#he's so young like how are people talented and know what to do with themselves from their early twenties

[anotherfanaccount]

Vibing to this on a loop since the movie. I mean everyone keeps saying the music is bad, like it's not a masterpiece but it's surely a vibe.

[billfarrah]

One of my favourite things about Young Royals and its characters is how much it romanticizes being utterly ordinary.

Stories often focus on characters who are exceptionally good at something or who are more ambitious than the average person. Even in the teen shows I’ve watched, these young characters always seemed to have their dream career and dream university figured out at a young age and I could never relate to that because I had none of those things figured out as a teen. It always felt like pushing this narrative that teenagers need to have their entire lives figured out before their brains are even fully developed.

None of the characters in YR seem particularly ambitious and in fact, the main character’s journey is a story of anti-ambition. When he is introduced to Simon, it is precisely Simon’s ordinariness that draws Wille to him. Sure, Simon is a very talented singer, but it’s never indicated within the series that he has dreams of being a pop star. It’s just something he likes to do. Simon is motivated by very ordinary things - he wants to do well in school so he can have better opportunities for himself, he wants to take care of his family, he wants to hang out with his friends and play video games. He’s a dedicated student but not necessarily valedictorian. It’s not his ambition that Wille is drawn to but his integrity and kindness and warmth.

Wille had a chance to be extraordinary - to be Sweden’s first gay king - but being extraordinary has never been Wille’s ambition. Wille’s ultimate goal and dream within the series’ narrative is to be free to make his own decisions and live his life as he pleases. He just wants to kiss his boyfriend and get drunk at parties and live his life one day at a time instead of spending every moment of his life preparing for an inevitable future he doesn’t want. In the end Wille is extraordinary not for his ambition, but for his bravery to reject the expectations thrust upon him and throw himself into the unknown and see where it takes him. Wille had a whole future in front of him as crown prince and future king - he’d never have to work a day in his life and would have people advising his every move - and he rejects that. This lack of ambition is not portrayed as a moral failure, but a necessary step in Wille’s journey to personal self-discovery and fulfillment of his own desires. His desire right now is simple - be free with Simon, but that doesn’t mean his dreams end here forever. He deserves peace and tranquility after all the trauma he’s been through without having to worry about where or who he’s gonna be in a few years. He deserves time to just exist.

None of the characters know where they’re going when they drive away at the end. We as the audience don’t know what careers if any these characters will find themselves in, but that’s also not important to this story. The series is saying you don’t have to have everything figured out when you’re 17 and you don’t have to do something just because your parents think they know what’s best for you and even if you don’t know exactly what you want to do, that doesn’t mean you don’t have the agency to know what you don’t want.

It’s not a moral failing to want the simple things in life or to be ordinary, and I love that Young Royals celebrates that. It shows the beauty in simple moments that feel revolutionary to a person - touching the person you love, forgiving someone and making amends after a hardship, whooping with your friends in a car as you drive into the summer and celebrates them. Ultimately these are the moments that make life worth living.

[angel1010xx]

ｏｖｅｒｓｌｅｐｔ

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x Reader

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

It was such a relief for it to be so peaceful at night.

The days at sea brought an ever-revolving door of chaos. Every threat the Straw Hat crew faced on the Grand Line was big—monsters from the deep as expansive as the clouds in the sky, tsunami-level tidal waves the pirates could barely tether through, hurricanes and whirlpools that spanned as far as the gods’ hands could possibly stretch. However, as it would be, big turmoil breeds bigger talent. The Straw Hat crew members carried themselves with pride, and they took each sunrise as an opportunity to grow. 

They had goals to accomplish, after all; their Captain was not yet king of the pirates, and they would see his future to fruition.

The newest addition to the sea-faring group laid quietly in the crow’s nest of the Thousand Sunny. Her body was wrought with exhaustion. There was a palpable and rather obvious difference in skill between her and the rest of the members. They were experienced. She was… inexperienced. She had not fought to overthrow dictatorships, save princesses, or taken year-long excursions to hone her craft. This is not to say that she did not have a role. No, no, she was taken on as the crew’s ambassador. She had a way, a very, very prominent sway among others with her innate ability of hypnosis. 

Captain Monkey D. Luffy had been immune to her sway. It perplexed her. She wanted to chase him, to follow him. Was this what it was like to stand with another on equal ground? Could this young man really see the true her twixt the mirage? 

Luffy had taken an instantaneous liking to her. This was, of course, after he had seen how everyone else threw themselves to the feet of the young woman. “I could use someone like you on my crew!” He had exclaimed. “Nami has been getting onto me about…. ‘Public relationships,’ and such. ‘Parently people don’t like us. Well, I don’t know care. But she’ll know what to do with ‘ya!” 

The boy might as well have thrown a bouquet of roses and a diamond ring at her, because she was smitten. “Yes, yes, I will come!” She had cried. 

The young woman shuffled her sitting position to rest her back on the rails of the nest. She had almost fallen asleep while reminiscing on her meeting of her captain. She felt as though she owed everything to him. He had given her a family. He had given her a home. Most important of all, he had given her hope. 

A smile crept up onto her face, and she gazed lovingly at the stars.

*------*-------*-------*

“Where is she?” Sanji inquired, eyeballing the untouched plate still resting on the dining table. Everyone else had eaten. “She was on night duty,” Chopper responded. “I think she fell asleep. I knew that was going to be too much! She was in tatters after yesterday’s fight!”

Luffy listened on, a pout growing on his face. He knew his newbie was struggling to adjust to the intensity of the high-stakes pirate lifestyle. As oblivious as he was by nature, it was hard to ignore the signs when his newbie had collapsed in front of him multiple times before. He’d sweep her up every time. He’d get met with a “Please, Luffy, I can get it myself,” to which he’d just give a sly grin and shake his head. “No! Chopper needs to see you!” He’d insist.

And each and every time, he rather liked the feeling of her arms around his neck. 

The captain whistled and giggled as he stretched and slung himself up to the crow’s nest. There she was, his newbie, fast asleep. Luffy’s dark eyes studied her for a brief second, taking note of how peaceful she looked. He’d get her down to Chopper, in a moment. He’d have to stick his tongue out at her, ‘cus his newbie was sure to protest. And he’d enjoy having her frame flush to his, with the warmth of her arms around his neck that he enjoyed so very much.

[queenof3ferrets]

I don’t think people realize how deep Vil’s character goes. Like-REALLY realize it.

I am an aspiring writer, and I would say I have quite the keen eye so when I see people talking bad about Vil—-I get confused.

YES he seems harsh and pushy. And YES he doesn’t seem to act very nice around people sometimes and he acts cocky 24/7.

But there’s a difference between cocky and knowing your worth. Vil KNOWS his worth. And he isn’t just going to hide it because someone says so. Or because it’s easier to be modest and quiet.

And it’s what Vil is constantly encouraging others to do: to not hide.

But Vil also knows how harsh the world is. An actor can be one of the most hated people in the world because they’re constantly being filmed and people jump on their mistakes like lions hunting a limping giraffe.

So he KNOWS that a glass heart will get someone nowhere.

It’s why he acts so tough. And it’s why he gives tough love to others. If he never teaches his dorm members how to survive they’ll roll over and get killed the moment they step onto the field.

Hence, his harsh actions with Epel.

When Epel cries and storms off, Vil doesn’t scold him for it. He tells Epel to show him if he can hold his ground with his words. And how beauty is a weapon to be wielded well.

Vil scolds Epel when he calls dancing ‘feminine’ or ‘girly’ because he knows that mindset will get the boy nowhere. Vil knows beauty isn’t limited only to the female spectrum and tries to get others to see it as well.

It’s why Vil is so annoyed when Epel skips his routine but also because having a routine and ACTUALLY sticking to it is the hardest thing for some people. And Vil talks about this. (When you log in for the day and you get a reward, Vil LITERALLY talks about how routine and effort is the hardest part about beauty) and if you do keep up the effort it gives rewards.

But Vil also knows not all effort is repaid kindly.

That’s the whole reason he overblotted, basically. He felt inferior because no one saw him put in as much effort as he himself did, and people have the gall to scold him for it. That, or they overlook him for something they thought was better(Neige).

When I write, I don’t EVER want to hear someone I TRUSTED say that my work was second best to another author or that my way of writing was wrong and I should have to change it. Because I put time and effort into writing and it’s something I’m proud of. I put my soul into my writing and it honestly really hurts when someone does the exact things I mentioned before. And I’m sure Vil felt the same way.

Not to mention Vil has been through rough things in his childhood. Other children wanted to hurt him because of his talent for acting just because he played a part in a series too well and they couldn’t tell the difference. Adults never thought he could be a hero because he was too perfect and self-confident. Adults wanted someone like Neige to be the hero because he looked pretty and acted kind. (Basic protagonist things)

And Vil hated it. He gained traumas at a young age because other people alienated him. He grew to hate Neige because in the people’s eyes he was perfect and beautiful. And he grew obsessed with beauty because he didn’t think he was good enough for the hero roll.

His overblot was overdue at this point. Sure his actions should not be immediately forgiven, just like all the other overblotters actions, but they’re NEVER entirely to blame.

Because all of the boys who overblot were victims too. Not just Yuu or the others. They were hurting themselves just as much as others were.

And I hate it when someone like Vil is seen as a overly harsh person. Or someone like Leona who is only seen as lazy. There is so much more to them than that.

Vil respects people.

Vil sees how hard the people around him work.

Vil tries his best to show others their beauty in his way.

Vil knows that gems need to be polished from rocks before they can be embedded into a crown. But the work put in to get the gems ready is rough and long. And sometimes it looks harsh.

Vil learned his lesson after his overblot. There is no need to hang it over his head like blackmail. The same goes for the other overblot characters.

Riddle learned his lesson.

Leona learned his lesson.

Azul learned his lesson.

Jamil learned his lesson.

Vil learned his lesson.

Idia and Ortho learned their lessons.

[kandlewick]

In the Queendom of Roses, where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist, it is quite a misfortune to be born the eldest of three. Everyone knows you are the one who will fail first, and worst, if the three of you set out to seek your fortunes. gn reader x rook, a howl's moving castle au pt. 1 2

You, being born the eldest of three, always knew you wouldn't make it far in life. It was to be expected after all. You were fated to fail first and worst out of your siblings. When your siblings both were able to conjure magic from a young age, you could hardly blow a breeze. It would have been embarrassing if you hadn't already humbled yourself as a child. Of course you weren't anything special. The world needed normal, ordinary people too after all. So what if you weren't able to attend fancy colleges and gain the attention of the headmage Ambrose like your sibling had. There was nothing for you to be jealous of because you never aimed higher then what you could reach.

And so, here you were, employed — stuck — at your family's prized hat shop, sitting alone in your little alcove with only your hats as company. It was quiet, some might think too quiet, but it was where you were most comfortable. No expectations, no commentary, just you, your utensils, and your craftsmanship.

You handled your hats with care, quietly whispering blessings with each stitch. They were your creations after all. You might not amount to much but your hats would. They would settled themselves on to the heads of the busy housewives, the men of the army, and the young lovers, each with their own story to tell. You would flatter the hats, just as you would your customers.

"You," handling a small cap adorned with a veil and knot, "will surely be given to someone of glamor and beauty. They won't be able to keep their eyes off of you" You set it out amongst your most prized hats, quietly adjusting it atop the display. This one was made using expensive but durable material. It wouldn't do to have it placed sloppily. It deserved the best.

"And you," you smiled with a small chuckle, picking up a white fedora with a gaudy ribbon tied around it, "will go to a wonderfully handsome man with a good heart, I'm sure of it." It was a rather silly hat, made last minute with some left over materials, but it was sturdy all the same. The colors were also popular in the Queendom of Roses, especially amongst the card soldiers employed at the castle. Maybe one of them might stumble upon your little hat shop and spy this hat in the window.

You talked to your hats more and more as the weeks went by. You were good at selling them so it wasn't hard keeping yourself afloat. Just the other day, one of the Queen's card soldiers had come in to your shop, a man with hair the color of clovers, and sheepishly asked if he could see that one white fedora in the window. He claimed that for some reason, he couldn't stop thinking about it when he had gone off shift and needed to know if it was still available. It was a good sale and you're glad your hat went off to a good owner.

But then one day, on a particularly strenuous and busy day, you found yourself stuck wit horrible artist block. No matter how much you tried, you couldn't find any sort of inspiration for a new hat. Hours were wasted while you wiled away at your desk. Nothing worked and you found yourself teary eyed, sniffling loudly as you rubbed at your burning eyes, spools of ribbon and fabric lying all around you.

"Truly," you sobbed, heart aching, "being the oldest child is the worst curse you can be given."

What good were you if you couldn't even do the one thing you had some modicum of talent for? So what if your shop was popular?Surely this is where you peaked, alone with only the company of your hats. While your siblings were off making their fortune, surrounded by friends and loved ones, you sat here alone in an empty shop. You had no friends to speak of, the only time you ever talked was when your customers gossiped at you and finally it seemed the dam you had tried so hard to ignore had finally broke. The waves of your bottled up emotions drained out of you in waves and you could hardly stand it. What was the point of youth? Compared to others your age, you felt so old, so decrepit. Your bones ached from your poor posture, your hair thinning from the stress, and your eyes were circled with what could be mistaken for charcoal. You have never felt more unfit of your young age in your life.

In your sorrow, you spotted a purple hunter's hat — an incredibly gaudy thing you had made in an attempt to create something, anything of worth — and for the first time in your life, you cursed one of your creations.

"Surely only someone who finds beauty in anything will find any use of you!"

But the days go on whether you liked them to or not. You opened your store once again and quietly pushed down your feelings. You sat in your little alcove again today, quietly and mindlessly stitching something on to another, when you heard the tall tale sign of someone entering your shop. A small jingle followed the stranger as they ducked in almost silently. You inwardly sighed, slouching against your seat, but got up all the same. It wouldn't do not to be polite. You didn't have the fortune to afford it.

"Good evening," You plastered on a small smile at the stranger, a man, before you stopped and actually got a good look of him. He was quite tall, casting a lovely slender figure with his elaborate blonde hair, and was garbed in a bright and obviously expensive purple. His sleeves trailed longer than any you've seen before, all delicate trim and golden weaves. He even wore perfume too. The subtle smell of hyacinths followed him as he turned and smiled, his bright emerald eyes crinkling with delight.

"Bonne soirée!" He eagerly returned your greeting, with a bob of his head, his hand to his chest. You blinked up at him, mildly surprised at his mannerisms but chose not to acknowledge it, instead choosing to respond in kind.

"I've never seen you before," You admitted softly, watching as he slowly turned to admire your work. It wasn't too uncommon for customers to want to see everything but there was something different about this man. The way his eyes never glazed over as he looked, almost as if he was inspecting each one in great detail, almost made you embarrassed. Most people would just mindlessly look for something to catch their fancy but this man seemed almost entranced, as if each piece was a work of art. You both stood there in silence until the strange man seemed to snap out of his trance, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. Were those tears in his eyes?!

"Ah, forgive me," He apologized, "I was simply admiring them. Is this all your work?" He appeared almost eager for a response, his head bobbed to the side.

You nodded sheepishly, "Yes, these are all my work. It's my job. When I'm not up front with the customers, I'm in my workshop creating them."

His smile, once subdued and quiet, widened. He took your calloused hands in his own and squeezed them. You flushed and scrambled away but his grip was too tight, not uncomfortably so, but enough that it felt too rude to rip your hands away...

"You're incredibly talented, mon ami!" He spoke with such reverence, "All of these hats, each more enchanting then the next, were obviously created from the hands of an artist!" The strange man spoke with such conviction, he almost had you believing him. You could smell the hyacinth even clearer now from your close proximity to him and it nearly made your head spin. What a courtly person!

The stranger, his hands still firmly clasped around your own, turned back to admire your hats. "Each stitch is full of magic, I've never seen anything quiet like it before."

"I - sir, I appreciate your words but I fear they're wasted on me," You let out a nervous laugh as your heart thumped in your chest, its excited beating feeling like it was about to jump straight out or your chest, "They're just hats."

The blonde man was quick to deny this, his hair rolling down his shoulders in waves, "I beg to differ, mon petite souris! Even someone such as I can see all the hard work you've put in to these! There's no need to be so humble!"

Humble! Hardly! If only he knew how you've been the past few days, stuck in your artist block, unable to dig your way out of it. He was wrong! So, so so wrong! You were nothing! This wasn't talent, this was just you using up all the luck left that had been given to you. With an almost annoyed huff, you were quick to free your hands from the strangers embrace and hid them away in your aprons front pocket. Your fingers were shaking.

"I... appreciate your kind words but I do have a business to run," You put on your best customer service voice you could muster and looked away from the man, not seeing the soft crestfallen expression forming on his face. His eyes narrowed but he made no move to reach back out and instead, his voice lowered in to an apologetic tone.

"You're right, mon petite souris. Perhaps in my admiration, I got a bit too excited." The blonde man's gloved hand came to rest against his chest and he gave a small nod of his head towards you, trying to catch your eye, "My apologies."

Well, now on top of your horrible mood, you felt bad. You let out an equally remorseful sigh, and turned back to him but he wasn't looking at you anymore. Instead, his gaze was over your shoulder, looking past you to the lone purple hunter's cap hidden away in the back. The very hat you had cursed.

"If I may be forward," He began slowly while his eyes reluctantly looked away to meet your own, "As an apology, I'd like to purchase that hat from you. Name your price."

You gave him a look but turned to grab it. The feather tucked inside of the red around the brim bobbed as you picked it up.

"This thing?" You asked, "I don't think it's any good. I made it on a whim and —"

Rook slowly plucked it from your hand and admired it for himself, turning it this way and that. His smile was sad but he accepted it all the same, "I think it is a lovely hat," he lowered his head and slid in on top of his blonde hair. It was strange, the hat seemed to... belong with him. While the hat itself was hardly anything to look at on its own, it matched his whole ensemble, like it was a piece of the puzzle that had been missing the whole time.

"How much?" He asked, utterly enamored by his reflection.

You watched from beside him, eyes avoiding your own form, but you offered his reflection a small smile and a shake of your head, "It's free. I couldn't charge you after I was so rude to you."

The stranger's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, his bright green eyes meeting your own, but they were quick to narrow in delight. His lips curled into a smile.

"Thank you, mon petite souris, I will treasure it."

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" As much as you wanted to get back to your work, you couldn't help but silently wish for a few more moments with this stranger. He was so oddly charming.

"Non, non, you've done more then enough for me today." He bowed his head, the feather on his hat bobbing with the movement, and quietly made his way to the door. His steps were silent all the way. "I have much I need to do an I have left two others waiting for my company long enough." And with a final wave of his hand, the strange man exited the shop.

You stood there longer then you should've, staring at the door, his words quietly echoing in your mind.

"All of these hats, each more enchanting then the next, were obviously created from the hands of an artist!"

You scoffed but smiled all the same. Courtly men like that just say things to gain favors. He must've been just trying to butter you up. You shook your head. It was almost a shame you'd never see the man again.

The quiet was soon shattered by a bustle of women worriedly entering the shop, each one calling out for you in worried tones. One of your regulars, an elderly woman was quick to push past the others and hurry her way to you. Her arms wrapped themselves around your shoulders and pulled you down to her height, "Oh, you poor thing!"

"Huh?" You blinked as she pulled away to look you over. Why was everyone so worried about you? "Whats gotten in to you all?"

"Whats gotten in to us?" She shrieked, her feet stomping into your worn floor, "What's gotten in to you! Do you know just who that man was?"

The man? The blonde, courtly man?

"Yes! That man!" She hollered, "That's the wizard Rook! Rook Hunt! The man who eats the hearts of those he sets his sights on! The one with the moving castle!!"

Oh? Oh! Oh.

You just gave the great wizard Rook Hunt an ugly hat.

[tommydarlings]

Mercy | m.v

pairing: mean!dom!max x sub!reader

warnings: smut, chocking, slapping, dacryphilia, spanking, inappropriate usage of a belt, hair pulling, slipknot reference (not an actual warning but i wanted to add it hehe), getting forced to spit cum out, hardcore blowjob

w/c: 2.4K

summary: You were always used to talking back with your bratty mouth and winning the argument in the end, but how is this gonna turn out when you're having an argument with your boyfriend max verstappen? Not very well for you.

song suggestion: mercy by duffy

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +25 works) <3 // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

Max is a very impatient person that tends to get angry very easily — everybody knows that, and that’s the exact reason why nobody dares themselves to talk back to the young Dutch driver.

Everybody expect for you.

Growing up with 3 older brothers that sometimes loved to pick on you a bit for fun, taught you quite a lot. You were never able to shut your mouth, you always had to open it and say exactly what you were thinking.

Most of the time it helped you since some people understood the message and left you alone… but some peop-, men… weren’t a fan of your big mouth, like your boyfriend max for an example.

Your boyfriend was only used to people carefully and innocently listening to him, not actually opening their mouth and talking back to the young kart racing talent.

Especially since you were the most innocent and oblivious women he ever met, at least that’s what he taught after the first date the two of you had.

But oh was mad max wrong.

“Shut the fuck up, y/n! I asked you nicely to leave me alone for now, is that so fucking-”

“Do not talk like that to me! Don’t you ever think that you can talk in that tone to me just because you're a man, you-”

And as you should have probably guessed, max hated the fact that you’ve interrupted his sentence and talked back to him.

So he narrowed his eyes at your standing figure before he quickly took long strides over to you and grabbed you by the neck, mercilessly slamming your body against the wall in his driver's room, making you yelp.

For a few seconds he just stared down at your visibly nervous figure, you didn't say anything as well, just looking him deep in the eyes, desperately trying to show him that you do not care.

“Don’t you ever even think about raising your voice like that at me again.” Voice quiet but very stern and strict, “I do not think that I can raise my voice at you just because I am a man, y/n.” Thumb pressing harder into the side of your throat, “But I do think that I can raise my voice at you and speak to you however I want because I know that you would be nothing without me.” He told you harshly.

Then, he raised his other hand to unbutton your navy blue blouse but you didn’t back down, you never back down — so you were the one now to raise your hand and slapped his hand away from your chest area but max hated the fact that you just weren’t able to obey him and be putty in his palms.

He didn’t even say anything, or change his facial expressions, he just quickly threw your trashing hand away and raised his own hand to slap your across the face, eyes not leaving your chest area as he raised his hand again to pursue a second attempt at opening your blouse that’s obviously supposed to represent redbull.

You briefly licked your lips before a grin covered your lips, then you swallowed a tiny amount of fear that build itself up in your throat down and pursued your second attempt at showing him that your not gonna listen to him that easily.

You raised your right hand again and tried to push his big hand away once again, this time you tried to act a little quicker since he almost completely unbuttoned the thin piece of clothing already.

But this time he did look at you. After he pushed your hand away, squeezed your throat harder and slapped you so rough that your head automatically turned itself to the other side, immediately shooting tears into your eyes. You pathetically whined at the impact since it was way harder this time, making him look at you after he unbuttoned the last tiny button.

“If you can’t listen to me, then you have to feel the consequences and believe me, baby,” changing his posture a bit so he stood straighter infront of you, “the consequences that I'm gonna give you are really painful.” he muttered deeply as he quickly removed your blouse, throwing it away before he let go of your throat, making you gasp.

Even though your vision was quite blurry since the slap still hurt like a bitch, you were able to see how max walked backwards and plopped down onto the small, comfy couch in his driver's room.

“Take your clothes off, slowly.” He demanded as he put his arms on top of the armrests and spread his legs, manspreading in front of your still clothed figure as your bottom lip trembled while the tears didn’t stop.

But you only shook your head as you kept your gaze on him, making him throw his back and release a deep and short chuckle.

“You just don’t. want. to. give. up, do you?” Voice harsh and clear but you didn’t care, you just crossed your arms over your chest and repeated your action, shaking your head again.

He briefly sighed before he removed his arms from the armrests and put them on his thighs before he frowned and mumbled under his breath,

“Didn’t even know that I was dating a bitch that needs to be taught some respect and discipline towards her own boyfriend.” He said before he stood up and made his over to his little locker, quickly opening it to obviously look for something specific.

Tears dripped down your red cheeks as he carelessly got a hold of his black, leather belt that he wore today as he arrived at the paddock with his blue jeans and navy blue t-shirt.

If you would think that this is some kind of joke just to make you even more nervous than you already are, you would even laugh but you knew that max was not joking, max was never joking when it came to punishing you for being a brat. If he says that he’s gonna punish you in that and that way, then he’s gonna punish you in that and that way, no doubts.

Without muttering a single word, max sat himself down again, spreading his legs again and motioning your body towards his sitting one with his pointer finger, other hand still holding his belt.

He knew that if you are willing to obey to him, that he doesn’t even need to say anything, you’ll do anything for him without him having to say anything.

And of course, you haven’t made your way over to the visibly angry man sitting on the probably pretty expensive couch in front of you, your ego was way to big for that.

You quickly wiped some of the tears away, briefly sniffing before you stood up straighter and glanced down at the dutch man,

“No?” He asked you, tilting his head to the side before he sighed in a loud tone, rolling his eyes at your childish and bratty behaviour.

“Like I’ve said, little one, who doesn’t want to listen, has to feel.” Max said in a rather calm tone before he stood up, grabbed your upper in a very tight and quite painful way and sat himself down again, throwing you in the process over his thighs.

You loudly complained, trashing with your arms and legs around but secretly you didn’t even wanted to leave his place to be honest, you just couldn’t disappoint your own ego.

“Stay still.” He harshly spat at your trashing figure before he unexpectedly raised his hand and spanked your almost bare ass — great choice to wear a skirt by the way — with his leather belt, immediately making all your limbs stop trashing and gasp in a high pitched tone as tears shot in your eyes, making you grab his racing suit.

He briefly chuckled as he noticed how much you’ve regret doing everything you’ve done earlier, “Oh now we're regretting it? After I’ve told you multiple times already in the past that, that bratty behaviour isn’t gonna get you anywhere in life, especially not when you're with me?” Spanking your poor ass another three times as he went on,

“And your always gonna be mine.” Spank. “You’ll never leave me, “ Spank. “Believe me, I’ll make sure of that.” Spank. He chuckled in a mean way before he swiftly removed your white thong, quickly putting it in front of your face.

“That’s your chance to show me that you are able to listen to me and that I’ve taught you well in the past.” Quickly giving you another hard and loud spank with the long piece of clothing before he continued, “Open. Your. Mouth.” He demanded while his belt glided along your red ass cheeks.

But after a few seconds of watching you removing your gaze from his hand that’s in front of your face and putting your eyes onto your fingers that are currently squeezing his racing suit since the spankings with the leather material really hurt, he got his answer.

“Alright,” he muttered under his breath, “If that’s how you want this to go, then so it’ll be, you little bitch,” your boyfriend spat in a raspy tone before he threw your panties away and grabbed your throat, swiftly pulling your head upwards.

His nose glided along the top of your head as he spoke up, “you better not forget that I gave you a choice and you fucked it up.” Spanking your ass with his leather belt again, “So everything that’s gonna happen in the next hour is not. my. fault,” he told you angrily before he spanked you again, making you gasp and cry out as tears covered your vision.

“H-Hour?” You nervously asked him, you’ve never before had sex for an hour, especially not sex that… rough and painful. But you loved it and he’s knows that.

You heard him chuckle as he wiped one of your tears with his thumb away, “Oh you think I’m gonna spank that pretty ass of yours for a few times, edge you 2 or 3 times, slap that little face of yours and then let you go?, no, that’s not how it works, y/n, baby.”

You gulped, “h-how does it w-work, then?”

He slowly retreated his hand around your throat, dropping your head, before he put his big palm on the top of your head and pushed your wet face in the soft material of the couch.

“You’ll see,” he mumbled in a hush tone, Dutch accent covering his voice before spanked your with his belt another five times, making you jolt every single time the hard leather touched your hot skin.

“P-Please!,” you begged in a quiet tone, voice already quite hoarse, “Please, m-max-”

“What? Please what, y/n… say it, c'mon,” he demanded as his hand didn’t stop spanking your poor ass with his belt, other hand still forcing your face down into the couch.

You sniffled before you spoke up again, “Please m-make it s-stop, maxie.”

He chuckled at the pretty nickname you’ve been calling since the two of you are dating, “Do not call me maxie now, y/n,” he said, spanking your ass with the hard leather one last time before he picked your by your hair up, making you gasp.

After wiping some of your tears way — smudging your mascara and also slightly your lipstick in the process — max quickly put his belt around your wrists, tightened it around your delicate skin before he finally looked you in the eyes.

“Get on your knees,” max demanded in a quiet tone.

Since you knew that you’ve already fucked up, you’ve actually obeyed this time and removed your trembling body from his lap and got on your knees in front of the dutch man, closely watching him as he opened his racing suit and freed his very visible erection, tip already leaking with pre-cum.

You licked your lips at the beautiful sight in front of you. You’ve raised your hands to touch him and make him feel good but the black belt around your wrists didn’t allow that, making you gulp as his big hand grabbed your hair, lifting your head again.

“Stop whining, you are the only one that’s responsible for all of that,” max told you harshly, putting a few loose strands of hair out of your wet and heated face, “C’mere,” he mumbled quietly before he forced your mouth towards his dick.

“F-Fucking shit,” he growled as your mouth went around his dick, forcing his dick down your throat until you gagged, “that’s exactly what your mouth's good for and nothing else you hear me?” Throwing his head back as he noticed how tears glided down your cheeks again and how gagging and sloppy sounds filled the air, making him moan.

You choked on his length, obviously showing him that you want to go a tiny bit slower since the pain of his spanking with his belt still hurt like a bitch, but max didn’t care.

He put your hair in a messy and careless makeshift ponytail before he forced your mouth even further down onto his cock, so far that the tip of your nose was already touching his pelvis, making you squeeze your eyes shut as tears already fell onto his thighs.

“Just like that, baby,” the Dutch driver whined in a deep tone, groaning before he went on, “That’s w-what you get for talking b-back to me, fucking h-hell.” Throwing his back and slightly arching his back as soon as he came into your mouth, hand now slowly leaving your head, dropping your hair again.

Max quickly calmed himself down before he looked down at you,

“Open,“ nodding his chin in your direction before you obeyed and opened your mouth.

You don’t have a lot of sexual kinks, but if there’s one thing that you absolutely love then it’s swallowed his cum, it’s basically some kind of prove for you — the prove that you are the only one that can make him cum that quick and like that.

He briefly bit his and smiled as he saw the amount of cum on your tongue, but after staring at it for a couple of seconds he didn’t order you to swallow it, no — he grabbed the back of your neck and swiftly lifted himself up, dragging you with him as he made his way over to the small sink in the corner of his driver's room.

You gasped as he pressed your shaking body against the hard, white sink, brows furrowing at his action, not understanding what he wants from you.

“Spit. It. Out,” Max demanded from you as he put his other hand on your chin, leaning your head forward while his other hand still held your back in place. Your eyes widened before you let his cum drip it’s way down your tongue that was covered in it, making your boyfriend chuckle.

“Good girl.”

[fastcardotmp3]

welcome to dot drops something that's been sitting in her tumblr drafts for 4 months Saturday I hope you enjoy your visit mwah! Steddie; Ballet AU; Dancer!Steve; mentions of cancer treatment; 1.5k words

Dress rehearsal is supposed to be a mess.

That's the point of it, really, to get all the mistakes out of your system and start the actual show run with a clean slate. Or at least, that had been the point of which they'd all convinced themselves when Steve was the one performing.

Bad dress meant good show, or so the old adage went, and so at least there was some ease of worry with the collective understanding that it won't happen on the night within the company.

That was the case when Steve was a student, when he was an apprentice, even during his time in the big leagues at Joffrey, but right now? At the end of a truly abysmal dress in this run-down theater on the edge of a town from which he'd once run away?

Steve is not the performer. He's the guy in charge.

And so he spirals.

He'd never wanted to be a director or an instructor or the head of a studio like this. It had never been in his plans. Steve was a man of action, where the people who do these jobs are the brains behind the operation.

Steve knows how to work hard, how to force his body and even his mind into submission until he gets the steps just right, but this? These past six months back in Hawkins temporarily helping out?

(God, please let it be temporary.)

He's not built for this. He's sitting center stage after everyone has left with only half the house lights to illuminate his misery and he's not. Built. For. This.

Not built for being a mentor or a leader or a role model; not built to handle the strenuous nature of his mother's legacy; not built to carry the name she's made for herself as a teacher and a choreographer and a shaper of young dancers.

Steve's not built for it!

They'd had a shitty fucking dress.

"Hey, uh, you gonna be a while? I kinda need to close up for the night."

The voice echoes across the empty space, bouncing off the high ceiling and straight up to land on the Marley floors at Steve's feet. The stage isn't built for dancers, much like Steve isn't built to be here, so they'd had to pull up the floors from the studio and drag them halfway across town just to roll them out here.

"Hello? Are you, like, alive up there?"

Steve sighs. "Yeah," he calls back, catching sight of the figure talking to him at the back of the theater, the young guy who runs the place and who Steve met a grand total of three days ago. His name is Eddie and he dresses more like he's running a music venue than a local community theater, but he's mostly stayed out of Steve's way so far. "Sorry, I'll get outta your hair."

"Sure," Eddie says, but he's just sort of leaning against the back wall by the window to the sound and lighting booth without an ounce of urgency to him as Steve drags himself to his aching feet and lugs his three separate bags of show stuff onto his shoulders.

There's an energy to an empty theater, one which has held a performance and one which now holds the ghosts of that performance, which tugs at the anxieties sitting buried deep beneath the more immediate ones.

Fears about his mom's health, about what will happen to the studio if she doesn't win this particular battle, about what will happen to him.

There's an energy here in the creak of the steps which lead down off the front of the stage and there's an energy to the plod of Steve's sneakers up the long, racked aisle between the seats.

There's an energy, but it's also not empty, is it.

"Hey, good show, dude," Eddie says, pushing off his wall as Steve grows nearer. "Like, talented kids you've got there."

Steve scoffs before he can help himself and then pinches the bridge of his nose in a grimace for not being able to help himself.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," he grits out, thinking about his bed. Thinking about how he never made time for dinner and he has to be here early again tomorrow.

"Wow, resounding confidence on this one," Eddie snorts, and when Steve opens his eyes it's to genuine amusement, genuine curiosity in the tilt of a head and furrow of a brow.

"No, just," he shakes his head, "you should see 'em when they're really on their game, y'know?"

Eddie hums, and when did Steve come to a stop right in front of him? He's leaving. He has to leave. Go home. Think about all the spacing corrections he needs to fix tomorrow and run through with the girls before show time.

"Bad dress, good show though, right?"

Steve startles. Maybe a little too visibly because Eddie is actively holding back laughter at the sight of him.

"What, I've worked at a theater for four years and I'm not supposed to pick up a thing or two about the ballet?" he snarks good-naturedly. "Caroline, the lady who did your job before you, she was a chatty one, taught me everything I know about Giselle."

It's a knife between the ribs. It's a soothing sort of heat, like from a roaring bonfire.

"You--" he clears his throat, "you know Caroline?"

"Highlight of the job honestly, before she retired," Eddie shrugs.

"She didn't retire."

"Oh. She...?"

"Chemo," Steve doesn't know why he's saying it all so willingly, why after months of trying to run the studio without having to talk about how's your mom doing, sweetheart? he's opening up to this stranger with the curly hair and curious eyes. But he knows her. He's-- Well, he knows her. "I'm just here to-- to fill in until she can come back. So."

Eddie is studying him now. Curious eyes turned intelligent, knowing, sad with the weight of realization.

"You're the wonder boy," he says on a breath like oh, I get it now.

"The what?" Steve balks.

"Her kid," Eddie says like it's simple. He's leaning against the wall again, like he's not planning on getting back to work anymore, "she was-- Shit, man, she loves the hell outta you. Oh, you should see my son, he's in Les Corsaire this season! Oh, my boy, he's just gotten promoted to soloist, he'll be a principal in no time! Oh, the talent on him, the--"

"Okay, okay, Jesus," Steve cuts him off, a half-hysterical laugh bubbling up out of his chest in the process.

"You should tell her I say hi next time you see her," Eddie isn't remotely deterred by having his little, lilting performance derailed. There's a softness to him that deserves a smaller space, walls less prone to echo.

"I will," Steve nods. His bags grow heavy on his shoulders.

"And you should chill out a little bit," he says, this time with the kind of glint to his eye that needs a bigger space, needs to be up on the stage to the point where it has Steve floundering, "y'know, about the the shitty dress that, between you and me," he leans in conspiratorially, close enough to feel the heat of his breath, "wasn't really all that shitty."

Steve sucks in a breath.

It strikes him somewhere old, the reassurance, somewhere young deep inside of him. The comforting from a mother that if he just works hard enough he’ll land that double tour in fifth some day soon, the unbroken promise that she would never give him special treatment as the son of the studio owner, but that she would never hesitate to reward him when he’d earned it on his own.

It strikes him because no one tells you how little reassurance the guy in charge is ever offered and it strikes him because it’s been such a long day and it strikes him because—

“Hey, have you had dinner yet?”

Eddie’s eyebrows lift high on his forehead and Steve sees it, the attitude on this dude that his mother absolutely would have loved in an instant. There’s a performer in there, even just in the brief interaction they’ve shared so far. There’s a spotlight pointing inwards and a show begging to be dragged out.

“No,” Eddie drags out slow and curious, “you offering, ballet boy?”

Steve needs a sounding board and he needs another set of eyes and he needs his mom to be okay and the show tomorrow to prove that he can handle this for her if she’s not, but maybe what he needs most right now, on the other side of a spiral in a dark and echoing theater, is this.

“Meet me at Benny’s in thirty,” he says simply as he makes his way for the door. “Since you’re such an experienced test audience.”

Eddie’s responding laugh is bright and his eyes glitter with curious amusement and maybe this is what Steve needs because maybe all of this is one big rehearsal at a big new life in and old small town.

And maybe this is his chance to make a mess of it. At least until the real show starts.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Kalim, Vil: Pyrite, Prince, and Pauper

Wah 😭 I really love the initial art!! The water shimmering and making a rainbow… ✨ (Not used to seeing Kalim without his headscarf though, feels weird to see him bare!)

A Tale as Old as Time.

If Kalim had to pick one word to describe what he was looking at, it would be celebration.

It was both humble and extravagant at once—the city streets, the venue, livened up with flags, confetti, and fanfare. A large elephant fitted with a vest and hat towered over the gathered townsfolk. Seated upon him was a young man in a turban and glaringly white robes, an arm extended to the sky.

A grand party for the public, and all were invited. Children and adults, animals and humans, nobles and street rats.

Kalim broke out into a wide smile. “Wow, it looks like everyone’s having so much fun!”

“You never seem to tire from the idea,” Vil commented dryly.

The supermodel patiently tapped a manicured nail against his arm. “I suppose a host showing his best face to the public is far from undesirable. I’ve certainly been to my fair share of events where the host was less than that.”

“Gahahah! You’re famous, so it makes sense you’d be in high demand at parties. Jamil told me about that red carpet you walked a little while ago. I managed to catch some of it on TV!”

Kalim’s garnet eyes glinted with excitement.

“You were all sparkly and the crowd was so happy to see you! You’re like the prince in this painting, hyping everyone up.”

“My, thank you for your support.” Vil’s lip curled. “I’m sure you’re in high demand as well… albeit for different reasons than I. Many would love to have the attention of the Asim heir on them.”

The third year chuckled, a hand tucked under his chin. “It’s only natural for people to be attracted to that which shines.”

“Shines, huh…”

Kalim folded his arms, inclining his head to one side. His mouth pinched slightly, disrupting the arc of his smile.

“… Hey, Vil. Can I ask you something?”

“You need not request for my permission.” Vil waved a hand. “Continue.”

“Do you really think I shine? Like, on stage.” A pause, then he quickly added, “And you can be honest with me. Please… be honest with me.”

“What’s this now?” Vil planted his hands on his hips. “Certainly, you’re not ordinary by any means, but I’d hesitate to call you a refined gem. A one month boot camp isn’t enough to polish your singing and dancing skills to that of a pro—but you’re not talking about VDC, are you?”

“Ahahah… Looks like you caught me.” Kalim let his arms fall to his sides.

“You can’t fool this actor’s eyes,” Vil said simply. “So? What is it that you’re actually after? It’s not like you to talk in circles.”

“It’s nothing. I… A lot’s been on my mind since winter break. Too many things. When I think about it for too long, I start to wonder if I’m really what people say I am.”

You’re so talented, Kalim-sama.

So handsome.

So smart.

So kind.

The very best.

“Sometimes...” He tugged at his collar, watching how it sparkled and shifted as he maneuvered the fabric. “it feels like I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go. Or like my clothes don’t fit me right.”

The golden boy, the prince to make way for, the sun all looked to. They were the roles he wore, but suddenly they felt hollow.

Lies set adrift on an errant wind.

Dust of pyrite, fool’s gold.

Am I pretending to be something I’m not?

“… I’m not making a lot of sense, am I?” Kalim laughed softly, forcing a smile. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have made today feel sad.”

“On the contrary,” Vil tutted, “I understand all too well. All the makeup in the world, the nicest clothes, and the most skilled stylists cannot make a pauper become a prince. A pauper is a pauper, no matter how they present.

“However… a perfect little prince is not all that has value. I’ve played enough parts and been in enough productions to know. There are swash-buckling pirates, daring space heroes, dastardly villains, and, yes, even clever, honest street rats who find themselves in the public eye. Perhaps they did not start off as diamonds, but in the end they proved themselves to be diamonds in the rough.”

Vil lifted his chin—indignant.

“Regardless of how others perceive you or what ensemble you wear, you remain yourself. So long as you hold true to your own moral compass and principles, you shall always be someone who shi… Ough!!”

He could scarcely finish his sentence before he was tackled. Kalim was embracing him tightly, only pulling back when Vil muttered that he was creasing both of their suits.

“Thanks, Vil!! Talking with you made me feel so much better! You’re really not as bad as they say you are.”

Vil frowned. “I’m aware that I have my detractors, but you must learn to be more tactful with your choice of words.”

“Tactful, right! Got it! I can do that.”

Kalim released him and spun around, splaying his arms out. He pretended to present the painting with a flourish, looking back at Vil.

“Someday, maybe I’ll be as sparkly as he is here!”

So I can meet everyone’s expectations. Talented, handsome, smart, kind, better.

But no matter how I might change, I’m still me.

Still Kalim Al-Asim.

And that was something worth celebrating.

[blue-sterling0357]

how about some ciel headcanons with a demon s/o? not with angst, like s/o is a young chaos demon that just squeezed themselves on the contract so s/o helps ciel with his work and so.

🐈‍⬛ anon

(I remember a very similar thing of demon! Ciel with a albino! demon! S/O, it's quite cute, but I'm not adding it here! Hope you enjoy reading this!)

Ciel with a Demon! S/O

✣ You met Ciel, when Sebastian introduced you both to each other. Sebastian was an elder demon who used to follow you since he met you because he had this instinct to follow you, no matter what you do and he was right as you being a chaos demon happens to be quite harming to his contracts...

✣ Whenever you would get even a hundred mile near the person he has a contract with, they would get in some type of wierd situation, but he enjoys your company even though he hates all demons, except you as you're quite helpful and you knew how to protect his masters and wouldn't be salavting over his master's soul, like he though you would.

✣ So, upon his introducing you, Ciel took you in as one of his maids and upon taking you in, he noticed the immediate change it had on the manor, the trio would cause less problems for him, Sebastian's cats aren't shoing up as often, the place is often clean and Elizabeth ins't decorating it in embarrasing yet cute decor he hates so much.

✣ As he slowly developed feelings and you both started dating, he got to learn about you being a chaos demon, he learnt how Sebastian would protect him from you accidentally bringing chaos everywhere you go, but he doesn't care as you bringing chaos isn't going to change his loves for you.

✣ He is actually quite happy you're a demon, it's because he knows you won't die and it definitely won't be easy to kill, with Sebastian polishing your skills and helping you and though you're younger and around Ciel's age in demon years, you're a fast learner, except sometimes in battles you zone out, but are still fighting and dodging your enemy amazingly except you're staring into nothing...It concerns both Ciel and Sebastian as is this even normal?

✣ Ciel now has another protector, also since you eat the souls of certain people who try to attack Ciel and have a tasty soul, you're rather full and have no need of eating Ciel's soul. If it's Sebastian who kills the perpetrator, he will bring those souls to you, but only if they are high quality souls, he refuses to have his child/sibling/problem child figure have low quality and disgusting souls..

✣ Ciel allows you wayyyy more freedom than he allows Sebastian, like you have brought in three, white tigers in the manor, and Ciel didn't even care, he was also wearing a mask, did those even exist back then? But anyways, Seb is jealous at the amount of freedom you have, except it goes away when you invite him to cuddle with those three, adult, white tigers.

✣ Also, you're just as talented in things as Sebastian despite being at such a young age like you already know 21 languages, can manipulate anyone you want, great st using multiple weapons at the same time, fighting and dodging while drinking a smoothie or eating a cake at the same time. And even though Sebastian says it's because of him, Ciel doesn't believe him because he believes you're just amazing like that!

✣ If you're happy with showing him your horns and wings on occasions, he would love to groom them, clean them, wash them and polish them nicely for you and he does it so often, he knows everything about demon self-care, you'd look all shiny and whenever you and Sebastian show each-other your wings and horns, he's surprised at how clean they are, despite knowing how you don't clean regularly...

✣ Oh, speaking of wings, he loves to cuddle you and sleep with you while you have your wings out, he gets all whiny and upset if you refuse to show them to him when you go to sleep because they're dirty or smell or whatever because you know he will drag you to clean them no matter how late at night it is, cause he now can't sleep without stroking, touching or cuddling your wings..Have fun!

✣ Overall, he doesn't really care, but he's less possessive because he knows demons don't fall for just anyone they meet, only special chosen one, so you won't fall for anybody else and because he knows you won't die during a stupid assassin!

[potions-of-dark-devotion]

Severus Snape & Lily Evans/Potter Character Comparison

I haven’t seen anyone talking about this before, but I actually think Severus and Lily have a lot in common in both their character traits and values as well as their vices and tendencies in times of stress. Most people tend to compare Lily favorably and Severus unfavorably, but i actually think they have a great deal in common and I can see how they would get along as friends for so long. I wanted to make a list of things I noticed, feel free to share your thoughts.

1. They are both over achieving academically minded people.

-This could be a combination of a) Their working-class backgrounds that drive them to achieve more than their parents were able to. Many working class kids teach their children to excel academically early as a way of improving their social status and economic standing. I know my parents did. b) they both seem like intensely curious people, interested in learning for learning sake. They both have an aptitude for potions. Gryffindor and Slytherin typically have classes together, and this would mean Severus and Lily would have taken potions together with Slughorn. Did they partner up? If they were the only Slythergryff friend group in the class it would have turned heads. Did they teach each other? It’s interesting to me that given this Slughorn does not remember Severus and Lily being friends or didn’t think it was worth mentioning. Lily made the slug club and Severus didn’t, even though he was in Slughorn house and had a gift for potion making.

interesting.

2. Both Severus and Lily lash out verbally when they are humiliated, and both of them have sharp tongues in their arsenal.

- Many people know this about Severus, but they tend to forget it about Lily. She ripped Petunia a new one when Petunia called her a freak. She immediately went personal and cut deep. She also immediately tore into Severus where she knew it would hurt most when he called her a mudblood. This is not me saying whether or not she was justified, just that when she’s cornered Lily can be just as cutting as Severus can be in a pinch. One wonders how many arguements there were between Severus & Lily vs The Marauders. And my guess is Lily probs made James secretly cry on more than one occasion.

3. Both of them gravitated to the center of the wizarding war conflict during the height of the first war. Likely they were both recruited and radicalized due to their intense talent for magic and their polar black and white natures.

-This is a controversial one. Not all Gryffindors were members of the Order of the Phoenix. We have no knowledge of how many Slytherins of Severus’s year became Death Eaters, but we do know that Voldemort targeted the most vulnerable and the most talented wizards to be his Death Eaters. Lucious was Severus’s prefect and it’s not hard to see how he might entice a poor half-blood desperate for power and survival to join a group that promises him both. As for Lily, appealing to her chivalrous nature to join the fight against Voldemort and against the wizard who had radicalized her former best friend would not be hard to do. Lily is not in her mind just fighting for herself, but fighting for those she pities, including Severus.

4. Both of them have a self sacrificial idea of what love means, and put that idea of love above all else including themselves. This ideal of love that they both share is what ultimately saved the Wizarding World from Voldemort.

- It seems both inherent and integral to the Harry Potter fandom to understand the sacrificial nature of Lilys love for Harry. It is the foundation of the books and it is the reason at the heart of which Voldemort can not understand in either Lily or Severus. It is the reason he never suspects Severus as a spy. We understand Lily and her sacrifice- we tend to forget Severus and his sacrifice. He sacrificed the entirety of his young adulthood to being a spy and protecting Lily’s sacrifice, and he sacrificed the entirety of his adult life in the last of the war. He gave up every facet of his life to dedicate himself to making sure that Harry not only survived but thrived long enough to take Voldemort down. I know many people gripe about Severus asking Voldemort to spare Lily and not James and Harry, but I don’t think they understand. Severus would have been insane to ask Voldemort to spare James and Harry when they were a part of the key of his downfall. Granted, maybe he didn’t care about James- but asking Voldemort to spare Harry is just madness. Yet, without Severus putting his life on the line to ask Voldemort to spare Lily, she would have never had the opportunity to choose to sacrifice herself or not. Severus ensured Lilys death would not be in vein. Both Severus and Lily sacrificed themselves for not only Harry, but the entire Wizarding world.

5. They both have an intense protective instinct to protect those closest to them.

- This seems to be a given for us to understand Lily. She is a mother and she also wants to protect fellow muggleborns. We take it for granted in Severus. Consider than under Slughorn many students became Death Eaters. Under Severus as Head of House, only one does, and even then Severus manages to save that child from committing any unforgivables. Severus cares for the well-being of his Slytherin students both academically and emotionally. It is telling that none of his students join the Death Eaters (some of whom are these children’s parents) during the Battle of Hogwarts. He raised them well. He protected them. And it payed off in spades. We already know of his protectiveness of Harry, but we usually don’t consider his protectiveness of Draco Malfoy. He puts his life on the line literally to protect him from making the mistakes in life that Severus made. That is so moving to me.

——————————————————————————

If you think of anymore please don’t hesitate to share your thoughts. I feel like people put Lily on a pedestal and put Severus beneath her, without considering how their friendship saved the wizarding world from slavery and allowed Harry to be the person he came to be. Their platonic love shaped the course of Wizarding History. It is not just a matter of Severus trying to live up to an unattainable romantic love. It is a case of Severus honoring the sacrifice of his former Best Friend and honoring the person she was. It is also a matter of his own protective nature and his own idea of sacrificial love that drives him. Ultimately, Lily is far more important in shaping Severus and he her than an unrequited love story allows.

[morethanwonderful]

Thinking a lot about how, in a series filled with liars and deceivers, when it comes to keeping big secrets, Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang lie in the exact same way.

In terms of truly big secrets that they have to keep for a long time, Nie Huaisang has one and Wei Wuxian has two. Huaisang's is the collective secret of his grand plot to destroy Jin Guangyao and avenge his brother, and Wwx's are the loss of his golden core and his post-resurrection true identity. And how do both of them go about covering the parts of themselves that they most want to hide? They play up their own existing traits and lean as hard as they can into their more negative public perceptions.

When Wei Wuxian wants to hide the fact that he's lost his golden core, he does it by putting on a show of arrogance, and this can only work as long as it does because ego is already such a big part of his personality. Young Wwx was already known as a willful, trouble-making rule breaker, so nobody's going to question it when he starts showing up to events without his sword. They might ask "what the hell is that kid doing?" but they can always answer their own question with, "Well he's Wei Wuxian. He's always been a disrespectful and done as he pleased."

Wwx never pretends to be anyone or anything but himself in his first life, but he dials up certain facets of "himself" to make the public think what he wants them to. Pretending to be the person that the outside world expects him to be makes a very good disguise, because it's against others' nature to question it.

And we can argue about how effective it is, but Wei Wuxian tries to do a version of the exact same thing when he gets brought back as Mo Xuanyu. He hears that Mxy was gay and a "lunatic" and says "well if you want insane, then you'll get insane." He leans as hard as he can into that public expectation, because if Mo Xuanyu is behaving like exactly the annoying, openly queer freak that everyone expects him to be, no one's going to wonder who else he might be.

Meanwhile, Huaisang uses more or less the exact same defense mechanism when he starts racking up things to hide. Based on his repeating school as a teen and late formation of his golden core, he presumably has a reputation from a young age as not the sharpest tool in the shed. People know him as the Nie brother who cares little for cultivation and developed far too slow to make use of his saber. To be unkind about it, he's a useless little dandy unfit to ever inherit his clan.

So when Huaisang wants to be sure that no one will suspect he's making moves behind the scenes, he leans into that and leans into it hard. He makes everyone think they're right—he is an idiot unfit to run his clan. But nobody's going to look twice at a fool, and nobody will suspect subterfuge of the head shaker.

Once again, though, Huaisang's act only works because people expect him to turn into a leader like the head shaker. The same act wouldn't have worked so well for someone like Wei Wuxian, because even though they disliked him, people knew he was talented and dangerous. Only Nie Huaisang can get away with playing useless for a decade, because he's playing as hard as he can into the worst of his established public persona. Others mistaking him for a fool lets him trick them into thinking that he is one.

Nobody wants to question you when you're confirming their expectations, and Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang both know how to use that to their advantage. It's easy to keep a secret when your cover story is something the public is already primed to hear.

[richeeduvie]

Birds of a Feather || PART TWO

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

TWO: Take It From The Top Darkish!Aaron Hotchner x Reader

-- PART ONE -- RICHEEDUVIE'S MASTERLIST --

How you got onto the team. When it was over for him, and as tragedies and love stories go, it's always at the beginning. Aaron knew it even then, the way he was thinking about this woman who he just met - the way his head twisted slight attraction into...not so much more. Aaron can always convince himself, for the sake of you and team and his mind, that it's nothing at all.

But this is only the beginning, even then, he knew it was going to get worse as the months went on.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

5K WORDS

WARNING: Same as Part One. Slow burn? Mentions of death, violence, things of a graphic nature. Criminal minds stuff. pre-Jealous, possessive, and overprotective Hotchner. Entitled behavior. Toxic thought process, not behavior and relationships yet. OC!Hotch sorta cause I don't think he'd turn into this crazy of a person, but reader's just that hot lol. More tags to come maybe cause Hotch is only going to get worse. Maybe reader POV next part?

BCS AND SUCC SUCC GIRLIES I'M SORRY MY MOM IS MAKING ME REWATCH CRIMINAL MINDS AND SHE'S JUST GOTTEN SURGERY, YOU CAN'T BLAME A WOMAN WHO HAS GOTTEN SURGERY...You should be thinking Hotch Daddy any writing motivates me to write about Princesa chugging Lalo's cock down her throat, or a mewling Roman.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

Six Months Earlier. Following The Day You Met The Team.

As you got around to reading about him, Hotch got around to reading about you in his hotel room, just an hour and a half away from his actual home. It was easier to ignore the way you looked in the station, the bright ray of life that was searing in your smile. It was also too easy to ignore how ridiculous it is to feel that way about a person, a young woman he just met. 

But the others saw it too. 

It didn’t take an FBI profiler to know that you have a habit of…brightening the world around you. When he didn’t know you all that well, it was a fact. Barely interesting at most. There isn’t a need for, and yes, it’s a juvenile description, but a bubbly person…bubbling when three women are dead and there’s supposed to be two more on the way. But it doesn’t take away from anything, the same way Garcia’s demeanor never takes away the fact that she gets the job done every time. 

It didn't take FBI agents to see what you were. Young, bright, and extremely talented when it came to your work. An ebullient woman at her most nervous. You were there helping them and in that, he saw his team become bright themselves under the way you spoke. Even when you curse a bit too much under your breath, the one thing they would learn goes against your wholesomeness, things like that and your general self-deprecation, your inward agitation, they all found it endearing. 

Aaron would not. He would not find anything platonically endearing as much as he did not find those sorts of things attractively endearing. But maybe now, it’s those things he takes as reason to see you as a person to protect, to shelter. 

In the six months he’s had you on the team, you’ve proven you’re more than capable of protecting yourself, that a bubbly, kind personality doesn’t mean defenselessness. With time passing, Aaron has slowly cared less and less about attempting not to see you as the opposite for his own selfish reasons. 

But if they’re there, he doesn’t know what the reasons are. If he can’t, isn’t it more likely for you to be more defenseless and in need of safety than you seem? But it shouldn’t matter, either way. He won’t do anything with it. 

Won’t act on anything. 

A profile (which is what people call them actually, he's sure) in the New Yorker is objectively impressive. Aaron can't beat around that. 

It was bare when it came to the personal aspects of your life, nothing much outside of your self-subsistent career. At the time, it felt disrespectful of a talented, well-meaning and investigative stranger to press thought onto the parts that detailed questions and paragraphs of your familial issues with your previous partner, family in general - bits of it went into questioning on how it affected your career, your desire to help people, even your obvious and innate skill on empathic investigation. Aaron wished he could say there was no reason to ask those questions. With morals? There was every reason not to go there, but in his career, he makes those relations day after day. 

No, he did not press on it. 

Name, age. A more detailed version of what you gave when you met the team. He did not press thought onto the little personal aspects that were given.  

‘In scribblings on blogs and smaller articles, there’s always the implication that the reason why Girl Sherlock is so motivated within her work is that said motivation is a result of her past issues surrounding her family, particularly with her father and ex-boyfriend, Anthony. When pushed on this, the young investigator makes sure to make no comment of substance.’ 

“There’s nothing there that would help people realize who I am and why I do what I do.” 

‘Out of respect, I do not ask further. Out of the need for the truth, more in-depth research done after the actual interview leads to records of her parent’s divorce papers. Family-wise, there is not much information that can be found besides the separation of the mother and father. But, it’s the multiple domestic violence charges against Anthony Bogosian that bring concern. There was no conviction. Though the assumption is that the general audience of her work as well as this profile is an audience not made up of private profilers, it doesn’t take much to assume that if Girl Sherlock was the recipient of abuse, it would explain why she especially takes to cases of a domestic nature.’ 

The actual day, the first one with you went smoothly. There would not be a chance where the team didn’t make a comment on you the moment you left the room. 

“I lost my red-bottom heel at a bar called Charm’s Chamber when I was twenty-six.” 

“I’m not that much older, but when I was twent-” 

“We know which degree you finished earning while at the BAU when you were her age, Reid.” 

Reid went silent after Emily’s needed interruption. 

“Three serial killers. Or…what she thought was three at first, doing all that? Bringing this here?” Derek’s leanback was a gesture to the table, the files. “It’s crazy, and were these all cases the FBI rejected?” 

Aaron saw the way J.J’s eyes and its blue shift were a flinch in a way. He didn’t blink as he stood to look at the board. “There were cases I thought took priority, I mean…I remember the Wyoming Skinner but we had-I mean…I don’t know how we, I didn’t go back on it-” 

“It’s not your fault, don’t dwell on it.” 

He could imagine J.J looking at him. “Yeah, J.J. I didn’t mean to call you out. It’s not your fault there’s too many psychos across the states, we’ve seen it. But I don’t know how I haven’t heard of her, a private investigator can have their hits, I know some who were former feds but this? I was reading up on her-” 

“Me too.” 

“I already knew.” 

“It’s crazy, man. It’s a real help anyway. But a big accusation, one killer with three northern state personas - with different signatures. But she explained.” 

That you did. Well and nervous. Aaron could see how you took Rossi’s word, but the bite of your lips, the slow-down of your fingers tapping unevenly on the table. 

“You can take it slow.” 

Rossi’s compassion for his team has always worked better than his spitefulness towards an unsub.

He turned away from the board. Then they were looking at you just outside of the station, on the ground squatting in search of a hairclip. 

“She explained.” 

He still doesn’t understand how you could’ve been so caught up in looking for it. And Aaron didn’t know the team thought he was going to say more. 

“...Hotch?” 

He turned away. 

They were all just looking at him. 

“But Morgan’s right, it is a big accusation. I think we’ll have to find more substantial evidence that can prove it could be the same unsub. I already have Garcia working on similar cases in Ohio and Montana in general, more vague research. We have to start big.” 

He turned back, your hair was falling over. He didn’t sigh, but he felt like he should’ve. You were getting your hands dirty.

“Should somebody help her?” 

It was Morgan again. 

“I’ll go, I’ve been meaning to ask her what she meant when she described her investigative method as ‘interpreting the evidence’.” 

Reid went quickly, leaving his messenger bag behind. Aaron turned back to the group, he watched Emily and she shuffled through the files. 

“Well, even though I think she meant her method was a glorified version of profiling, it’s all impressive. I mean…this is, I don’t mean to fawn…we’ve had good men and women in stations all over who knew how to do their job and do it more than well but she’s done all of this alone and she does it as if it’s a door-to-door salesman sort of deal.” 

Emily put that slight and dragging emphasis on every sixth to seventh word as she leaned over the table. 

He remembers thinking then, that maybe he did press a little. Aaron thought that Garcia most definitely could’ve done a better job finding out about your life than that New Yorker journalist could’ve done about you. 

“It’s obvious she’s very skilled. But we haven’t seen her out in the field.” 

There was silence that he didn’t know meant something, Rossi’s eyes meeting Morgan’s. J.J’s meeting Prentiss’s.

“Out in the field? I don’t think she’s even been out in the field, she’s a talented investigator with what looks to be a budget of seventy dollars, not an official agent in training.” 

Aaron pressed his middle finger to the tip of his thumb, eyes unblinking at Rossi leaned back in his chair. 

“Are we taking her out for investigational interviews…or to wherever the unsub drops the next victim if he has a chance?” 

They were all staring at him. Again. To him. 

“If she came out from San Diego to be here and if she’s been allowed on three cases where victims were being skinned, decapitated, brutalized, then there shouldn’t be the assumption she can’t handle what we’ll find here. She’s come here to make a stretched accusation, she’ll make herself useful. 

It came out harsher than expected. Not in tone, every word is punctual, calm as Aaron makes them, maybe slightly lower. But the words themselves were nearly demeaning. He didn’t know why. There was nothing about your cheerful, bloomed nature that he came to resent yet. Maybe it was how Hotch himself came to be, a man already cold and colder and closed off due to everything and everything, so a beautiful woman who smiled too much, who managed to get Doctor Spencer Reid on the concrete was someone his brain immediately chose to be more cautious around. Showing any other personality that wasn’t stoic, but not unkind would not be suitable. 

Maybe his subconscious was already trying to save himself from the beginning. 

“There goes his germophobia.” 

“It doesn’t take a lot to get a man doing something he’d never think to do for a woman he thinks is pretty.” 

Prentiss scoffed, arms crossed with a stare on Morgan. “He’s known her for twenty minutes.” 

“It usually takes less.” 

The women of the team shook their heads, a humorous and semi-truth from Rossi that Hotch guessed they agreed with, but Prentiss’s head gestured towards the station’s door. “She’s…bubbly. With the mouth of a sailor.” 

His exact description. He followed her stare to the doorway, Reid was there. He couldn’t fault the younger agent on his team for thinking you were pretty. It was amusing as well, to see Reid with his knees digging into the concrete. Good exercise for him, really - and it was even more amusing to see him so readily open…almost in admiration for Girl Sherlock. 

When Hotch thinks of this memory, it’s near-guilt. What he felt at the sight of you and you and Spencer was humorous amusement, it didn't feel that way. 

There’s less near-guilt when he feels like he should blame you. 

“Let’s move before she loses something else.” 

Aaron didn’t mean it as a joke, but with the way he saw the team react, it’s like he did - which usually when he does, they always act as if it’s the first time he’s ever made one. But they went, Rossi pulling on Reid’s ear on the way out. 

A smile from you to each profiled passing by, a clip now in your hair. 

Why couldn’t he look away?

A smile up at him. 

“Are you willing to come with us to the dumpsite?” 

Eyes widening and the smile up at him. A pretty girl who has nothing to smile about, but it was exciting to you, he guesses. Aaron can’t remember if it was ever exciting to him, the means of the job were always just a duty, even when he was younger. 

“Yes, I’d be honored - or…not…it’s dumpsite so not particularly excited that it’s happening, but-” 

“You’ll take the car with me and Rossi.” 

You nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

And like the stereotypical mimicry that exists when you stand in front of someone so open - objectively attractive, he nodded too. 

His eyes flickered. 

“Hotch…or Hotchner will do. But if you’re used to sir, I can’t stop you.” 

That was the first time he talked to you outside of when you met him. It was met with another smile. 

“No figure of authority has ever been able to stop me.” 

Hotch was sure you meant that to be a joke, and he gave it to you. It was funny. You’re a funny girl. You know how to light the room up even without an intentional joke, which you might find a negative - when your cursing or stumbled ramblings end in someone else’s laughter. But it’s not, it could never be. He’s sorry enough that he doesn’t give in more often, nothing more than a small, sly smile. 

Like the one he gave then.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

Aaron flexed his hand in the hotel bed, it was 2:12am. In a few days, you were found to be right about the killers being a singular monster. One for no particular reason other than a dangerous mix of sadism and psychopathy. A man born in Montana who traveled the northern states for his job, and with each state - five women were to be killed. In all the Northern U.S states. Every single one. 

There was difficulty in finding him to be that one unsub because in his words….in his words, 

“I wanted to, I could. I did.” 

Michael Bakalova. The Akron Phantom, the Wyoming Skinner, the Northwind Killer. When the news broke of his capture, the outlets named him the North American Butcher. Those were names Hotch didn’t want to remember, he was to go against the news cycle and the grain and remember his victims because he knows there’s more outside of what they found. But he thought of Michael Bakalova and what he said when they caught him. 

Those women weren’t surrogates, not one was a target of his rage for a reason other than he wanted to, he could. He did. But in the brutality, there wasn’t any rage, no. 

Pure satisfaction, bliss. It’s what Aaron couldn’t find even after they caught him. But they found that sort of reaction in the kills with you at the station, team in a circle. Penelope on the screen. 

“I see we’re just letting any cutie waltz right into a case, huh?” 

“Garcia.” 

“Sorry, sorry, Boss! I’m Penelope.” 

“What did you find?” 

Aaron doesn’t know when he doesn’t have his arms crossed or straight at his sides. But you were there before you went to look for that clip of yours and your eyes would meet his. And Aaron…he’s lucky enough that he feels that it’s absurd that he prides himself in the way he doesn’t bash and turn away like a schoolboy. That pride acknowledges there’s something in his hands and chest when he looks at you, and feels it’s absurd is self-awareness. 

You always turn away first. He won’t ever be the first one to look away. 

“I like your pink pen edging into view.”

“She has a similar one.” 

They looked to him. You looked to him, eyes wide and bright. That’s all you, you can’t force that type of light to shine. Heaven knows he tried with Haley, for her. To let up on his serious nature, it was easier earlier in their relationship, it’s easy with Jack. But you make figurative gleaming seem like there’s nothing to it. 

But sometimes, in the dark, Aaron thinks about you and realizes that the light can’t be figurative, that he sees it on your skin and through your clothes. In your smile, it’s why he can’t look away. 

“...I didn’t pull that one out.” 

The fluffy blue pen that hid in your bag, Aaron could make the deduction that you, already nervous and having presumably little experience with federal agencies and this area of professionalism, that that pen would not be suitable, it would demean you by looks alone. And he doesn’t know why…to put it objectively, called you out. 

“It’s peeking out of your bag.” 

But Garcia’s presence let you know a pen that’s fluffy is more than okay. And…Aaron wanted that out of his presence too, though he still thinks that’s unnatural. It’s not possible when you’re you in the saw and he’s him in crossed arms. 

“Sir…I don’t know how to respond to that, because that has never happened before - so yes, what I’ve found-” 

Moth to a flame, bird into the sun. Something he’ll forget he thought about himself to convince himself that there are no feelings. There is nothing different about you. 

Michael Bakalova and his names and names made Aaron’s chest break back against his lungs every time he took a breath, it made him feel like he would drown in the sheets - but then he’d flex his hand and unfortunately, a breath would let up when the movement would trigger the memory of helping you over a step. 

“Thank you, Sir Hotchner.” 

It wasn’t a joke, you brought your voice to a lower tone. You meant to call him that with maturity. 

Amusing girl. 

Soft hands, kind squeezes so carefully that Aaron can assume that you think you’ll somehow hurt him. That’s not possible. Not just because you’re you, but he’s him…

What could you do that’d hurt him? Nothing, he’s sure. Maybe if he could think of things, he wouldn’t view you as defenseless as he does. But Aaron knows he’s wrong in that too. 

They couldn’t have done it without you. Ignoring the unfortunate name Girl Sherlock, you were extremely talented. Are. But then, to see you in your element and in the field. You were natural within the investigative questioning when it came to people relevant to the victims. The questions and insights you had at the dumpsites (Talent and passion didn’t defeat the fact they needed Michael Bakalova to kill another victim while they were on the case to find him, it never does). 

You were amazing. And the sun shined down on you well. You take light in well. 

“You can take off that coat.” 

He didn’t see the way Rossi’s head tilted his way, eyes slightly smaller. A thought growing in smugness. You smiled.

Aaron looked at the grass under his shoe, there was mud on leather. There was dirt on your knees. Why are you getting yourself dirty when you don’t have to? What’s so important about a clip that you brown the softness of your hands? Where did you learn that that was okay? That it was okay to take the help of strangers? Reid, a good, overzealous and well-meaning stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. 

He stared right into you, unsmiling. His suggestion was genuine and unhumorous, but you brightened under the sun nonetheless. 

“It’s cold. That’s Virginia's fault. Not mine. But thank you. And this, obviously it’s miles - across state lines but I’m telling you, if you look at the dumpsites in Wyoming, Ohio, and Montana. It’s nearly the same. Country-like backroads. They’re all distant from each other, but it’s an area he feels comfortable in. That couldn’t be just chance.” 

“But change in signature, that means we need to make up for that assumption with more evidence.” 

His head followed yours as you looked around. 

“It has breaks in between, there’s no physical evidence to say he’s just picking a method of kill and torture to have fun with it…but it’s not like it’s different with each victim. Five decapitated one state, five skinned in another.” 

You were looking towards a tree, and it would’ve only been you to know that that tree made a difference, you were there three states before. 

“What is it?” 

“..I’ll be back.” 

He remembers the way he and Rossi looked at each other while you were off with a confused-looking police officer. 

“So this is what Arthur Conan Doyle was going on about.” 

“Dave.” 

“Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Sorry, Sir Hotchner.” 

Aaron nearly glared. Rossi and him slowly made their way towards you. 

“Think of it, we’re Scotland Yard. Have you talked to her officially? Besides when she greeted us and when you asked her to come with us.” 

“What do you think there is to talk to her about? Officially and alone?” 

“I don’t know, I think she’s an interesting case. I like her, she’d be a good fit. Reid can give you a detailed recommendation, apparently.” 

“It’s a lot, and she’s just a consultant. We’ve had those before, she is…unique. It’s admirable, but it’s a stretched suggestion.” 

“You’ve used that word twice today, and I do understand. But I don’t know why you would say it as if you haven’t been observing her like this case is her pre-BAU assessment.” 

Aaron stepped over a leaf. “Have you taken to her, David?” 

“...Wouldn’t hurt to have another nice newbie agent around. Work on the lectures and lessons through someone who needs it.” 

“You mean a fan?” 

“Oh, she knows you too. Remember?” 

He wouldn’t indulge Rossi with a slight smile and softening on a brow with that one as they met up with you. 

“Before I ramble on again, I apologize for the rambling and the murder exposition vomit back at the station. I don’t mean to toot my own horn - or use the word toot but I am proud of my work…but you guys are the agents, I could’ve just thrown you the papers and you would’ve gotten here with me.” 

“Nevermind that, kid. We’ve had worse. Speaking of which, if Reid comes at you again with his tangents, don’t be afraid to tell him to stop. Or walk away.” 

Aaron remembered Reid’s ramblings, ones that were fascinating, not in topic - but to see Spencer believe you’d be interested in what he had to say, another person around his age with interests he knew…from your online, blogging persona. The team saw you. 

“Nightmare on Elm Street was actually inspired by Wes Craven reading the news. Throughout 1981, the Los Angeles Times ran a series of articles about otherwise healthy Laotian refugees who had mysteriously died in their sleep, apparently after experiencing violent nightmares-” 

“Reid.” 

He saw you. 

Of course, he didn’t give you a gun and let you on a chase through streets for a serial killer even though he’s sure Rossi would’ve let you if given the chance. 

He didn’t let you anywhere near Michael when it came down to catching him. And that was right, what he said gave him reason to let you on a plane back to San Diego, despite the team’s (Rossi’s knowing eyes, Reid not so obvious obvious platonic gushings over you) want to let you have at the BAU, despite Hotch himself knowing if he give someone a chance, it’d be you. But Hotch tries to forget about what he said, because he didn’t let you go home to San Diego. And he’s finding himself more of a fool every time he convinces himself that it was for the team. 

It was for the team. 

But the one who brought the case together for the team sat at the police station, waiting patiently to see if the case she worked so hard on for months, through victims and victim’s parents, loved ones. 

“It’s over?” 

He nodded. 

“It’s over.”

And in the fluorescent lights of the station, he saw your smile as he did and has and will a thousand times over. But it wasn't genuine. The cases you worked so hard on, the passion you put in to bring families closure - not out of government duty with a team that’s family, but instead alone…there was no closure for you. You weren’t satisfied. 

You were like them at the end of every other case. 

“I have to stop through Wyoming. And Ohio. And Montana. I need to tell those families in person, they’ve probably already caught the news but…I think it’ll do good. Or maybe it’s selfishness, because I know I have to.” 

His head lowered slightly. “It’s not selfish. Those families came to you, you became attached to their closure. You deserve to let that in with them as much as families do.” 

You nodded, but then you disagreed. “Maybe a little less than them?” 

Aaron took a pause. You asked like he would change his mind on what he just said. 

Amusing. Taunting. Teasing. 

Maybe he was thinking your smile was cheekier than it was, because what would it mean that you would do that to him? That you liked him then? No, not you. Not a young, beautiful woman who sees he doesn’t smile or laugh because it’s not the job, it’s not just him and he won’t indulge you. Not when you just met him and you know he’s a widower with a six year old son. 

It’s that, or it’s just that you were having your fun. He wouldn’t appreciate that. 

Not at all. 

He didn't think of his slight smile through then. He couldn’t, you were in front of him - he wasn’t in bed flexing a hand. 

“Maybe a little less, then.” 

And there was silence between the both of you, but the world around kept itself busy because the team was all over, exhausted. There was still paperwork to do, reporters everywhere. But Hotch can’t remember how it just got to be the two of you. 

He pressed his middle finger into his thumb, trying to mimic a heartbeat because it was fatuous, the way his heart sped up. 

You’re just a talented woman that would make a great profiler. But he would have to think logically. He did in the moment. Maybe it’s an exaggeration to say he knew from the start that you would be on his team, there were slew of issues to expand on. One, the fact that you weren’t an FBI agent. You (according to your New Yorker profile) had no law enforcement experience to begin with. You didn’t live in Virginia. You were twenty-six. Reid was barely thirty but he had five degrees or so to make up for it. And heart. 

You had heart. He could see it, smile or not. 

Aaron remembers making the choice to turn his head away from you. 

“So…is the BAU hiring?” 

It snapped back. So quickly to the point where it caught your smile dropping. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, that was-that was a joke-” 

“Let’s get you back to the hotel.”

“...Really, I-” 

“It’s alright. Let’s go back.” 

And his hand just hovered over your back. It’s not like he’d feel the way your back curved under the coat you wore for the whole case. Hotch didn’t, still doesn’t want to realize that he would’ve let his hand touch, actually touch if it was anyone else - but with you, this woman with her hair behind her ears - the one who waited patiently at the station and watched aimfully as Michael Bakalova passed her and into a cell. It felt like it would’ve been disrespectful. 

The thoughts towards you aim differently than everyone else, even then. His touch would make his heart beat quicker and he would think about the one moment where he did touch you. Over and over in his hotel room, then in his own bed. 

And it was as if the thoughts would’ve shifted further down if he did touch the small of your back. 

But Aaron should’ve, because it didn’t matter anyway. The thoughts shifted down nonetheless, and they do with every passing night and smile. Your smiles have to be natural, effortless - unknowing and naive to what it does to him, which wouldn’t be your fault, his face and stern lines never give way. 

But if the smiles aren’t, the giggles, the head tilts, if they are not naive and defenseless and in need of protection and are instead purposeful flirtations, moments where you revel in making him suffer and harden…Aaron will not appreciate it at all. He will not tolerate that sort of behavior. That won’t get past him. 

And he wouldn’t put punishing you past him. 

“Thank you, Sir.” 

Then you smiled at him. 

He led you up to your hotel room, a fortunate coincidence that you took the same hotel the tema did, Aaron didn’t have the means or awareness to think those kinds of thoughts. 

He was trying to remember when he saw a face he couldn’t stop staring at. Maybe never, but hopefully not never. Maybe Jack. and for the sake of Haley, for the sake that at that moment, you were supposed to be just a woman, hopefully not never. 

“Have a nice night.” 

“You too, Sir.” 

Nice wasn’t what he would describe the night he had before they left for Quantico. You, Aaron, both were lucky they didn’t have to catch the plane. He closed his eyes, opened them - stared into the ceiling with one hand flexing and fingers tapping together, the other hand lying flat on his stomach. 

What were you wearing to bed that night? 

He thought something along the lines of that before he dug his nails into his palm with the curl of his fists. 

What was the point of not touching you if it meant he would think those kinds of things? He tried. 

He thought that. Michael Bakalova. 

“I wanted to, I could. I did.” 

He pressed his hand into his forehead. Aaron needed to think of anything else and quickly. 

2:44am. 

The team was right, he was right against the surface logic and challenges that would ensue the minute he would put you with the BAU. You would be an asset to this team. You were an amazing consultant. You would be an even better agent. Of course, that would be if you wanted to join in the first place. 

That not being the case would only be the case if you were just having fun - flirtations and head tilts. He said he wouldn’t tolerate that. You were to join the team, there was no doubt about it. 

He knocked on your door in the morning and dreamt about opening it in silence in the night.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Alright hear me out with both ears. Gang with a friend who's a girl that's always been the duff, she's seen as ugly by others and them. So basically gang with a ugly girl friend/platonic/

Summary: Outsiders with a friend who's considered a duff

Warnings: Beauty standards (blargh)

Author's Note: IK UR LYING CUZ ALL OUTSIDERS STANS ARE PRETTY FYM. also beauty is sooo subjective that it might as well be studied in a phsychology class, you guys all are pretty idgaf

PONYBOY would never consider you as ugly, but he understands that you might have trouble with your looks. He's always trying to be reassuring and kind, he'll make sure no ugly gossip comes around to you and tries to stop it if he can. He think's of you as a friend only because he's too young to really be thinking about serious dating, never take that personally. He likes to be the person who says 'beauty is on the inside', plus he genuinely believes it because he sees how the greasers are considered the 'duffs' of society.

JOHNNY generally does not give 2 shits about your looks. In his society he's also considered 'a duff' and he takes it with pride. He's glad he's able to have a title that makes him stand out like his ultimate icon, Dally. You've relied a lot on personality to get you places, which Johnny finds to be amazing, he thinks you're so pure and kind that he's genuinely kind of jealous of your attitude towards life. He thinks that you don't deserve any of the cards you've been played, that you're destined for more than Tulsa.

SODAPOP has always been centered around looks. He's gotten away with so much because he's attractive and he knows it. He knows that girls like and he knows what he needs to do and who he needs to hang out with in order to maintain that. However, he finds your likeness and perception of everything to be really immaculate. He'll often skip work just to sit by you and watch the people go by. Sodapop will never talk about looks around you, he doesn't know if it's a touchy subject or not but he wants to refrain from thinking shallowly.

STEVE has always been a little insecure, whether it be his teeth, his nose, or how big his biceps are. He's always seceretly in a competition with Soda, comparing himself to him all the time. He doesn't hang out with you because he "relates" to you, but because he thinks that's he's rather adept at seeing past the thin layer of skin. He's always been rather good at reading people, your entire being screamed "beautiful" whether or not some fake standard says it or not.

TWO BIT is also somewhat insecure, but it's because of his constant comparison to the soc life versus his. He knows his clothes aren't as stylish and his hair is damaged from the grease and he frowns when he's alone looking at the mirror, but he thrives on the niche compliments you two give each other, "you're personality is amazing,", "You're an amazing caretaker, im sure your sister is so happy," etc. To him those are the things that really count.

DARRY pretends like he knows where his life is going, he pretends he likes it too, but secretly he cannot wait for Pony and Soda to grow up and take care of themselves so he can relaxed, and maybe even live like a soc. He knows he's attractive, he gets compliments all the time, but he's used to them and they don't mean anything. He likes to spend time with you because he gets a glimpse into the life of someone who actually has their hands on the wheel, someone who knows what to do next. He comes to you a lot when he's stressed, he's never even thought about how you look, that doesn't matter to him.

DALLAS had always been about looks. He had his first girlfriend when he was 10, she was 13 and the prettiest girl on the block. You? The hours spent in front of the mirror wondering whether it was worth it or not could delegate where you fell in the social pyramid. Dallas saw that, but for some reason he also saw your whip like smart, your immaculate talent for everything, and your coolness in the face of anything that could oppose you. He learned that no matter what he tried to do, get you to wear make up, doing your hair differently, even truing new clothes, that you always looked and felt the best with your usual self, just happy.

[fadedtoneverland]

hello dear author, I could request a Hyunjin x male!reader who is a member of nct, reader is the brother of another famous idol and he often dresses in long dresses or long skirts, I hope I'm not asking too much of you, take care of yourself

“my muse” | h.hj

❤︎ synopsis — as an artistic man, hyunjin is drawn towards someone who embodies art in his own way

pairing: idol!hyunjin x idol!male!reader

theme: fluff ✿

a/n: first stray kids request! hyunjin is literally the most beautiful man i’ve ever laid my eyes on, and i adore him, so im glad he’s the first member from skz i get to write for !!

cw: none.

▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆

i’d like to believe hyunjin likes to observe people on a deeper level

it’s just how he is. hyunjin is an artistic man. he sees the world beyond what the naked eye presents him, and that shows in how he treats and greets people

it’s a habit he’s had. he’ll meet someone, have a few nice conversations, and then he’ll go about thinking about their style, mannerisms and energy

he’s done it a lot in the kpop industry, being able to clock someone’s insecurities and thoughts just from a look alone

hyunjin never really questioned why he does it, in fact he himself is sometimes weirded out by his random hyper analytical behavior. but it allows himself to give a deeper insight on the people he surrounds himself with

so when sm entertainment announced a new member of nct dream, he was naturally curious.

nct was already known for their bold concept of many members, all split into different sub-units. hyunjin had personally met a few of the dreamies before

that’s when he saw you

hyunjin was immediately captured by your striking appearance. when you made your stage debut, you were draped in the most gorgeous silks and fabrics, accompanied with sparkling diamonds that made you stand out. like a prince

maybe it was the skirt, or maybe it was the flashy stage presence, but hyunjin has never encountered someone so… bold. so confident to dominate the stage with such ease, like you were made for it.

later on, hyunjin learned from jisung that you were the brother of famous tvxq member, kim jaejoong. hyunjin could see the resemblance. you definitely had his eyes… and his attitude.

it explained a lot, actually

hyunjin definitely wanted to get to know you more

and fate seemed to be on his side as he ran into you during an after party of the

the party was filled with all sorts of people tonight.

stray kids had a particularly good evening, having won a couple awards from the MAMA show this year, all thanks to their hard work and talent. as expected, the kpop sensation was invited to attend the after party at a private venue, hosted by a couple of the TV hosts themselves.

hyunjin was off to do his own thing, having separated himself from the group to get swept away in the fun party. pretty faces and model bodies were everywhere. hyunjin has seen them all, even recognized a few faces. it was expected to see many people like that, he worked in the idol industry after all.

beauty was key in a world like this

the black haired idol found himself leaning against one of the party tables, a glass of champagne cupped in his long fingers. he took a sip of the sugary liquor while scanning the crowd. the crowd was filled with all sort so celebrities, having the same shallow conversations. he’d catch sight of young women acting too humble for the sake of the camera, men too ashamed of their tan skin, so they hide it behind pale makeup, and the starry eyes of children who have yet to discover the darkness behind the industry.

it was all the same. nothing interesting caught his eyes. but then again, there’s almost no room for individuality when the standard is to just be an obedient, purse pup. almost everyone was in this room was just a pretty show dog, doing the ringmaster’s commands and tricks without question.

hyunjin sighed.

he was thinking too pessimistically for an event that’s supposed to be fun and exciting.

taking another quick swig of his golden alcohol, hyunjin set the glass down, deciding he’s had enough for tonight. as he looked around the crowd, he caught sight from the corner of his eye approaching him, and leaning against the party table next to him. neither of them made eye contact, but acknowledged one another silently.

“it’s rather lovely tonight, isn’t it?” your voice sounded on hyunjin’s right side. of course, pretty porcelain doll from nct dream had to greet him personally. not that hyunjin was offended by your presence, he was just.. taken aback.

“of course,” hyunjin agreed, not tearing his eyes away from the party crowd, “the venue is just lovely.”

“agreed.” you smiled. hyunjin took this opportunity to look at your face. god, even your smile was as perfect as your entire being.

everything about your demeanor was different. it was loud and proud, not afraid to show the world what you were made of. dressed in a clad, wine red dress shirt, accompanied with a matching maxi skirt, you stood out amongst the crowd of mannequins.

that alone intimidated hyunjin. he wasn’t used to such bravery in a dog-eat-dog world.

“congratulations on your win, by the way,” you said while clasping your hands together politely, offering your congratulations to your senior. “stray kids really knows how to steal the stage. i especially enjoyed the performance of thunderous.”

your voice was polite, but there was a hint of playfulness in those bright eyes. hyunjin took a moment to compose himself, before putting on his most charming smirk.

“thank you, y/n.” hyunjin thanked while bowing, showing the mutual respect he held for you. “but i can’t have you being flattering without your own achievements being acknowledged. seriously, your voice absolutely took me away. and your style? nothing like the industry has seen before. you’re pushing new boundaries for the fashion in kpop.”

hyunjin’s always meticulous with the compliments he gives, because it shows he cares. but he also just wanted to praise your expression of art through your style and attitude. it’s not everyday he gets to meet someone unique like this, and it seems the compliment he gave you earned a cute giggle from your pretty red lips.

adorable.

“you’re charming, hyunjin.” you said while covering your lips with your palm, pulling it away and letting your hand fall to your side.

“i get that a lot.” the idol said with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

“as you should,” you replied, a smirk making it’s way to your lips. “you’re seriously like a real life prince.”

hyunjin laughed. genuinely. not one of those quick, brief laughs he usually did to amuse people.

.. since when did he get so flirty and comfortable with an idol he just met?

the conversation flowed well. hyunjin really found a spark of chemistry between him and you. not only were you bold, but also engaging. the way you speak so beautifully and thoughtfully, it just drew hyunjin in further.

like a fly buzzing into a dazzling light.

“we should do this again, hyunjin.” you say with a smile, the corners of your eyes crinkling with the action.

“i quite enjoy your company.”

hyunjin smiles at this, leaning back against the table.

“what, like a date?” he teased.

you scoff and wave your hand at him. “if that’s what you want to call it.”

the space between you both is filled with giggles. as your laughter died down, you caught sight of jaemin flagging you over to the exit of the after party venue.

sighing solemnly, you give hyunjin one last smile, before turning around. “i’ll catch you later, hwang.”

hyunjin watched with curious eyes as you left, your skirt flowing with every step you took.

‘this boy is gonna kill me.’ hyunjin thought to himself.

he watched as you stepped out of the venue with the rest of the dreamies. you truly were a work of art, and hyunjin definitely believes there’s more he can add to the canvas. you’re beautiful just as you are, but with a splash of color, maybe he can just turn you into one of the most beautiful things the world has ever seen, and make them all fall in love with you all over again.

just as your brother did before.

his muse. his pretty little muse, that he’s just so intent on learning more about, and he won’t stop with just that amazing conversation you just had.

he’ll find you again.

hyunjin smiled. it was a smile of brilliance.

“i’ll catch you later, kim.”

▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆

fadedtoneverland © 2024 | do not steal, modify or repost ANY of my work.

[eclairsnme]

♡ POV: Being The Itoshi Brother’s Elder Sister ♡

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4

More trouble and very dilf (prick) boss and yandere kaiser!!

tags: idol!you, crack comedy, reunion, familial love, sfw, somewhat of a brat (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎), lack of common sense, dilf boss, kaiser is giving me psycho killer mannn (✦థ ｪ థ), red flags!!

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

A few years ago,

You picked up the phone and read a message.

It’s a punishing journey here.

It was from Sae, your younger brother.

After reading the message, you flipped the phone to your manager.

You could not be bothered to reply to him as... well, you are in a middle of a scandal.

A rival company is trying to sue you for plagiarising their music.

I mean like ew? (¬､¬)

You debuted in the music industry one year ago and had already gathered a massive fanbase and caused a wave in the industry.

Many were hailing you as the pop star of the century. Recognised not only domestically but also worldwide.

The songs were written by you and with the collaboration of acclaimed song producers.

When all of your songs dominated the Billboard chart, you solidified your status as the youngest and most celebrated star of this era.

You know what they always say, behind every success has its own trials and tribulations, and yeah you were now experiencing that exact phenomenon — a scandalous scandal, a bad suing kind.

The rival company had been trying to produce their very own pop star using you as the manual, however, it was to no avail. Obviously.

You snorted at that. No one could compete with you, naturally.

Therefore, they had to resort to underhand tactics. Such as, wrongly accusing you of plagiarism without any ounce of evidence and trying to sue you to boot?

Huh! The audacity.

More absurdly, he annouced all that mumbo jumbo on the stupid bird app! That hellhole of an app.

It goes without saying that the news spread quickly like lighting speed! Both fans and haters became aware of it and rumors and negative comments began to circulate rapidly. They really popped off there.

What else popped off? Keyboard warriors. They came and showed the heck up. They have never typed their opinions so quickly.

Before you could defend yourself from such an outlandish claim, they had already painted you a bad reputation. You cracked a displeased smile.

It appears that your followers and supporters have left you abruptly and without any hesitation.

And they call themselves loyal fans. You pouted. People’s minds sure do sway rather quickly. That bandwagon sure has lots of passengers.

Today, a crowd gathered outside your studio to protest against what they perceive as your "sinister" conduct.

How very rude!

Prior to your debut, you had anticipated that your first scandal would involve a dating rumour with a super hot man. However, the current scandal being circulated is merely a laughable joke and not the kind you had expected.

The music you made was definitely yours last you checked. It was unquestionably from this absolutely talented brain of yours.

“Pest,” you grumbled.

Oh and what a pest he definitely is. Actually, he was more disgusting than those creepy crawlies. He had a greasy face, greasy hair and an incredibly bad breath.

You shivered. Yucky.

“That bastard!” The boss of your company slammed the table.

Your boss was a tall and well-dressed individual in his mid twenties. He was an efficient and smart, young man that had personally scouted you and propelled your career (well, that is a little too much credit to him but yeh yeh).

This company had a few B-listers if you squint... hard enough. You were his first pop star and damn, you exceeded all his expectations. Not to toot your own horn, but yes you are quite literally The Best.

After learning of the absurdity, he was absolutely furious. He was frothing in the mouth like how baristas froth them age-old milk. You found it quite funny to see his handsome face contort to such comedy.

You hid your giggle behind your hand.

He stopped and knelt down in front of you, "I understand that this situation is difficult for you right now, but I assure you that we will find a solution and overcome this obstacle together."

Even the dumbest person would know that refuting the so-called "claims" was a simple task. However, the bigger issue at hand is the individuals who have already turned their backs on you. Unfortunately, you are currently considered the most disliked public figure.

Can you believe that? Me!

To that, you grunted and took a heavy whiff of the musky meeting room.

Gain back their support?

You suddenly stood up, causing your boss to fall back onto his buttocks.

An idea crossed your little noggin. Your idea is truly exceptional, with a level of creativity that is almost unparalleled. Some people might even dare ask, "From that brain of yours?"

A true visionary of the century you would say. You snickered to your own delight.

“What’s going on?” Your boss asked in confusion.

“I know just the way to make him eat his shit!” You bellowed, lightly brushing the nonexistent dust from your Miu Miu garb.

Oh yes, eat shit he will. Bet, his shit would be the best-tasting shit he will ever consume.

-

Present day

You, the top idol, stood in front of the screen fake crying your heart out for your dear little brother.

“Do you not love me anymore?!” You dramatically placed your hand over your face, wiping away the fake tears.

Rin covered his ears at that infamous phrase coming from you.

As the situation “escalates”, even Rin’s teammates started to catch on to your act. As in, they actually fell for your poorly executed acting.

“Oi, Rin your sister is calling for you! You bastard of a little brother making her cry,” his teammates and Karasu collectively shouted at him, accusingly.

This was too much for Rin to handle, the embarrassment was too excruciating. He was so close to believing that you were not his sister. Heck, did you hear his internal thoughts? Because he could vaguely hear you crying louder. He shuddered.

To Rin, this was the equivalent of having his mom unexpectedly appear in the classroom and announcing every speck of mole on his body to everyone. Yet again, he shuddered.

You, on the other hand, were just about to tease him more when Mr Manager tapped on your shoulder.

“Your next schedule is in an hour, you need to get ready.”

Ah, talk about getting blue balled. You frowned. You were just about to have fun with Rin.

"Schedule? I thought I was done for today?" You gave him a look of disapproval, with your lips tightly pressed together.

"I-it's the meeting with the boss!" He spread his arms wide in disbelief, brows downturned and mouth gaping like a goldfish.

"That person would not mind," you turned away from the screen and shrugged your shoulders, "no big deal missing one or two meetings."

"You mean, multiple (all) meetings?"

Wow, talk about being unnecessarily observant. You rolled your eyes. If your eyes could roll to the back of your skull that will be great.

So, your boss has this thing where you have to meet him and then goes on to lecture you on your bad public image blah blah blah. A broken record. That is what he is. He needs to learn how to shut up.

"Please you need to attend the meeting or else," your manager took a deep breath, "he will be really angry at me. Since he also specifically mentioned the severity of your behaviour this time around."

"Andddd?" You nonchalantly glance over, not sure why you should care.

Your boss sure is a pain in the buttocks. You can handle yourself well without him. What about the severity of your behaviour this time around? This was not your first rodeo.

"Wait!" You yanked the collar of his shirt, "What do you mean by the severity of my behaviour this time around."

He miserably clutch onto his shirt to ensure he would not die to accidental asphyxiation.

"T-he paps!" He released himself from your grip and whispered into your ears, "They took a photo of you smooching a man! Boss was super - and I mean super duperrr - angry! Since this morning, he has been attempting to hide the entire situation from the public."

Smooch? The only thing you smooched was...

Oh!

Oh?

OH!

Ohhh?

OH!

So, someone did catch you getting first base with that German guy.

"Smooch?" Anri gasped, a little too loudly. Actually, loud enough for the entire Blue Lock facility to hear.

Smooch? The Blue Lock players repeated after Anri.

Anri clasped her mouth shut.

Erm oops. (Ŏ艸Ŏ)

Turns out, the screen was still on for everyone to witness.

"End of today's entertainment — hope everyone feels motivated by the special appearance of the wonderful idol," with a click of a button, Ego had the screen turned off to the disgruntlement of the players behind the screen and to the joy of Rin.

"W-we have to go!" Panic filled Mr Manager's voice as he tried to drag you out of the room.

"But my Rin!"

"You are welcome here anytime," Ego interjected.

"Really?" Your teal eyes lid up.

"Reward for work and work for reward. It is widely acknowledged that when individuals receive recognition for their diligent efforts, they tend to exhibit improved performance and exhibit a more optimistic outlook. As a result, it is imperative to provide incentives that are based on performance. By the way, I must take a moment to express my genuine gratitude for your presence here today, Miss."

You blinked at his response, "I don't know what you just said, but I will be back for my little brother, Go-go!"

Ego briefly reflects on his nickname and then lets a faint smile appear on his face, "Hope to see you very soon too."

"Ah, the boss is already calling me! We have to go!"

"Bye-bye, big melon woman!" You did not forget your manners, as you made your way out.

Anri shyly waved back at you.

Damn, I really want big boobs.

-

His sharp eyes met yours.

You gulped.

You felt like a deer caught in the headlight. It was just a smooch — a very normal German etiquette. No biggie. Right?

Your boss held a photograph of what you believe is the source of this man's frustration.

You took the photograph out of his hands, "I spy with my little eyes a man and an exceptionally drop-dead knockout woman engaged in - you know what? This is actually a really good photo! We could hang it-"

"For goodness sake!"

"-on the wall."

He ruffled his neatly tousled coif into a slightly messy one.

"It is just an old friend," You fidgeted with the ends of your dress.

"Friends do not eat out each other's face!" He exasperated, loosening his tie.

"I-"

"I don't think you get it. This photo shows very clearly, the nation's biggest star and the German prodigy footballer exchanging salivas! This is big big news! And it will be a scandal if people catch wind that you are going around smooching high profile people! What would people think of you? We have been through so many ups and downs together but this is your first relationship scandal. I can already imagine the looks of your fans-"

"Aren't you being a tad bit dramatic? Isn't it normal for a pretty girl like me to have relationships?"

"You are an idol!" He shouted, a little too loud that you flinched, "And what is this thing that your Manager told me? Regarding your desire for a boyfriend, please keep in mind that as an idol, you have a certain image to uphold."

You stood up and slammed the table, a little too hard — you felt your palm throb underneath. You took angry steps towards him and placed your still throbbing palm on his face ever so not gently.

He stared into your teal eyes and you saw the big gulp he took.

Taking another step closer till your head was right beneath his chin, you stared up at him and squeezed his cheeks with all your might. He groaned and grabbed your wrist.

"What is that for!" He softly clasped onto his tender, reddened cheeks. You harrumphed back at him.

"HA! Idol this idol that." You snorted, "what if he is actually my boyfriend? Have you thought of that? Plus, my fans are mature enough to understand. We've practically grown up together. Don't be delusional, old pal!"

Ah, I am really digging my grave.

"You know very well-" You eyed him sharply, his mouth clammed shut.

"Kaiser and I are super in love and so what if some paps caught us? Is it really possible for someone like me, a young and attractive woman, to remain celibate forever? I am certainly not a nun." You let your mouth run, nervously.

Wow, my grave has been dug real deeeep, very spacious if I say so myself.

To be honest, you were not even too sure what you were even saying. Your boss was being such a prick. Prickly prick. Ugh.

"When did you even meet that guy with your full schedule?" He asked, hands still on your wrist.

"Our love needs no words. Whence our eye meets, we are in love," You physically cringed at your words. Seeing the goosebumps rising from your boss's arms, you were not the only one who thought so it seems.

Great. Just great.

"Let us set this straight. So you are telling me that you are in a relationship with that football player?"

"Why do you act so surprised? C'mon, I have two fine brothers who are also football players. What can I say? I just love a man who can treat the ball right. It is all bound to be. Therefore this is no scandalous scandal you should be worried about."

He releases your hands and stuffs his hands inside the pocket of his suit, reaching for the cigarette pack. He let out a deep breath and then proceeded to light a cigarette. With a shaky breath, he exhaled the thick smoke, his head throbbing from pent-up exhaustion and frustration.

You almost felt sorry for him, almost.

"Sooner or later, the news will explode. I will have a statement prepared for the media. Get ready."

Oh jolly, will you look? My grave is the size of an Olympic pool! How spacious. Sorry, big man.

Your boss was a good man that cared for you. But sometimes it gets overbearing. Very red flag. Do you think maybe that's why he's still single? I mean, he's got a lot going for him - eligible bachelor, CEO, and let's be real, he's pretty good-looking. But there's gotta be a reason, right?

Ladies, if you need a man you can call me.

ヾ(о-ω･)ﾉ⌒★

-

Kaiser smiled to himself.

The brightness of his phone deepened his smile into one of a Cheshire cat.

On his phone was a picture of you helplessly holding onto him as he savoured your lips.

"Aren't we cute together?" He said to no one in particular as he caresses the rose tattoo on his neck.

Oh, how the world so nicely revolves around him that fate has brought you back to him.

It would be wonderful if you could be in his embrace at this moment.

He puts down the phone and closed his eyes.

Be patient. Mein göttin.

-

"You should go back to sleep," Sae's soothing voice nearly put you to sleep as you struggled to stay awake.

You heard rustlings on the other end of the call, pretty sure he was in the middle of his training.

Oops.

"I made a fool out of myself today!" You lamented, snuggling deeper into your silky covers.

"Aren't you always a fool? What did you do this time? Lo siento. Estoy hablando con mi hermana-" You could hear another feint voice conversating with him. Must be his teammates. You yawned.

"- I am sure it is nothing too serious as always. You are tired, go sleep," Sae returned to the conversation.

"It is really really bad..." you spoke softly, rubbing your face onto the silk.

"Did you kill someone?"

"My boss looked like he almost died but no," You stretched your aching body, "I think I just got myself a boyfriend, more like I just told my boss a big lie that is about to be publicised...That guy is not even my boyfriend and when he hears of this garbage - oh boy is he definitely going to have a heart attack. I am in big trouble."

"You dug your own grave," Sae said, cooly.

"I know right, the grave is swimming pool sized."

"Who is the unlucky guy?"

"Kaiser Mikel?" You attempted to recall his surname.

Sae paused for a second before he replied, "Michael. Michael Kaiser?"

"Oh, you know him?"

"I do. He is a... good player. Sister, how did you even get involve with him?" This time, Sae sounded genuinely curious very unlike his usual disinterested self.

"You see," you hugged your bolster tightly, "some bugger quote on quote took a photo of us exchanging salivas."

"Excuse me?" Sae choked, "Exchanging salivas? Mierda-" You could imagine your brother's incredulous yet icked face right now. Well, he wanted to know and you delivered. ｢(◔ω◔「)三

"You heard me right."

"I wish I did not just hear that. But Kaiser and you?" Sae did not fail to exaggerate the last part almost in a manner you did not enjoy.

"Why did that sound like you are mocking me?" You grumbled underneath your soft duvet.

"I don't think that guy will mind being your boyfriend if that helps," Sae shook his head thinking about the German prodigy.

"Really?" you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with sleepy excitement.

“Yeah. He- Dame un momento. I have to go now. I'll send you a text message. Go to sleep now," he paused briefly, "and have a good night."

There the phone line goes. Silence.

As if Sae had actually cast a sleeping spell on you, your head sank back onto the plush pillow and you succumb to silky sheets pulling you into a dreamy languor.

A boyfriend sounds nice... right?

-

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The sound of incessant phone ringing filled your room, grumbling under the sheets, you unwillingly pick up the phone.

"Who is it?" You drawled on every word in a drowsy stupor.

"Guten morgen, mein engel!"

You ended the call.

When did you fall asleep? You were having such a nice conversation with your brother too.

As you glance towards the window, you notice that the sun has barely even risen. Feeling lethargic, you let out a groan while still in bed.

Five more minutes...

Your dark lashes fluttered shut as you inhaled the fresh scent of cedar from your sheets. You sank softly into the mattress as sleep slowly envelopes you-

Ring. Ring. Ring.

You moaned softly.

"Five more minutes..." You spoke quietly to the spirits in your room.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Five just five-"

Ring. RIng. RIng.

Your eyes snapped open, half awake and half annoyed.

"What is it?" Mouth still dry as you tried to sound as harsh as possible to the rude morning caller, but it came out sounding like a meek, saddened mouse.

"Is mein liebling still sleepy?" The timbre of the caller's voice sent chills down your spine.

You know this voice! You rubbed your sleepy eyes and cleared your dry throat, "Kaiser?"

"Yes, Liebling." He purred.

Your bare arms prickled, sending you chills.

You were still sleeping, right?

"Er- wwie komme ich zu Cologne (*how do i get to Cologne)?" You spouted a random German phrase you so happen to remember from your travels.

"You are very cute," he lightly chuckled.

Oh damn, maybe you were half asleep but that was a pretty nice-sounding chuckle. Still, you did not understand what he just said.

"Someone reached out to me and said you are very much in love with me and that we are in a loving relationship," he continued softly, clearly enunciating each and every word you did not understand, "I am very very flattered, Liebling."

You feigned laughter in response, not sure what you are laughing at but he was laughing too so you are safe.

"Yes, it is a joyous occasion," Kaiser laughed in tune with yours.

Seriously, what is this man saying? You thought to yourself between laughs.

☆〜（ゝ。∂）the end (for now) ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

sike! Extras!

Sae is very unimpressed by Kaiser's courting of his sister. He does not know much outside of soccer but he sure as hell knows that Kaiser's method was, to say the very least, strange. He just hopes the German fella does not hurt his sister. That would be extremely troublesome.

<thank you, darlings for your endless love of reading this! My heart is full SMOOCH SMOOCH ଘ(੭ºัᴗºั)━☆ﾟ*:.>

<also, how would you react if you met someone like Kaiser irl, because girlfriend he is screaming red flag to me>

[rahuratna]

Ikemen Kaisen

Chapter 1: Step into the Industry

Cross posted!

Summary: A cursed spirit develops a massive crush on the 7:3 sorcerer while he's on a mission. Trapping him in its unique otome game domain, the spirit soon discovers that it's bitten off a lot more than it can chew with this particular jujutsu sorcerer ...

Content: Humour, fluff, crack, otome game satire, Nanami has Rizz with a capital 'R', the first year trio obtaining front row seats to this absolute shitshow.

“Yes, Itadori, you heard me correctly.”

Yuuji’s eyes had widened to impossible proportions, hands clasped together so tightly, his knuckles were turning white.  

“Wait, you’re serious? You’re for real, Nanamin? We’re going to -”

“A concert, yes. I don’t like repeating mission details, so listen closely.”

Yuuji snapped to attention, one hand raised to his head in a smart salute.

“Yuuji, reporting for duty, sir!”

Nanami sighed. It was Thursday, a day he didn’t particularly fancy in terms of starting a new mission. Missions that started mid-week invariably ended up incurring overtime, along with eating into his weekend on occasion. He would do his duty diligently, nonetheless, as he was expected to show Yuuji the general procedure for such investigations. Thus, he had occupied this empty classroom for a briefing. He stood before the whiteboard on which he had neatly printed the details in bullet points (a necessity for Yuuji’s attention span). Pointing to the first line, he began.

“We’ve been receiving reports for a few months now about suspicious activity at idol performances all around Tokyo. Fans of certain idols have been going missing. All cases so far showed that the victims disappeared shortly after concerts, fan-meets and other public appearances. Initially, we could not make a direct correlation to curse activity. The disappearances themselves were sporadic and presented no specific pattern, so the case was placed under revision and monitored. Recent events, however, changed things.”

Nanami pointed to a photograph of a young man, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, artfully posed to highlight his muscular torso in a hooded jacket that was unzipped. He wore tight, dark jeans, strategically ripped, and was smiling coyly at the camera. He was undoubtedly very good looking.

“This is Takashima Ryouta, stage name Ryo-ri.”

“Eh? Like RiRi?”

“It’s his concert we’ll be attending. Recent disappearances occurring after his concerts have been far more targeted and blatant. Furthermore, our windows have reported cursed energy levels spiking in the general vicinity of these events.”

Yuuji raised his hand.

“Yes, Itadori?”

“How do we know that these disappearances are even linked to idols specifically? What if it’s something else they all have in common? Like, some kinda shady fan club? Or maybe someone’s just targeting big groups of people?”

Nanami pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, expression carefully blank despite the small surge of pride he felt at Yuuji’s astute observation.

“The latest victims were obviously targeted with intent. You see, Takashima has recently been growing in popularity, thanks to his appearance on a TV show. Some of his fanbase is therefore quite intense.”

Yuuji sighed.

“Yeah, they go rabid for guys who look like that.”

“For this reason, his agency has come up with a strategy to gain interest amongst his fans, but also keep him safe. Our intelligence network has informed us that they put up a lottery for each live event he performs at, allowing one fan to join him on stage for the duration of a song. The lottery is fake, however. Girls are hired from talent agencies affiliated with Takashima’s. They are disguised heavily and every time he makes an appearance, one of these ‘lucky’ girls is the one chosen to join him on stage. This way, his fans will continue to buy tickets in the hopes that they will be chosen by lottery, but will never actually interact with him on stage.”

Yuuji’s mouth dropped open.

“Whoa! That’s … really not cool! Isn’t that kinda like false advertising?”

“We’re not here to judge the insidious marketing strategies employed by a soulless, capitalist-driven entertainment industry that consumers blindly latch onto like tapeworms.”

“Er – “

“Rather, we’re going to be investigating why all the young ladies hired from the talent agency to join Takashima on stage have disappeared shortly after each performance.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. As I said, this, along with the more pronounced spikes in cursed energy, make this a case we can no longer afford to leave to regular law enforcement. You and I will be stationed within this area,” and here Nanami pointed to a roughly circular outline on a map of Akihabara. “We have also been provided with special VIP pass tickets to the concert tomorrow and will be closely monitoring the interactions between Takashima and this week’s chosen representative on stage. Afterwards, we will conduct surveillance on the individual in question. Please remember, our presence must be kept discreet at all times and we must blend in to the crowd at the concert as seamlessly as possible.”

Yuuji tapped his chin. “Blend in, huh? That won’t be a problem for me but, uh, Nanamin, not to be weird or anything – “

“Don’t worry on my account, Itadori. I have everything planned out. I have never had trouble with creating a cover.”

Yuuji shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he waited outside the main entrance of Jujutsu Tech for Nanami to make his appearance. For once, the energetic young student had arrived earlier than his experienced mentor. He had grabbed a hot coffee from the machine in the foyer to pass the time. The caffeine was not calming in the slightest.

There was something about the current mission that both excited him and filled him with nervous anticipation. From the summarized report that Nanami had left for him to read, he knew that the number of disappearances meant that they might be dealing with a tricky opponent this time. The fact that this activity was happening in such a crowded area of Tokyo also indicated that whoever was engineering these vanishings was either unhinged or audacious, neither of which boded well.

A black sedan with tinted windows made its way around the side of the building and Yuuji hopped forward, waving. The car drew to a halt beside him and he opened the passenger door, grinning as he spied Nanami in the driver’s seat.

“Whoa Nanamin, I like the fit!”

Nanami’s immaculate suit had been replaced by jeans, a simple, but expensive-looking grey knit shirt and a long, dark overcoat. His signature shades had been substituted for designer sunglasses and the sleek band of his wristwatch gleamed from beneath his sleeve. The normally swept back hairstyle was a little more relaxed, making him look closer to his age than he usually did.  

“Thank you, Yuuji. You’re suitably dressed, I see.”

 The student cocked his head and Nanami nodded, anticipating his question.

“I’ll be calling you Yuuji for the duration of this mission. I’ve decided that we’ll present ourselves as uncle and nephew. I am your – “

“For real?”

Yuuji’s eyes were shining in a way that made Nanami cough and turn away. He propped up his glasses and shifted gear, the car gliding away from the main gates of the school.

“Yes. That way I can call you Yuuji and you can continue to call me … Nanamin, I suppose. I am visiting home after some time away and decided to spend some quality time with you, my nephew. And so, I’m taking you to a concert that you’ve been wanting to attend for some time. I trust you did your homework?”

Yuuji nodded proudly before pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“I downloaded all of Ryo-ri’s songs last night and learned the lyrics. He’s not bad! I can totally jam to this.”

“Good. It’ll be a long drive, so use the time to brush up on the mission details.”

Which is exactly what Yuuji did, to begin with. He pulled the folder from his backpack and opened it out on his lap. Nanami had been kind enough to summarize the numerous reports for him and provided concise profiles of the main players in the case. Eyes running over Takashima’s info page, Yuuji frowned slightly. Something was missing. He glanced out of the window at the passing scenery, trying for a while to figure out what it was, before his eyes widened.

So obvious!

Scrolling rapidly on his phone, Yuuji began to search for Takashima’s Instagram. The information in Nanami’s profile, as succinct and useful as it was, lacked … flavour. Social media would give Yuuji a more accurate idea of the image the idol was trying to put out there. Soon enough, he found what he was looking for.

Uhhh, okay then.

Takashima’s pictures skirted that fine border of what Kugisaki would call ‘spicy’. They were definitely risqué for an idol, but this was what seemed to appeal to his particular audience. Yuuji’s eyebrows shot up at the sheer number of likes one particular photo had. The picture was a mirror selfie, showing Takashima’s glistening torso, presumably after a workout, his face obscured teasingly by the phone. Yuuji nodded sagely. This image fitted in with a lot of the lyrics he had been learning yesterday.

“Ohh, I see. He’s going for playful fuckboy, but like, more tasteful.”

“Pardon?”

“Oops … I said that out loud, huh?”

“Yes, you did. Now explain.”

Yuuji scrubbed a hand through his hair.

“Sooo, like, how do I explain this? Idols have images they create, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“And those images draw fans and make them more popular. I checked out Ryo-ri’s IG page and … and you know what IG is right?”

“I’m not five centuries old, Yuuji.”

“Fine, fine! Just checking. Wait, do you have – “

“I use it to follow recipe pages and food blogs. Let’s move on.”

“So, from what I’m seeing here, Ryo-ri’s fans are mainly girls who like this image he puts out of being … you know. Like a playboy, a guy who doesn’t take things seriously, but nice at the same time. The persona is … the guy who’ll steal a girl’s heart and move on quickly, but she can’t have bad feelings towards him, because he’s not an asshole? It’s why he also has fans who are guys. They kinda want to be like him and they feel his lyrics. You get what I’m saying?”

Nanami hummed thoughtfully. “I think so. And this is what’s called … a fuckboy?”

Yuuji snorted loudly.

“That word sounds so wrong coming from you. Not exactly. Guys who get called that can be flaky and do dumb stuff, but Ryo-ri’s got the right balance. He’s got the ‘naughty, but chill’ vibe.”

“I see. And do you think this makes him more or less likely to be responsible for the disappearances?”

The words sobered Yuuji, who sat back, a warm feeling filtering into his chest. As much as he had found it difficult to get along with the taciturn ex-salaryman to begin with, his view had changed a lot over time. Nanami was the epitome of a responsible adult, his stern exterior hiding just how kind and patient he was, especially with students. There were times like these, when he would ask for Yuuji’s opinion in such a straightforward manner that it made the boy want to prove himself even more, to show that he could also be an exemplary sorcerer.

“Umm, I think it means we should watch him carefully at the concert. If he is involved, I’m not sure he’d be so … obvious about it? He’s not super high profile, but he’s getting there. If his fans are disappearing, that looks bad for him. I … I think maybe there’s something else to this too.”

Nanami nodded slowly.

“All right. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Yuuji spent the rest of the ride watching some of Ryo-ri’s live performances on YouTube and searching for the specific songs where the girls would join him on stage. In between, he did some other stalking.

“Hey, hey, Nanamin. Guess whose IG I found?”

A small chime sounded from Nanami’s pocket.

“Yuuji – “

“That’s my invite. Don’t ignore your precious nephew!”

“My profile isn’t that interesting. How did you find me, anyway?”

“I checked who Gojo-sensei follows. And, I mean, there’s only one person who’d call himself ‘Gruyère_Ghostbuster’ – “

“Don’t say that out loud.”

“And hey! Your profile is cool! It’s not just food, Nanamin. You’ve got such awesome nature photos and wait … are these videos of yourself cooking? I recognise that watch! Are you making rolled eggs here? And oooh … you’ve got puppy videos?”

The weather was perfect, the sky bright and clear, the normal obscuring fog of the city conspicuously absent. The air still carried a chill and Yuuji wrapped his red scarf closer around his neck. They had parked some distance away from the open-air venue where the concert would take place and were now steadily making their way in that direction, soaking in the sights and sounds of Akihabara.

Yuuji was carrying a bag of manga he had bought at a nearby store and chattered amiably about the recent story arc. Nanami followed a few paces behind, nodding along to Yuuji’s remarks. On the surface, they looked every bit the ordinary uncle and nephew. Only someone who knew exactly what to look for would note the way the boy sometimes shifted his body to observe people better or the way the older man’s eyes would flit sharply back and forth beneath the sunglasses.

Thus far, there had been nothing overtly suspicious in the area, besides the low-grade cursed spirits that showed themselves at intervals. After some time, they found themselves at the venue which adjoined a hotel and conference centre. The centre itself housed quite a variety of functions, with a spa, restaurants and various stores catering to a wealthier clientele. Nanami took the lead, passing through the security checkpoint at the hotel. Yuuji trotted nervously after him, half expecting a security alarm to start blaring because of what he knew was strapped to the older sorcerer’s back.

Nothing happened. Nanami turned his head slightly.

“Cursed energy can also be used to conceal things.”

“Ha. Cool. I guess I gotta learn that sometime. Where are we going, by the way? The concert will be out that way, but I know it’s still early …”

“We have VIP tickets, remember. That means we get access to any of the services here and hotel rooms close to the concert venue. I’m sure you’re hungry, so let’s get something to eat first.”

Nanami began to make his way to the upper levels of the centre. Yuuji followed, sticking close to his mentor. As confident and easy-going as the teen usually was, there was an air of opulence and rarified luxury here that was starting to make him feel small and very out of place. Looking around, he could see executives in expensive suits talking on their phones and people carrying shopping bags with hideously expensive name brands emblazoned on the front. He glanced down at his sneakers and discreetly tried to rub off a scuff mark against the back of his leg before glancing over at Nanami. The tall man showed no sign at all of slowing down, his stride elegant and assured, looking every bit as if he belonged in this setting. People parted ways to allow him to pass.

Eventually, he led them to what looked like a high-end steakhouse. The maître d’ stepped forward, his eyes roving intimidatingly over the two, and Yuuji was tempted for a minute to mutter apologies, scamper off and order a cheap slice of pizza somewhere. A firm hand on his shoulder stilled him and he felt a small sense of reassurance assert itself as Nanami’s deep voice sounded above his head, explaining that they had a reservation.

By the time they reached the table, Yuuji’s excitement was back.

“Wow! Look at the view from up here!”

“Hmm. A good view over the stadium. See that? That’s the stage where Takashima will be performing.”

“Ahh, so that’s why you chose this place.”

“Indeed. Reconnaissance. That, and the steak here is superb. We can see them work on putting up the stage props. That way, we’ll sense if anything deliberate is happening behind the scenes.”

With that, the sorcerer began to study the menu. The meal was, unsurprisingly, a fantastic experience. Nanami ordered them a selection of starters, steak for mains (with a carefully selected wine pairing for himself) and the most delicious chocolate dessert Yuuji had ever tasted. When they were done, the pink-haired boy sat back and sighed.

“How come we get to do all of this? Do the higher-ups really approve all the costs?”

Nanami sipped his wine before replying.

“Depends. If a proper motivation is provided, there’s no reason for them to refuse. Of course, this requires us to fill out a series of detailed documents that most jujutsu sorcerers don’t bother with.”

“But not you?”

“Have you forgotten my previous profession? Form-filling is my speciality. My paperwork is nothing less than exceptional and thorough. There is always solid evidence of what I need. If it is not approved, I log an official query that requires a lengthy board meeting and an extensive review of all documentation.” The corner of Nanami’s mouth crooked up in a small, rare smile. “It’s been some time since any of my requests were denied. Let it never be said that I’m not compliant.”   

Yuuji grinned in return and raised his glass of juice.

“Kanpai, Nanamin.”

There had been no sign of anything unusual during their late lunch and by the time they made their way down to the concert, the lower levels were already swarming with people. Looking around, Yuuji saw, unsurprisingly, that most of the crowd consisted of young women. They were chattering and laughing loudly, and everywhere he looked he saw faces alight with excitement. Contrary to the atmosphere that was growing around them, Yuuji’s concern spiked. There was potential danger lurking somewhere, and it would be difficult to detect in such a large mass of people.

Nanami steered him through the crowd to a separate entrance where fewer people had queued. This was the entry-point for those with VIP tickets. They were soon through the checkpoint and were directed by various ushers up a winding staircase to a wide outdoor box that spanned an entire floor. Although sheltered from the elements, the box projected overhead towards the stage, offering a perfect view of where the performance would take place. They took their seats, scanning their surroundings carefully. Thus far, there had still been no sign of elevated cursed energy.

“Yuuji, remember why you’re here.”

“Oh, right!”

Springing up, the youngster made his way around, using the allowance Nanami had given him to buy some merch and snacks from the vendors that were stationed against the back of the VIP box. He began to slowly make a circuit, pausing now and then to start casual conversation with others who were also making purchases. Soon enough, his friendly and open personality had drawn a few others into his orbit, and he compared merch, exchanged contact details, introduced people to his awesome ‘uncle’ and even found himself invited to an online fan-club of Ryo-ri’s. Eventually, he made his way back to Nanami.

The older sorcerer had been casually sipping a coffee, eyes taking in the stage and the members of the audience who had been filling into the main area below. He glanced up as Yuuji took his seat.

“Anything?”

“Nothing so far. Everyone seems pretty normal.”

“All right. When the performance starts, you focus on the stage. I’ll check the audience.”

A lesser-known girl band opened the concert, the energy of their performance doing a lot to hype up the crowd. Yuuji played his part very convincingly, shouting encouragement and applauding loudly. Nanami bit back a smile when he noticed that others were taking their cue from his lively ‘nephew’. The first act was followed by another group and then there was a slight lull, a sense of building anticipation as the main performance drew near.

“There he is,” Nanami muttered, as Ryo-ri bounded onto the stage to a cacophony of high-pitched screams and thunderous applause. The idol hitched up his baggy jeans and swaggered from one end to the other, delivering a series of compliments to his ‘beautiful’ audience and blowing a kiss that made some of the girls in the front row look like they were about to pass out in ecstasy. Ryo-ri started with what Yuuji recognised as the biggest hit from his second album, a high energy dance number that really got the crowd on its feet.

The pink-haired teen threw himself into his own act, starting up a glow-stick dance routine in the front row that the people around them soon joined in. Nanami shifted awkwardly. As much as he had encouraged Yuuji to act the part of the excited nephew, he should have foreseen how it would make him look in comparison. The girls behind them were quick enough to catch on, because they were soon shoving their extra glow-sticks into Nanami’s hands and encouraging him to get on his feet too. Yuuji turned and snorted with laughter.

“Just follow my lead, Nanamin! It’s easy, see?”

As he waved the glow-sticks around his head and turned on the spot, Nanami’s profound sense of existential horror soon settled into detachment as he went through the motions. He was just glad that Gojo wasn’t here to witness this debacle. Soon enough, it was time for the anticipated lottery announcement. Ryo-ri made a show of pulling a piece of paper from a large bowl that had been carried onto the stage and read the number of the winning ticket. One of the women in the front row screamed in excitement and the crowd parted to allow her entry to the stage. Burly security guards did a quick check of her person before showing her through. Yuuji slowed down his routine, pausing to take a sip of water and munch on a handful of popcorn, his eyes glued to the stage. Nanami used this momentary lull to mutter the word “bathroom” and make his way to the end of the VIP box. Here, the sorcerer paused, eyes scanning the crowd carefully through his dark glasses.

The young woman, presumably one of the secretly vetted members of the talent agency, climbed onto the stage. Her hand was placed over her mouth and her eyes shone with glistening disbelief as Ryo-ri took her hand and twirled her around, dropping her softly into a plush seat that someone had brought up at some point. She was certainly a good actor. The idol began to sing a crooning ballad, one of his more popular slow-paced songs, as he danced languidly around her. Nanami frowned as he began to sense a change in the crowd’s mood. On the surface, people were hooting and cheering at the display, but there were undercurrents of negative emotion that had begun to rise like a miasma over some portions of the audience. There could be no mistaking the general feeling.

Jealousy. Resentment. Longing.

What the sorcerer had not expected was the strength of the emotion being exhibited. Was it like this at every performance with an idol in high public demand?  

Not quite.

Ryo-ri was pretty avant-garde in his approach to gaining popularity. Nanami recalled what Yuuji had mentioned earlier in the car, about how the idol was not afraid of presenting an image that was quite risky in the Japanese entertainment industry. Inviting a fan on stage was not a common practice and it was understandable, judging from the sensations Nanami was getting from the audience. But then, this was what sold tickets and drew fans into a never-ending circle of unfulfilled desire. The sorcerer allowed his mind to sink into that meditative state that allowed him to spread his senses even further, more receptive to slight changes in cursed energy. As unpleasant as the sensation was, sickly sweet with underlying bitterness brushing against the edge of his mind, he observed the swathe of people below him with unerring focus.

Ryo-ri had upped the ante of his performance, twirling strands of the ‘lucky’ woman’s hair around his finger, gyrating sensually in front of her before dropping to his knees at her feet, one hand brushing gently across her ankle. Nanami felt distaste rise in his throat as the poisonous thrum of envy from the audience grew further. Those happy faces and the applause were so deceptive, considering the hidden depths of emotion some were allowing to fill their hearts, overflowing into the space around them.

And then, he felt it.

The swell of negative emotion grew like a wave, the spike of cursed energy at its peak so sharp and subtle, like a blade honed so fine that it passed painlessly across the skin, leaving blood blooming in its wake. Across the way, Nanami saw Yuuji mask his own reaction admirably, a tiny pause in his energetic waving as he sensed it too. Scanning the crowd, Nanami frowned as the minute trace of cursed energy was lost under the current of emotion once more. With a small signal to Yuuji to stay where he was and observe, the sorcerer made his way quickly and quietly down the stairs to the security check point. Here, people could move between the VIP box and the general area freely, as long as they displayed their pass when they returned.

He emerged into the crowd, the sights, smells and sounds assailing him, tugging at his awareness like a petulant child. Focusing ahead, Nanami began trawling, edging his way slowly and meticulously forward. Glancing up he saw Yuuji take a break from dancing and lean nonchalantly against the railing, sipping an iced drink, alert to what was happening on stage. Shoulders brushed and slid across his, Nanami’s height allowing him a fairly good view over the majority of the people around him.

And so it was that he felt it again, that sharp, tingling touch of poison, dangerous and chemical on the tongue, like the scent of paint-thinner that hung in the air of empty buildings. He turned towards the source, concealed eyes searching through the throng of people. Something was definitely here. Something cunning, something with a sinister awareness that slid away from the edges of one’s perception. Feeling the tension coil within his frame, Nanami pressed on.

Ryooo – riiiiii. Ryoutaaaaa. Ryo. Ryyyyo.

It rolls so nicely off the tongue. So sweet, so sweet. A sticky fruit candy on a hot summer’s day.

He’s up there, for all of us to see. Our eyes are crawling all over him, like many, many spotlights. How precious he is. Precious as a little pearl.

He’s definitely better than all the others. Gino was a looker, oh yes, but … there was something missing. That innocent little boy act? It got old so, so quickly. Yawn. And Kiko was great too, but then he couldn’t handle the fame and went away for a while. Ick. So uncool. But Ryooooo-riiiiii. Oh, Ryo-ri. He’s … different. He owns the stage.   

His hair is shiny as tinsel under those lights, and his eyes! Oh, his blue eyes are focused and so, so dreamy. And look, look at his shirt. So translucent with sweat. Delicious.

Ryooutaaaaa. Why won’t he look this way? It’s so unfair. If he could just see me … maybe he’d be the one who wouldn’t be able to look away. Wouldn’t that be lovely?

Tiny little trickles of sweat, from his brow and upper lip. How nice if he could wipe it away and smile, right into my eyes, with that look. That look. The one in his photos, the one that makes me feel so … present. So solid. Oh yes, Ryo-ri is perfect. He’ll do.  

Last month, his sneakers were orange. Orange! Imagine, such a bright, garish colour. But Ryo-ri makes it work, somehow. He always looks so tasty. Nobody can pull off orange shoes like Ryo-ri.

But, but, what’s this? Who? Who’s here?

Is someone here to stop me? I won’t let that happen. Who is it? They can try, hahahaha! Nobody has stopped me before and they won’t now.

Wait … something’s different. Something is searching. Careful now. This doesn’t feel like anything good. I feel eyes, but different. And a presence. A strong one. Who, who is it? Where? Careful.

There! I see him. He’s coming this way. I can’t let him … who is this anyway? How dare he. I want to crush him like a stupid little bug. Like that bitch on stage, that ugly, lying, cheating, stupid, stupid, stupid little bitch. Both of them.

He’s coming closer. No, no, I can’t let this happen. Careful. Don’t get angry. Don’t let him find us.

He’s here! He’s right here. Something’s not … he’s dangerous! Get away! He’s turning this way! I can see his face! He’s … oh.

Oh.