“I didn’t see you get here,” he said, taking a sip of his beer.

She did the same, fighting the urge to toss her hair over a shoulder. “You were outside.” She realized that told him she was keeping tabs on him and she quickly added. “I mean, Elide told me Lorcan was outside, so I assumed you had to be with him.”

He smirked. “Right. Well, I was. It’s a little crowded in here.” She nodded, but he went on. “However, seems like you didn’t mind when Havilliard was over here with you. Not too crowded for you, then, huh?” 

Aelin slowly lifted a golden brow. If Rowan wanted to play, she would play. “Not crowded enough for someone to be blocking your view of me with Dorian, apparently.”

A light lit up Rowan’s green eyes as his jaw twitched, suppressing a grin. “I can always count on you to manipulate my words and their meaning, Galathynius.”

Aelin’s grin was wide. “Someone has to keep you in your place, Whitethorn.” 

“And is that you?” He asked, voice low as he took a drink from his cup. “The person that’s going to keep me in my place?”

Aelin’s eyes glittered as she took another drink. It was always easy with Rowan. They could talk for hours, that witty banter, back and forth. But, that’s all that had ever happened between them: simple conversation. 

From the way she caught him watching her legs as she took a drink, though, she thought tonight may just end up as she planned.

A hell of a lot more than simple conversation.

“Want to dance?” She asked.

His eyes slowly slid up her body to meet her gaze. “You know I don’t dance, Ace.”

She took a long, slow drink from her bottle. “Not even with me?”

“Not with anyone,” he said, crossing his arms and resting a hip against the bar.

It was a miracle no one had interrupted them, but the bulk of the drinks had been set up in the kitchen.

“That’s a shame,” Aelin sighed, finishing off her beer and tossing the empty bottle in the trash can. “I would love to dance, but I don’t have anyone to dance with.”

Rowan said, “I’m sure you can find someone, especially with how you’re dressed tonight.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “And how is that?”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look drop dead fucking sexy,” he replied, without missing a beat. “I just don’t get why.”

“What do you mean?” Aelin asked.

“Why try so hard?” He asked, head cocked to the side. “Who are you trying to impress?”

Cocky bastard. She could see it in his eyes, he knew what he was doing and she hated him for it.

Hated that she loved it, anyway.

“What need would I have to impress anyone?” Aelin asked, chin raised. “I think I’m naturally perfect in every way.”

Rowan chuckled. “Then you should’ve come in your sweatpants and a tank top.”

Aelin rose a brow.

Rowan shrugged. “I think that’s when you’re sexiest.”

With that, with his cup pressed to his lips, he turned and walked away.

Aelin blinked after him, not sure she was sure she heard him right. He made his way through the people and headed back to the door leading out onto the balcony, stopping to say something to Lorcan. He waved him off and then Rowan was slipping back outside, while Aelin just started after him.

She pushed her way through the crowd, which was easier said than done when you weren’t a six-foot-four giant who mildly scared the shit out of everyone by scowling at them, but she eventually made it to the door. Sliding it open, she stepped out into the balmy night air.

“You can’t say shit like that and then just disappear,” Aelin said, finding him exactly how she’d expected to.

Rowan was leaned against the wall, the sole of one booted foot pressed against it as well. A lit cigarette dangled from his fingers. She gave him shit about smoking all the time, but knew he only did it when he drank.

Or when he had something on his mind.

He held the cigarette out to her, but she gave him a look. “You know better than to offer me that.”

Rowan just grinned and put it back between his lips. “You’re missing the party.” 

“What did you mean?” Aelin asked, standing opposite of him, leaning against the railing. 

“When?” he asked, looking up at the sky.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rowan,” she snapped, and it got his attention. 

Blowing a puff of smoke into the cool night air, he met her gaze and slowly shook his head. He gestured to her outfit, to the heels that were making her feet ache. “What is this?”

“They’re clothes,” she said. “For a party.”

“They’re Lysandra’s,” he replied, simply. 

“I can’t wear my roommate’s clothes?” Aelin scoffed. “What the hell is wrong with you tonight-.”

“Why can’t you just admit that you’re just trying to impress someone?” he interrupted, watching her, that light in his eye fading. “You’ve never been not-confident a day in your life. Whoever it is that you’re trying to impress, he obviously isn’t worth it if it causes you to be someone you’re not.”

Aelin looked down at the cropped halter top, the skirt that hardly reached her thighs, the heels that she was certain would cause blisters. “This is someone I’m not?”

Rowan slowly shook his head. “Last time we went out, you wore that little golden slip dress….” He shook his head, reminiscing on the memory. “That was you. You wore sneakers and you were still barefoot halfway through the night, dancing on the patio. What you’re wearing now - yeah, you look gorgeous - but I can tell you’re not comfortable in it.” 

“If I’m trying to get someone’s attention, maybe my usual isn’t best. Especially if it pushes me out of my comfort zone,” she snapped back, her hands on her hips. “And why is it such a problem if I’m trying to impress someone? Dorian was impressed.”

“Dorian doesn’t drool all over you like a dog in heat,” he replied. “He respects you, regardless of what you’re wearing, how much skin you’re showing off. But if you’re trying to impress some D bag who will only notice you if you’re dressed like that, you might want to reconsider.”

“And what if I was trying to impress you?” She asked, getting in his face, cigarette smoke and whiskey breath be damned. “What if I was trying to get your attention, Rowan?”

His jaw locked and his eyes searched hers, as if he was trying to find the underlying meaning in what she was saying, even if there wasn’t one. 

“Then you’d be wasting your time,” he said, at last.

It felt like a knife had been shoved into Aelin’s ribs with every word that had come out of his mouth. Begging herself not to cry in front of him, she went to take a step away, but Rowan grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him.

Their chests were nearly touching, and his hand trailed from her wrist, into her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers.

He took the cigarette from his lips and said, “You’d be wasting your time because you impress me every time that I’m around you.”

“You never act like it,” she breathed, shaking her head. “You never do anything, and you’ve never tried to make a move. What the hell else was I supposed to do?”

He flicked the cigarette over the rail and let go of her hand, only to frame her face with both of his. “This.”

And then his lips were on hers, and Aelin didn’t care that she could taste residual smoke or stale beer. She knew she didn’t taste much better. All that mattered was that Rowan was kissing her and his hands were on her face and hers were tangled up in his shirt. His tongue slid against hers and she had to fight to stop the moan that threatened to slip out of her.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. “That,” he said, breathlessly. “That is what you should have done to get my attention.”

Aelin swallowed, harshly. “Do it again.”

Rowan didn’t have to be convinced. His hands slid down her back as he brought his mouth to hers, and he pulled her body uptight against his. They stayed out there for a long time, for hours, uninterrupted. 

At one point, she saw Dorian come by and lock the balcony door, so everyone else would get the hint to stay the hell away.

Wingman of the year.

They stayed on the balcony, kissing and laughing and kissing some more, until the party wound down. Around two, Lorcan let them inside, and Aelin pulled Rowan out of the apartment and across campus to her own. 

True to Lysandra’s word, she was nowhere to be found.

The second Aelin stepped into her apartment, she kicked off her heels and was swept into Rowan’s arms. He carried her into her bedroom, where he stripped her down, out of her roommate’s clothes.

Rowan Whitethorn saw all of her.

She had his full attention. 

[mandoalorian]

What about Javier Pena being jealous?????? 🥺

Thank you for the request! I hope this is okay for you!!

Into You [Javier Pena x Female Reader] SMUT

Warnings: SMUT, inexperienced reader, angst in the start but fluff in the end ;) <3

Rating: 18+ only.

Word count: 4k

MASTERLIST | Submit your requests HERE

Javier Peña did not get jealous.

But he heard the way they talked about you. He saw the way they looked at you. Gawked, undressing you with their minds. The way their lips spewed dirt and filth about the things they'd do to you if they were graced with the chance of some ‘alone time’ with you. And he hated it.

Javier Peña was anything but a saint. He had his ways. The DEA had a renown of being more reserved than the CIA, which meant Javier had earned a name for himself due to his lothario reputation.  Javier's colleagues were a lot older than him, settled down with families, children- and some even with grandchildren. Even his old partner, Steve Murphy, had a wife and a daughter. Javier had none of that. Except from you.

You were the new receptionist. Shy, fresh faced, and beaming with anticipation as you found your feet in your new job. Javier found it endearing, but he wondered how long your bubbliness would last. It wasn't all rainbows and butterflies- working for the DEA. You had an air of innocence to you, and he swore you had the kindest heart in the whole of Colombia. Javier knew from the moment he met you, that the men in his department were not deserving of you.

Javier didn't give a fuck about his reputation. But when the Colombian department extended to the CIA, Javier met a lot more men who were like himself. He saw them chat up women from his previous encounters in bars, and he saw them visit the same brothels as he did. That behaviour seemed to become normalized.

You were the only women in a department filled with horny, sex crazed men. Often, Javier would find himself watching you from his desk, only a pane of glass seperating you both. Almost always you were on the phone, doodling in a notebook as you talked to potential informants. Other times, your head was down and you were whisked away in your work. Occasionally though, he noticed CIA agents bust their move with you.

He never confronted you about it- it wasn't his place, but seeing the way they spoke to you filled a rage in his heart. Javier was lucky enough to blossom a friendship with you; one that you really valued. You didn't have many friends in Colombia, but knowing a man like Javier Peña had your back? That really brought you comfort.

Even better, you lived in the same apartment building as him. Same floor, just two doors apart. It meant that you were constantly over at his flat spending time with him. He taught you how to play poker and you enjoyed watching movies together and ordering take-out. Javier was a lot of fun.

Maybe, just maybe, you and Javier were spending too much time together. You were catching feelings for him, and shit- he was so sure he had already caught feelings for you.

Javier Peña does not catch feelings. He ran out on his and Lorraine's wedding because he was sure that he felt nothing for her. And she was his fiancée. Now, all of a sudden, he had a thing for the new DEA receptionist who sat outside his office. Only, it was more than just a thing. Javier Peña was in love. The sweet girl he had found to be so caring and compassionate, the angel who had eyes that must've been crafted by the Gods themselves and the softest lips he wished he could kiss.

You had sworn you had never been in love either, until of course, you met Javier. There was no way to explain it. You both just clicked like magnets. There was an electricity that exceeded just mere sexual tension. There was genuine feelings. 

Javier Peña is impulsive and so, when his feelings for you dawned on him, he called up his favourite sex worker; Vanessa. Not only was she good at her job, Vanessa was a good person. She was good to Javi when she didn't need to be, and that was hard to find in 80s drug-torn Colombia.

When Javi had a bad day at work- Vanessa would be at his beck and call. Sex was a way he could release any negative emotions he had. A temporary fix.

That night, you had planned to confront Javier. He had confided in you previously that he had stopped sleeping with women. Deep down, it was because of his feelings for you; although he would never admit that to you. You wanted to tell Javier that you liked him… a lot. But, you stood behind his apartment door, bottle of wine in hand, and heard Javier fucking Vanessa.

You froze up as you overheard their mixed up moans and groans of pleasure, immediately feeling stupid. Why would you believe that you actually had a chance with Javier Peña? He clearly didn't feel the same way about you.

And so you went back to your apartment, climbed into bed and finished the bottle of wine on your own. You closed your eyes and masturbated over him, whining his name as pleasure filled your core. 

And when Javier fucked Vanessa, he had her wear your pale pink lipgloss. He imagined her eyes match your specific shade and as he reached his climax, he wished it was with you. When he came, he screamed your name.

Of course, Vanessa didn't care. A job was a job to her.

After that night, you done your very best to brush away any feelings you once had for Javier. You tried really hard. You were beginning to believe it was a lost cause until CIA Agent Milo approached your desk about a month later.

Of course Javier noticed. He tried to take in the interaction between the two of you, judging from facial expressions as the glass pane in between you was practically soundproof. You were smiling, and you looked happy. Milo leaned against your desk, taking a pen and scrawling something on a sticky note. It was his number.

Jealousy was rife inside of Javi. Maybe Milo was about ten years younger than Javier, and maybe he read more fashion magazines. Although Javier considered himself stylish, you would often tease him for his 70s style wardrobe— an array of brightly coloured button up shirts, the same pair of dark blue denim jeans and pair of yellow tinted aviators. 

Javier knew Milo was no good for you. He reminded Javi of a younger version of himself. Milo was a heartbreaker, and you didn't need that. You needed someone who could look after you. Take care of you in all the ways you needed.

Not only that, but Javier knew what the CIA department was like— especially Milo. He would have nothing but questionable intentions with you. Another one of his sexual encounters that meant nothing to him but everything to you.

It was late on a Saturday evening when you nervously knocked on Javier's door. Just about to light up a cigarette, he stood up and unlocked it. His eyes widened when he saw you, slightly surprised. 

You were wearing a little black dress which clung around all your perfections, and ofcourse, your signature pink lip gloss.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he greeted as you slid past him and into the kitchen. "Want a drink?"

"No thank you." you replied, and Javier shut the front door and followed you into the kitchen.

"So what brings you here?" Javier asked, lighting his cigarette and taking a puff of smoke.

"I have a date with Milo in 45 minutes," you told Javier, awkwardly avoiding eye contact.

"Oh," Javier didn't really know how to respond.

"And, I missed you." you shrugged innocently, beckoning a small smile out of Javier. The blush that crept upon his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you.

"So, uh, Milo, huh?" Javier questioned, taking another drag of his cigarette. He failed to realise why exactly you had come to see him- 45 minutes before your date.

"Um, yeah," you looked around his kitchen awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. "He's pretty great." you managed to force out. "He was employee of the month like, three months ago."

"Yeah a real sucker upper," Javi rolled his eyes and you gasped, nudging him playfully.

"He is not." You laughed but Javier really wasn't in the mood for whatever you were trying to do here.

"Why are you here?" he deadpanned, cutting your laugh short.

"I…" you frowned, unable to complete your sentence and earning an annoyed sigh from Javi. Maybe you were wrong to come to him.

"I don't think you should go out on a date with Milo." Javi informed you matter-of-factly; stubbing out his cigarette in the ash-tray that was conveniently placed on the kitchen counter.

"Excuse me?" you asked, your voice going uncontrollably high pitched. Javier casually placed the burnt out tab back in his mouth.

"I hear the things they say about you in the office, the sly little comments they make about you." Javier grunted, dismay written all over his face. The cigarette that was balanced in-between his perfect pink lips wobbled slightly with his building up anger. "They're no good for you. No good."

You narrowed your eyes. "No good? Javier, you don't get to be the judge of who is good for me and who isn't." You tried to stay composed but in the heat of the moment, your words came out as a snarl. Javier's dark eyes snapped up to meet yours as he tried to weigh up your expression.

"Shit, I didn't mean it like that." he raised his hands in defense and you folded your arms across your chest, awaiting an explanation for him. "It's just- we're friends, right? And I'm a guy and so, I understand what these other guys are like. And I care about you and-" 

"What if Milo cares about me?" you croaked out. Judging from everything Javier had told you so far, you were beginning to wonder if he was right. You just didn't want to believe it. Your one shot of happiness. Your one chance.

"Milo doesn't care about you." Javier deadpanned.

"Ouch Javi." you shuffled your heels around uncomfortably. You were certain your cheeks were heating up from the shame and you probably looked like an absolute mess in front of Javier. You felt embarrassed for not realising sooner. And seemingly, Javier had caught on to those feelings too.

"You have nothing to feel ashamed about," Javier comforted you, awkwardly reaching out and placing a hand on your back. You shuffled closer to him and he finally pent up the courage to pull you into his chest.

His embrace was warm and you could smell the mixture of his cigarettes and aftershave in his white shirt. You wanted to cry. If you were alone, you would've cried, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so in front of Javier.

"I feel pathetic," you whimpered, fidgeting with his tie. "You know Javi, I'm not very good at this kind of stuff. That's why I came to see you in the first place. I know that- I mean I've heard things about you. You have the experience."

Javier stiffened up and you awkwardly pulled away from him, desperately trying to read his expression in case you said something wrong. "Experience?" he questioned, his dark eyebrows knotting together.

"You- you know," you murmured, closing your hands into a fist and looking down at your feet. "You're experienced and I'm… not."

"I don't understand." Javier replied and you huffed out your cheeks.

"Fuck Javi, are you actually going to make me say it? I'm a virgin."

Javier blinked a few times. The silence was deafening. You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

"I- I would've never have guessed."

"Yeah well…" Fuck, this was awkward.

"Y/N, can I tell you something?" Javier prompted.

"I guess?" you replied in bewilderment.

"When I see him talk to you- when I see anyone talk to you… I get jealous. So fucking jealous."

You swore your heart stopped. "Jealous?"

"I see the way they make you laugh and smile- and I curse myself because I wish that was me."

You raised a hand and pressed it into his chest. "Javi…" you didn't know what to say. "I- I came here for… advice. About… you know. Sex."

Javier looked you up and down and rolled his eyes, walking into his living room. When you followed him, he was already slouched into the sofa, nursing a bottle of cold beer.

"What do you need from me?" Javier sighed, feeling defeated that his attempt of admitting his true feelings had become completely lost on you.

"Show me." you whispered nervously, taking a few steps closer to him.

"I don't want to take advantage of you…" Javier trailed off but he was already wishing he could undress you.

"I want you to." you admitted, feeling butterflies erupt in your stomach. 

Javier contemplated for a moment but really, there was no question about it. He had dreamt of fucking you since the moment he first laid his eyes on you. Javier leaned forward and put the bottle of beer on the coffee table.

"Take off your dress and come sit on my lap." Javier instructed and you nodded, sliding out of your dress and letting it pool around your ankles. You went to kick off your heels when Javi interrupted. "No, keep them on."

You nodded with a slight smile. It wasn't long until you found yourself standing completely naked in front of your best friend, and Javi had gotten rock hard from just watching you undress. All his fantasies were alive.

He beckoned you over and you sunk down onto his lap. "Rock your hips over me," Javi mumbled, pressing a light kiss into your ear.

You followed his command and immediately felt a wash of satisfaction as you started to dry hump him through his jeans.

"Javi," you moaned, your eyes rolling back as you grind harder over his bulge.

"That's it, good girl," he praised, fucking a stand of your hair behind your ear. His hand fell down to your chest, grabbing and squeezing at your breasts. "Take what you need."

A huff of air escaped your lips at his words and you buried your head into the crook of his neck. His skin was warm and you could smell the tobacco burnt into his body. But also, there was a sweetness to him, like honey. The scents did not get lost on you. He was your addiction.

You raised your hands to his head, lacing your fingers amongst his locks of dark brown hair. As you increased your speed, you tugged on his hair which earned a hearty groan from Javier's mouth. The noises he made only spurred on your arousal and you felt your cunt getting wetter by the second, contracting around nothing as you began to grow desperate for his cock.

Javier felt his boxer shorts dampen as his precum dripped through the thin material. His big hands roamed your bare back and he knew that pretty soon he'd want to take his pants off. You loved the sensation of rubbing your pussy over his denim jeans, the friction tickling you in just the right ways. You loved the way he would moan or tense up when you occasionally brushed over his erection.

"This feels better than I ever could've imagined." you admitted and your eyes were hazy, glazed with tears as you pushed towards your climax.

"Yeah? Fuck, first times usually aren't this good," Javier grunted as he felt you twitch on top of him, your legs beginning to shake around him. "Can you cum for me?"

"You- you want me to cum?" you blinked, a blush creeping upon your cheeks.

"Please," Javier groaned. "Need you to cum all over me. Make a mess of my jeans."

"Oh Javi," you whimpered, putting more focus on grinding over his hard, defined bulge. It rubbed between your folds and stimulated you in a way that your fingers could never.

"I love it when you say my name," Javier hummed, holding you steady as you rode out your high. You gasped and pressed your lips against his.

He swiped his tongue over your lower lip, begging for entry which you happily granted him. But the second you opened your mouth just slightly, he slid his tongue in and you gasped out another loud moan of his name causing his grip to tighten around you. You came undone all over him, just how he had always dreamt about, whimpering into his mouth. You stopped grinding but stayed still on his lap for a few moments, letting him hold you and kiss you.

His kiss eventually left your lips and he planted sloppy love bites down your neck and along your collarbones. His grip on your breast was soft yet firm and the roughness of his hands made you want to help, especially when he rubbed his thumb over your nipple, pinching it slightly just to see what reaction he could get out of you.

"Your tits are fucking perfect." Javier groaned, licking a stripe down the valley of your breasts. You watched him with eager and excited eyes as he played with you, feeling your cunt drip with your arousal once more.

"Javi," you groaned, tossing your head back.

"What is it?" he responded, a mouthful of your tit. You paused for a moment, letting him suck on your nipples. "What do you need, my love?"

"I need you," you mewled, your toes curling involuntarily when he pulled his mouth away from your nipples with a 'pop' sound. "Need your cock to fill me up."

"Yeah? Fuck you're so dirty… never had no cock before. And you want mine? Are you sure that's what you want, sweet girl?" Javier's mustache brushed against your neck and you giggled at the tickle it gave you.

"Mm yes Javi, wanted this for so long and so bad. Wanted you. I'd hear about all the girls that you fucked and I, I just wanted to be one. One of your little fuck toys." You groaned, pleasure pooling in your eyes.

"My love, you're more than that. You're so much more than that." Javier promised you, gently pushing you off his lap so he could unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. He stood up, pulling his jeans down, along with his boxer shorts, and you couldn't help but yelp when you saw the way his long thick cock sprung out against his stomach. The tip was red and already leaking for you.

"Oh Javi," you whispered, unable to take your eyes off his manhood. "You're so- you're so big."

"Come here," he curled his finger, gesturing for you to come back over and sit on his lap.

You straddled him again and gasped, feeling his cock press between your folds. You continued to rub over him, this time feeling more freeing as your wetness glided over his erection. "I'm nervous," you admitted. "I want this Javi. I really do, but I've never- done this before." you gulped and Javi planted a reassuring kiss to your lips.

"I'll go gentle sweetheart, I promise. And if it ever gets too much, you can just tell me. Your comfort is the most important to me." Javi whispered in your ear, sending chills down your spine. "Let me just…."

Javier lowered his hand to your clit and began to rub gently. He closed his eyes, your wetness soaking his fingers with just the smallest of touches. "Already so nice and wet for me," Javier smiled, bringing his fingers up to your lips and pushing them gently into your mouth. He watched you with his dark, lust blown eyes as you sucked your own arousal from his fingers. "How do you taste?" 

"Good," you replied, blushing again and hopelessly fluttering your eyelashes which framed your eyes.

Javier lowered his hand again and you lifted yourself up slightly. He slid his middle finger in, deep, and you were surprised at how well you could take him. He left his finger inside of you for a second before rubbing his index finger against your hole. He looked at you, asking for approval, to which you gave him a nod and smile, and Javier pushed a second finger inside of you. This earned a moan from you, followed by a giggle as he slowly stretched you out by pumping his fingers in and out of you.

Feeling your walls contract around him, he removed his fingers and brought them up to his own mouth, this time tasting you for himself. "Perfect." he corrected you, humming in delight.

Javier reached over to the drawer inside the coffee table and pulled out a string of condoms. He teared open the packet of one and skillfully slid it down his length.

Javier adjusted himself slightly and you lifted off him just a few inches. He reached to his cock and held it upright, before signalling for you to sink down on him. He wanted to let you be in control. He wanted you to start doing it at your own, comforting pace.

The second you sunk down on him, you felt him twitch inside of you and your eyes widened at the unfamiliar feeling fullness. You sat down on him, nudging your nose against his and he kissed you again as you warmed his cock in your pussy.

"So tight," Javier growled, biting down on your lower lip. "How does it feel for you? Is it hurting?"

You shook your head 'no' and Javier offered you a warm smile. "Just- you're just so big."

"Take your time sweet girl." Javier murmured, kissing down your neck.

Slowly, you lifted yourself off him before sinking back down. And repeat. Until eventually you felt like you could build up a steady and comfortable rhythm— you realised you were riding him. Javier buried his head into your breasts as you bounced on his cock, your breathing hitching as you felt every one of his bumps and veins inside of you.

Javier was a mess underneath you, slurring out an abundance of incoherent curses in a wash of satisfaction as your cunt clenched around him. He knew he wouldn't last long.

You straightened up your posture and Javi shuffled backwards a little, leaning into the plush of the sofa cushions. His hips started to snap into yours as he began to meet your thrusts with loud moans. His large hands held you by your waist as he fucked you so perfectly. His cock was buried deep within you, and with every one of Javier's thrusts, he hit your sweet spot.

"I'm close," you gasped as Javier continued thrusting. You felt your heart rate pick up and your legs begin to shake as his balls slapped against your dripping core.

"Me too," Javier concluded, bumping his nose against yours and kissing you passionately. Breaking away to catch breath, he grabbed a fistful of your hair. "Cum with me. 3, 2, 1." 

The second he said '1' you broke on top of him, and Javier's cock pulsed inside of you, his seed spilling into the condom. Your cunt clenched around him, milking him of all his arousal and you were left, a breathless mess, on Javier Peña's lap. His cock slipped out of you and you groaned at the lost feeling of fullness. Javier pinched the condom and took it off before throwing it into the nearby trash bin.

Javier's dark eyes blinked up at you a few times as you both took a few minutes to regain your breath. "How was it?" Javier asked eventually, exhaling shakily.

"Better than I ever could've imagined." you offered him a smile. He always found that your smile was contagious and he couldn't help but grin at you back.

"Listen- what I said to you before- the whole, "I'm into you" thing… if you're not ready, I completely understand." Javier told you.

You couldn't bring yourself to fathom words so you simply just pressed a kiss into his lips. "I'm into you too, Javier Peña." you whispered and felt Javier grin into the kiss, his hands twisting into your hair as he pulled you deeper into him.

Permanent taglist (let me know if you would like to be added!):  @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic 

[your-world-with-nct]

— @doyoungcore ty for the inspiration for this post joyce 🥺 consider this a very belated bday present hehe (also apologies for the late post, i hope this longer blurb makes up for it 🙈)

💌 • 4:56pm

browsing the clothing racks for items that caught your eye, you sighed as you checked the price tag of the pair of jeans you’d been considering getting for a while, groaning at the fact that it hadn’t gone on sale yet.

you dragged your feet to the next aisle, looking down at your worn-out sneakers and heading for the shoe section instead, immediately spotting some reasonably-priced stylish boots along with your favourite shoe brand’s name splashed above the display.

“hey, excuse me, hi, do you have a minute?” you would be lying if you said that the man standing in front of you panting and swiping at his forehead wasn’t the most beautiful person you’d ever laid eyes on, your throat drying up at his unbelievable looks.

“oh, me? yeah, i have a minute, are you okay?” you questioned why this man who could pass off as a model was acting as desperate as those people in the town centre who passed out flyers that nobody ever paid attention too, pausing to take in his breathtaking physique.

“i’m so sorry to bother you, but my name is doyoung, and my ex is here with her new boyfriend. i was wondering if you could just pose as my partner for a bit, y’know, until she’s gone,” stranger!doyoung nervously smiled at you, his eyes flitting all over as, you assumed, he was searching for his ex, “if i’m interrupting your shopping, i-i’ll go but, i, i just don’t wanna look pathetic in front of her.”

the request shocked you, but there was a small voice in your head that wanted to go along with it. not only because you felt sorry for doyoung and you didn’t want him to embarrass himself in front of his ex, but also the fact this gorgeous boy thought that you were believable enough to be, well, in his league and dating him, inflated your ego and you had to repay him for doing wonders with your confidence.

“no, no, that’s fine, doyoung! i’m y/n, by the way, and don’t worry, you’re not really interrupting anything,” you grinned at him, trying not to scream when an adorable gummy smile appeared on his face, “just do what you need to do, i’ll go with it.”

contrary to your statement, you couldn’t hide the shock on your face when doyoung went straight for your hand and interlocked your fingers, leading you to those shoes you’d been eyeing, while gazing at you with his twilight orbs, “how about those, babe? i remember you saying you needed more shoes to go with those pants you bought last week.”

considering how jittery doyoung was when he approached you, you were beyond amazed by how easily he transformed into an endearing ‘boyfriend’, helping you reach shoes on higher shelves and asking employees for your size, all whilst making light-hearted conversation with you and calling you the cutest nicknames.

within a few minutes, you were immersed in your role, completely embracing doyoung’s kindness, and even forgetting that it was all an act at times, especially when he tidied away the shoes you didn’t want and wordlessly handed your sneakers back to you, as if it was his silent way of showing affection.

except… it wasn’t; he was just trying to save himself from embarrassment and it meant absolutely nothing to him, whilst, you, on the other hand, basked in the undeserved attention he gave you. the feeling of being cared for was so unfamiliar to you that the slightest acts of service from a handsome stranger had you melting.

it had been almost ten minutes since you were parading around as doyoung’s lover, yet you still hadn’t seen his dreaded ex nor her new boyfriend. seeing as he was currently too focused on picking out his own shoes, you examined the adjacent aisles, looking in all directions just to find that there was quite literally no other couple in sight. either his ex had already left the store, or doyoung was the smoothest man you had ever met.

the new discovery had your brain running at a hundred miles per hour, eventually deciding to keep playing along with doyoung’s little game, you know, have a little fun before you went back to being single and lonely.

“hey, doie, not to alarm you, but i see a couple on their way over here,” you whispered in his ear, coming up behind him as he was returning a shoe box to its rightful place on the shelf, “is that your ex over there?”

doyoung didn’t know if it was your statement or the close proximity that had his heart racing, clearing his throat in an attempt to soothe his erratic pulse, “oh, is it? i-i don’t wanna risk checking though, let’s just–”

taking a page out of the romcom protagonist book, you smirked as you stepped closer to the blushing boy, forcing him to take a step backward against a wall of branded trainers, cocking your eyebrow when you noticed the coral shade spreading across his face, “let’s just stay like this for a bit, i’m sure she’ll hate seeing her ex like this with someone else, huh?”

the confidence oozing out of you had doyoung in mental shambles - when he tried the elaborate pick-up ploy on an unsuspecting you, he didn’t think it would go this well, and now he felt obliged to tell you the truth, although that would mean he was risking rejection and, judging from what he learned about your personality in the past fifteen minutes, possibly an emotional response.

however, it occurred to him that, if he played his cards right, he could walk away today with your number, and a date at the cafè his best friend owned, all he had to do was not to react, which was proving a difficult task right now as he felt your hand on his waist and your breath ghosting on his collarbone.

“okay, okay, fine, there is no ex!” doyoung blurted out, not being able to last any longer with your intense gaze on him, “i-i made it up as an excuse to try and talk to you because, well…”

“because what?” you sat down on one of the small sofas to give doyoung some space, scattered with abandoned shoes that had no pair.

your nonchalant reaction had him furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, brushing off his bewilderment to answer your question, “i just, i thought you were really pretty and i wanted to talk to you. how was i supposed to know you would go along with, all that, so quickly and easily?”

doyoung couldn’t explain the relief he felt when you began giggling, as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“it was easy enough to pretend, when you’re probably the most likeable person i’ve ever met,” you chuckled, the shyness from before evaporating the longer you stared at doyoung’s beauty, “since you basically tricked me into hanging out with you, how about we actually go do something? y’know, where you don’t have lie to me about what we’re doing?”

“wait, really?” doyoung’s eyes widened, surprised that you still wanted anything to do with him.

“yes, now, let me pay for these and we can head to your friend’s cafè down the road. unless that was a lie too?” you both broke out into wide grins, as you took his hand and led him to the counter, whilst he balanced your purchases in his arms.

you couldn’t explain where that courage cane from, nor why a mere twenty minutes with a stranger made you feel more content than ever; but meeting doyoung was like listening to a song for the first time and immediately knowing it would be your favourite.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

VDS 124 like if they’re just friends but also pinning and Lucas stealing Jens’s stuff

124. “Are you wearing my shirt?”

Sander was looking at him oddly. Lucas had learned long ago not to like any of Sander’s odd expressions. He braced himself, but all the older boy ended up saying was, “Nice shirt.” He was fairly nonchalant about it, too.

Too nonchalant.

Lucas blinked at him, then glanced down at himself in confusion. Then he froze. Then he thought, Oh fuck.

But he just said, “Uh, thanks?”

Sander raised his brows, but refrained from commenting further with a nod and pursed lips. Lucas let out a sigh of relief and tugged his jacket around himself, even though he’d been debating taking it off a minute ago. He was an absolute idiot. How had he even managed to do this?

No, it wasn’t that big of a deal. It was fine. No one would notice. He totally wouldn’t notice. And if anyone did, it wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t mean anything. Lucas didn’t care. He wouldn’t care. With the jacket, now, it was practically unnoticeable anyway.

Jens and Robbe plopped down across from them, and Jens frowned at Lucas almost immediately. “Are you wearing my shirt?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“What?”

“Is that my shirt?” Jens repeated, raising a brow at him.

Lucas innocently glanced down at himself. Again. “Nope, don’t think so.”

“It’s red,” Robbe pointed out. Lucas resisted the urge to glare at him.

“So?”

“You don’t wear red,” Jens said.

His face was turning red, that’s for sure. Why had he decided to lie? It didn’t matter. But he couldn’t very well turn back now, could he? Especially not when they were using such terrible, untrue logic. “I wear plenty of red.”

“Uh, when?” Sander asked.

Lucas glanced at him in betrayal. “I was wearing a red jumper yesterday!”

Jens shook his head. “That was pink.”

“It…was not. I have red things. Maybe you’ve just never seen me with this shirt. Maybe it’s a new shirt.”

“I’ve definitely seen it, ‘cause it’s mine. And it’s definitely not new.”

It wasn’t. It was old, and worn, and so soft, and Jens had been wearing it two days ago at Lucas’s house, looking as lovely as usual. Which totally explained why it still smelled like him. Lucas was a little bit in love with it. He swore, however, that he’d thought it was a coincidence. He hadn’t really thought about it at all. It was just a t-shirt. He’d just picked it up and put it on. He’d been running late! Besides, what did it matter? He couldn’t understand why the others cared.

Jens was eyeing him with a little too much intensity for someone who didn’t care, though.

Lucas willed the blush in his cheeks to stay down and decided playing it off was the best bet. “It’s just a shirt I picked up in my room. Do you want it back, or something?” He sat up straight and grabbed the edges of his jacket, mockingly prepared to take it off.

Jens snorted, smiling. “No, I’m not telling you off. It suits you.” He looked down at his food, and like Sander, appeared a little too nonchalant.

Lucas leaned back and couldn’t quite will his blush away.

He stole a handful of Sander’s fries when he noticed the boy’s smirk.

~^~

Considering they’d made it into such a big deal, it didn’t seem like a coincidence when more of Jens’s clothes seemed to magically appear around his room. He seemed to conveniently ‘forget’ a hoodie or jacket or shirt every time he was at Lucas’s. For the first week or so, Lucas avoided them like the plague and returned them as casually as he could, telling himself he was imagining the disappointment on Jens’s face each time a garment was simply handed back.

But it was inevitable. Lucas was in a rush and still have asleep; and Jens’s clothes were soft, and warm, and they smelled and felt like Jens. And Lucas did tend to lead towards a pinker shade of red, and so the change was nice, right? He was quite sure how he felt about it, but it was a nice change every now and then.

Not that he was doing it every now and then. He showed up to school that once, a week later, wearing Jens’s hoodie. Sander’s smirk at the gate was easily ignored in favour of Jens’s pleased smile. Lucas lived to please. He didn’t get it, really, but if Jens was happy, then it was fine. Anything was fine.

He wasn’t expecting Jens to start downright dressing Lucas in his clothes, tucking a jacket or coat around his shoulders at the first hint of a shiver or spit of rain. Even Robbe seemed to be growing greatly amused, and Lucas didn’t understand. He was beginning to think he was being made fun of, the butt of a joke he wasn’t privy to, but he didn’t think they would do that to him. Especially Jens. He hoped Jens wouldn’t do that to him. He was the one Jens was supposed to have inside jokes with.

He didn’t understand, and it was driving him crazy. Did Jens see the effect it had on him? How much he liked it? Why would he keep it up if he did? He was pretty sure Sander, at least, had figured it out. Which meant if Jens didn’t already know, it would likely be the reason Lucas gave himself away eventually. Especially if he kept blushing like a schoolgirl every time Jens tucked a collar up around his chin.

Because of course Lucas liked it. It was being wrapped in Jens’s embrace, all day. It was tucking his nose into the fabric and breathing and feeling like he was lying in Jens’s room. It was knowing what it looked like, especially when he received the subtle, jealous side-eyes from anyone who approached Jens. He wasn’t barbaric enough to call it the sign of ownership others may have thought, but, well.

It sort of was. He couldn’t explain what else it could be.

Which is why, when Jens tried to walk right past his hoodie and leave Lucas’s house in a t-shirt, into a downpour, Lucas found the courage to ask, “Why do you like me wearing your clothes?”

Jens halted just as he passed through the bedroom door, and turned back. “What?”

“Your clothes.” Lucas gestured at the hoodie hanging from his desk chair. “You keep leaving them so I’ll wear them, or straight-up give them to me when we’re out.”

Jens spread his arms out; Lucas thought he could see a spot of pink in his cheeks. “No I don’t.”

Lucas raised his brow. When Jens simply looked back at him, he said, “Okay. You should take your hoodie, then. It’s raining.”

“Right. Yeah.” Jens cleared his throat and wandered back into the room, snatching the hoodie up. Then he stood there, fiddling with it, as he alternated glances between it and Lucas. He let out a sigh, and blurted, “Fine, I like you in my clothes. Happy?”

Lucas froze. He hadn’t actually been prepared for Jens to say it outright. In fact, he’d expected to be laughed off at best and brushed off at worst. He didn’t really know what to do now. He dragged himself down to the end of his bed and sat up straight, looking up at Jens. “Uhm. More confused?”

Jens shrugged. His ears were definitely red now. “You think it’s weird.”

“If I thought it was weird, I wouldn’t have worn them,” Lucas pointed out.

Jens bit his lip.

Lucas licked his. “I just don’t know…why.”

“Red suits you. And you always wear more stylish stuff and, I don’t know. My clothes are bigger on you and you look all soft and…cute, or whatever.”

Lucas stared at him.

“Fuck,” Jens muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Cute?” Lucas repeated.

The blush had spread through Jens’s whole face. Lucas couldn’t compute it. “Cuddly,” Jens shrugged, glancing away.

“So…it’s not some kind of joke, or something. You actually like me wearing your clothes.”

“Well, I’d like it if you weren’t wearing any clothes, but mine are—“ Jens cut himself off, his expression scrunching up in horror.

Lucas decided he must have been dreaming. But he was sure, if that was the case, Jens would hold his usual confident ease, rather than looking like he wanted to run out the door. Lucas managed to choke out, “What?”

“That’s definitely weird. That was the weirdest—the worst thing I could have said. I didn’t say that. Can we pretend I didn’t say that?”

“No.” Lucas surprised himself with the conviction in that, but Jens outright flinched. Lucas held a hand out to him, scrambling to his feet. “No, I mean…we don’t have to…I can’t forget you said that,” he settled on. Then, “I don’t want to forget you said that.”

He cringed at how unclear he was being, but Jens’s expression had slackened out into a much better type of surprise. Jens took a shuffling step forward, hesitantly bumping his hand against Lucas’s. “I really don’t want to make this worse,” he said carefully, “so could you clarify what you mean by that?”

Could he? It was doubtful. He was bound to say something stupid. “I mean.” He faltered, and gave himself a moment to think by locking his fingers with Jens’s. “I mean, I’d really like it if you left all your clothes in my room. Not like, all the clothes from your wardrobe, I mean, all the clothes you’re wearing. Not as in these exact clothes that you’re wearing now. Just—all your clothes, at once. That’s not better.”

Jens’s eyes had gotten very wide, which made sense, because Lucas had not clarified anything and actually gone on the most embarrassing ramble of his life. And he’d come out to Kes in the most extended, convoluted way possible.

Then a smile broke over Jens’s face, and he was laughing. Breathless and beautiful and maybe not entirely at Lucas’s expense. Maybe in relief.

“That could be arranged,” Jens eventually said, still grinning as wide as his face would allow. He stepped further into Lucas’s space, passing the point that would break them toe-to-toe and instead slotting their feet together. “But if you actually do think it’s weird, you could always keep my shirt on. Since you really are comfortable with that.”

Definitely relief.

It extended to Lucas, who was the one to burst out laughing this time. He tipped forward into Jens to hide it, muffling the sound in his friend’s—more than a friend?—shoulder.

“You could have just told me you liked me, you know,” Lucas eventually said, thankfully sounding braver than he felt.

Jens slid his arms around Lucas’s waist. “I definitely couldn’t. This was easier.”

Lucas laughed again. “This was easier?”

“We’re here, aren’t we?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Let’s see if you’re still saying that when I carry out your wish.”

Lucas blushed, but pulled back to look at Jens and tried for teasing. This was still his best friend. Lucas had been crushing on him long enough to put a good front up over his nerves. “Maybe you should just try kissing me first.”

Jens still seemed surprised by the offer; then he was beaming. “Sounds like a good place to start.”

His clothes did look great strewn around Lucas’s room.

[mostlymovieswithmax]

Movies I watched in March

Thought I’d chronicle the films I’ve been watching over the March period, from the 1st to the 31st, and how I’d rate them. If you’re looking for something to watch, perhaps this will help. A lot of these movies are available on streaming services also.

The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) - 10/10

I hadn’t watched this in a couple of years but I was blown away. Peak Scorsese.

Rushmore (1998) - 7/10

Not the best Wes Anderson movie for me but still fun.

Lion (2016) - 8/10

I discussed this at length on my podcast: The Sunday Movie Marathon. Great movie!

The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) - 10/10

Now this is one of the best Wes Anderson movies. I discuss this more on The Sunday Movie Marathon. Fantastic, funny and I watched it twice because it’s so much fun.

Inception (2010) - 10/10

Discussed on The Sunday Movie Marathon. Best Christopher Nolan movie for me, Inception is just breathtaking.

The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou (2004) - 5/10

This might be Anderson’s weakest film (at least from what I’ve seen) but it’s still not as bad as a lot of directors at their worst.

The Royal Tenenbaums (2001) - 10/10

I was really on an Anderson binge in March. The Royal Tenenbaums is one of the most wholesome movies I’ve seen and certainly one of his best films.

Rome, Open City (1945) - 4/10

This was filmed in Nazi-occupied Italy and from that premise, the film enticed me. Despite having some interesting qualities, I do feel that initial pull is most of what the movie has going for it.

The Prestige (2006) - 7/10

I showed this to my brother and for what it’s worth, he enjoyed it. I do think this is one of Nolan’s weaker efforts but considering how much I like it, that speaks a lot to Nolan’s filmography as a whole.

Nostalgia (1983) - 10/10

I watched Nostalgia three times in the space of a week and reviewed it on The Sunday Movie Marathon. It’s phenomenal.

Kangaroo Jack (2003) - 1/10

Another one I watched for the podcast. Kangaroo Jack is truly terrible and it upset me a great deal. Avoid this movie.

Stalker (1979) - 10/10

Another Andrei Tarkovsky movie (director of Nostalgia). I watched this again during the day before my second watch of Nostalgia and while it’s hard to compare such different movies, I enjoy Stalker more. It’s a staple of Russian cinema for a reason.

Four Lions (2010) - 5/10

Watched for the podcast. I didn’t really gel with this comedy but it would certainly appeal to someone who enjoys the humour, as my co-hosts did.

Revolutionary Road (2008) - 6/10

This Sam Mendes joint was a tad too melodramatic but still boasted some great performances from Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet.

Metropolis (1927) - 6/10

This silent film is a staple in cinematic history. Its themes are as painfully relevant today as they were in the 20’s, yet despite that I found a lot of it to be intensely boring. After it hit the hour mark, I started playing it at 1.5x speed.

Crimson Peak (2015) - 4/10

A lot of great set design and costumes and colours, yet the story itself was madly uninteresting.

Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind (2004) - 10/10

Who doesn’t love a good movie written by Charlie Kaufman? I reviewed this on The Sunday Movie Marathon and after a third watch, it is as fascinating as it is gut-wrenching.

Godzilla (2014) - 3/10

If you wanted to see Godzilla fight a bunch of monsters for two hours, then this is not the movie for you. There’s maybe about ten minutes total of on-screen Godzilla action and considering that’s really all anyone’s watching this for, it’s amazing the titular sea lizard occupies so little of the movie.

Prisoners (2013) - 10/10

Brilliant mystery thriller by my favourite director, Denis Villeneuve. Discussed on the podcast.

Eraserhead (1977) - 7/10

David Lynch’s debut feature film went down in my estimations this time around. You can listen to why on The Sunday Movie Marathon. Still, Eraserhead is a very good movie.

Raiders of The Lost Ark (1981) - 6/10

The first Indiana Jones movie proved to be a fun romp and Harrison Ford plays the character beautifully. I’m just not a big fan of Spielberg and his average verging on pretty good but rarely ever great movies. Perhaps on a second watch, I may enjoy this more.

The Seventh Seal (1957) - 9/10

Watching this movie again was so much fun. So far, it’s my favourite Ingmar Bergman film. It’s a celebration of life and love, with an underlying sense of dread as death looms ever-present.

Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom (1984) - 5/10

I can tell why this generally looked on as the weakest in the trilogy. Harrison Ford is still great but the movie dragged a lot and felt more like a bunch of things happening for the sake of it rather than a fun action/adventure.

Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade (1989) - 7/10

The Last Crusade was a lot of fun and maybe it was Sean Connery’s inclusion, or perhaps the bottle of wine I drank through the movie elevated my enjoyment. But alcohol aside, I still believe this to be the best in the series.

Justice League (2017) - 2/10

People really weren’t kidding when they said this was bad. I watched this in preparation for the Snyder cut and I was not happy. This took years off my life.

Zack Snyder’s Justice League (2021) - 3/10

Barely any better and double the run-time of the original. I discussed this on The Sunday Movie Marathon and I was certainly not impressed. Better luck next time, Zack!

The Truman Show (1998) - 10/10

Brilliant movie and one I would highly recommend for a stellar Jim Carrey performance. This was another recommendation for the podcast.

Eighth Grade (2018) - 7/10

I was impressed with Bo Burnham’s debut feature. This is a coming of age story centred around a young girl growing up in the modern world and how it can affect the youth of today. Burnham shows a deep understanding of youth culture and a real knack for filmmaking.

Bad Education (2019) - 8/10

A real “yikes!” movie. If you want to learn a bit about the embezzlement that took place in an American school back in the early 2000’s, you need not look further than this tight drama with fantastic performances from Hugh Jackman and Allison Janney.

Twelve Monkeys (1995) - 8/10

One of the only movies where the time travel makes sense. I recommended this for The Sunday Movie Marathon and it’s pretty great.

Ready Or Not (2019) - 7/10

Despite a premise that is not wholly original and a super goofy third act, Ready Or Not is gory, violent fun with a lot of stylish art direction.

Dead Man (1995) - 3/10

Recommended on the podcast. I really did not get a lot out of Dead Man. It’s a very slow movie about Johnny Depp going through the woods and killing some people on the way, but it’s two hours long and hugely metaphorical and sadly it just didn’t connect.

Misbehaviour (2020) - 6/10

A big draw for me in Misbehaviour is Keira Knightley; I think she’s a great actor and I’m basically on board with anything she does. I’d been wanting to see this for a while and I was shocked to see just how relevant it is (being set in 1970) to the world we find ourselves in today, where women are still fighting to be heard and to be treated equally. While the film is not spectacular, I still got a lot from its themes, so recently after the murder of Sarah Everard and how women are being treated in their protest.

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love The Bomb (1964) - 7/10

I was surprised at just how hilarious this early Kubrick movie is. While I can’t say it floored me or took any top spots, it’s still a great examination of the military and how they respond to threats or try to solve problems and the side of war we don’t often see in films: the people in the background sitting in a room making crucial decisions.

Taxi Driver (1976) - 10/10

Wow! I can’t believe I’d never seen this before but I’d never really had access to it. Taxi Driver is a beautifully made movie with so much colour and vibrancy. De Niro puts on perhaps his best performance and Paul Schrader’s timeless script works miracles.

Sleepy Hollow (1999) - 5/10

Classic Tim Burton aesthetics in a pretty by the numbers, almost Supernatural-esque story eked out over an hour and forty minutes.

Seaspiracy (2021) - 6/10

Everyone’s going crazy over this documentary and I agree it tackles important issues we’re facing today surrounding the commercialization of the fishing industry, but a lot of what’s presented here is information already available to the public. The editing feels misplaced at times and the tone is all over the place. Nonetheless, it’s still quite fascinating to see good journalism being done in a way that exposes this side of the industry.

Pirates of The Carribean: The Curse of The Black Pearl (2003) - 8/10

Super fun and a great first instalment in a franchise that sadly seems to have peaked at the first hurdle.

My Octopus Teacher (2020) - 8/10

Great cinematography and a lovely premise, this documentary has garnered an Oscar nomination and I can see why.

The Sisters Brothers (2018) - 8/10

A really solid western I was happy to watch again. It’s a shame no one really talks about this movie because it is excellent with stunning visuals and great performances.

Pirates of The Carribean: Dead Man’s Chest (2006) - 5/10

A strangely massive drop in quality from the original. If I didn’t like the whole concept of this franchise so much, I might have had a worse time.

Reservoir Dogs (1992) - 8/10

On a second watch, Tarantino’s first feature is still wildly impressive.

Life of Brian (1979) - 7/10

This is perhaps my third time watching Monty Python’s Life of Brian and it’s still incredibly funny, however it never manages to measure up to its predecessor (and one of my all time favourites), Monty Python and The Holy Grail.

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

laughter/joy

Written for Day 1 of @aangweek! Read here on AO3.

~*~

1. laughter/joy - after the fire, new maps are drawn / nothing to cry for, new dreams are born / out of the ruins, flowers will grow / people rebuilding, stone by stone

Aang had been… unusually silent during their first few hours at the temple. Well, maybe ‘unusual’ wasn’t the right word. A heavier gravity to him was to be expected, seeing as the official reconstruction of the Southern Air Temple was set to begin in upcoming weeks. Which meant their group of friends was currently working together to create basic blueprints of different areas. Katara would never have demanded Aang be his normal, talkative self as he combed through the ruins of his home, because spirits was that an unfair standard to hold him to.

Still. That didn’t mean she couldn’t worry.

But how could they cheer him up? Katara didn’t want to make light of the turmoil she was certain he was going through, and yet she also just - she wanted to comfort Aang. See him smile or hear him laugh at least once while they were here. Katara couldn’t bear to watch the invisible load weigh heavier and heavier on his shoulders any longer.

At the moment, they were all mapping out the weakest parts of the temple, since reconstruction would have to begin with those more fragile areas. Toph and Zuko were one group, so Toph could sense the areas of unsteady infrastructure with her earthbending and Zuko could draw it out. Aang had gone with Suki, as he could reference his memory to compare what had changed from the past to the present while Suki marked down the most significant alterations.

Which had left Katara with her brother. For obvious reasons, Sokka would be the one examining the rubble while she would be the one mapping it out.

The work was long and tedious, though it was more painful than it was boring. While a formal ceremony had been provided for the Air Nomads a few weeks earlier at Aang’s request - a way to send their spirits off in the traditional Nomadic manner - every now and then a slab of concrete would be displaced and reveal a set of charred bones. Which only made Katara worry about Aang more. If it was nauseating for her to witness, she couldn’t imagine what the experience was like for him.

“We need to do something for Aang today,” Katara said when they’d all stopped for lunch. Aang had momentarily left to investigate a particular room in the temple, so she’d seized the initiative to launch a let’s-cheer-Aang-up plan. Their group sat in a circle on a small striped blanket, Appa stretched out comfortably behind them. “I - I don’t know what, but there has to be something we can do to help him feel more like himself.”

Suki nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. He seemed so…” She pursed her lips. “I don’t know how to describe it. He wants to restore the temples, and it’s clear he’s happy to finally start, but…” She shook her head. “It’s just hard for him, I think.”

“He barely said a word the whole time we were eating,” Toph pointed out. “I mean, he didn’t even jump in when we started making fun of Zuko.”

Zuko rolled his eyes as everyone snickered. “Normally I’d be offended, but I noticed how quiet he was, too. That’s… unlike him.”

“Okay, so we’ve agreed we need to do something,” Sokka said, crossing his arms over his chest, “which means now we have to figure out what that ‘something’ is in the two minutes we have before Aang gets back.”

Katara grimaced. Her brother made a good point, disheartening as it was to admit. They needed to work fast. “Everyone. Start throwing out ideas!” Even a terrible suggestion was better than none at all.

“Er, we could make fruit pies for him?” Zuko offered, brow furrowing in contemplation.

Katara shook her head. “Not a bad idea, but it would take way too much time. Anything else?”

“Someone could play airball with him,” Suki suggested. “Didn’t you and Sokka do that the first time you visited the temple?”

Katara made a so-so gesture with her right hand. “Sokka did, yes, but I don’t know if it’s worth the risk of him mentally reliving everything about our first visit here.” She hesitated, returning her hand to her lap. “He… found Gyatso’s skeleton that day, too.”

Suki’s eyes widened. “Oh. Understood.”

“Guys!” Toph hissed, her palms flat on the ground. “He’s coming back!”

Katara cursed under her breath. They’d just have to suck it up and put something together for Aang later -

“Wait!” Sokka exclaimed. “I’ve got an idea!”

“Save it for later, Snoozles!” Toph whispered, but Sokka shook his head.

“Trust me! Just follow my lead.”

Katara resisted the urge to drag her palm down the side of her face. Great. Sokka’s ideas more often than not ended in utter disaster. Tui and La, she was begging for this to be the exception.

As Aang returned to their impromptu picnic area, Sokka jumped to his feet to greet him.

“Aang,” he said sternly, placing a hand on his hip, “I am very disappointed in you.” He gestured to the rest of them still sitting on the ground. “In fact, we are all disappointed in you.”

Aang blinked, taken aback. “You - what? Why?”

“Because.” Sokka shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “How could you not tell us that it was Appa’s birthday?!”

Aang stared at Sokka in total confusion, and Katara didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of course her brother would come up with something that toed the line of believable and improbable.

“It’s… what?” Aang finally said.

“Appa’s birthday!” Sokka repeated. “C’mon, Aang. Did you really think we wouldn’t find out?”

Katara decided to throw her brother a line. Admittedly, he wasn’t floundering just yet, but she didn’t want to leave him treading water alone. No one could ever say she wasn’t a merciful person. “We had to find out from Appa himself!” she said, standing to move next to the sky bison. She scratched Appa’s cheek. “Isn’t that right, Appa?”

Please play along. Please play along.

Appa gave her a dubious side-eye before roaring, and Aang’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t know you knew your own birthday, buddy!” he exclaimed, airbending over their picnic area to land beside Appa. The breeze blew Katara’s hair back. “I’m sorry!” He gave the sky bison a tight hug. “How can I make it up to you?”

“He, uh, he actually already told us how he wants to celebrate,” Zuko stammered. “He thinks… He thinks we should…”

“Braid flowers in his fur!” Suki finished, and Zuko’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Like - Like when you guys first met those nomads in the… Earth Kingdom, right?”

“Yes, exactly,” Katara confirmed with an aggressive nod. Tui and La, she prayed they weren’t coming off as too emphatic. “And he told us we can - we can make flower crowns for each other, too!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Katara could see Toph pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. She couldn’t blame her friend for such a response.

For a moment, Aang didn’t speak, and Katara was terrified their ridiculous ploy would crumble to pieces.

Then he shrugged. “I like flower crowns.”

Katara was barely able to contain her sigh of relief, and she knew her shoulders had visibly dropped at his words. Ah, well. If Aang was suspicious of their rambling, at least he’d decided not to press the issue.

They spent the next half hour collecting flowers from around the Southern Air Temple. There were more than Katara had expected, especially considering the high altitude. She nearly cried tears of joy to see Aang passing through his home with a gentle warmth to his eyes rather than the previous quiet sadness. When they all began braiding Appa’s fur and weaving a rainbow of flowers into them, Aang smiled, too, complimenting his bison about how stylish he’d look when they were done.

There was nothing more beautiful than Aang’s smile.

It didn’t take long for their group to begin reminiscing about different memories with Appa. In honor of his “birthday,” after all.

Toph talked about how the very first time she’d flown on Appa, she’d been certain death was a more pleasurable experience. Suki recounted the story of when she’d found Appa and nursed him back to health, which prompted Zuko to tell the tale of his own Appa rescue mission.

Aang pulled them both into a tight hug before braiding strings of flowers in their hair, too.

Sokka was the one who brought up the cave of two lovers and his experiences of being trapped with the nomads, and Katara couldn’t resist the urge to tease Aang about his ever-so-romantic I’d rather kiss you than die! compliment. That particular story earned laughter from all, Aang included, who made a teasing remark about how clearly it worked before pressing a kiss to the tip of Katara’s nose. She dropped a pink flower crown on his head as he pulled away.

Joy was in the little things, Katara knew. And sometimes, joy was in the things that hurt, that ached, like the ruins of a once-beautiful air temple.

No. It was still beautiful. Because they were here, breathing life into death. Because out of these ruins, flowers were growing. Because out of loss, joy could bloom, too.

Aang laughed at some offhand comment from Sokka, and Katara smiled.

It was their favorite sound.

~*~

honestly this is my least favorite ficlet of what i've written for each day lmfao. but that does mean we can only go up from here! see you tomorrow for day 2 - family/gyatso :)

[elleharperbcu]

Task 1: Concept Mind Maps

In pairs we produced a mind map of each others concept, for our final project, planning and considering how we can explore the following factors:

Research

Experimentation

Sampling

Development 

Production

Personal Reflection/ Evaluation 

Project/ Time Management 

We was asked to write down our narrative on a piece of paper and swap with our partner so we had each others narrative. We then wrote down our ideas that came to mind related to their narrative, in order to help them with new ideas they may not have thought of or knew about. I really enjoyed this task as it helped me learn new facts about the petite world and I was able to complete lots of research. I always loved hearing about my peers narratives and their stories as to why they are focusing on a certain topic. 

My completed research from this task:

Petite models - 

After researching about types of work available for petite models I found out that other than Moss, most petite models do commercial and catalogue work. Models who work in fashion generally work with high street brands specialising in petite clothing. It is very rare for a petite model to find high-fashion work on the catwalk or for designer labels. This is something that I find unfair as your height should not matter. However, petite models are not restricted when finding work. This is due to an increase in brands catering for men and women with smaller frames and shorter legs, petite models are now employed to keep up with this fashion industry demand. 

Successful petite models - 

Models who have refused to obey the stereotypical image associated with top designers, catwalks and campaigns are creating a path for petite models. These inspiring successful models have completely ignored the height restriction demonstrating that a smaller stature is required in the fashion industry. “Successful petite models are making an impact in a tall girls stomping ground, ignoring the confinements set upon them.” 

Twiggy -

A british icon in the sixties and only 5″4. She revolutionised the stereotypical look of the era, starting a new breed of supermodels. Her height is rarely mentioned due to her confident persona that demands attention. She is still the shortest model with such a supermodel status. 

Beautiful dreams - Twiggy records her first single 

Anja Konstantinova - 

Russian-Australian model, her impressive range of work includes, Vogue, Marie Claire, Urban Outfitters and French Connection. At 5″4 her height is not an issue with each shot demanding attention with her striking features, blonde hairs and natural posing instincts. The successful model discovered in a melbourne hair salon has received lots of rejection in her career, but she continues to break boundaries in a predominantly tall industry. 

She explains: “People in Australia don’t accept shorter girls because they are a bit harder to work with, you have to photograph them in a certain way.”

How to make the most of your petite frame - 

Don’t draw attention to your shorter height when interacting with clients and via body language. You will have to work extra hard to get noticed, which means standing tall and learning to highlight your height in photos. Never be caught slouching and be sure to work on poses that lengthen your lines. Good posture and strong stature goes a long way when presenting yourself to an agency meeting and photoshoot. 

Petite models who changed the fashion industry -

Lily-Rose Depp

Lily-Rose made her runway debut with chanel in 2016. She is just 5″3, but that did not stop her from becoming the muse of fashion icon Karl Lagerfeld. 

Amina Blu 

This German/ Pakistani beauty is 5″1 and no stranger to New York Fashion Week. Amina has walked for Kanye West more than 5 times. With her unforgettable looks and signature looks, Amina will keep making headlines. 

The ‘Size 0′ movement

Sizes range from 0-2 which is extra small to 14-16 which is larger. Smaller sizes are usually petites, and larger sizes usually found in womens or plus size departments. 

The size-zero ban is proof fashion industry on finally listening to customers. The use of size zero models has been a fashion industry scandal for many years. France’s top fashion house have committed to stop underage and size zero models from featuring in catwalk shows and advertising campaigns. Owners of brands such as Saint Laurent and Louis Vuitton say they want to persuade others in the industry to follow suit. The industry has long been accused of promoting unhealthy body images of women and ignoring well-documented health problems experienced by models. In 2017, the French government voted through a law requiring models must have a medical certificate confirming they were not dangerously underweight. 

“No model under 16 years will be recruited to take part in fashion shows or photographic sessions representing adults.” Models between 16-18 years will no longer be allowed to work between 11pm and 6am and must be accompanied by a parent or chaperone if required to stay away from home. 

“The wellbeing of our models is a fundamental subject” the statement from LVMH read. 

Mallory Schlossberg - “I’m part of a huge demographic that retailers largely ignore - here’s why it’s so frustrating” 

When reading this article I very much related myself to it, she mentions being reminded of her height near enough everyday, she is 4″11 like me. “There are only a few times when I'm reminded how short I am: when I'm riding the subway and someone pushes right into me because I'm not in his peripheral vision, when I can't reach my kitchen cabinets and hop onto the counter, and when I'm shopping.” 

When she was in high school and college she frequently shopped in the kids section. She mentioned it being impressive to see the selection that’s available for wealthy, stylish kids these days. She is able to wear a lot of designer apparel that are much cheaper than adult prices as kids clothes takes less fabric to make. However, it comes to a point in an adult woman's life where you do not want to shop in kids section anymore, she wanted to wear apparel for women because she is a woman. Adult size small dresses zip up just fine, but they hug in all the wrong places and drag on the ground or are longer fit on her than they’re supposed to be. 

“It's frustrating. How do you shop for clothes and not look like a child in children's clothing — or a child playing dress up in her mother's closet?”

There are retailers that do cater to petite women although the ranges are very limited. 

“Walk into Ann Taylor, Loft (where I buy my jeans), J. Crew, Banana Republic, or a department store, and you'll see selections of petite clothing, often relegated to a small corner with an odd amalgam of apparel, as though the merchandise team is wondering, "who is this petite woman? Is she a mother? Is she frumpy? Is she a decaying 90-year-old? Is she youthful and feisty? Is she too young to show off her curves? Is she a virgin?" The answer  — from a petite woman — is that she is none of the above, and she is all of the above. The petite woman is just like the regular-sized customer...only shorter.”

Retailers seem very confused with how to deal with short women. Topshop and Anthropologie are starting to recognise that short women like to look fashionable too, but the lack of options and concern for petite shoppers is noticeable. The reason as to why there are fewer petite options and not all stores offer apparel for smaller-framed women is because it requires a different design pattern. 

As blogger TanyaTheAnonymousModel wrote on Jezebel:

"For a dress to look the same on a petite woman, a standard size woman and a plus woman — for the hem to hit at the same place on each woman's leg, for the waist to sit at the appropriate height, for the neckline to flatter but not overexpose, for the pockets to be useful, easily reached, and neither too small nor too big — requires, in effect, three totally different paper patterns, each with a separate, and expensive, development process."

The Fashion Institute of Technology in New York City offers a continuing education course in image consulting, combining petite and plus size bodies together as "special size" customers — noting that they make up about a tremendous amount of the population. The course description reads as follows:

"Over 70 million U.S. women fall into the special size category, that 50 % of the population is actually under 5'4", and 65 million women are considered plus size. Designers, patternmakers, retailers, stylists, and image consultants, and wardrobe technicians can all benefit from this in-depth workshop that demystifies the special size business potential. Learn the facts behind the figures with practical information for fulfilling the expectations of the special size customer with proper fit, fashion, and service. Highly recommended for anyone looking to increase sales and services. Interact with our two industry experts as they each tackle the dilemmas facing both the petite and plus-size customer and give concrete directions for satisfying their shopping needs and fashion passions."

An undergraduate course "sketching for fashion designers" mentions that "Large, half-size, petite, and junior-size figures are featured to study proportions used in the industry". Showing petites aren't entirely ignored in design school, they just aren't given equal attention. They're generally not on runways; runways are about aspiration, and who aspires to be 5'2''?

“Petite women have not been celebrated loudly as equals. They have not been given body-positive model icons to speak on their behalf, although we do have Kelly Ripa, Snooki, and Kim Kardashian in our corner. There has not been a call to action. There hasn't been any real vocal repugnance, but instead, there's been a silence and a void, which is too telling. Petite women have been pushed aside, not permitted to speak — much like the children for which many try not to be mistaken.”

[heuristicallyinclined]

1, 4, 16, 18 for tagoraaa pwease and thank u

Coming up!

Tagora

1. Their physical weak spots

His face. He used to be much more expressive when he was younger, but learned the importance of that professional mask and how it's better to keep feelings to yourself, especially in his line of work. It was a challenge for him to develop, but he did it. Got a very stylish and practical haircut out of it too so win win. But even with that, he will crack if he gets to a certain point of nervousness or anxiety and he knows it. His extensive prep work is in part to prevent any scenerios where that might happen to occur, and of course his work ethic in general.

He is also a scrawny twink with limited strength, but we all knew that.

4. Best places to kiss on their body

Generally away from his face. He doesn't normally enjoy having people that close to his face between how easy he is to read when flustered and how he wants to keep talking to distract from it. He can also be defensive and wants to keep an eye on whatever is going on. So his abdomen and thighs are a safe bet. An exception is his neck depending on how recently it's been since his last rainbow drinker novel in which case he is all about it. If you're at the level where you've found out and are still into him you've earned it lmao.

16. Dark secrets/skeletons in the closet

Most of his "dark secrets" aren't his, but are his clients, and he is more than happy to keep them for a cost. Needing transparency with your legal representative in order to keep anything unexpected from popping up in court is expected, but so is them keeping tabs on it. In case you ever require his services again of course. He has a variety of discretion fees that scale up in price depending on how interesting this information might be.

As far as his own secrets go, that he doesn't believe in the justice system. It works out very well for him just coming in to make bank but the idea of the courts dispensing any kind of real judgment is a fucking farce and everyone knows it. It's one of those secrets that isn't really a secret and everyone knows but God help you if you say it out loud. He doesn't mind too much, as his has honed his skills in gaming the system for his benefit, but there is a certain appeal in the challenge of it, implementing actual justice and most interestingly for him, the challenge of countering those who would try to game it. What can he say? He loves conning other conmen.

But these are all of course internal musings. Actually being dumb enough to try to implement any of this is purely a Tyzias problem.

18. Things they'll never admit

That he considers his associate his friend.

It's lame, I know. But, he has built up too much of a reputation as being a scheming fuck to admit any kind of fondness for them outside of a professional respect. He chalks up most of their positive interactions as being professional activities. He was going to do a mask anyways. How they look reflects on him. Why do one thing when he can be efficient and multi-task? He deeply enjoys having someone on his wavelength who he can gossip with and who gets the appeal of his more decadent hobbies. He has someone who knows about his more awkward tendencies and will immediately distract from them and back him up. They play off of each other very well and really, it is purely business if you think about it. Do you know how hard it is to find good help? Exactly.

Implying that he has any kind of soft spot will have him dragging you to court for libel and slander and anything else he feels he can pin on you.