#hope i got the details right i always seem to miss a few when drawing ur concepts lol

[okasuka]

The sketches between us - Damian wayne x reader.

Part 1: The Classroom Encounter

The classroom buzzed with quiet energy as students worked on their art projects. The assignment was simple: depict your relationship with Gotham. Most kids were drawing familiar landmarks or simple cityscapes, but Damian Wayne was lost in his own world, completely immersed in his sketch.

You sat a few desks away, idly blending charcoal on your paper, when you noticed Damian’s intensity. Unlike the other students, who traded jokes and compared sketches, he worked silently, his pencil moving with laser focus. It wasn’t the first time you’d noticed Damian’s talent, but something about his quiet dedication today drew you in.

Curiosity got the better of you. Setting your project aside, you slid into the empty seat next to him. “Mind if I see what you’re working on?” you asked, your voice soft enough not to startle him.

Damian stiffened, his hand pausing mid-stroke. He turned his head slightly, his sharp green eyes narrowing. “I do mind,” he replied curtly.

You grinned, unfazed by his bluntness. “Too bad,” you said, leaning over just enough to catch a glimpse of his sketch. “Wow. That’s incredible.”

He sighed, clearly annoyed but too prideful to stop you from looking. “If you’re going to hover, at least don’t smudge anything,” he muttered, pulling the sketchpad closer to himself.

You ignored his irritation, your gaze fixed on the drawing. It was Gotham—but not the Gotham you were used to seeing. Damian had captured the city’s skyline in intricate detail, but there was an unexpected warmth to it. Light spilled through windows, and the streets seemed alive, almost hopeful.

“It’s not what I expected,” you said after a moment.

Damian frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean it’s… different. Gotham always feels so harsh, but this feels—” you paused, searching for the right word, “—gentler. Like you’re showing the city how you see it, not how it actually is.”

He stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he said, “That’s the point. Gotham is more than what people assume.”

“Fair enough,” you said, sitting back a little but not moving away. “You’re really good, you know.”

“Obviously,” Damian replied, though the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Part 2: Small Talk and Sketches

For the next few minutes, you watched in silence as Damian continued to draw. His pencil strokes were precise, deliberate, as if every line held meaning. The classroom noise faded into the background, replaced by the soft scratch of graphite on paper.

“You always draw this kind of stuff?” you asked eventually.

“Not always,” he replied without looking up. “Sometimes I draw people.”

“Like portraits?”

“Sometimes.” He hesitated before adding, “Animals, too.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess—Titus?”

He glanced at you, clearly surprised. “How do you know about Titus?”

“Everyone knows about Titus,” you said with a shrug. “You bring him to school sometimes, don’t you?”

“Rarely,” Damian admitted, turning back to his sketch. “But he’s better company than most people.”

“Can’t argue with that,” you said with a grin. “So, do you ever draw classmates? Teachers? Random strangers on the street?”

Damian snorted. “Why would I waste my time on people like that?”

“Not even Bruce?” you teased.

His hand faltered slightly, and he shot you a sharp look. “Father has better things to do than pose for portraits.”

“Fair enough,” you said, though you couldn’t resist adding, “I think he’d like it, though. You’re good at capturing the parts of people most people miss.”

Damian didn’t reply, but you noticed the faintest flush of color on his cheeks.

Part 3: Bruce Notices

Unbeknownst to either of you, Bruce Wayne stood at the back of the classroom, arms crossed as he observed the scene. He had volunteered to assist with the art class as part of his ongoing efforts to support Damian’s school, though he had mostly stayed in the background. Seeing Damian interact with someone—genuinely, without his usual wall of sarcasm or indifference—was a rare sight.

Bruce approached slowly, making just enough noise to avoid startling either of you. “That’s an impressive sketch,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the quiet.

You both turned to look at him. Damian scowled immediately. “Father, don’t you have something else to do?”

Bruce ignored the question and nodded toward the sketchpad. “I didn’t know you were working on Gotham.”

“It’s for the assignment,” Damian said tersely.

“And you’ve clearly exceeded expectations,” Bruce said, his tone almost proud. Then he looked at you. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Bruce Wayne.”

“Y/N,” you said, standing to shake his hand. “I’m in Damian’s class. It’s nice to meet you.”

Bruce smiled faintly, his handshake firm but polite. “Likewise. I can see you and Damian have been working well together.”

Damian huffed. “We’re not working together. Y/N is just nosy.”

You grinned at that. “Guilty as charged.”

Bruce’s gaze lingered on the two of you for a moment before he said, “You should join us for dinner tonight, Y/N.”

Damian’s eyes widened slightly. “What? Why?”

“Because I’d like to get to know your friend,” Bruce said simply. “And it’s not every day you let someone sit this close to you while you’re drawing.”

You looked at Damian, whose expression was a mix of irritation and embarrassment, and then back at Bruce. “I’d love to.”

Part 4: Conversations on the Ride Home

The school day ended not long after the art class, and Damian found himself walking alongside you as Bruce led the way to his sleek black car parked out front. The moment felt strange to him. Normally, he preferred his solitude, but something about your energy made the silence less stifling.

You matched his pace easily, your bag slung casually over your shoulder. “So, does your dad always just invite random classmates over for dinner, or am I special?” you teased.

Damian shot you a sidelong glance. “You’re not special,” he said, but there was no venom in his tone. “He’s always trying to… ‘socialize’ me.” He rolled his eyes at the word.

You grinned. “Well, you could use the practice.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t need practice. I know how to talk to people. I just choose not to.”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” you said, your grin widening. “So, do you have anything else you’re good at besides being mysteriously antisocial and really good at art?”

Damian bristled slightly at the comment, but your tone wasn’t mocking. If anything, you sounded genuinely curious. “I’m skilled at… a lot of things,” he said vaguely.

“Cryptic,” you replied. “Let me guess—archery? Chess? Fencing?”

His expression remained neutral. “Something like that.”

You smirked. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop prying. I’ll tell you something about me instead.”

Damian didn’t respond, but his curious glance was enough encouragement for you to continue. “I box,” you said, almost casually. “And I play football—soccer, if you prefer. What about you? Any sports?”

Damian’s brow furrowed. “You box?” he asked, his tone laced with skepticism.

“Yeah,” you said, raising your chin slightly. “What, I don’t look like I can throw a punch?”

“It’s not that,” Damian said quickly, though his expression remained critical. “It’s just… most people your age don’t.”

“Maybe not,” you said with a shrug. “But I like it. It’s good for focus and discipline, and it helps me stay in shape for football.”

Damian’s interest piqued despite himself. “And football? What position do you play?”

“Midfielder,” you said, your voice tinged with pride. “I like being in the center of the action. What about you? Do you play anything?”

Damian hesitated. It wasn’t as though he could tell you about the hours he spent sparring in the Batcave or his experience in martial arts tournaments across the globe. “I don’t play team sports,” he said finally. “But I do train.”

“Train for what?” you asked, intrigued.

“Self-defense,” he replied, keeping his answer deliberately vague.

“Ah,” you said, nodding. “That makes sense. You strike me as someone who likes to be prepared.”

Damian glanced at you again, surprised by your observation. “And you strike me as someone who asks a lot of questions.”

“I ask because I’m curious,” you said with a shrug. “But I’ll stop if I’m annoying you.”

“You’re not,” Damian admitted, almost grudgingly.

Part 5: Arrival at the Manor

The car ride to Wayne Manor was surprisingly comfortable. You and Damian continued to talk, the conversation flowing easily despite his usual reluctance to engage. By the time the car pulled up to the grand gates of the Wayne estate, you found yourself marveling at how much you’d learned about him—and how much you’d enjoyed his company.

Bruce glanced at the two of you through the rearview mirror, a small smile tugging at his lips as he noted the unusual ease in Damian’s demeanor. “Welcome to Wayne Manor,” he said as the gates opened and the car rolled up the long driveway.

Your eyes widened as the sprawling estate came into view. “Wow,” you said softly. “This is… insane.”

Damian smirked, crossing his arms. “It’s just a house.”

You shot him a look. “Just a house? Are you kidding? It’s practically a castle!”

Bruce chuckled as he parked the car. “It’s been in the family for generations,” he said. “But I admit, it can be a bit overwhelming at first.”

The three of you stepped out of the car, and Alfred appeared at the front door to greet you. “Master Bruce, Master Damian,” he said with his usual impeccable poise before turning to you. “And you must be Miss Y/N. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” you said, still taking in your surroundings.

As you walked inside, Damian gestured toward the staircase. “The dining room is this way. Try not to get lost.”

You laughed. “I’ll do my best.”

Damian glanced at you again, his expression softer than usual. He wouldn’t admit it—not yet, anyway—but he found himself genuinely enjoying your company. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t mind someone being in his space.

Part 6: Quiet Moments in Damian’s Room

Damian’s room was as meticulously organized as you would have expected. Everything had its place—shelves lined with books, a desk free of clutter except for a stack of sketchpads, and a neatly made bed. The only thing that seemed slightly out of place was Titus, his giant black Great Dane, who lay sprawled comfortably on the floor near Damian’s desk.

You sat cross-legged on the floor beside Damian’s chair, leaning slightly forward to peer over his shoulder as he sketched. Once again, Gotham’s skyline took shape under his steady hand, but this time there was a new element—tiny figures in the foreground, a vague suggestion of life amid the towering buildings.

“You’re adding people this time,” you observed.

Damian didn’t pause. “Gotham isn’t just buildings. It’s the people who live there, too.”

You smiled at his response. “True. But I didn’t think you’d care enough to include them.”

He shot you a sidelong glance, his lips twitching upward ever so slightly. “Don’t overanalyze it. It’s just a drawing.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, grinning. “Sure it is.”

Before Damian could retort, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway outside his room. A moment later, the door swung open, and Dick Grayson’s head poked inside.

“Hey, little D,” Dick began, his cheerful tone carrying into the room. “Bruce sent me up to—oh.” He froze mid-sentence, his gaze shifting to you and then to Damian. A slow, mischievous smile spread across his face. “What’s this?”

Damian groaned audibly, his pencil freezing on the page. “What do you want, Grayson?”

Dick ignored the question and stepped fully into the room, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Am I interrupting something? You’ve got company, and she’s… what? Watching you draw? That’s new.”

You smirked, sitting back slightly but not moving from your spot. “Hi, you must be Dick. I’m Y/N.”

Dick’s grin widened. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ve gotta say, this is the first time I’ve seen Damian let someone into his sacred art space.”

“She invited herself,” Damian muttered, resuming his sketch with an exaggerated sigh.

“And you didn’t kick her out?” Dick teased, feigning shock. “Wow. You must really like her.”

Damian’s pencil stilled again, and he glared at his brother. “I don’t have time for your nonsense.”

“Sure you don’t,” Dick said, winking at you. “Anyway, I came up here to tell you dinner’s ready. Bruce is waiting, and you know how he gets if people are late.”

“Fine,” Damian said tersely, closing his sketchpad with deliberate care. “We’re coming.”

Dick stepped aside, gesturing grandly for the two of you to follow him. “After you, lovebirds.”

Damian shot him another glare as he got up, but you couldn’t help laughing. “I like him,” you said to Damian as you walked past Dick. “He’s fun.”

“You won’t think that for long,” Damian muttered darkly, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

Part 7: Dinner with the Waynes

The dining room at Wayne Manor was as grand as everything else in the house, with a long table stretching nearly the length of the room. Bruce sat at the head, Alfred hovering nearby to serve, and a plate was already set for you beside Damian’s usual seat.

As you all settled in, the conversation was lively, thanks to Dick’s relentless teasing and the occasional sharp remark from Damian. Tim Drake had joined as well, making the room feel even more animated. You couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed, but Damian’s presence beside you was oddly grounding.

“So, Y/N,” Dick said halfway through the meal, “how did you end up spending the afternoon with Damian? Did he actually invite you, or did you have to bribe him?”

“I didn’t have to do anything,” you said with a laugh. “I just sat next to him in art class and wouldn’t go away.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at that. “And he let you?”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing at Damian. “I think he secretly enjoys the company.”

Damian’s fork clattered against his plate. “I do not.”

Dick snorted. “Sure you don’t, little bro.”

“Leave him alone, Dick,” Tim chimed in with a smirk. “He’s probably just glad someone’s finally willing to put up with him.”

Damian shot Tim a glare but didn’t rise to the bait, instead turning to you. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Only when I’m having fun,” you said brightly.

For a moment, Damian looked as though he wasn’t sure how to respond. But then, to your surprise, he smirked faintly and said, “That’s a first.”

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of banter and laughter, and by the time it was over, you felt surprisingly at ease. It was clear that Damian’s family cared deeply for him, even if they showed it in unconventional ways.

Part 8: Dinner and Teasing

Dinner at Wayne Manor was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. The food was incredible, Alfred’s presence was impeccably calm, and the dining room itself felt like something out of a movie. But it wasn’t the grandeur of the setting that stood out the most—it was the energy at the table.

Dick couldn’t seem to stop teasing Damian, much to your amusement.

“So, Y/N,” Dick said with a sly grin as he twirled his fork, “what exactly is it that you find so interesting about my little brother? His sparkling personality? His incredible sense of humor?”

Damian stiffened in his seat, his knife scraping a little too hard against his plate. “Grayson,” he growled, “if you keep this up, I’ll make sure Titus chews on your boots again.”

“You already tried that,” Dick shot back, unfazed. “You forget I’m faster than Titus.”

You chuckled, but before you could respond, Dick leaned in conspiratorially. “Seriously though, you’ve got to tell me—what’s the appeal? I mean, I know he’s secretly a softie, but it must take some serious effort to get past that shell of his.”

Damian’s ears turned a faint shade of red, and he glared at Dick. “Stop talking.”

“See?” Dick said with exaggerated enthusiasm. “So charming.”

“I’m just persistent,” you said with a grin. “And honestly, I think he secretly likes having someone around who doesn’t take him too seriously.”

Damian’s glare shifted to you, but his expression softened ever so slightly. “You’re both insufferable.”

“Aw, he thinks we’re alike,” Dick said, nudging you playfully. “That’s high praise coming from him.”

The teasing continued throughout the meal, with Tim occasionally chiming in, much to Damian’s annoyance. But despite his grumbles and glares, you could tell he wasn’t truly upset. If anything, he seemed almost—dare you think it—comfortable.

When the plates were cleared, Bruce stood, thanking Alfred for the meal. “Damian, Y/N, feel free to use the library if you’d like,” he said before heading toward his study.

“You mean my library,” Damian corrected under his breath, rising from his seat. “Come on,” he said to you, his tone slightly begrudging but not unfriendly.

Part 9: The Wayne Library

The Wayne Manor library was massive, with towering shelves filled with books of every kind. The warm lighting and the faint smell of aged paper gave it a cozy, almost magical atmosphere.

“Wow,” you said, spinning slowly as you took it all in. “This is… incredible.”

“It’s just a library,” Damian said, echoing his earlier dismissal of the manor itself. But there was a faint note of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, but it’s your library,” you said, grinning as you wandered over to one of the shelves. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Damian sat down on one of the plush armchairs by the fireplace, pulling a book from the nearby table. “That depends on what you’re interested in.”

You scanned the shelves for a moment before picking out a random book and flopping into the chair across from him. “I think I’ll just see where this takes me.”

For a while, the two of you read in companionable silence. The crackling of the fireplace and the sheer comfort of the room made the moment feel peaceful, almost intimate.

After a while, you looked up from your book, breaking the quiet. “Hey, Damian,” you said, trying to keep a straight face, “what do you call a book club full of superheroes?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “What?”

“A Justice Reads League.”

The silence that followed was deafening. For a moment, Damian just stared at you, his face blank. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a short laugh—sharp and quick, but genuine.

“That was terrible,” he said, shaking his head, but there was a small smile on his lips.

“I know,” you said, laughing as well. “That’s what makes it great.”

The laughter lingered between the two of you, a warm, light feeling that seemed to fill the space. Damian closed his book, leaning back in his chair as he looked at you.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said, but his tone lacked its usual bite.

“And yet, here we are,” you replied, grinning.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The warmth of the room and the shared laughter seemed to settle into something deeper, something unspoken. You didn’t have to say it aloud to know that, somehow, this quiet evening in the library had brought you closer.

Part 10: Shared Moments in the Library

As the evening stretched on, the two of you remained in the library, the warmth of the fireplace making the vast room feel cozy and intimate. Damian had closed his book entirely by now, his attention subtly shifting toward you. There was something different about the way he looked at you—not with his usual guarded expression, but with a quiet curiosity.

“You spend a lot of time laughing,” Damian said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Is that a bad thing?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him.

“No,” he said after a pause. “I just don’t get it. How can you find so much… joy in things?”

His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability that caught you off guard.

You leaned back in your chair, considering your answer. “I guess… I just think life’s better when you don’t take it too seriously. There’s so much we can’t control, but if you can find little things to enjoy, it makes the hard stuff easier to handle.”

Damian frowned slightly, as though turning your words over in his mind. “That’s… naive,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness.

“Maybe,” you replied with a shrug. “But I’d rather be naive and happy than miserable all the time.”

He didn’t respond, but the faintest hint of a smile flickered across his lips.

Before either of you could say more, Bruce appeared in the doorway. “It’s getting late,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Y/N, I called your parents. They’re fine with you staying the night since it’s so late.”

“Oh,” you said, sitting up straight. “Thanks, Mr. Wayne. That’s really nice of you.”

Bruce gave a small nod. “Unfortunately, most of the guest rooms are under repair, so you’ll have to share Damian’s room tonight.”

Damian stiffened, his eyes widening slightly. “What?”

“Just for tonight,” Bruce said calmly, ignoring Damian’s reaction. “There’s plenty of space in your room. Make sure Y/N has everything she needs.”

Before Damian could argue, Bruce turned and left, leaving the two of you in stunned silence.

Part 11: Sharing a Space

Damian led you back to his room, his jaw tight as though he were holding back a thousand protests. You followed, unsure whether to feel amused or awkward.

When you stepped into his room again, the familiar tidy space felt different somehow. The knowledge that you’d be spending the night there made the air feel heavier.

“You can take the bed,” Damian said stiffly, gesturing toward it.

“And where are you going to sleep?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll take the floor,” he said firmly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said, crossing your arms. “We can both fit on the bed. It’s huge.”

Damian hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. He looked like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find a logical reason to. “Fine,” he muttered.

“Great,” you said with a smile, trying to ease the tension.

As you set your bag down, you realized something. “Uh… I don’t have anything to sleep in.”

Damian blinked, then turned to his dresser. Without a word, he pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a plain black T-shirt, handing them to you. “These should work,” he said, his voice clipped.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the clothes.

You quickly changed in the adjoining bathroom, the oversized shirt and sweatpants feeling surprisingly comfortable. When you stepped back into the room, Damian was already on the bed, sitting stiffly against the headboard and looking anywhere but at you.

Part 12: Awkward Proximity

You climbed onto the bed and settled on the other side, making sure to leave a respectful amount of space between you. Damian turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness, save for the faint glow of moonlight streaming through the curtains.

For a while, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching out like a fragile thread.

“Do you do this a lot?” Damian asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

“Do what?” you whispered back.

“Stay up late talking to people,” he said.

You smiled faintly. “Not really. Most people aren’t that interesting.”

“Interesting,” he repeated, the word laced with a hint of skepticism. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before.”

“Well, you are,” you said honestly. “You just don’t let people see it.”

Damian didn’t respond, but the soft sound of his breath told you he was still awake. Slowly, the silence returned, and as the minutes passed, you both drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Part 13: Tangled in the Morning

When you woke the next morning, it took you a moment to realize where you were. The sunlight streaming through the windows painted the room in soft gold, and the faint sound of birds chirping outside added to the surreal feeling.

It wasn’t until you tried to move that you realized something was different.

Damian’s arm was draped across your waist, his face resting just inches from yours. Your legs were tangled together, and his warm breath brushed against your skin with every exhale.

Your heart skipped a beat, your body frozen in place. For all his sharp edges and stubborn pride, Damian looked impossibly peaceful in his sleep.

As if sensing your movement, his eyes fluttered open. He blinked once, then twice, before realizing the situation.

His face turned crimson, and he scrambled back, nearly falling off the bed. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, sitting up and smoothing your hair. “It was just… I guess we moved around in our sleep.”

Damian avoided your gaze, his usual composure shattered. “It won’t happen again,” he said stiffly.

You couldn’t help but smile at his awkwardness. “Relax, Damian. It’s not a big deal.”

He glanced at you then, his expression softening just a fraction. “You’re… weirdly calm about this.”

“That’s because I don’t take things too seriously, remember?” you said, echoing your words from the night before.

A small, reluctant smile tugged at his lips. For a moment, the awkwardness melted away, leaving only the quiet understanding that something between the two of you had shifted.

And neither of you could deny that it felt… right.

Part 14: The Morning After

The silence in the room stretched on as Damian sat stiffly at the edge of the bed, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. You stayed where you were, unsure whether to laugh at his obvious discomfort or try to make things less awkward.

Titus, who had been curled up by the door all night, took the opportunity to lumber over and rest his giant head on the bed, wagging his tail. You reached out to scratch behind his ears, grateful for the distraction.

“So,” you said lightly, “do mornings here usually start with awkward near-panic, or is this a special occasion?”

Damian turned his head sharply to glare at you, but there was no real heat in his expression. “You think this is funny?”

“A little,” you admitted with a grin. “I mean, it’s not like anything happened. You don’t have to act like I’m going to tell the whole school or something.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Damian muttered, though the way he averted his gaze suggested otherwise.

“Good,” you said, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “Because honestly, it’s kind of nice to see you not be perfect for once. Makes you a little more relatable.”

“Relatable,” Damian repeated flatly. “Because that’s what I strive for.”

You laughed, and for a moment, his lips quirked upward in a reluctant smile.

Before the moment could stretch too far, there was a knock at the door, and Dick’s voice called out from the hallway.

“Good morning, lovebirds! Breakfast is ready, if you’re done with your… slumber party.”

Damian groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’m going to kill him,” he muttered.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter this time, and you got up to head for the bathroom. “I’ll give you a head start. I just need to fix my hair first.”

Part 15: Breakfast Banter

When you and Damian finally made it downstairs, the rest of the Wayne family was already gathered around the breakfast table. Dick was, unsurprisingly, the first to notice your arrival.

“Well, if it isn’t Gotham’s newest dynamic duo,” he said with a grin, gesturing to the empty seats.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Bruce said, giving you a polite nod as he sipped his coffee.

“Morning, Mr. Wayne,” you replied, feeling a little self-conscious under his calm gaze.

Tim raised an eyebrow as you sat down beside Damian. “So, how was sharing a room with the Demon Spawn?”

“Tim,” Bruce said sharply, though there was no real bite to his tone.

“It was fine,” you said, smiling innocently. “Though I don’t think Damian’s used to sharing his personal space.”

“I’m not,” Damian said curtly, grabbing a plate and loading it with food.

Dick smirked. “Aw, come on, little D. I bet you were a perfect gentleman.”

Damian shot him a glare. “Grayson, don’t you have anything better to do than stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?”

“Nope,” Dick said cheerfully.

You couldn’t help but laugh at their banter, feeling surprisingly at ease despite the teasing. It was clear that, for all their quirks, the Waynes were a family in their own chaotic way.

Part 16: A Quiet Goodbye

After breakfast, Bruce offered to have Alfred drive you home, and while you agreed, a part of you felt reluctant to leave.

Damian walked you to the car, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. Neither of you said much at first, the silence stretching between you like it had the night before—only this time, it wasn’t awkward. It was… comfortable.

“Thanks for letting me stay over,” you said as you reached the car.

Damian shrugged. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“Still,” you said, leaning against the car door, “it was nice.”

He looked at you then, his green eyes unreadable. “You’re not… terrible company.”

“Wow,” you said, grinning. “High praise coming from you.”

He rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

As Alfred opened the car door, you hesitated for a moment, then leaned closer to Damian. “I meant what I said last night, you know. You’re more interesting than you give yourself credit for.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his expression carefully neutral. But as you climbed into the car and the door closed behind you, you caught a glimpse of something softer in his eyes—a quiet acknowledgment that your words had meant something to him.

Part 17: Tangled Thoughts

As Alfred drove you home, you replayed the events of the night in your mind. The teasing at dinner, the quiet moments in the library, waking up tangled together in his bed—it all felt strangely significant, like the beginning of something you couldn’t quite define.

And as you glanced back at Wayne Manor disappearing in the distance, you couldn’t help but wonder if Damian was thinking the same thing.

Part 18: Cornered After Class

The next day at school had been uneventful—for the most part. Classes had gone by in the usual blur, but you couldn’t help but notice that Damian seemed quieter than usual. Sure, he was never the most talkative, but today, he seemed… distracted.

As the final bell rang and you packed up your things, you decided to head toward the school courtyard to meet Damian. You didn’t have to go far, though, because as you turned the corner, you saw him near the lockers.

And he wasn’t alone.

A group of older students had cornered him, their mocking laughter echoing through the hallway.

“Hey, Wayne,” one of them sneered, shoving Damian’s shoulder. “What’s it like being a rich kid who thinks he’s better than everyone else?”

Damian didn’t flinch or react. He just stood there, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed somewhere over the bully’s shoulder. His composure was absolute, but you could tell he was annoyed.

“What? Too good to talk to us?” another guy jeered, stepping closer.

“Maybe he’s just scared,” one of the others said, laughing.

You felt your blood boil. Damian wasn’t scared—he was deliberately ignoring them, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. But you weren’t about to let this slide.

Without thinking, you stormed forward, your voice cutting through the laughter.

“Hey! Leave him alone.”

The group turned to look at you, sizing you up with matching sneers.

“Oh, look, the little guy’s got backup,” one of them said mockingly. “What are you gonna do, princess?”

“I’m gonna give you a reason to leave,” you snapped, stepping closer.

“Y/N, don’t—” Damian started, his voice calm but warning.

But it was too late.

Part 19: A Lesson in Pain

The first punch landed square on the biggest guy’s jaw, the crack echoing in the hallway. He staggered back, clutching his face, while the others stared at you in shock.

“You just made a big mistake,” another one growled, lunging toward you.

But you were ready. You ducked his swing and delivered a sharp uppercut to his stomach, making him double over. Your foot shot out next, sweeping his legs out from under him.

“Y/N, stop,” Damian said again, stepping toward you, but his voice was still measured.

One of the other bullies tried to grab your arm, but you twisted free and delivered a hard elbow to his face. Blood spattered as he stumbled back, swearing under his breath.

“Enough!” one of them shouted, backing away. “You’re crazy!”

“You’re lucky I’m stopping now,” you snapped, glaring at them. “If I ever see you messing with Damian again, you’ll get worse. Got it?”

The group exchanged panicked glances before turning and running, their shouts of anger fading as they disappeared down the hallway.

Part 20: Aftermath

You turned to Damian, breathing hard, your knuckles aching from the impact. He stood there, his expression unreadable, but there was a strange glint in his eyes.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said finally, his tone calm.

“Yeah, well, someone had to,” you shot back, flexing your sore fingers. “They were jerks, Damian. You shouldn’t just let them treat you like that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I had it under control.”

“By standing there and doing nothing?” you asked incredulously.

“I was assessing the situation,” he replied, his voice as level as ever. “Reacting emotionally isn’t always the best approach.”

“Well, maybe not, but it worked, didn’t it?” you countered. “They’re gone, and they’re not coming back anytime soon.”

Damian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You didn’t have to get involved.”

“Of course I did,” you said firmly. “That’s what friends do.”

At the word “friends,” Damian hesitated. His gaze softened slightly, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words.

Finally, he said, “You’re… different.”

“Thanks?” you said, unsure whether that was a compliment.

“I mean it,” he continued. “Most people either avoid me or try too hard to impress me. You just… do what you want.”

“Well, someone has to keep you on your toes,” you said with a small smile.

Damian allowed a faint smirk to tug at the corner of his mouth. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re welcome,” you said, bumping his shoulder lightly as you started walking toward the exit.

Part 21: A Quiet Moment

The two of you walked in silence for a while, the tension from the fight slowly ebbing away. As you reached the gates of the school, Damian finally spoke again.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “not many people would have done what you did.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, shrugging, “you’re not exactly like most people, either.”

He looked at you, his green eyes searching yours for something you couldn’t quite name. Then, after a moment, he said, “Thank you.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. “Anytime,” you said, smiling. “But next time, maybe don’t let them corner you in the first place.”

“I didn’t let them,” he said defensively. “I was waiting for the right moment to—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you interrupted, laughing. “Sure you were.”

Damian rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. As the two of you walked side by side, the unspoken bond between you felt stronger than ever.

Part 22: The Question

Later that evening, after the chaos of the day had settled, you were sprawled across your bed, scrolling through your phone. You had half a mind to text Damian, maybe tease him about his stoic response to the fight earlier. But before you could decide, your phone buzzed with a message.

Damian: Why do you try so hard with me?

You blinked at the screen, momentarily stunned by the sudden bluntness of the question. Leave it to Damian to dive straight into the deep end without so much as a warning.

For a moment, you considered giving a serious, heartfelt response. But then you thought better of it. That wasn’t how you and Damian worked—not entirely, anyway.

You: Wow, straight to the point, huh? What happened to small talk?

His reply came almost instantly.

Damian: I don’t believe in wasting time. Answer the question.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. Typical Damian. You hesitated, then typed out your response.

You: Because someone has to. You’ve got this whole broody, loner thing going on, and it’s exhausting just watching you.

You didn’t expect him to reply right away, but your phone buzzed almost immediately.

Damian: So I’m a project to you.

You: No, you’re not a project. You’re just… you. And you’re interesting, even if you don’t want to admit it.

This time, there was a longer pause before his next message.

Damian: Most people would’ve given up by now.

You: Good thing I’m not most people. ;)

You could almost imagine him rolling his eyes at the text, and the thought made you smile.

Part 23: The Night Unfolds

From there, the conversation shifted. You sent him a meme you thought he’d hate, and to your surprise, he responded with a scathing critique that was almost as funny as the meme itself.

Damian: This is the lowest form of humor. You should be ashamed of yourself.

You: Admit it, you laughed.

Damian: I did not.

You: Liar.

Despite his protests, he started sending you memes of his own—ones that were somehow simultaneously overly intellectual and completely ridiculous. You found yourself laughing so hard that your sides hurt.

As the night stretched on, the two of you traded jokes, shared random observations about life, and even debated the merits of pineapple on pizza (he was vehemently against it; you were firmly in favor).

You: You’re wrong. Pineapple on pizza is amazing.

Damian: It’s an abomination.

You: You’re an abomination.

Damian: Creative. Truly cutting-edge wit.

You: Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night.

Part 24: Something More

At some point, the tone of the conversation shifted.

Damian: Why do you laugh so much?

The question caught you off guard, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Damian always had a way of cutting through the surface and going straight to the heart of things.

You: Because life’s too short not to.

Damian: Even when it’s hard?

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard.

You: Especially when it’s hard. Laughing doesn’t mean ignoring the bad stuff. It just means not letting it win.

There was a long pause before his next message.

Damian: I think I understand that.

You: Good. Because you could stand to laugh more. It’s good for you.

Damian: I laugh.

You: Sure, in a brooding, vaguely menacing way.

Damian: Is there any other way?

You laughed softly, shaking your head.

Part 25: The Unspoken Connection

By the time the clock struck midnight, the two of you were still texting. The topics ranged from your favorite movies to Damian’s hilariously specific pet peeves, like people who misuse commas.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so at ease with someone, and judging by the fact that Damian hadn’t abruptly ended the conversation, you guessed he felt the same.

As your eyes grew heavy, you sent him one last message.

You: Goodnight, Damian. Thanks for making me laugh tonight.

His reply came almost instantly.

Damian: Goodnight, Y/N. Thanks for… everything.

You smiled at the screen, your chest feeling inexplicably warm. For someone who claimed to be so closed off, Damian had a way of making you feel like you mattered.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you’d found something rare in him. Something worth holding onto.

Part 26: The Argument

It had started out as a normal afternoon. You and Damian were hanging out in your usual spot after school, exchanging dry remarks and teasing each other like always. But somewhere along the line, the conversation took a turn.

“I don’t get why you’re always so reckless,” Damian said, arms crossed as he leaned against a wall. “You don’t think things through. Like with those guys yesterday. You could’ve gotten hurt.”

You rolled your eyes. “I wasn’t about to let them treat you like that, Damian. What was I supposed to do? Just stand there and watch?”

“Yes,” he said, his tone sharp. “I didn’t need your help. I had it under control.”

“Right, because standing there like a statue was totally working,” you shot back. “Face it, Damian, you can’t handle the idea of someone else helping you. It’s like your ego can’t take it.”

Damian’s expression darkened, his green eyes flashing. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You think you’re helping, but all you’re doing is making things worse.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, but you didn’t back down. “I was trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection,” he snapped. “You’re not some hero, Y/N. You’re just a kid who doesn’t know when to stay out of things.”

The words hit you like a slap. For a moment, you just stared at him, your hands clenching into fists at your sides.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, your voice trembling with anger. “I didn’t realize I was such a burden. Guess I’ll just stop caring, then.”

Before he could respond, you swung your fist, hitting him square in the chest. He barely flinched, but the impact was enough to make you step back, breathing hard.

Damian didn’t move. He just stood there, his jaw tight, his hands at his sides. “If that makes you feel better, fine,” he said quietly.

It didn’t. Not really. But you didn’t say that. Instead, you turned on your heel and walked away, ignoring the way your heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice.

Part 27: The Apology

That night, your phone buzzed with a message. You ignored it at first, still too upset to deal with whatever Damian had to say. But when it buzzed again, curiosity got the better of you.

Damian: I’m sorry.

You stared at the screen, your anger flickering like a dying flame.

Damian: I shouldn’t have said that. You’re not a burden. You’re the opposite of that.

Another message followed a moment later.

Damian: I’ll make it up to you. Anywhere you want to go, I’ll take you. My treat.

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Finally, you typed out a response.

You: Anywhere?

Damian: Anywhere.

Part 28: The Comic Shop

The next day, Damian was waiting outside your house, dressed in his usual dark hoodie and jeans.

“A comic book shop?” he asked skeptically as you led the way down the street.

“You said anywhere,” you replied with a grin. “And this is where I want to go.”

The moment you stepped inside, the familiar smell of old paper and ink washed over you. Rows of colorful covers lined the walls, and you couldn’t help the excitement that bubbled up inside you.

“Oh my gosh, they have the new issue of Nightwing: Legends!” you said, practically bouncing on your toes.

Damian raised an eyebrow. “You’re seriously geeking out over this?”

“Yes,” you said, grabbing the comic and hugging it to your chest. “Don’t judge me.”

He smirked. “Too late.”

You wandered through the aisles, pointing out your favorite series and rattling off obscure trivia about the characters. Damian trailed behind you, his usual stoicism replaced by a faint look of amusement.

Part 29: The Confession

As you reached the checkout counter, you glanced at Damian, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Sorry if I was being weird back there,” you said, setting your stack of comics on the counter.

“You weren’t being weird,” he said, tilting his head.

You sighed. “Yes, I was. It’s just… this stuff makes me happy, you know? And I guess I wanted to share that with you.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he asked, “Why?”

You hesitated, your cheeks warming. “Because I like you, okay? And not just as a friend. I like you in the… more-than-friends way.”

Damian’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t look away. “You like me?”

“Yes, Damian,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I like you. Even when you’re being a jerk. Especially when you’re being a jerk, apparently.”

To your surprise, a small smile tugged at his lips. “You have terrible taste.”

You laughed, relief flooding through you. “Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me now.”

“Good,” he said softly.

And as the two of you left the shop, your bag full of comics and your heart lighter than it had been in days, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something amazing.

Part 30: Damian’s Birthday Party

The weekend had finally arrived, and for the first time in a long while, Damian actually seemed excited about something—his birthday. It wasn’t exactly a birthday party in the traditional sense. Damian didn’t want a huge spectacle, but when Bruce insisted that the entire family celebrate, Damian reluctantly agreed.

It was a massive event at the Wayne Manor, with people from all walks of life—family friends, business associates, a few close classmates, and some of Damian’s more eccentric acquaintances. The grand hall was decorated with dark tones, but you could tell Bruce had made an effort to add a bit of brightness. There were trays of food and drink set up along the walls, and a live band played soft jazz in the background, trying to keep things casual.

Damian stood near the edge of the room, his usual stony demeanor intact, but you could see the small smile tugging at his lips every time someone wished him a happy birthday. You’d never seen him like this before—unusually relaxed and almost… happy.

You had already given him his gift—something you thought he’d appreciate: a rare comic book from his favorite series—and the look of genuine surprise on his face made you grin.

It wasn’t long before you noticed someone from Damian’s school walk in—one of the guys who always hung around with the “popular” crowd. You’d seen him around before, but he wasn’t someone you cared for. His name was Marcus, and he had this smug, cocky attitude that rubbed you the wrong way.

You didn’t pay much attention to him at first, but then, as you were talking with some of the other guests, you saw him approach.

“Hey, Y/N,” Marcus greeted you, his tone overly friendly. “You look amazing tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow, already feeling a hint of discomfort. “Uh, thanks, Marcus,” you said, trying to keep your voice polite.

“You know, you’re a lot more interesting than I thought,” he continued, his smile bordering on flirtatious. “I mean, I thought you were just some… quiet girl, but you’re not so bad.”

You exchanged a glance with Damian, who was standing just across the room, talking to Tim. The moment his eyes met yours, you saw his expression shift—his eyes darkening, his jaw tightening.

“Thanks,” you said, giving a tight smile and trying to step back. “I’m not really looking to talk right now.”

Marcus, however, seemed undeterred. He stepped closer, clearly not picking up on your discomfort. “C’mon, don’t be like that. I know you’ve got better taste than the people you hang out with.”

At that, you felt a flash of irritation. “Excuse me?”

Before Marcus could say anything else, you noticed Damian walking toward you. He didn’t even acknowledge Marcus at first, his eyes locked on you, but his posture was stiff, tense. There was an almost palpable sense of possessiveness radiating from him as he approached.

“Is everything alright?” Damian asked, his voice colder than usual.

Marcus blinked, clearly taken aback. “I was just talking to Y/N,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “No harm done, right?”

But Damian didn’t look like he was in the mood for games. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Marcus,” he said, his voice low and controlled, but there was a sharp edge to it.

Marcus shrugged and gave a half-laugh. “Whatever, dude. I was just trying to be friendly.”

“Then keep your distance,” Damian replied, his eyes narrowing as he gave Marcus one last hard look before turning back to you.

You were too shocked by the interaction to speak for a moment. Damian had never acted like this before, especially not over someone like Marcus.

Part 31: The Jealousy

As the evening went on, you couldn’t help but notice how Damian’s mood shifted. He was still polite with the guests, but there was an undeniable tension in his movements, a guardedness you hadn’t seen before. Every time you were talking to someone else, his gaze would flick to you, and if anyone got too close, you could see him visibly stiffen.

At one point, you found yourself talking to Tim, and as you laughed at one of his jokes, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned, and there stood Damian, his expression unreadable.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his tone quieter now.

“Sure,” you said, feeling a bit confused, but following him to a quieter part of the room.

Once you were away from the crowd, he crossed his arms, his eyes flashing in a way you hadn’t seen in a while. “You shouldn’t let people like Marcus get so close.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t trust him.” His voice was tight, as though he was holding something back.

“You don’t trust him?” you repeated, surprised by the intensity in his words. “Damian, he’s just being—”

“No,” he interrupted, stepping closer, his gaze now intense. “He was flirting with you. I don’t want him near you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you couldn’t help but stare at him, speechless for a moment. “Damian, I can handle myself. I didn’t need you to step in—”

“I don’t care.” His voice was sharper now, his jaw clenched. “I don’t want anyone else getting any ideas.”

You took a step back, feeling an unexpected rush of heat on your face. There was no denying it now—Damian was jealous.

“Damian, I didn’t—”

He stepped forward, his eyes meeting yours. “You don’t get it, do you?” he asked, voice low. “I don’t like seeing you with anyone else. Not when they don’t treat you like you deserve.”

You blinked, the sudden rush of emotions leaving you stunned. “What are you saying?”

Damian hesitated, his gaze softening slightly. “I’m saying… I care about you, Y/N. I care about you more than I thought I did.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, everything felt suspended. His usual guarded nature seemed to crack open, just enough for you to glimpse something raw and real beneath it all.

Part 32: The Moment of Truth

Before you could respond, the sound of the party rumbled back in, and you felt a strange tension still simmering between you and Damian. He shifted, not quite meeting your gaze now.

“You… don’t have to feel the same way,” Damian said quietly, though you could hear the vulnerability beneath the sharp edge of his voice.

You smiled softly, feeling a flutter in your chest. “Damian, I think you’re the one who doesn’t get it.”

His head snapped up, his eyes locking with yours, and you could see the flicker of uncertainty there.

“I like you, too,” you confessed, your voice steady now. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Damian’s expression softened, the tension in his body slowly releasing. For a moment, he just stood there, looking at you as if trying to process your words. Finally, he nodded, a small, genuine smile forming at the corners of his lips.

“Good,” he said quietly. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

And with that, the two of you stood there, in the quiet of the mansion, feeling the weight of everything unsaid finally beginning to shift.

Part 33: A New Beginning

The night stretched on as the party continued. But for you and Damian, time seemed to slow. After that conversation, things felt different—better, somehow. The awkward tension that had loomed over the two of you for so long had finally broken, and in its place was a sense of comfort.

You found yourself standing at the edge of the room with Damian by your side, the two of you watching the festivities from a distance. He had loosened up, no longer the guarded, distant person he used to be. Now, there was an unspoken understanding between you, something that felt natural, like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place.

“I didn’t think I’d actually enjoy this kind of party,” Damian muttered, his eyes scanning the room. “It’s all a bit… loud.”

You chuckled softly. “Yeah, I get that. It’s not exactly your vibe.”

He glanced at you, his lips curving into a small, amused smile. “You don’t mind though, do you?”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m with you, so it’s fine.”

Damian raised an eyebrow at that, as if measuring the sincerity of your words. “Good,” he replied, his tone softening slightly.

Just then, Bruce walked by, flashing a quick, knowing smile at the two of you. “Enjoying yourselves?” he asked, his voice light and friendly.

Damian’s eyes flicked toward him, a faint scowl on his face. “I’m fine,” he replied, his tone a little sharper than usual. Bruce just chuckled, clearly amused.

“We’re all proud of you, Damian,” Bruce said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve grown a lot. You deserve this.”

Damian didn’t respond immediately, but there was a small shift in his posture, almost as if he appreciated the sentiment. Bruce gave both of you a final glance before walking off to mingle with the guests.

You and Damian stood in silence for a moment, but it was a comfortable silence, the kind that felt easy rather than awkward.

“Thanks for being here,” Damian said after a while, his voice unusually soft.

You turned to look at him, surprised. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded, looking down at the floor for a moment before his gaze met yours again, this time with more intensity. “Good,” he repeated, his voice low.

Part 34: Getting Closer

As the night wore on, more and more guests started leaving, the sounds of chatter and laughter dying down. The grand hall had become quieter, more intimate. You and Damian found yourselves lingering by the doors, both of you reluctant to let the night end.

“You don’t mind staying a little longer, do you?” he asked, his voice almost hesitant now, as though he was worried you might want to leave.

You shook your head, smiling softly. “Not at all. I’m in no rush.”

The two of you made your way to the balcony, where the cool night air wrapped around you, offering a welcome break from the warmth of the party. The view from the balcony overlooked the sprawling grounds of Wayne Manor, the lights from the distant city twinkling in the background.

“Thanks for making tonight… different,” you said, leaning against the stone railing. “It was nice, being here with you.”

Damian stood next to you, his arms crossed as he gazed out into the distance. “I didn’t think I’d want to do this,” he admitted, his voice surprisingly vulnerable. “But… I guess it wasn’t so bad after all.”

You chuckled. “You just needed the right company.”

He turned to face you then, his gaze intense. “I’m glad it’s you,” he said quietly, a softness in his tone that you hadn’t heard before.

You met his gaze, your heart racing in your chest. The connection between you had deepened so much in such a short time, and in that moment, it felt like everything was falling into place.

Damian leaned in slightly, as though he was about to say something more, but just then, Tim appeared behind you, his voice loud and cheerful.

“Hey, you two! Bruce is about to cut the cake. You better get in there before Alfred scolds us all for being late.”

Damian sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not sure I want to deal with Alfred’s nagging right now.”

You laughed, nudging him gently. “You know you’ll go anyway. You wouldn’t miss cake for the world.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s true.”

With a final glance at you, he started heading back inside, and you followed, the warmth of the party welcoming you again.

Part 35: The Tension Builds

As the night came to a close, you found yourself standing near the grand staircase, saying your goodbyes to the last of the guests. Damian was standing next to you, his posture relaxed but still carrying an air of quiet intensity.

“Are you planning to stick around tomorrow?” you asked, glancing at him.

“I don’t have much going on,” he said, a small smirk forming on his lips. “Why? You need a guide for whatever adventure you’re planning next?”

You laughed. “Maybe.”

There was something different about the way he looked at you now, an unspoken understanding between the two of you that hadn’t been there before.

“Good,” he said softly, his eyes holding yours for a long moment. “Because I’ll be there.”

Part 36: The Kiss

It wasn’t until the party was winding down that you and Damian finally had a chance to breathe. The room had grown empty, save for a few lingering guests and the staff cleaning up. You stood off to the side, chatting quietly, when Damian took a small step toward you, his expression unreadable.

You raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was about to say.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice almost hesitant. “I meant what I said earlier.”

You blinked, confused for a moment, then realized what he was referring to. “You… you like me?”

He nodded slowly, his usual confidence warring with something else. “Yeah. I’ve never said it before, but it’s the truth.”

You didn’t know what to say at first, your heart pounding in your chest. But then, before you could speak, he took another step closer, his hand lightly brushing against yours.

And then it happened—Damian, the boy who’d always kept everyone at arm’s length, leaned forward and kissed you, softly at first, but with an undeniable intensity that made your heart race.

For a moment, everything else fell away—the party, the guests, even the noise of the mansion itself. It was just the two of you, in that moment, finally realizing how much you meant to each other.

When he pulled back, his eyes were searching yours, as if asking for confirmation.

“I meant it,” he repeated, his voice low but steady. “You’re everything to me, Y/N.”

And you smiled, feeling the warmth of his words in your chest.

“I feel the same, Damian,” you whispered, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. “I think I always have.”

[whaliiwatching]

in a queer way, right??

—

sunny brown belongs of course to @brown-spider <3

[sweetteaanddragons]

Snippet from "Raise Them Well" Alt. PoV

Having trouble writing this one, so I hoped posting this would help inspire more.

Link to the original story here.

. . .

Tyelkormo was not much of one for drawing, but when he could be coaxed into artistic endeavors, he had a gift for capturing animals mid-motion. Anything stationary had a tendency to be rendered in a few careless strokes, too uninteresting to bother with details.

His latest efforts were stacked on hanno’s desk, intermingled with scraps of Makalaure’s latest songs. Nolofinwe had been straightening them compulsively for the last five minutes; it was easier than looking at Maitimo and seeing his own reflection in his brother-cousin’s eyes.

“Do you remember that picture of my mother I drew for Uncle Ingwion? I wanted to draw yours too, so I asked hanno for her hair color.”

He’d had rather confused ideas on how exactly motherhood worked at the time. It was only then that he’d fully comprehended that death was an aberration, not a prerequisite.

“I remember.” Maitimo’s voice was cautious from its place by the doorway he was still so carefully not-guarding.

They were not, technically, supposed to be in here alone. But no one would care too badly, and it was a day for doing not-quite things.

He would rather be in a courtyard, working through the patterns of his sword, but the halls were so crowded with people rushing, gossiping, preparing, and this had been the first room Maitimo could drag him to that they could trust to be empty of people who would wonder at the shaking of Nolofinwe’s hands.

“I remember Amil talked to us both after,” Maitimo added when Nolofinwe didn’t continue. “So we’d know what had really happened and wouldn’t have to hear it from rumors.”

There was an unspoken question in the way he said rumors: What have you heard? Is this what’s bothering you?

They had always heard rumors. That the old king had been cursed; that it was all Nolofinwe’s fault, all hanno’s fault, all the Valar’s fault, all - 

Always rumors.

“And then hanno came and got you for a lesson,” Nolofinwe said, “and she asked me if I had any questions.” He had not shared this part before. “I asked if it was true that not all of the dead could come back.”

They both knew the answer to that question, though Maitimo had not been there when Nolofinwe had first learned it, and Nolo had never spoken of it since.

“When she said it was, I said that I thought Atar should be the one to stay. That it seemed most fair.”

The word Atar felt awkward on his tongue. He pushed through it, forcing the syllables through; it didn’t matter if he could say it right, as long as he could say it with confidence; they both knew that lesson well enough. 

He would have to get used to the word. Best to practice now.

Especially when it would make it easier not to think of the rest of what he had confessed.

“It didn’t seem right for me to get my mother back, and hanno not to get his,” he said with a lightness he did not feel at all. “I thought we could both have a mother and be missing a father and that would be fair.” Not perfect, but fair, with a childish logic entirely centered on the feelings of those he knew and not on the desires of the people whose names he had most often heard in whispers.

It had suited him, selfishly, because he had not had a mother. He’d had ressë  - holding him, singing to him, helping mold clay into little pots until he tired of the art - but she could not cradle his fea as his mother would have.

As his brother had.

As a child he’d been able to picture how his mother could be added into their circle, nothing lost. But a father -

If the king - his father returned, things would change.

He had known, even then, it was a dangerous thing to say.

"And so perhaps it shall be,” Nerdanel had said. “But it hurts people to speak of it too much, and there is no use worrying over it yet; it shall yet be many long years until anything is decided.”

“I thought it would take longer,” he said, at last setting down the much abused papers with far too much force. He knew it must sound abrupt to Maitimo; he didn’t care. “So many others take longer.”

He looked at Maitimo, finally, and saw just what he should have expected; Maitimo leaning against the bar set across the door, unfairly tall and uncommonly worried, and trying with his slumped posture against the wood to deny both.

Still listening. Always listening until he knew just what word to use to strike.

“I thought I would have a chance to - “ He made a confused, too violent gesture, but Maitimo would know what he meant. He always knew what he meant.

He had grown up knowing he had killed his mother, but that it had not been his fault. Nerdanel had made sure he knew it was not his fault. How could you blame a baby for anything?

But it was his fault, even though he had not killed her. It was his fault because he would be dangerous to Melkor, and Melkor knew it.

He had thought he would have a chance to prove that danger. That Melkor had been right to fear him.

He had thought that when she emerged, he could stand before her and say, I avenged you, Amil. I was worth it.

“I know,” Maitimo said because he could keep no secrets from Maitimo, not really. “Maybe this way’s better. If she’s anything like the rest of us, she won’t just want to have heard you’ve done it; she’ll want to help.”

The words had just a hint of warning to them.

You promised, Nolo. Don’t you dare go running off alone. We do it together, or not at all.

It was how they did everything, of course. The only way. So he let out the rest of his tension with a long breath and bumped Maitimo’s shoulder in apology on his way to the barred door.

“Ready?” Maitimo murmured. 

By the time they slipped back to the rush of the corridor, both their faces were bright and pleased with the news of the royal couple’s return once more.

[scorchedthesnake]

So This Isn't the End Just Yet

A week or two after Sleep No More announced its intent to close in January 2024, I had one of my very, very vivid dreams about the McKittrick Hotel. I’ve had quite a few of these over the last 13 years – remarkably consistent in that they capture a lot of the details of a place I’ve spent so much time in, plus a few exaggerations like dreams do (a pirate ship in the basement, a rotating, levitating pine tree in the ballroom, the usual stuff). This one was no exception. I was at what I dreamt was the final performance of the show, and because the hotel was closing, most of the props had been stripped away already. A lot of former cast were back filling in for the end, including William Popp as the Taxidermist, despite his never having played that role. I got a 1:1, and he performed the scene in a very barren, stripped down Taxidermist bathroom, and of course I got emotional. As the 1:1 ended I started to cry and I whispered to him, “thank you.”  At this, Dream-William looked down at me and said, in that dopey Calloway voice:

“Don’t ruin the moment with your vanity.”

As prophetic dreams go, that’s quite the warning to heed.

Of course, now it is January 2024 and the show is not closing next weekend like we originally expected. Elaborate plans to see friends for one final, burn-it-to-the-ground celebration of this unique place are all out the window, and quite a few hundred dollars are floating in the nether as the closing date slips ever further into the future. I suppose it’s fitting that it’s ending like this, milking every day for every dollar, and defying, at least for the time being, the proper memorialization that will eventually have to come. 

For my part, I’m still grieving something vast and vague about this change. I’ve joined the fan Discord just to feel connected to the rest of the community that is, similarly, grieving something vast and vague that’s about to change in our lives. For as overdue as the end of Sleep No More seems to me, I know I’m struggling to imagine what New York will be like without it. Opening just nine months after I moved here, I spent years taking the show for as granted as a fan could. I’d book a last minute ticket some weekends and then wander the performance looking for cast members I was eager to see. If I found none - or if I was tired - I’d sit down in the lobby restaurant, pour a cup of tea and eat the prop toast. After so much time, and with so much familiarity, of course I, and others, acted like we owned the place, and that it would always, always be there.

But it couldn’t have been further from the truth, and the closure is now going to hit us all like a ton of bricks, isn’t it?

So I’m mindful of Dream-William’s words as I plan out how to commemorate this epochal shift in my New York life. How do I do justice to what it all meant to me, without going overboard? I’m going to write about some key dates in the 13-year relationship I had with Sleep No More, just a few little episodes to try to hint at the bigger picture I am slowly drawing out of all of these memories. The good news about the postponed end is that I have more time to write these – I’ve barely started yet. I hope someone is planning a good book, or a big oral history. The past couple months have been an archaeological dig, and there’s just so much that I never wrote down, or wasn’t right to write down, that I hope we can record. We’re going to miss it all so much when it’s gone.

[ye-it-is-skeet]

2003 Gio✨✨

Recently started watching 2003, but the website I was using only had up to season 3, and then the other seasons are wonky and missing episodes.. Let's say I know mostly up until Leo returns from training with the Ancient One and that whole fight with Karai. Besides all that I've adapted my Rise OC Caravaggio into 2003.

I don't mean simply drawing him in the 2003 style, no, I worked with my friend to adapt mostly his personality into 2003 (as the teetlez often have different personalities in each iteration).

It was a draw between "Paranoid Survivialist" and "Emo" and Emo won the draw, I'll explain more as I go along.

I did research and here's the "Emo" parts overall: Gio feels sectioned from society as a mutant turtle (obviously), and instead of allowing any personal connections and positive emotions he's decided it's better to expect the worst and try not to build too close a bond with anyone in his family. He loves his brothers and Splinter but he pushes away from them to remain in misery of the fact only bad things can happen (it gets weird to explain but I hope people get the jist), and the rest of his time when not fighting is spent lamenting pretty much everything. It's never that he's always moping, he's always ready to help fight the Shredder or whatever is threatening New York. And even if he thinks always expecting the worse prepares him for the worse, when really bad things happen to his brothers.. the emotions hit him harder than he thought they could.

2003 Gio is passionate about a few things, he loves coffee.. and waffles. He doesn't really do video-games or watch television since they are, "mere empty distractions for the miserable reality of existence" as he puts it. On the other hand, despite him trying to push away he has his relations with his brothers✨ Leo is the one who tries to reach out to him the most, he wants Gio to know somebody is there and everything's okay and all that. It does get rough when Leo gets all moody and angy. They begin to fight because Gio tells Leo, "You're being an idiot with your emotions." and Leo just.. that's an infodump for another time. Bottom line Gio doesn't like Leo trying so hard and is repelled by his positive persistence. Donnie likes to spend time with Gio and doesn't mind their three-word conversations. When Gio is bored he watches Donnie work and lets Donnie explain how everything works in whatever he makes. Gio is curious and likes to know information. Raph hangs around the most because Gio doesn't mind Raph's energy and I will say Raph is kinda the sweetest brother. Raph hangs around Gio mostly because he also doesn't mind Gio being more pessimistic but will still try to bring a silver lining. And with Mikey.. Mikey has no idea what to think of Gio based on Gio's attitude and interests. Gio feels indifferent about Mikey. While he would be repelled by Mikey's energy Gio almost feels pity that Mikey seems mostly oblivious to "the inevitable" and Gio maybe grows protective of that. Gio will always go on about never being accepted by anyone or anything and he can't relate to anyone or anything. His brothers have tried but in the end Gio's still right because he's the only one who feels this way about their situation.

Other things I guess: It's not uncommon for Gio to get lost somewhere new. He's curious and will wander off to look at stuff. The Gio constant has Gio also being able to somehow sense when someone is leaving their rooms at night so he wakes up and either finds them or waits until they return (it gets REAL bad when Leo leaves for 2 months. It's a way he's worried for his family, he stays until they return because he doesn't know if they're safe while they're gone and if they return then it's okay to sleep). Some Gio-in-an-episode details: In the first Shredder attack, that's how Gio got the scar on his face. The Shredder swiped and Gio moved but got that scar. And in "Tales of Leo" Gio tells a story about how when he was younger he was VERY reactive to emotions (insane tantrums, throwing stuff, etc.) and for the most part Splinter would just leave Gio until he was done, but Leo sat there and said he's wait and then Gio would actually talk through his emotions with Leo. Gio closes with, "I'll wait for you too Leo. Until you're ready." And ye✨ In the episodes where the brothers are all in different dimensions, I've planned that Gio ends up in the genderbent dimension (but a drawing will be shown of that only later). In the season 3 finale Shredder fight Gio gets both his wrists either fractured or broken, and (it's a Gio canon event) his shell is cracked. Fixed up with some Utrom Plaster. He just doesn't have sensation in his legs until his turtle power fix up the nerves (because turtles can regenerate nerve tissue apparently).

This is just to show 2003 Gio lamenting and the difference of Rise Donnie and Gio, and then 2003 Donnie and Gio✨

And this drawing shows Gio being "Emo" I guess. Some more expressions and twitchy fingers when unhappy stimulation.

A big 'ol infodump in between many doodles of 2003 Gio.

And yes I HAVE drawn all the 2003 boys. So ye

I like 2003✨

[legolasghosty]

I keep seeing you tag worm onna string stuff as 'willex worm scene' and stuff and I neeeeed to know more. Is this a fic? Can you share more? Please I need it so bad.

HAH oh yeah THAT. Okay, so first off, I feel like it is important to note that worm onna string and Willie are permanently connected in my brain, thanks to this drawing by @michelangelinden. Whatever the heck this mess of an idea is, I will forever claim it is their fault (/lh /nm I love my fiance so frigging much).

THAT BEING SAID, this is... I guess a little collection of story ideas? None of which are actually written because family and college. But they all take place in a modern/alive au where Willie and Alex are friends for ages and finally end up getting together in late high school/early college. But life just... keeps getting in between them and having all the sweet milestone stuff.

Willie catches the flu the day before their first NYE together. Alex gets stuck at work all day on their anniversary. The band gets a super massive gig on Valentine's day. You get the picture. Whether it's family stuff, health stuff, job stuff, school stuff, whatever, it becomes this unfortunate thing that life seems to hate them getting special occasions together without some kind of mishap.

Enter the worm onna string scenes. Willie absolutely loves the little guys and has always had at least 2 in their living space since they were like 14. And sometimes when he's stressed, he'll make them into little scenes as a way to calm himself down. It's simple and small and they can put as much detail into it as they want.

So when Willie can't be with Alex for whatever reason, he starts making little worm scenes of what they wish they could be doing and sending them to Alex. It helps with both of their stressies and usually makes them both laugh. Sometimes Willie will shoot Alex half-done pictures and be like, "This is missing something???" and Alex almost always manages to figure out what it is. And it becomes more and more of a thing they do together when they can't actually be together.

So... can't have a new years kiss cause Alex is coughing up a storm? The worms get one, along with some really tiny champagne bottles they made together. Picnic date canceled cause it's pouring down rain for once in LA? The worms can have a little one on the desk under Willie's lamp. Can't spend their anniversary together cause Willie's flight got delayed? The worms can have a cute night in, featuring the tiny plates Alex got them for Christmas the year before.

Anddddd there mayyyyy be thoughts about Alex making a tiny worm proposal scene to go with his real one. It takes a few tries, but they finally get it right.

Soooo that's the idea. I wish to write it. I do not have the energy to write much these days though. So. Yeah. I'm sorry. I shall attempt to stop confusing people. Hope this made you smile at least!

[skayafair]

Been relistening while drawing and. John's genuine desperation to get things RIGHT but still failing when he has JUST said he can be trusted with this is so relatable. It hurts, okay? I have no idea if he was lying here and there but I'll just trust he was genuine for the most part for now.

I have ADHD (and very possibly the autism, too) and I know the feeling far better than I'd like to. It's not just not getting the task right. It's also the first occasions of those failures when you notice the inconsistency, even though there seemed to be no problems like these before. When you're trying your hardest and still miss something. "I swear it wasn't there a moment ago!". Yeah, I know how that feels. And it hits the worst when you a) consider the task to be your only/main value to the meaningful person and basically what gives you an excuse to exist and failing at that; and b) when you WANT to be reliable, you're used to being reliable, you ALWAYS have been, but just aren't anymore and you KNOW this. So you can't be what you want to be. You can't demand people to trust you because you know there's a high possibility you're gonna fail them. This feels devastating.

I've been a top student and a reliable friend my whole life (when I had friends). It's been hard as hell but I managed. Until the Uni started - it got way harder, I had to tone my perfectionism down considerably and burnt out but still managed (barely). But a few years ago I had covid and a pretty terrible situation in life in general, hit my lowest - there was a lot of anxiety. All that had a lasting impact on my memory and focus (they were not great but manageable before). Now I forget everything very easily, it's a real struggle to concentrate on any task that isn't drawing and I'm always exhausted as a cherry on top. So I can miss things just lying in a plain sight, forget the most important events (personally important to me!), don't even start me on remembering the names, the dates and other little details like these. And I can never know if I'll be able to do something. It's a very stark contrast to the way I used to be before. So I feel this arc on a very personal level and... kinda hope it doesn't go down in flames.

As if I ever needed more reasons to relate to John :D

[27thetherealmoon]

Hello. it’s me again! How are you? Sorry it took me ages to write another massage but you know, I was crying (again) a few hours after I send my massage for I fear I have hurt your feelings or upsetting you somehow (Hey, I also have high paranoia) so I’m really glad it wasn’t the case. :)

I love LOVE the Furina you have created. The Furina that subconsciously forgetting her past because it was too hurt to remember. The Furina that cares so much about people who ended up hurting her. The Furina that so beautiful with her white eyelashes and started to loving it and herself . The Furina that still didn’t know there’s people who love her and care for her. The Furina that doesn’t want to be a burden to other people even when she’s dying. The Furina that so strong she finds a new purpose and goes out of her way to finding herself. The Furina that perfectly human and very dear to me (to you as well, it seems). Ahh I would missed her so much. 🥹

Regarding your two reasons, I knew one of it is because your mental health, a quick look at your account proved that and because I’m struggling with mental health issues too, I understand. If writing Furina in her lowest point effecting you negatively then it was a wise decision to take a break from continuing the story or distancing yourself from it. Your mental health and happiness matter more. but I just can’t stand by and watch the author of my favorite story belittling her own work in her profile like that, that’s why I came here – to give you piece of my mind.

And to your second reason, no, you’re not pathetic for hating hoyo. I’m a twitter girl (I rarely ever used tumblr anymore, actually) but I also hate hoyo as a company (like, screw you hoyo!). I know hoyo has been a HUGE disappointment after disappointment lately, especially with the whitewash of Natlan characters. but trust me when I said that most of twitter people also doesn’t like them, and have been very vocal about it (at least that’s what I always seen in my timeline). Though, in gi twitter fandom – from what I’ve noticed – is that most of them is aware that hoyo’s a shitty company but they also acknowledge, and bitterly accepting the fact that they complains wouldn’t be heard and the company would never change. Only the CN fandom can. And they have a mindset that it’s okay to enjoy something while also criticizing them, in hope that the company would her you and changes. It doesn’t make you a hypocrite, I promise.

Me myself haven’t played the game for few months now because the story got so boring after 4.2 AQ and because Hoyo. But I never once thought that me making nvfr fanarts was me supporting Hoyo as company. That’s a very interesting way to think about fan works honestly. I’m making nvfr fanarts simply because I love them. be it as their own characters and together as a ship. In return, they improved me, like a lot. My love for them motivated me to draw them more and improved my drawing skills. They prompted me to share my works with the fandom, which I still feel very insecure about every time I posted my arts. and they introduced me to a lot of kind people in the community– I even finally make some mutuals there ehe. In the end though, I draw them for myself. not for hoyo, not for the community, just for me, because I love them.

It’s funny, because everything that you said that makes you frustrated of mihoyo is what make your story special. your hard works to make sure everything was represented right and the details you put through in your story, that hoyo didn’t bother with, was obvious and very much amazing. Not only hoyo as a company, but I rarely ever find a story that goes into details about language differences, foods, clothes, heck even skin care! You’re the only one who bother to put skin care in your fic (at least from all nvfr fanfics I have ever read). And trust me, all your hard work was very much appreciated by me and everyone who read your story.

As much as I want to know more about tphh, I also want to move on from them. Seeing them in my bookmarks still hurt you know. It’s not helping that you didn’t change the moderate your comments options before you orphaned the story. Now every new comment wouldn’t reach anyone and goes straight to the archive. In fact, I left a comment there before I came here because I knew my massage won’t reach you. And I’m sure I’m not the only one who left comment for I know there are still many people who love tphh, even bookmarked them, despite knowing the story would forever unfinished.

You already spoiled tphh a lot if you asked me and I’m afraid my curiosity and enthusiasm wouldn’t be sated if I was to ask more spoiler from you, hence I couldn’t move on. But there is one thing that still gnawing at my brain, like how do you planning Neuvillette finds out Furina is gone? because your story was so different from others runaway or lost Furina’s stories that I can’t imagine how your Neuvillette gonna know. And if Clorinde’s reaction already makes me cry a river, I can only imagine Neuvillette’s would be a heart-wrenching one, if not more. As for future chapters, just knowing Furina would heals and find so much love is enough for me. 🤍

Lastly, I wished, like how Furina’s story goes in your mind, that your stories, too, would go to the same direction. That you wouldn’t feel insecure when you uploaded your works to the fandom and that you would heal and be better. 🤍

P.s. I’m too shy and awkward when it comes to direct conversation (heck I need days to write this massage only and because English isn’t my first language either) so I would left this massage in your ask box, if you don’t mind! Also, sorry for the wall of messy text.

P.s. 2: I always thought your username was spelled 27-the-the-real-moon and it turns out it is spelled 27th-ethereal-moon. What a beautiful username 🥺

Hi!! I'm so happy to hear from you again! I'm doing alright atm. How are you?

Don't worry, your message definitely didn't hurt my feelings. I was actually really happy to hear from someone after I orphaned TPHH. I honestly kind of assumed people would just... not really care much? So the fact that you cared enough to find my tumblr and message me really touched me, as did your words.

I really love the way you described TPHH Furina. It's honestly kind of crazy to me how much of the character I wanted to build is already in the fic because it feels a bit like I cut the story off right at the start before anything could really happen, but your words made me realise that a lot of who she is and who she would develop into is already there. I'm honestly kind of proud of myself for that, which is a very weird feeling because I usually don't feel like this.

I can't lie that "a quick look at your account proved that" made me laugh for five whole minutes. What gave it away? 💀 I'm not gonna go into too much detail here because it makes people quite uncomfortable, but I feel the need to elaborate a bit.

One big mistake a lot of writers make is drawing too much from personal experience and putting too much of themselves into their story and it's a mistake I make with every story I write as well.

Hibernaculum is tied to my weird relationship with my family, specifically my father and my brother but also my mother. It's a very easy thing to write about (for me at least) because most of this is far in the past and I've worked through a lot of it. I understand what happened, have an idea why these things happened, and I have a good idea of how things will continue to affect me in the future.

The Perfect Human Heart is tied to struggles I have had my whole life, struggles that haunt me right now and will probably continue to haunt me until I'm dead, but in ways and for reasons that I don't understand, can't predict and can't work through at all considering how my life is currently going. So sitting down and writing about a Furina who's plagued by familiar thoughts (for different reasons) became very personal and overwhelming very quickly and also became very taxing for me. It would probably take me years to get to a state where I could actually write for TPHH (specifically writing out Furina's thoughts and problems) without risking my own health like I have in the past few months. I could've probably predicted this, but oh well.

Thank you for giving me a piece of your mind. I appreciate it.

What really got me alongside the whole Natlan whitewashing bullshit was that one GGZ ad (idk if you knew this but the game still exists in china and I think japan?) with a bunch of little girls in bathing suits bending over, spreading their legs, covered in tentacles etc. Like... Hoyo sucks so much. And in so many different ways, too. It would be impressive if it wasn't so incredibly sad and upsetting. It also attracts very weird people, specifically the people who used to make fun of genshin players who now suddenly support genshin, hsr and especially zzz because hoyo isn't "woke", which makes online discussions about the games and any form of criticism aimed at hoyo as a company basically impossible. Being in fandoms at all right now is incredibly exhausting and kind of miserable and it takes the fun out of things (that's the one beautiful thing about the naruto fandom tbh. It doesn't change. No matter how much time passes, the discourse always stays the same as if it was cursed to be frozen in time in 2014).

I've never been great with the whole "separate the art from the artist" thing. Sometimes I can do it pretty well(ish) and sometimes I can't do it at all. I did a decent job at it after Sumeru released because I simply stopped spending money on genshin or any other hoyo game and focused on supporting artists who represented sumeru more accurately. Then, when I started to plan out TPHH, I swore that I would be one of the artists who worked hard to depict these countries more accurately by doing ny very best to research every country that is supposed to be represented in these nations as much as possible. And that also worked for a bit, but it didn't really fix the underlying issue of me really beginning to resent hoyo. I already talked about this in my last answer, so I'm not going to repeat myself, but you know what I mean. Hoyo kept fucking things up and in the process of trying to fix it for tphh I realised how easy it can be to not fuck up completely and that made me resent the game more and more.

I think the whole "fanworks to some extent always means supporting the company/the artist" thing that is buried in my head and haunts every piece of fanwork that I post comes from JKR and the way she has talked about harry potter fans and how she sees them now, but it's also more complicated than that. It has to be because Kishimoto isn't a great person either, but I haven't axed Hibernaculum yet. Maybe I'm just a giant hypocrite idk.

I used to be really active in the fandom as well and I really wanted to interact more with artists and fan accounts (I used to look at neuvifuri fanart to motivate myself to write) but I never ended up doing it (because I don't know how to talk to people but also somehow talk way too much, as you can see). It's a nice space, and I miss how much fun everyone was having when they came up with theories between 4.0 and 4.2. It was a cool space. I really loved those long threads people were making on Twitter about furinas lore and where it might go. It was fun. I haven't really interacted much with the fandom since I axed TPHH but the few things I've seen make it seem like the fandom really cooled down a lot, probably because hoyos repeated fuck ups put everyone in a weird mood and that's just really sad to see (and obviously because Fontaine is no longer the main focus right now because I think the natlan patch is out now? Idk I haven't played in months either).

The small details were honestly my favourite parts to write in this fic. Talking about how languages change and develop and how Furina still speaks a lot of languages that have died out (or are currently in the process of dying out because standart teyvat is getting more and more popular in pretty much all of the nations, pushing the languages there out of the way) or have become almost unrecognizable in the last 500 years as an example was really fun. People always talk about how Furina is 500 years old, but they never talk about how much things change in 5 centuries. Yes, she is/was one of the youngest archons (probably, I don't think we ever found out how old she actually is if you count human years + oceanid years), but 500 years is so much fucking time. So many things that you'd think are eternal will crumble in that time, and so many things that you thought will crumble stay untouched. Skincare formulas change for the worse, clothing, hairstyles, makeup, and even furniture go in and out of fashion, city layouts shift, houses collapse, etc. The world Furina saw when she was first brought into that world is in a lot of ways entirely different than the world she lives in now and I kind of wish people focused on this stuff more so I tried my best to implement that to the best of my abilities. Also the differences in culture in different countries and regions is one of the most interesting things about travelling so writing about it was genuinely awesome. What foods are more popular in different nations and regions (I think I mentioned that the people of Fontaine eat a lot more fish than as an example Liyue? I'm not sure) and other cultural differences like Liyue producing better skin care than Fontaine was such a fun thing to come up with and something that I did in an attempt to breathe a bit more life into the world, so to hear that that worked makes me really happy.

The comment thing you mentioned is actually quite strange because I remember approving all comments, then going into settings to turn off comment moderation, saving it, and then going to orphan the fic. Like, I definitely remember doing that. I wanted to make sure that people could voice their frustrations without having to tell me directly because I know a lot of people aren't comfortable with talking to people directly like this. I *know* that I did that. Then again I also had to change the settings on Hibernaculum like three times because it kept changing it back to "only registered users can comment" even after I changed it to all users (and saved it! I save it every time I swear that's not the problem. I check this stuff obsessively!). Ao3 is really weird right now, at least for me, and I have no idea why.

How Neuvillette finds out is actually kind of a complicated story point (because everything I write is kind of complicated for some reason), but I'll try to keep it short:

First thing you need to know is that Neuvillette wanted to give Furina a Vision (like a month after the flood while she was rotting away in her house) and planned to use that vision as a reason/excuse to visit her (because he thought she didn't want to see him but if he was there to give her something like a vision she would *have* to open her door, right?). However, no matter how much Neuvillette tried, he couldn't manifest a vision for her. He could make one for other people and they work well too, but he couldn't do it for her (he thinks it's some punishment from the heavens or something and tries to do research in the whole thing but it's actually because having a wish/an ambition is what makes the creation of a vision possible and Furina at that point wishes for nothing at all, so she literally doesn't have that spark that would tie the vision to her and make it uniquely hers, which is why Neuvillette can't make her one.)

The second thing to know is that Furina is getting sicker and sicker the further she gets away from Fontaine. Baizhu has no idea why and she starts living and helping out at the apothecary until Zhongi recommends that she should meditate close to the water, like a lake or the ocean or something, because that might improve at least her mental state (he's full of shit, he knows that she used to be an oceanid and that oceanids get sick for a while when they distance themselves from fontaines waters and remembers that hanging out around water used to help with the symptoms of her illness before she ascended. He simply assumes that that illness stayed with her even after she was turned human). She listens to him and starts to read and meditate close by the harbour to enjoy the ocean. One day, when she meditates, she tries to really centre herself and connect to the world and find inner peace and ends up actually connecting to the waters in Liyue.

I kind of romanticised/imagined the powers oceanids have as something divorced from the power of the sovereign in a way. That they have an extra spark of something in them, something unique stemming from egeria or from the shade of life, which makes them an independent force that can't be controlled by the Hydro Archon or by neuvillette (kind of as an explanation for why furina didn't order them to come back/couldn't order them to return when they rebelled/left while she was still pretending to be a little dramatic tyrant archon). That means that Furina had her own powers before she split herself and created a human vessel, and her tapping back into them despite officially being human would show that she still has that spark from her mother in her even though she's now human. Like a "despite everything it's still you" moment, even if she doesn't understand it as that in that moment (because she doesn't really understand what's happening at all due to her missing memories).

Neuvillette would feel that moment when she connects to the waters for the first time in several centuries, and while he wouldn't be able to tell where she is in the world he'd know that she felt too distant to be in fontaine (and because this fic was planned before the lantern rite he also wouldn't be able to leave fontaine because thats what a lot of people assumed before that because his presence was keeping ousia and pneuma stable, but oh well). The little spark of Furinas presence in the waters of teyvat would flicker back out (because she simply wouldn't be strong enough at that moment to hold it for longer than a few seconds and she'd be scared that she's capable of making that type of connection in the first place) and Neuvillette would go to Furinas house to check if she's really gone because he can't believe it. He would find both Chlorinde and Wriothesley there who both took vacation from their jobs because "the effects of the flood finally caught up to them too and they need a break" and he finds out that both of them believe that Furina got kidnapped or murdered by the fatui because they found evidence that she had contact to dilucs anti fatui spy network and sent him info that her own spy network collected (you know, the one that canon kind of forgot about after mentioning it once at the start of the game) and that shes been gone for like... a while now. Neuvillette realises that Furina connection didn't feel like the way humans with visions connect to the waters of Teyvat (and remembers that he also never managed to give her one anyways) and freaks out because something odd is clearly happening to furina, she might be kidnapped or something, she's too far away for him to find and protect her or help her in any way, and he can't leave to track her down either. She's unreachable for him and possibly suffering (she's kind of freaked out sitting at the harbour and trying to connect to the waters again but doesn't quite manage it) and he's powerless to stop any of it despite reclaiming his sovereignty. And then he proceeds to have like... ten panic attacks at the same time and Wriothesleys prophecy comes true and it floods fontaine again (not as bad as the actual big flood obviously but like basements are filling up, the aquabuses are unusable etc).

That's how he finds out. Through Furina making progress in her quest of finding out who she is. It is a very Furina-centric fic, so it was important to me that Furina made these steps on her own while Neuvillette is forced to stay still and let her do these things, only able to provide minimal support and hope that after her journey is over she will find her way back home while working through what he feels for Furina (obviously fondness and romance) and how that differs from what other people like Chlorinde feel for her (familial love for someone who is somehow a sister, a mother, a grandmother but also a(n ex) god at the same time).

I honestly doubt that I'll ever get over my insecurities concerning my own writing, but I'll try my best, I promise. Also, never apologise for big walls of text. Really, I should be the one apologising for this absolute monster of a response. I'm incredibly thankful for your words and that you chose to share them with me, so please don't feel bad about this. It makes me really happy to hear from others. Thank you, seriously, for taking time out of your day to share these thoughts with me.

Omg I'm seeing it now it does look like 27 the the real moon I never noticed that! 💀 😭

[streets-in-paradise]

Testing the Waters - Teen!Andy Barclay x (Fem)Teen!Winchester Reader

Continuation of “Child Soldiers in a Secret War “

Word Count 1.8 K

Warnings: Same warnings applying to the previous oneshot. 

Summary: The hunt is about to begin and you try your best to get Andy ready. Struggling to not reveal all you know on the matter after a misterious accident happens on the same day of a Good Guy sighting, you play it safe by betting on getting the boy’s help. 

Notes: This one may not be the fic i’m the most proud of, but a friend of mine enjoyed it a lot so i decided to write a continuation. 

Tags: @losersclubisms​ (It’s because of you that i continued it and, since you said you enjoyed the reader’s personality, here you can see it shine a bit more) 

Sargent Clark was the first victim of your strategy to deal with authority. Despite being as severe as anyone else, you were testing it on him and it was getting good results. To the eyes of all of those militars you were probably nothing more than a little punk, pretty much like Barclay, but getting some respectful laughs out of the right persons proved to be useful. 

“ Yes, Winchester. I have something for you this time.” The amused but fed up man declared as soon as he saw you. “ Seems like it’s the new kids’ lucky day. The Barclay boy got one too.” 

You were attentive to the mention of Andy. 

“ Do you want me to deliver it to him, sir? You don’t have to bother personally when I can save that tribulation from you.” 

You could feel the old dude was holding a chuckle. 

“ Vocabulary improvements! Very well, miss.” He mocked you, comparing that to the first bad taste comments he heard you say at the arrival. “ It will not be necessary, I got Tyler on it.” 

The big package was the perfect size and shape to be carrying your precious load: the enemy. Suspecting of every big package meant for Andy was perhaps a stretch, but you preferred to be careful than sorry. Your job there was to guard him with your life, him and everyone there even if around eighty five percent of them were high profile dickheads. The search for Tyler didn’t reach a good outcome and you were clearly not thinking if you were considering facing Chucky without a plan. The boys sent you whatever they could in the hurry. It was a full but mixed set of various elements, since you weren’t sure what the hell you were fighting. Among a few other things it included a dark dust-like thing assured to be used in hoodoo rituals, refills of holy water and rock salt bullets and a page with a detailed draw of Damballa’s symbol alongside some more ritualistic information they managed to gather. You haven’t figured out yet how to use all of that into an effective attack, but your own duty commanded you and you did your best. 

Finding Andy and sticking with him was, technically, the wisest path. Chucky wanted him, it has always been like that, so if you wouldn't find that damn package and check what was on it the best was staying alert and keeping him close. For so, you went back with the unit knowing well that Shelton was going to give you hell for arriving late. 

He was already too busy with your guarded boy, what you could see from afar, but you didn’t mind giving that asshole more work. 

“ We must be swift as a coursing river” You began to sing as you were approaching, hoping that the intrusion would distract him and he would leave Andy alone. “ With all the force of a great typhoon… With all the strength of a raging fire. Mysterious as the dark side of the mooooonn” 

Hell was about to be unleashed with you arriving late and singing the military training song from Disney’s Mulan. 

“ WINCHESTEEER!!” 

The rage screams of Shelton, despite meaning trouble, were beginning to feel like music for your ears. After Andy would be safe you would be out from there. You weren’t following a military career, so you had no reason to restrain yourself from messing with him at levels no one else would dare to reach. 

“ Yes, sir?” A sweet, submissive tone that was absolutely ironical followed up as an answer.” Were you looking for me?” 

Andy rolled his eyes. He liked you, he truly did, but he simply couldn’t understand why you would act like that all the time. 

“ … You are LATE…” Shelton informed the obvious. “ HAVEN’T YOU HAD ENOUGH WITH YESTERDAY, YOU WAYWARD BITCH??” 

Not bothered in the slightest, you kept the same level of irony displayed before. 

“ I know, sir. I have a clock. Complications presented on the way, as us mortals can’t control the tribulations of destiny.” 

That fancy sounding word was catchy in your mind, so you kept it. 

“ WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU??” 

You deviated your stare for a brief instant, checking on Andy, then delivered a mastermind of comedy line that was going to sentence you in favor of him. 

“ I was shaving my lady parts, just in case Sergeant Botnick’s trichophilia ever reaches crazy levels since he can’t trim all the hair off from ladies’ heads.” 

The ingenious ‘ mind your own business’ comeback surpassed your previously settled limits, you were getting sharper with each confrontation. At that point you had zero fucks to give, Chucky could be already out there and dealing with him was your mission. 

It could also be said that you enjoyed yourself a little bit because those sorts of intromissions would never fail in getting Andy's attention. Right then you needed it for case reasons, but in other opportunities you didn’t have as many valid excuses for that. You would lie to yourself, convinced it was part of winning his trust so he would cooperate on the hunt, but you actually wanted him to look at you because you liked him. it was not your intention to compete over him with Da Silva, but you were shameless enough to overcome her limits to make him laugh. Joking was your way of bonding and she would often laugh with you, which showed there were not necessarily hard feelings between you despite you were fancying the same boy. Shelton had it against you both and that was a powerful unifying patron. 

He couldn’t wait to firm your death sentence, but got interrupted by someone else’s. The whole unit ended up arriving at a murder scene and a very shocked Andy was thinking exactly the same thing as you. 

As soon as you both were relatively free you attempted to encourage Andy of talking about the problem through a walk around the place leading to some isolated point of the school ground. 

" You are a smart guy, Andy. I'm not gonna tell you what we gotta do..." You were saying to him regarding the confusing episode... " Let's get down to business, to defeat that doll...." 

"Enough with that song. " He complained. " Do you like to make fun of other people's trauma? 

" I make fun of my own trauma, you should be aware of that by now. How many daddy issues jokes have I told you since we met? " 

It was a fair point, but he was still annoyed. 

" Do you ever take anything serious?" 

" I am being serious. I saw a package, you saw a doll and now that man is dead. It can't be a coincidence."

" Why do you care?" 

Telling him at that point that the Play Pals CEO was dead and you knew it the whole time was not an option. 

" Because I was sent from a future where Chucky kills you and rules the world. I have to protect the last leader of the human resistance at a time where he was still a whiny teen asking too many questions. I took the shape of another whiny teen so it wouldn't look awkward." 

The plot of Terminator, Andy didn't want to laugh but couldn't help it. 

" Listen, regardless if you want to accept it or not, Chucky is back. You can choose denial and die, or help me fight." 

"What do you plan to do, throw some white flour at him?" He mocked you, not meaning to offend but showing how unprepared he judged you. " Your kitchen based remedies are not going to stop him. " 

" Then tell me how he stopped the last two times. " You complained, insisting on the matter. " You are Mulan and I am your Mushu. I tricked my way into becoming your guardian because all the others were unavailable, now together we can still save China."  

" Thanks, but I don't want more people involved in this. " He politely declined. " if he is out there, the best would be for me to deal with him on my own. " 

You rolled your eyes, it was such a Dean attitude on his part that you simply couldn't help yourself. 

" Fine...whatever." You pretended to agree while letting him know you were disagreeing and absolutely going to work on that behind his back. " By the way... Do you think there is a chance that the tricophilic asshole may have some of your hair saved somewhere? I mean, that guy is a hair obsessed sadistic weirdo. " 

The ask weirded him, but he mindlessly answered anyway. 

" I don't think so, hair may be sold or end up in the garbage." 

" Shit! Alright, this may work just fine. Please, extend your hand. " 

Weirded but intrigued, Andy did as you asked, but the result was you making a superficial cut on his hand and making him bleed all over a piece of paper. 

" What the fuck is wrong with you?" 

" Voodoo life insurance. " Was your vague explanation. " Keep the paper close, don't let Chucky take it. " 

The cluelessness in his face forced you to go further. 

" Look at the symbol in the paper, i copied it from some autentic shit. This is an improvised way of consecrating you to Damballa. If Chucky's boss has you on his radar he can't kill you without facing the remote possibility of pissing him off." 

You could tell he was freaking out. 

" What did YOU just do to ME?? " 

" Relax, the protection ends if you destroy the paper because you are not baptized into the religion." 

" I don't know where you get all of this stuff, but you are missing the point. Chucky has never tried to kill me, he wants to possess me and for that he needs me alive."

" I'm testing the waters, ok? I have no idea how to fight this thing. " You defended yourself. " Honestly? It is so exciting. He is not a paranormal race of monsters, so there are no rules already created on him. We can have lots of fun trying to figure out what hurts him or perish doing so because nothing of what I already know works... Isn't that fascinating? I feel like a biologist discovering a new species."   

" What can I do to end this conversation? " 

" Tell me how to beat Chucky your way so I can strengthen mine. " You asked once more. " Or, if you were smarter, you could also be shutting me up with a kiss and giving me no info."

The idea got him a little nervous. 

" Fine, I will share what I know. " 

You teased him by acting out disappointment.

" I was almost sure that you were stubborn enough to pick the kiss."

One of the most important facts that you got and couldn't possibly deduce from some police report was Chucky's preference for surprise attacks after nightfall. You wandered the school in the middle of the night, making a secret watch while being careful no superior would catch you. The first theory you were going to test was the límits of the catholic syncretism present on voodoo regarding what could be used to fight. If Damballa was sometimes being iconographically represented and worshiped as Saint Patrick, holy water had to work on Chucky as fine as the catholic imagery would suggest. 

[violettelueur]

— RYOMEN SUKUNA || LET ME MARK YOU THEN

↳ featuring : ryomen sukuna from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of sex, mention of hickeys and grammar issues

↳ form : imagine

↳ published : 22 january

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 3.7k

↳ synopsis : (modern!AU) after your lectures, you decided to pay your tattoo artist boyfriend a little visit only to then be persuaded to let him draw a tattoo design on you even though you never actually wanted a real one to be marked with.

↳ barista’s notes : just a little gift to you all before today’s episode and the reset the ‘coffees in progress’ list (wip) when i get enough sleep and after my disgusting online classes, i hope you enjoy the free cup of coffee everyone ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ - also i feel like this is the longest imagine i have ever posted ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ

Having a morning full of tedious lectures was not someone’s ideal day and it was definitely not yours. Although, there was nothing you could do but pursue them through with as much enthusiasm and determination that you could possibly muster while being impatient about the hands on the clock taking forever to move a single inch.

However, at this moment in time, you were able to escape the suffocating lecture hall after many hours for today and was now walking down the busy streets of Tokyo with a white plastic takeaway bag in one hand while the other was occupied with your tote bag that was resting on your shoulder, which surprisingly kept hold of some of your textbooks as well as your laptop giving you some reassurance that the bag that your boyfriend gave you was going to last for quite some time.

Looking around the busy quarter of the capital, you began to notice a few high school students roaming about here and there with some hanging out with their friends - mostly likely going to a cafe or to the nearest karaoke lounge that they could find - while other were either rushing home as they entered the station or to their part-time jobs that they had managed to obtain for a few extra bucks to save up for their next step in life. Noticeably, there were also a few adults out and about with some working as street-food vendors selling delicious treats that you would be craving if you weren’t so full while others were dressed extremely professional with their laptops out on their cafe/restaurant table to what seemed like they were on their lunch break.

‘He should be on his lunch break right now, but if not, I’ll just put his food in the shop’s fridge’

Continue walking to your destination, you finally reached to a quieter area with the city leading you to then stand in front of a glass order with a ‘closed’ sign in front along with another extremely noticeable sign proudly stating ‘Malevolent Shine’ to which if you had said that to any tattoo fanatic within Japan, they would instantly know what you were talking about.

Opening the door, there was a sudden noise of a ring being heard leading you to immediately look up to see the silver bell that you told him to arrange since he always got annoyed about the number of potential clients popping up without his acknowledgement only to tell him that they didn’t book an appointment at all causing him to become more irritated - and as a matter of fact, you couldn’t blame him at all.

Looking around the tattoo shop that you had entered, there wasn’t a single person in sight leading you to come to the conclusion that you were right about his lunch break since his assistant would be at the front desk if they weren’t. Although there was no one to greet you, the dark atmosphere did. It gave an odd sense of comfort with its hints of red that could calm a customer down if they were worried about the tattoo they were committing to having on their body or if it was their first - especially when it came to him.

“Oya~ ain’t you a sexy customer? But I’m afraid we’re closed, but I don’t mind giving you a private session if you want, kitten” someone smoothly stated, leading your eyes to slowly shift to the person who was leaning against the desk with a confident smirk on his face. There he was, the mastermind behind the whole shop itself.

“Well, I’m not coming in for a tattoo but I am here to give a little gift, Sukuna,” you mischievously stated, as you lifted the white bag with the takeaway you had ordered for the man himself, leading him to look at you in surprised before tilting his head indicating you to come to the back with him.

Following his lead, you placed the bag on his table once you reached the backroom before placing your tote on the floor beside the table’s leg so it didn’t fall, letting any of your precious studious contents to be lost as well as avoiding any damage to your laptop.

“I’m surprised you’re using the bag, kitten,” Sukuna suddenly commented, as he sat on his chair while pulling out the white styrofoam box of Thai food that he always ordered along with a bento box that was wrapped in a black cloth.

“Well, how could I not? You did buy it for me,” you quietly mentioned as you took off your black longline coat before placing it behind your chair since there was nowhere else to put it.

“Did you make this?” Sukuna quickly questioned as he lifted the bento box causing you to nod at his question once you saw what he meant leading you to state, “I didn’t know if you were going to stay back tonight, so I prepared some food for you in case,” causing Sukuna to smirk since you were right about your assumption and it did catch him by surprise since he didn’t mention it to you today when he left your shared apartment.

“Thanks,” he quietly muttered before pulling his chair closer towards you so he could place a lingering kiss on your cheek to show his appreciation towards you. “How was class?” he then asked, as he began to unwrap the cloth of the box to your surprise since you bought his favourite item from the Thai restaurant but made no mention of it.

“Annoying, it was suffocating in there but the lecture was interesting so that’s a plus,” you answered, as you began to scan his messy desk that displayed the many drawings that he was working on. Some of the designs that Sukuna was drawing were almost complete, while others were in the same situation but for some odd reason, it was crossed out as if he was unsatisfied with the outcome that it was going to have which lead you to be perplexed since some of the drawings were incredibly detailed and beautiful. However, you didn’t have the eyes of an artist like your boyfriend did, instead, you had the eyes of someone that was able to analyse things exceedingly well hence why you decided to pursue a career as a criminal lawyer.

“How has the shop been while I was away?” you asked, as you carefully picked up one of the designs that the tattoo artist seemed to have scraped leading him to answer with an annoyed huff. “A pain, there’s been so many dumbass people coming in thinking they could just walk in and get a tattoo done immediately without even booking a meeting,” Sukuna answered before taking a bite of the soy-glazed fried chicken you made as he then continued with, “it was a good idea to get the bell since I could see if it was a customer I knew or not,”.

Looking at your boyfriend, you couldn’t help but smile at the man as he continuously munched the context in the box as if he hadn’t eaten in the past week when in reality he had been raiding the fridge back home only just this morning. Slowly, you turn your head back to the paper that you were holding as you continued to admire the work of art right in front of you. 

To be honest, it was quite simple compared to all the other ones that were lying about on his work desk but that didn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful. The light sketch depicted a short section of a branch or stem decorated with different types of beautiful flowers and next to it was the same design with the only difference of it being coloured lightly in case the client wanted to have options.

“What happened here?” you asked before tilting the paper to the side, letting Sukuna have a glance at the design he decided to discard.

“Oh, the client cancelled since I wouldn’t have sex with her,” Sukuna casually stated leading you to nod before taking another look at the design with a small smile on your face. Sadly, it was such a waste since the design was beautiful and it was disappointing to not see Sukuna put this beautiful art into life.

Some people might wonder why you were so calm about the statement he had just given you, heck even his younger twin brother Itadori Yuji thought it was weird that it didn’t bother you as much as other girls would have been. The reason was that you were so used to him having female attention as well as male attention and it wasn’t a surprise when people would book an appointment with him just for a fling or hoping for something more than just that - and even though you were calm, there was also a hint of jealousy and fear within your heart that you couldn’t help.

It was like the first time you saw him in your second year of high school.

                                               ꕥ 

Stretching your arms, you had finally finished the last sheet of the budgets for the school clubs leading you to carefully clip the pile of sheets into the folder as you then stood up from your desk before quickly heading out of your homeroom, so you could give the documents to the student council president, who was a third-year within your school.

However, as you were walking past a few classrooms with some people greeting you with a smile, you came to a sudden halt when you saw a whole crowd of female and males students in front of you leading to a blockage of the halls and a blockage of the classroom you need to go through to hand the documents to your senior.

“Did you hear, I heard he was back?!”

“I can’t believe he’s back, I missed him so much!”

“I like Yuji’s kind and goofy personality, but how could you not love a bad boy like him?”

‘Bad boy?’

Carefully, you managed to find a gap between the sea of students and forcibly made yourself fit within the gap before badly struggling to make it through the arc of the classroom door leading you to nearly trip the second you got the chance to push through the gap to ender the class. Quickly looking around, you found your senior sitting next to someone who looked like your friend and basketball club member Itadori Yuji - well more like a mature replicant of the boy you were used to. However, unbothered by the sudden appearance of the new third-year, you speedily made your way to the council president and handed him the booklet that he needed today leading you to receive his gratitude.

Yet, before you could even take a single step away from your senior, you unexpectedly felt someone grab your wrist causing you to quickly turn around to find Itadori’s replica behind you leading to a few gasps coming from the students from the outside as well as in the homeroom.

“Is there an issue?” you firmly asked, as you looked down at his hand that had a tight grip on your wrist causing you to have a small glance at the two black bands that were tattooed around his wrist - even though it was prohibited to have any in your school, you weren’t the type to scold someone for having them since you weren’t sure on how the teacher’s thought it affected someone’s education.

“Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?” the salmon-haired third-year curiously asked, as he began to admire your wrist by gently turning it for your veins to come into view before beginning to trace your skin with the tip of his thumb causing a light shiver to go down your spine due to the ticklish feeling as well as his deep voice which was the complete opposite to what you thought it was going to be.

‘So this is the infamous Sukuna everyone was talking about’

“Not really,” you answered as you looked at him causing his eyes to look back at you before you continued with “I don’t think it would suit me at all,”.

“I disagree,” Sukuna counteracted, as he went back to admire the blank canvas of your wrist that he wanted to draw on so badly. No not draw. Mark. “I think you’ll suit something, maybe something on your neck or collarbone at best actually,” Sukuna mentioned leading you to give him a confused expression before he then proceeded with his speech by saying, “I’ll convince you one day and mark you brat”,

‘What...did….he….just….call….me..?’

“Ah...good luck with that idiot,” you stated in an annoyed tone leading to a few of the admiring student to gasp at your wording as well as sudden confident as they were scared on what was going to happen to you now since Sukuna wasn’t the type to tolerate insults in a nice way no matter what gender you were. However, exceeding the audience’s assumptions, Sukuna began to smirk excitedly at your attitude as he suddenly found you more interesting than any other girl he has met at the back of the school.

“Be prepared, little kitten”

                                               ꕥ

‘That nickname….’

Back then Sukuna was known to be a playboy from what you could recall, every week there was news on the new girl he had managed to convince to meet at the back alley of the school while you were just being a model student with the dream of going to law school. However, during the middle of the school year, you began to realise that the common scandalous news that seemed to be popular enough for it to be on the front cover of the newspaper began to gradually fade as Sukuna slowly pushed himself into your life since you were close with his twin brother due to your friend being part of the basketball team as the assistant coach - she even mentioned that ever since Sukuna came into your life he had stopped his acts and change slightly because of you to which, of course, you denied at the time.

It was during the first term of your third-year that you agreed to give Sukuna a chance since he was constantly annoying you by popping up at the school gate after school to ‘walk you home’ ever since his graduation - when in reality it was to take you out somewhere - without fail even when you had to stay in a few hours. However, you had given him three conditions since you were still conscious of the consequences of dating someone with such a disgraceful built reputation - much to his dismay, he shockingly agreed.

If you are going to have a fling with someone behind my back, don’t think about seeing or talking to me again.

I know you are sexually active, but you have to wait until I’m ready.

Don’t tattoo me.

Let’s just say that Sukuna had managed to keep condition number one in check and you didn’t have to worry about it at all, while with condition number two he didn’t have to wait that long for you to give in to your desires which you could tell he certainly enjoyed when you finally gave him the ‘okay’.

Number three though...

“Do you want to try that design out?”

Breaking from your daze, you quickly turned your head to find your boyfriend staring at you - with the bento box practically empty at this point - while tilting his head to the paper that was still within your grasp.

“I think you giving me hickeys are enough in my opinion, babe” you jokingly mentioned leading to both you and Sukuna laughing at each other slightly.

“I mean, do you want me to draw it on you to see how it looks?” he then asked, causing you to look at the floral design one last time before giving him a hesitant nod.

‘Trying it out won’t hurt right?’

“I need a confident answer little kitten, where did that feisty attitude of yours back in high school go?” Sukuna teased, causing you to give him the side glance before giving him the verbal permission that he wanted, leading him to smirk at you since knew his mockery would get you to give him what he wanted since you were also the stubborn type - a side that he always loved to play with.

Grabbing his pen and a black pot full of his thin-tipped coloured skin markers, he wheels his chair even closer to your before pausing, leading you to look at him in confusion since you had already pulled your wrist in front of him, the same area he had grabbed back in high school.

“You’re wearing a lot of clothing today,” Sukuna muttered as he began to fiddle with the collar of your white silk dress shirt causing you to look at him with extreme confusion before mentioning, “well it is getting colder since the Autumn season is coming around,” leading him to hum in an understanding tone as he continued to play with the smooth fabric.

“I want to draw on your collarbone area, I don’t want to draw on the area where the client wanted it to be,” Sukuna stated as he lightly pushed away your wrist leading you to realise why he paused. “You can,” you quickly mentioned leading the tattoo artist to look at you to see if you were lying, only to see nothing but the light of the trust within your eyes.

Slowly, Sukuna began to reach over to the top button to then unhook it from its loop before continuously doing the same with the others until enough skin of your shoulders were exposed with the top half of your shirt resting on the side of your arms to which then he slowly moved away the right-hand side of your bra strap to fully expose the canvas that he wanted to mark so eagerly.

Admiring the skin that was in front of him, Sukuna began to trace the area with his thumb before leaning in to place a chaste kiss on the same side of your neck before cradling your face on the other side with his other hand - as if it was a way for him to say ‘thank you’ for letting him do this.

Regrettably pulling away, Sukuna quickly grabbed his black pen as he then leaned in towards your collarbone to start drawing the outline of his design on his now favourite canvas causing you to shiver somehow due to how ticklish and weird the sensation felt when the ballpoint pen continuously gently gilded upon your skin. However, what got you shaking the most was the constant feeling of your boyfriend’s breath being felt on your upper body now that your shirt was basically off - it wasn’t completely off to the same feeling when you were underneath him the first time you allowed him to make his claim on you.

“Baby, it feels ticklish,” you commented, the second you felt a different sensation upon your skin leading Sukuna to glance up to check if you were alright like you were an actual client before placing another kiss on your jawline in a way to comfort you since he had switched to his skin markers to colour in the design he had drawn on you.

“You’re being a good kitten though, you’re not moving a lot then I thought you would,” the tattoo artist whispered leading you to quiver as his deep voice was not helping so much with your beating heart - erratic to the point where you thought he could hear or even feel.

Due to Sukuna concentrating, you couldn’t help but keep silent to help him continue with his work causing you to glance around your room with your eyes before landing upon a wall where there was a multitude of messages written leading you to carefully scan the writings that were visibly presenting themselves.

As expected, there were messages of encouragement - not that the arrogant Sukuna needed it to be honest, but it was nice of the client to do so - and a few drawings from other tattoo artists that Sukuna had famously done. However, not to your surprise, there were a few numbers here and there causing you to sigh since you couldn’t help it - you couldn’t blame your boyfriend for being an extremely handsome man.

Unexpectedly, you felt another kiss being placed upon your cheek causing you to look towards your boyfriend with a smile on your face - it was as if he knew what you were looking at. “I’m finished by the way,” Sukuna announced, causing you to look at him with widened eyes since the drawing session was a little faster than you had anticipated.

Reaching over to a drawer in his desk, Sukuna suddenly pulled out a mirror before passing it to you, leading you to lift up the little instrument to see the result that was drawn on your skin.

“You changed the design,” you quietly stated, as you began to tenderly trace the design with your index finger as you began to admire the piece of art that was masterfully drawn on your collar bone. The tattoo beautifully depicted a single strand of a blooming lavender across your collarbone with each petal in different shades of purple while the buds that weren’t in bloom were in a slight pale pink shade making you smile more since Sukuna drew this straight from his head causing you to have a hint of proudness for him.

“I wasn’t going to give you that previous design, it doesn’t suit you one bit,” the salmon-haired artist mentioned as he continued with, “I’m not going to let that disgusting design touch your skin, especially since this is the first time you let me mark you somewhat,” as he then moved behind you before placing his chin on your shoulder to look at you through the mirror you were holding.

“I might let you mark me permanently then,” you suddenly announced causing your boyfriend to look at you with a surprised look on his face leading you to giggle at his reaction.

“Yeah, let’s break condition three then, you can mark me this one time,” you informed him as you turned to look at him, causing Sukuna to give you his classic smirk before possessively grabbing your chin leading him to lean closer to you.

“Let me mark you then”

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[soulmate-game]

Harley’s Plea for Help: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

“How long do you think it’s gonna take before she decides to sneak out?” Nightwing asked over his comms, lazily leaning against the balcony railing in front of him with his head resting on one hand.

“Dude, I started sneaking out almost twenty minutes ago,” a girl’s voice made Nightwing squeak and turn around, to reveal a teenage girl leaning against the door that led to the balcony he was on. “I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by doing unnecessarily showy gymnastics down from my hotel room’s balcony, no matter how much fun that would be, so I just snuck out one of the hotel’s back exits. Then I looked up to admire the moon and saw you here, staking out what is clearly my suite, and decided to come pay you a visit.”

“How long have you been there? And how did you even get behind me? I hope you didn’t break and enter, that’s an actual lived-in apartment behind us right now,” Nightwing asked, turning around to analyze the daughter of Harley Quinn for the first time in person.

She looked just like in her pictures, of course. Jet black hair like her father’s, except it seemed to have a bluish shine in the light. And her eyes were definitely Harley’s— thank goodness for that —vibrant blue and clearly analyzing him with the same amount of intensity as his did her. He had to bite back a chuckle. In a turn of complete irony, she really did look like a Wayne kid. Fit all of Bruce’s usual criteria to be adopted. But she was tiny, even smaller than Harley’s lithe form. He, Bruce, and Tim were of the hypothesis that the exposure both her parents had to Ace Chemical’s vats of acid likely had an effect on her DNA that stunted her growth. Perhaps there were other effects that they wouldn’t be able to figure out until they got to know her better, too, though it was clear that her skin was a likely one. It wasn’t unnaturally pale like her parent’s after their acid dips but it was paler than normal for sure, just a shade or two shy of being paper white.

And he could see, now, what Harley meant when she referred to Marinette as a powerhouse. It wasn’t very noticeable in pictures, but up close Dick could see the carefully honed muscle of an acrobat curling over her otherwise slim build. Combined with the knowledge that Marinette had been taught at least some serious self defense from a young age, he could see how such a tiny package could be a remarkable threat when necessary.

Marinette grimaced as the other Batfam, who were all nearby staking out her room from different angles, dropped onto the large balcony with them.

“Uh, well. I didn’t break and enter, I rather not get off to a criminal-ly start on my first night in Gotham, you know? But I realized that even though I was able to figure out the exact room you were staking me out from, I realized as soon as I got into the first floor of the building that I had no idea how to actually get to you. So I just climbed the stairs all the way to the roof and scaled my way down to this balcony, and pretended I’ve been here for a while when really I was barely able to hear you ask when I was gonna sneak out. I’m still out of breath, actually,” she put a hand on her chest and sure enough her breathing was still slightly fast. But not enough to be worrying or even all that noticeable. Yet another piece of evidence to show that she was a very active individual and had resistance built up to physical activity.

“Yup,” Robin groused grumpily, crossing his arms. “With all that rambling, you couldn’t be anyone else’s child but Quinzel’s.”

Marinette’s face immediately flushed pink all the way to her ears. “I’m sorry! I’ve been trying so hard to quit that habit, too!” She grumbled a bit to herself, putting her face in her hands. They all chuckled at the display. Red Hood ambled over, draping his arm over her shoulders (he nearly had to bend in half to do it, the height difference was that bad).

“As adorable as your freak out is, why’d you even come up here anyway? There’s no way you’d scale down a ten-story building just to say hello.”

She let out a heavy sigh at that, slowly peeling her face out of her hands. “Yeah, I recognized you guys right away. And honestly, as much as Momma Harley would be super proud of me for managing to give an entire group of vigilantes the slip, she’d also ground me for life if she found out that I saw you guys and still snuck away even though she probably swallowed her pride and asked you guys to babysit me, right? Self preservation. Contrary to popular belief, I do actually have some.”

“Wait,” Red Robin held up a hand, brows clearly furrowed under his cowl. “You expected her to ask for our help?”

“Well,” she made a so-so motion with her hand. “I didn’t think of it beforehand, but it all clicked once I saw Nightwing. I know how much my mom is worried about me, especially since you-know-who broke out a few days ago. She is more than worried enough to ask you guys for help. Even if she does complain about you guys, a lot actually, she also has made it clear that she trusts you guys with the stuff that actually matters.

“‘You know who’?” Batman repeated, arms crossed. If Marinette squinted, she thought there might have been a grin on his lips. “Is that how you always refer to him?”

“What else am I gonna call him?” she asked, face going deadpan. “Sperm donor? Source of a large amount of my self doubt and depreciation? The prime reason I haven’t been able to see my mom in person more often over the years? Oh, I know! How about I just always refer to him as ‘that bastard I wanna punch,’? That sounds good!” she rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Only one person in this world has the right to be considered my father in any capacity, and it sure as hell isn’t him. Genetics notwithstanding.”

Red Hood straight up guffawed at that, landing several rough pats on her back that made the girl stumble a bit. “Yep, I like this one! But as fun as it would be to see you give that jackass a mean left hook, it’s better if he never finds out who you are or knows that you’re here,” the vigilante’s voice got dark and serious very quickly. “He doesn’t forget people he finds interesting easily, and if he ever finds out about the connection you have to him, he’ll be a constant threat in your life.”

“I know,” Marinette agreed with a nod. “And if this conversation was happening two years ago, I’d say that my mom’s concerns aren’t unfounded. That I am too easily emotionally compromised and despite my deep seated issues and hatred for that man, I couldn’t guarantee he would be unable to get to me.”

Batman straightened up, as did all of his sons around him. None of them had missed the ‘if’ there. Batman’s voice went from charmingly deep to it’s usual gruff grumble. “What changed in two years?”

They all watched as Marinette gulped, taking a deep breath as she stalled for time, looking out at the view on the balcony before seeming to steel herself and return her gaze to Batman’s. When she did, it was suddenly full of iron will.

“I didn’t lie when I told Mom that I came to visit her— but that isn’t the whole truth, either. If I just wanted to visit her in Gotham, I would have waited until I was eighteen like we agreed. But I can’t wait, Paris can’t keep going on like this. I entered that contest because it was the fastest way to see you. I didn’t know if I would win, but… I had to take the chance. There was no way I’d be able to get to Gotham behind my mom’s back otherwise.”

“What are you talking about?” Robin hissed, stepping up to his father’s side. “Paris has been silent. If anything were happening, we would have heard about it by now.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Marinette corrected, never losing that ironclad look in her eyes. “Because a combination of magic and politics is keeping it quiet. No news about Paris’ situation is able to leave the city limits. Magic makes any non-native who leaves Paris think that everything they experienced was just a crazy dream. Natives won’t forget, but politics has all of us under very strict NDAs if we leave city boundaries, and all of our local news and social media is blocked from being accessed by anyone outside the city. But, I figured a little breaking of the rules wouldn’t exactly put a stain on my family’s reputation or anything, so,” she dug in her pocket and pulled out a thumb drive, holding it up for all of them to see. She swallowed again, but never stopped her eye contact with Batman. She held out the thumb drive.

“I came to Gotham to ask for your help. This sped things up, I didn’t expect to see you on my first night here, but two years in Hawkmoth’s Paris has really taught me how to roll with the punches. This,” she shook the thumb drive. “Holds videos of every fight since HawkMoth first showed up. It has all the information I’ve gathered over two years, tracks his movements and lists all his targets and— everything. But I’m not a detective, I’m a designer. I make clothes, I spar on the weekends, I am not good at getting evidence to prove that someone is a magic-abusing villain holding an entire city hostage.”

“We’re gonna need some details, Little Q,” Red Hood finally removes his arm from around her shoulders, instead crossing his arms and looking down at her sternly. “If your city has a villain holding it hostage, is anyone fighting him? And if you do have someone fighting him, why don’t you need our help, or why didn’t they call the Justice League? The JLE should be in Paris, right?”

Marinette snorted, face scrunching up in obvious distaste. “I’ll have to answer those a little out of order. First; the JLE was kicked out of Paris. They moved their headquarters to Italy about five years ago, I’m just surprised they apparently kept that secret from you,” she gestured to all of them, who indeed seemed very caught off guard by that tidbit. But Marinette just sighed and continued. “Though that’s a good thing, actually. We do have heroes, it started out as just a pair but it’s grown into a small team out of necessity. They didn’t call the Justice League because the last thing we need is any powered heroes coming in and making it worse— your league doesn’t have the best reputation for letting newer heroes take the lead even on their home turf, you know,” she pointed out, which made Batman shift a bit guiltily. He knew the JL was often a bit… heavy handed in their methods.

“What makes the situation so bad that you don’t want to bring experienced heroes into it?” Red Robin cut in, sounding as if the whole situation was a puzzle he was determined to sort out. Which, really, was exactly what Marinette had been counting on. She shot him a finger gun, grinning.

“That’s exactly the point! Hawkmoth uses a magical artifact, like I said— but this artifact can brainwash anybody who experiences even the slightest negative emotion. Sadness, anger, fear— anything negative. And it gives them powers, but puts them largely under his influence,” her expression twisted again, this time into a wry little grimace. “I guess you can say that my momma’s psychiatry background has secretly come in handy a lot over these past two years. And Hawkmoth is exactly why I try to tell Momma Harley to stop visiting me— I have worked my butt off to keep her from finding out about his attacks or getting Akumatized. Every time she shows up it gives me a heart attack!”

“Akumatized?”

Marinette waved a hand dismissively. “It’s the term used for when someone is turned into a super powered villain because of HawkMoth. The brainwashing— really it’s more similar to a straight up corruption. The person usually lacks their usual moral compass, and just seeks to soothe whatever set off their negative emotion in the first place. Usually, that means they seek a bloody revenge. And if someone who already has extensive training or extremely strong powers gets Akumatized, guess what?” She made jazz hands even though her face was deadpan. “Extra powers, or amplified ones, for the metas or superheroes who are Akumatized. And imagine what someone with, say, Batman’s level of experience could do if he had powers and no moral compass,” the silence that followed her words was deafening. She just nodded, knowing she had gotten her point across. “I’ve been working my butt off to stay positive, because if I’m Akumatized…” her shoulders fell, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat. “... I have no idea what I’d turn into, but if you take into consideration both my training and my family history… it’s really best if we never find out what kind of magic-powered supervillain I’d make.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Nightwing said after another long moment of silence for that to all sink in. He gestured at her with an open palm. “You’ve been dealing with a terrorist for two years who targets emotional vulnerability, you apparently have never been corrupted by this magic at least to present day, but your mother still worries about you being very emotionally fragile. And your heroes are not detectives, which is clearly what you need or you wouldn’t have asked us for our help.”

Marinette nodded. “I used to be very impressionable. At the start of all this, I was a huge people-pleaser. I got attached to new people in a matter of minutes. My mom always said I reminded her too much of herself— but two years of fighting off a guy trying to get into my head—“

“Wait,” Batman nearly barked, taking a step forward. “He’s been targeting you? You specifically?”

Marinette nodded grimly, mouth a straight line. “Not from the beginning, but this past year it’s been painfully obvious. He might be able to sense the strength of people’s emotions, and unfortunately I don’t exactly experience my emotions very… gently. All of my emotions tend to the much more intense side of the spectrum. If that’s true, then he might know that any negative emotion I feel will make an extremely strong Akuma. Either that, or he’s going by process of elimination. All of my friends, except for one, have been Akumatized already. So has my Papan and my grandmother. But it’s obvious when he’s targeting someone, I’ve felt him try to override my will on several occasions. But I can’t just repress all of my negative emotions forever, so consider us working against the clock right now. That thumb drive has all the details you need about our heroes, how exactly Hawkmoth’s powers work, and so on.”

“Do your heroes know you’re asking for our help?” Red Robin asked, gaze burning a figurative hole through Marinette’s face. “Better yet, if this drive has as much information as you say it does, how did you get it?”

Marinette handed the drive over to Batman, who finally took it and tucked it in his belt as she answered.

“Momma Harley might have a lot to say about your detective skills, but you are all still strangers to me. So consider this a test of your abilities— I expect that you will all go to extreme lengths to verify all of the information I gave you anyway. After all, I’m still the daughter of your most hated enemy. Right?” She met each of their gazes, one by one, with a challenging one of her own. “You’ll just have to figure out my connection to the heroes on your own. And how I got the information, too. It shouldn’t be too hard for the so-called world’s greatest detectives. And maybe this can double as a trust exercise. I fully expect you guys to scour through every inch of my past, and dig up everything you can on me. I encourage you to try to find everything you can, so that hopefully you can decide to trust me on your own once you have all the details laid out in front of you. By the way, for your own sanity? I’d start with reading about all of our heroes’ powers and abilities before you watch any footage of past attacks.”

Red hood rocked back on his heels, trading glances with the other vigilantes before they all shared a nod. Apparently having decided their course of action, Red Hood leaned down and hoisted Marinette up into a princess carry. All traces of her previous iron will melted away in favor of the high pitched squeal of surprise she gave, and once more she became an overly flustered teenager.

“Alright, little cutie. Let’s get you to your mom’s place before she and her crazy plant lady fiancé come hunting us down.”

“I can walk! I can freerun on my own! Mon dieu please let me down! Eeeeek!” She squealed again as Robin slapped a domino mask over her eyes and Red Hood wasted no time jumping over the balcony railing with her still in his arms. The fact that they were lowered down by a wire wrapped around Hood’s waist didn’t seem to take away any of the fright that came with a sudden drop over an eighth-story balcony.

Part 1

@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @misterpianoman (didn’t work sorry)

[storiesforallfandoms]

small world ~ corpse husband

word count: 2053

request?: yes!

“Can I get a Corpse x fem reader where reader an corpse are both streamers and they meet each other for the first time and realize they used to know each other as kids? I know Corpse has said that he didn’t have many friends when he was younger so maybe have it where reader was someone that was really nice to him? Sorry for the long request and thank you if you do it! 😊🖤”

description: he never would’ve thought that the new addition to their friend group would be someone from his past

pairing: corpse husband x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

“Hey Corpse,” Karl said. Corpse hummed in response, focused on the drawing he was doing for their Jackbox game. “(Y/N) is also from San Diego. Do you know her?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Karl, San Diego is pretty big. We’re not bound to know one another. Besides, just because he lives here doesn’t mean he grew up here.”

“I did grow up in San Diego actually,” Corpse said. “I don’t think we would’ve known each other though. Even if we happened to be in the same area, I didn’t talk to many people and I dropped out in the seventh grade.”

“I was, regrettably, popular in school,” (Y/N) added.

“Regrettably?” Karl asked.

“Yeah. Looking back, I hated being popular. I hated it when I was popular even. My friends were mega jerks and made fun of everyone, even me sometimes. I would try and make them be nice but they just let the popularity go to their heads. I haven’t spoken to any of them since we graduated. There was this sort of outcast in middle school I used to have a crush on. I tried to be friends with him, but he preferred to keep to himself. I always wished I had been friends with him because I feel like I would’ve been so much happier. I never saw him again either. I wonder whatever happened to him.”

Something about her story triggered a memory in Corpse. The year before he dropped out, there was a girl in is class who was always nice to him and tried to talk to him. He brushed it off as another way he was being made fun of. When it kept up, though, he realized she was likely being genuine. He still kept his distance, but he found himself gaining some feelings for her as well. When he dropped out, he never heard from her again.

I wonder where she is now, Corpse thought to himself. Man, what was her name?

Corpse accidentally gasped, drawing the attention of everyone in the Discord call.

“You good Corpse?” George asked.

“Y-Yeah,” Corpse responded. “Just uh...just realized I fucked up my idea a bit. No big deal, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

The game started prompting for everyone to show what they had created. Taking the opportunity of not having to speak, Corpse went to Google (Y/N)’s YouTube channel. She had come into the game as a friend of Karl’s and Corpse hadn’t heard of her channel, but now somethings were starting to click together.

The first thing that popped up with the top Google Image for (Y/N)’s channel name. It was a beautiful girl laying in a garden of flowers with a wide smile on her face. Corpse sucked in a breath as he realized that the girl in the picture looked familiar.

“Corpse,” came Karl’s voice, snapping Corpse out of his trance. “It’s your turn.”

“Sorry,” Corpse said. “I was distracted.”

The rest of the stream Corpse felt like he was in a daze. He continued to play the games and forced out laughs when he realized someone was making a joke. Every time (Y/N) spoke, he felt his heart flutter with excitement. He couldn’t believe that after all these years he had finally been reunited with her. And what was better was that she had actually admitted to having feelings for him too!

Don’t get too excited, he thought to himself. She said she used to have a crush on you. That was a very long time ago.

He tried not to seem too eager when the stream finally ended. He waited for someone else to leave the call first before he exited out of it himself. He waited another few minutes before messaging (Y/N) directly on Discord.

hey. it was fun playing with you tonight. weird request, but can we voice call maybe? just the two of us?

Corpse didn’t expect her to respond any time soon. It was late in San Diego, like nearly 3am late. Most people were going to bed by now. She had mentioned once during the stream that she was starting to get sleepy. He figured she’d see it in the morning and either call, or just ignore the message.

To his surprise, near seconds later, she was calling him.

“Hey stranger,” she said when he answered. “Long time, no speak. You must’ve missed my voice a lot, huh?”

Corpse chuckled. “Exactly, I really did.”

“Makes sense. I do have the best voice on the internet.” She laughed this time. It sounded like such a perfect sound. “For real though, is everything alright? Why did you want to call?”

How did he even tell her? Hey, so you know that outcast you liked? It was me! Surprise!

No, he couldn’t say that. Maybe she wouldn’t even remember, or maybe she wouldn’t believe him. He had to figure out some way to bring it up.

“I kind of wanted to talk more about your popular school days,” he said, trying to keep his voice light and teasing. “It’s not every day I meet a streamer who’s in my own area code. It would be nice to get to know someone who isn’t like a five hour drive away.”

“Oh!” She seemed excited by this response. Her excitement was almost contagious. “Okay, where should I start? The shitty friends or the shallow popularity?”

Corpse chuckled. “You pick.”

She talked for nearly an hour about her high school experiences with her popular friend group. Despite how much she despised being popular, (Y/N) still spoke with a light tone in her voice. She tried to bypass a lot of the more negative details and speak only of the good experiences she went though, which was nice to hear.

Corpse nearly jumped with excitement when she began to talk about middle school unprompted.

“It really was the last good years I had in school,” she admitted. “All my friends, the ones who went on to be super popular with me, they were nice then. Annoying, but all middle schoolers are. We didn’t care about popularity or social rankings. We were just...we were just kids. We didn’t even really know the difference between ‘losers’ and ‘popular’, which was why it was so easy for me to talk to that guy that I liked at the time. My friends weren’t mocking me for having feelings for an outcast.”

“You said you never saw that guy again,” Corpse said. “Do you know what happened to him?”

She sighed heavily. “No, I don’t. He just stopped showing up before we hit high school. I thought he moved, but I knew his mom and I saw her around everywhere. I don’t even remember his name anymore to look him up. Wherever he is, though, I hope he’s doing better. Even if they weren’t sucked completely into their popularity at the time, my friends and the other kids were still awful to him.”

“I feel that,” he said. “I wasn’t exactly the most liked kid in school. Before I dropped out I didn’t even have any friends.”

“That’s awful.”

“It wasn’t too bad. I’m not really a friendly person I don’t think. I’ve worked on it since that time, but the thought of trying to maintain a social relationship still gives me anxiety from time to time. There was one girl who tried to be friends with me the year before I dropped out though. She was nice.”

“What happened to her?”

Corpse smiled to himself. She would figure it out soon, he knew she would.

“I just didn’t hear from her after I dropped out,” he responded. “I guess that’s mainly my fault. I never reached out to her or anything, but I barley knew her name. Just her first time, and she never gave me a number or anything. I couldn’t look her up online. Maybe we just weren’t destined to be together.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe you two were just right people, wrong time. Maybe you’ll cross paths again and finally have that opportunity to be friends with her again.”

“Maybe you’ll cross paths with that guy from your middle school, too.”

There was a prolonged silence. Corpse wondered if (Y/N) was starting to put the pieces together. He could barley even hear her breathe. The longer she went, the more worried he was becoming. He was about to say something when she finally spoke again.

“I made him a Valentine,” she said, her voice soft. “Special handmade one. He was the only one I gave it to. It had some really badly written, sappy poem in it. I watched him open it and...I really think he got emotional while reading it. Of course, he’d never tell anyone that.”

Corpse had gotten emotional over the Valentine (Y/N) had given him. It was the first real Valentine he had ever gotten. It wasn’t one of the generic ones that everyone gave out to every classmate so no one felt excluded. It was made from the heart, and that fact alone touched his. Like (Y/N) said, though, he didn’t let anyone know how emotional he had gotten. It would’ve just been more mental ammo for them to use to bully him.

He quickly got up from his chair, racing to his room where he had his box of memories shoved in his closet. It was little things from throughout his life that he kept in a shoebox. Whenever he felt particularly down or depressed, he would open the shoebox and look at all the things that made him smile.

At the very top of the box was (Y/N)’s Valentine.

He went back to his computer and took a picture of the Valentine using his phone.

“That sounds really nice,” he said as he went into the Discord app on his voice. “It must’ve meant a lot to him that you put so much time and effort into a handmade gift.”

“I don’t know if it did. I never got to ask him what his reaction was.”

“Oh, I’d bet anything he was happy.”

He sent the picture through Discord and waited for (Y/N) to open it. The silence between them felt deafening. The seconds felt like they had slowed to hours. He wondered what (Y/N)’s reaction would be. Maybe she’d be weirded out by the fact that Corpse kept the Valentine, or by the fact that Corpse was the middle school crush in general.

What if she’s upset that this is who I am now? he asked himself. What if her crush was just a middle school thing, and the moment you dropped out she moved on?

“I knew it.”

Corpse couldn’t help the smile on his face when he heard the slight excitement in (Y/N)’s voice.

“I knew it was you!” she continued. “Well, I didn’t know know, but when you asked me to call you I had a bit of a suspicion. I can’t believe it...it’s actually you!”

“It is me,” he confirmed. “And it’s you.”

“Small world we live in, huh?”

“Yeah, small world.” Do you still like me? Did you ever stop? Do you know that your kindness stuck with me for so long?

The silence returned. Corpse was starting to get sick of it, but he didn’t know how to fill the void between them. When he heard her yawn, he realized how late it had gotten. “I’ll let you go, you sound tired.”

“We just had this breakthrough and you’re asking me to sleep?!”

Corpse chuckled. “You have to sleep eventually, (Y/N). It’s like 3:30am, normal people sleep at this hour.”

“I am offended you would think I’m anywhere near normal.” She yawned again, cutting off her short lived rant. “But you’re right, I am tired. Listen...promise me you’ll answer when I call tomorrow. I...I’d really like to catch up. Maybe...to pick up where we left off.”

“Okay,” Corpse said, then realized that wasn’t really a response. “I promise. I’ll be waiting by the phone the moment I open my peepers.”

(Y/N) giggled. “I’ll be sure to call you the moment I open mine.”

“Goodnight (Y/N). Sleep tight.”

“Goodnight Corpse underscore Husband.”

kind of a bad ending, but i wasn’t really sure where else to go with it as i wrote it. sorry! :(

[n0bamak1s]

whisper of the heart- megumi fushiguro x reader

summary: you begin to take notice of the name “megumi fushiguro” on all the tops of your library checkout cards. a semi-retelling of whisper of the heart featuring you and megumi. (genre: fluff, high school au, meet cute)

warnings: none! except maybe slightly ooc megumi

word count: 3.2k

a/n: hi everyone! ty all again for being so patient with me publishing this. i’ve been very busy with college apps lately, but i’m gonna try to keep this blog as active as i can while balancing it with school life. anyways, i had a lot of fun writing this, but i’m definitely not used to writing megumi, so feel free to leave feedback ^^ i also changed some details from the original movie and left it a bit open ended, so feel free to let me know if you want a part 2!

“who the hell is megumi fushiguro?”

your gaze was fixed on the faded ink reading the now all too familiar characters. the characters spelling out a name that managed to keep showing up on the yellow tinted checkout cards tucked into the books you borrowed.

nobara glanced over your shoulder, inspecting the piece of cardstock tucked between your fingers. wrinkling her nose in disgust, she plucked the card from you, holding it closer to her face.

“whoever it is, they have terrible handwriting.” she stuck her nose up, turning back to you with a playful smile. “i don’t know how you managed to get ‘megumi fushiguro’ out of that chicken scratch.” a face of mock distress crossed her features as she did air quotes around the name, as if she couldn’t believe such a delicate name would be given to someone with such handwriting. she’s always had a tendency to be a bit over dramatic about trivial stuff like this.

with nothing more than a huff in response, you snatched back the card, tucking it neatly back into your library book. your fingers grazed the worn down cover for a moment, gliding along the slight tears around the corners and the stiffness of the yellowing pages.

‘i wonder how many of these creases came from megumi fushiguro?’

“whoever it is, it seems like that name shows up in every book i check out in the library.”

nobara kicked a rock as she walked, leaving a small cloud of dust around her feet. “maybe you’re just imagining it. you always stay up so late doing whatever the hell it is you do in your free time that you’ve probably begun to hallucinate.” she nudged you playfully, eliciting a dead pan expression from you.

“i’m serious nobara. i mean, i’ve never really believed in fate but there’s no way it’s completely coincidental!”

she raised an eyebrow, as if to say you can’t be serious. “i think you’ve been reading too many romance novels, for all you know this person could totally be just some weird old guy with nothing better to do than visit the library.”

“hey!” you acted as if that last bit was a personal attack on you, and knowing nobara it probably was. “i’m not saying this megumi fushiguro person is my soulmate or anything, i just think it’s a very strange coincidence.” you shrugged off your backpack as you talked, putting away your book. noticing the suspiciously light weight of your bag, you rummaged your fingers around for a moment to find that your sketchbook had gone missing.

crap.

nobara turned to you, perceptive as ever of your suddenly altered demeanor. “forget something again?” it was almost annoying sometimes how well she knew you. was it really that obvious?

“just my sketchbook,” your hands rifled through your bag one final time to make sure you really didn’t have it “probably left it on the park bench or something, it’ll just be a minute to get it.” you turned to her with a sheepish smile, silently pleading her to follow you there. she stared blankly at you for a moment, probably having one of her internal monologues about how lucky you were to have her as a friend, before rolling her eyes and following suit.

“this better be quick, i have places to be you know!”

“no you don’t.” you turned around before you could meet her melodramatic glare.

behind you, you could hear her huff of dissatisfaction, though she made no move to leave, reassuming her position next to you, giving you a gentle nudge as she brushed next to you.

as you walked, the sunlight peeking between trees framing your pathway began to warm your face, highlighting the ends of your eyelashes and the tops of your cheeks with the warm glow of the first hints of summer time. for a moment, you closed your eyes, letting yourself be enveloped in it, before your fleeting thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a bike coming in your direction. you felt as if you’d jump out of your own skin in that moment, hearing a “move out of the way!” from a husky, disembodied voice.

it probably looked pretty ridiculous how you jumped out of the way, kicking up a fleeting cloud of dust as you avoided the sudden presence of the biker. grounding yourself, your eyes flickered up to the source of the voice, being met with the gaze of stormy blue eyes, framed by long, dark eyelashes that nobara would most definitely be envious of. taking in the boy’s whole figure, your eyes were drawn to the messy black hair atop his head, formed at the ends into contradictorily gentle looking spikes. the sleeves of his white button down were rolled up taut around his forearms, leading your gaze to his hands wrapped tightly around the bike handles.

oh, right. he’s still biking.

you turned your focus back to keeping to your side of the path momentarily, before the sight of your name written atop the sketchbook peeking out of his bag came into your field of vision as he continued to move past you. before you had time to think rationally, you turned to his now retreating form, breaking into a jog, kicking up a few more dust clouds as you did.

ignoring nobara’s incredulous calling of your name, you tried to call to the boy who had no intention of slowing down. “excuse me!” you cupped a hand around your mouth, hoping to project your voice louder. “hey!” the irritation in your voice was clear, but you breathed a small sigh of relief as the bike slowed to a stop, and the spike headed boy turned to your direction.

after an awkward moment of your continued jogging to him while he stood with a blank expression, you stopped in front of him, an accusatory look grazing your features.

“i think you have something of mine.” you tried your best to imitate the confident attitude you always admired from nobara, placing a hand on your hip and using the other one to point to his bag. his gaze followed the direction of where you pointed, his eyebrows raised while the rest of his face remained stagnant.

“oh, this?” he tugged the cardboard covered sketchbook out of the pocket it had been placed in, examining the cover. his eyes flickered between your name written in the top corner, and your currently annoyed looking face, as if he was playing some sort of word association game. you simply nodded in response, anticipation clear in your actions.

as he held out the sketchbook to you, he leaned down so his face was closer to you, as if to tell you a secret, voice low and eyes trained on you. “you should be more careful next time. you’re lucky i’m nice enough to not just steal this from you right now.”

you didn’t have an explanation as to why your heart began to race.

taking your silence as a response, he pushed it into your hands, his fingers brushing against yours gently. “nice drawings by the way, i recognize your friend over there from the portrait you drew of her on the first page.” his face remained stoic as he pointed at nobara, who was tapping her foot in boredom.

face warm from embarrassment, you snatched the sketchbook from where his hands lingered on it, muttering a bitter sounding “thanks” before stalking over to nobara once more, who looked relieved that she’d finally be able to go wherever it was she was going to.

“what an asshole.” you glared at him over your shoulder as he biked away, your gaze lingering a second too long for someone so insistent on hating him. nobara shook her head in response, clearly annoyed at your own obliviousness after witnessing the whole interaction.

a smug smile crossed her soft features. “maybe that’s megumi fushiguro.”

you raised a brow as you glanced at her. “as if!”

despite your insistence on your distaste for the mystery boy, he managed to have flooded your thoughts. ‘he must be using sorcery or something to keep himself on my mind, weirdo.’

still, you couldn’t deny how just a few more of your portraits were accented by ocean blue eyes, or pointed ends to the different mops of hair you sketched. how did you manage to keep attracting mystery people into your life?

when you returned to the library, you gripped a thick science fiction novel, the pages brushing your soft fingers as your marched it up to the checkout counter. as the librarian wrote the date on a small piece of cardstock, you took note of the fact that your name would be the first one there. had megumi fushiguro missed out on this one?

a pleasant smile stretched across your face as the librarian handed the book back to you. scrawling your name at the top of the checkout card, your eyes flickered to a stamp of ink beneath the slot for it.

donated by fushiguro.

of course it was.

the library door squeaked quietly as you pushed it open, one hand on the door, and the other placing your new book in your backpack. zipping it up and throwing it over your shoulder, you were met with the feeling of a dog sniffing your leg. your eyes trailed down to a dog almost akin to a small polar bear brushing its nose against your calf. reaching your hand to scratch softly against the back of his head, you coo gently at the not-so-little little guy.

“what’s got you all by yourself buddy?” an involuntary smile creeps onto your face at how he calms at your pats.

wordlessly, obviously considering this is a dog, he turns and walks a few steps forward, before pausing and tilting just his fur covered face toward you, egging you on to follow him just as you had the other day with nobara. you considered for a moment, before shrugging and giving in to his pretty minimal amount of convincing. nobara would be out getting lunch with maki today anyways, so you could use something to do today. after all, it could be fate.

it was almost as if you were one of those people who walked their dog without a lash, but in reality, it was more like the dog was walking you as it lead you down tall, sidewalk-lined hills and through parks filled with young parents having picnics with their children and couples going on walks. you wondered to yourself if this was a worthwhile excursion, was he just leading you to a dead end, or worse, was he some dog trained by a gang to lure people into danger?

after walking a few minutes more, you found out the spot you were being lead to was, in fact, even worse then both the possibilities you’d been brainstorming in your head, when you were met at the bottom of another hill with the stoic expression of that spike head. his eyes softened at the sight of the dog, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips that quickly vanished as he met your gaze, his eyes hardened in contrast with the bashfulness that shone on his cheeks.

“oh, you found him. thanks for that.” he cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his gaze back to the dog. you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. to be fair though, what did you expect you’d do when you found where the dog was leading you?

“i should probably go.” your usually collected demeanor had been replaced with that of a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs. with a stiff wave, you took your leave, turning on your heel.

“wait.” his voice wavered, as if trying to catch himself before he spoke. “i can walk you home if you want. it’s the least i can do after you got him home.” he forced a smile onto his face, though it made him look more constipated than inviting. what happened to the snarky, aloof boy who had handed you your sketchbook just a few days ago?

still, you nodded, lips pressed into a line that you hoped resembled somewhat of a smile. surely, you should have been more worried about his sudden change in demeanor, but the relieved expression on his face seemed to soothe your nerves a bit. he assumed a spot next to you, tucking his hands in his pants pockets.

“your little buddy there lead me all over the city trying to find you, so i don’t exactly know how to get home from here, but maybe you can just lead me to the library.” you turned so you faced him, now aware of the close proximity between you two. nobara would probably laugh in your face if she could witness the moment you paused, stunned by the eye contact he made with you under his thick eyelashes. had you been perceptive enough in the moment, you may have noticed the blush creeping up his face. he nodded his head, which was already tilted down to face you fully, with eyes hazy and lips slightly parted.

“it’s just this way, i’ll show you.” he removed his hand from its pocket to point up the hill that had brought you to him in the first place. you gripped the straps of your backpack and faced in the direction he pointed to obediently, hoping to ignore the weird tension in the air. what could you talk to him about?

before you could continue your internal dilemma, he cleared his throat again. “you seem to like the library a lot, huh?”

by god was this boy terrible at small talk.

“i guess i do, but i don’t know how you came to that conclusion considering i only just brought up the library.” you cocked an eyebrow as you looked at him, probably sounding more annoyed than you’d intended.

he smiled knowingly at you, a hint of disbelief on his features as he raised his eyebrows. “i guess you wouldn’t know since your nose is always buried in a book, but i see you there like every day.”

your eyebrows furrowed so they practically touched, trying to rack your memory for seeing him in the library. “i’m sure i’d be able to recognize you if you did.” you were completely oblivious to the implications of how memorable you found him that laced your statement.

he shrugged nonchalantly. “believe it or not. i even tried sitting down in front of you a few times, but you were always too focused on your books to notice.” his smile was almost bittersweet as you waited by a stoplight. before you could respond, he continued. “it’s kind of admirable though. i think it’s nice that you’re so passionate about your books.”

you took a chance to look at him, really look at him, for the first time since you’d glared at him biking by. he held your gaze, eyes gentle. there was absolutely no way this was the same boy carrying your sketchbook in his bag from a few days ago.

“well if you think i’m so nice, what was with you trying to be all smart about my sketchbook?” ever the stubborn one, you were.

he shrugged his shoulders, shoving his hands back in his pockets. “you really should be more careful of your stuff. i was just letting you know. it’s not like i would have put in that effort for just anyone’s sketchbook. i guess i was just trying to make sure you wouldn’t lose it again. sorry if i offended you.”

the way he was blushing would have made any bypasser believe he’d just asked you to marry him.

“it’s just…” he continued “after seeing you in the library all the time, i thought you were really impressive. i thought if i tried to return your sketchbook, i could impress you too.” he kicked a rock that touched the edge of his sneaker.

“why would you wanna impress me?” your obliviousness was excruciating for the poor boy, though it was completely sincere on your end.

“you know, for someone so smart, you really are dense.” he pursed his lips, feigning annoyance. “and here i was thinking i was so obvious.”

at this point, you were nearing the library, and suddenly desperate to continue this conversation that you would have been dreading at the start of this walk.

“when it was obvious you weren’t gonna look up from your book, i tried checking out as many books as i could to get on your radar.” his smile had a weird hint of sadness behind it. you stayed silent, piecing together facts in your head.

“recognize the name megumi fushiguro?”

oh.

it pained you for a moment to know you’d have to tell nobara she was right.

“you’re megumi fushiguro?” your eyebrows shot up in surprise, mouth slightly agape. he seemed to stifle a laugh at your expression.

“i mean, what were you expecting?” he looked a little too smug for someone who was too scared to talk to you in the library.

“some weird old person, probably.” you shrugged, still with an incredulous look on your face. “i’m glad it wasn’t though.”

“oh?” he really did have a nice smile. “i guess you’re glad it was me then.” even he was unsure of this sudden confidence.

you pondered his question for a moment, but your body moved before your brain did, nodding your head slowly. he seemed to loosen up then, hands out of his pockets again, making you aware of how close you stood to him with the way his fingers brushed yours every few steps. a slight sadness filled your being as you stopped in front of those squeaky library doors that suddenly seemed so uninviting.

“i’ll tell you what then,” he started confidently, juxtaposing the bashful way he avoided eye contact with you all of a sudden “come to the library again tomorrow, and i’ll meet you there. really meet you this time, not just walking past your table. i can show you my favorites there and you can show me yours, it’ll be…fun.” he looked up almost worriedly for your reaction, slightly angry at himself for his sudden shyness, you seemed to have quite the effect on him.

there was a beat of silence, and he almost cut the tension in the air by taking back his request and booking it back home. before he could fully hatch his master escape plan, you reached over to grab his hand, his slender fingers lacing through yours. you gave it a light squeeze, and swore you could feel him jump a little at the contact.

“i’d like that a lot,” you looked in his eyes, which had gone from defensive to doe like in just your five words “megumi fushiguro.” he loved the way his name sounded coming from you. his anticipation cracked into a smile as he squeezed your hand back, and you prided yourself on getting to make him smile again.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, then.” he leaned down slightly as he said it, reminiscent of how he had scolded you about your sketchbook just a few days ago. you nodded in response, unable to stop the giddy smile stretching across your face.

tomorrow couldn’t come any faster.

[mrs-march-ahs]

how the evans would act when they have a crush on u ^^

How The Evans Act When They Have A Crush On You & How They React When You Tell Them You Like Them Too

Award for the longest title goes tooooo... me!

JAMES SUCKS BUT I MAKE UP FOR IT BY DOING BOTH KYLE’S AND A DETAILED KIT

Two other requests-

Could I please request how the Evans would react to their best friend (reader) admitting they're in love with them? 

Heyo! I’m not sure how this would go but how would the Evan’s react to a nervous/insecure reader confessing to them?

-I hope this is satisfactory, even though I don’t think it’s what you two wanted<3

Enjoy! :)

--

Tate

-Would always just be interested in you

-Wanting to help you, watch you, talk to you, just constantly be around you

-But he’d also be insecure whether he was annoying you, so occasionally he would make himself invisible and just watch you

-Whatever hobbies you had, he’d love to watch you do them, paint, draw, write, play games

-If you played any instrument he would love to lay on your bed and listen to you, no matter how good or bad you were

-He would leave little sweet messages on the chalkboard and leave little post-it notes for you to find

-They would have fun little facts about birds or other trivial stuff but you would find them cute

-The occasional fact about something romantic, like ‘Every time you kiss somebody, your heart beat increases by 10-15 beats per minute’

-He might go a little far and leave a message like ‘Your dress looked pretty’, which you would find creepy since you didn’t know Tate was a ghost

Kit

-He thought of ways to tell you how he felt but because it seemed like your family was gonna live in the murder house for a while, cause you were all settling in well, he didn’t want to risk losing his friendship with you, since you were the only ghost with whom he really got along

-You walked down to the basement and said his name in a sing song voice, “Tateeeee”, “Come out come out wherever you are!”

-He showed up and you asked him if he wanted to go out on a real date

-He was obviously nervous, because you didn’t know yet that he was a ghost, but when he hesitated and you looked upset, he said yes right away

-You ran up and hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, making him blush and laugh, and whilst you were at school, he got some things ready and got candles and a table cover so make your kitchen look like a restaurant

-He ordered McDonalds delivery and got your chicken nuggets under a serving platter for effect

- “We are dining on, nuggets of the chicken”

-Although you were a little disappointed and wanted to go out on a real date with him, you found his effort cute

-He definitely played footsie with you under the table the whole date

-Definitely walked you to your room

- “Well… this is me…”

- “Just wanted to make sure you got home safe”

-Kissed you

oh my god I got so carried away

-You would first meet Kit when you first come and move to Massachusetts

-One day you want to venture out and get an taxi to go to town, only a few minutes later to realise you don’t have your wallet

-You awkwardly tell the driver that if takes you back home quickly, you can get money and you will pay him right away

-But since Boston men aren’t usually so sweet, he just kicks you out, leaving you to wander the motorway alone late at night, far away from your home and hoping to quickly find somewhere to go

-Eventually you stumble upon a gas station, and as you walk up, a hand appearing on your shoulder makes you automatically turn around and push whoever touched you to the ground

-The man in blue uniform gets up slowly with his hands up defensively, “Hey hey, didn’t mean to startle ya, miss”

-You apologise, feeling stupid for this kind of encounter, but he doesn’t seem to mind as much as you’d think

- “It’s always nice to see a woman able to protect herself”, he smiles

-He offers to drive you home, and you thank him dearly, explaining to him that you don’t have a car yet, having only just moved here

-He offers to take you to buy one, knowing an awful lot about cars, and to convince you further, tells you that any man working in a car salon will try to sell a single lady a piece of junk for a high price

-You agree, thinking that the offer is sweet, and he takes you to buy yourself a car, to make the date even more fun, Kit tells you to pretend you’re an old married couple

- “Miss Walka over here needs a car, good Sir”

-At some point while looking at cars, Kit holds your hand and you don’t even notice

-He negotiates a good deal with the salesman, and you get a car together

- “Your husband just got you an awfully good deal, Madam, he’s a man who deserves a good meal and a cold beer if I’ve ever seen one”, the salesman laughs, signing the last of the papers before handing Kit the keys to your car. “Oh, he’ll get more than that”, you say to tease Kit, before smiling at him sweetly. Kit blinks at you, before turning back to the salesman and shaking his hand. As the two of you walk away, Kit looks at you in disbelief, the thought of your dirty words clearly plastered in his mind. “Did ya mean what you said back there?”. He says, as he opens the car door for you. “Whatever do you mean?”, you act stupid. “I was just pretending to be your wife, Mr Walka”

-When he has a crush on you, he gives you sooo many compliments

-Little dirty innuendos

-Would definitely call you and talk to you late night on the phone until one of you fell asleep (house phone if they had them)

-He’s the kind of person to tell you that he got a visit from a cute dog earlier at the gas station and it made him think of you

 Kyle

-Every time you go to get gas from Kit, he gives you only a little amount, so you have a reason to keep coming back

-One time when you go get gas from him, you forget your wallet again, and he teases you about it

-He lets you off and pays for your gas

- “I owe you, Mr Walka”

- “How about a date?”

-You smile at how confident he is, and nod excitedly, having been waiting for him to ask you for a while now

-Kit winks at you and waves as you drive off, completely melted inside about finally getting his girl

-Even though he’s always confident, he’s still a little shy and awkward around you when he sees you in class

-If all of his friends are in a class messing around, throwing stuff, being loud, and you walk it, he tells everybody to shut up because there’s a lady present

- “Hey careful, make sure you don’t throw it at her”

-It’s not until he sees you at a huge party, that he’s confident enough to go up to you

-Even though he’s more than happy to flirt, he’s just not confident enough to do that last step and ask you out somewhere

-He’ll bring you a drink and  talk and flirt with you, and you’ll definitely get the hint

-He slowly lifts his arm up and stretches it over you, trying to do the classic yawn move, hoping you won’t notice or mind. You look over at him and narrow your eyes in fake suspicion.

- “Didn’t you come here with a movie star? Surely you get handsome men bringing you drinks all the time?”, he says, motioning to the drink in your hand.

“You calling yourself handsome?”, you tease him. Kyle laughs a breathy awkward laugh and nods. “Well yeah”

-When you do ask him for a date, he insists that he take the initiative to plan what you two do

-Clearly wanting to make a good first impression, he’d take you somewhere interesting

-Aquarium, in which he’ll make up clearly fake facts about the fish just to make you laugh

-Bowling, just so he can tease you about how much you suck

-Mini golf, so, even though you know how to play, he can wrap his arms around you and help you put

-And if he does take you to the movies, you aren’t spending a dime

-He’ll also wrap his arm around you not-so subtly

Franken Kyle

“Whatcha doin there, hm?”. Kyle leans into your ear and whispers.

“Just in case you get scared, you can cuddle up to me”

“Kyle we’re watching the Lego movie”

Jimmy

-You’re a witch at the academy, and with Kyle’s very slow progress to getting better, both Zoe and Madison are getting slightly tired of having to constantly take care of him

-But you don’t mind, finding his Frankenstein state cute

-Whenever he stumbles into the kitchen by himself you always help him make food

-If he’s ever struggling with anything, he usually comes to you, knowing you’re the most patient out of them all

-Then, one night, all the teens in the academy go to a party, while you lay in bed

-But when the rain starts to get really heavy and the first thunder growls, Kyle rushes into your room, before slowly knowing and peaking his head out, clearly scared

-You let him come and lay with you, rubbing his back to calm him down

-Although no real words are spoken, it’s from that moment that you decide to take on all responsibilities relating to Kyle, the good and the bad

-He’s admired you from afar for a very long time, ever since the first time you joined the circus

-You were incredibly flexible, and always showing off to everyone and practicing on stage

-He would always come and watch you practice, cheering you on more than anybody else

-You called Jimmy ‘my cheerleader’

-It made him blush every time

-Amazon Eve always told him to just ask you for dinner, but the only thing that stopped him was the thought that you wouldn’t want to go out and be seen with a freak like him, especially since your body looked so normal that you didn’t have to hide anything

-Eve and Paul reminded Jimmy that it’s him who’s always the most confident in going out into the real world, and he mustn’t be scared

-When they all plan to go to a diner together, as a protest to being shunned from society, you find his leadership charming and happily go with them

-Even though you all get kicked out, you calm Jimmy down and take care of him when his dad beats him up

James

-You wipe the scars on his face and tell him how brave you think he is

- Trying to gain confidence, you take a deep breath before making the move. “Maybe the two of us should go to that diner”. Jimmy looks up at you, as if he expects you to keep talking. When the nerves hit you all at once, you begin rambling. “You know cause if the two of us go and they’re okay with that then maybe we can start going with the others one by one, and then you know we’ll ease our way back into society and stuff”. You laugh a breathy laugh, but Jimmy says nothing. With every silent second passing, your heart begins to break. But luckily for you, Jimmy speaks up. “Wait, are you asking me out? Like… on a date? To the diner?”. “What if I were?”, you quietly reply. He smiles wide and pulls you closer to him, “I’d love that”.

-James is definitely the least subtle

-Constantly giving you compliments, kisses and gifts

-Opening every door for you and listening very carefully to everything you say

-He doesn’t want you to even think about another man, so he overwhelms you with every way he can show you he likes you

-I can imagine him organising a big ball or event at the hotel just so the two of you can dress up and go together

-He is also the most confident out of them all, although he is a softie around you, he has no trouble asking you anything he wants to you

-He’ll kiss your hand a lot and you’ll eventually get the hint

Kai

- “I would be most delighted if we were to make our relationship more official, and vow fully loyalty to one another”

-You agree and he is over the moon

-Once the two of you are in a relationship, the compliments, kisses and gifts don’t stop

-He will give you your space without him, but when the two of you are in the same room together, he treats your precious time together as if it’s sacred

-He will approximately 43 seconds into your relationship begin planning how he’s gonna kill you

-You can tell Kai likes you when he’s harsher on you than he is on other members of the cult

-He’ll be pissed at you for being a distraction for him

-He’ll definitely tell you when he’s impressed with you, when you murdered somebody or helped him plan something

-Even though he definitely would not want it

-If you proved to be smarter than him in any aspect, he’d be furious

-You’d be sat on his sofa while he’s talking to you about having to kill Sally because she’s getting in the way of him winning city council

- “Samuels looked at where she lives, and it has no back doors, no nothing, it’ll be impossible to get in her house without smashing windows and causing attention”

“Why don’t you get Ally to go to her first? If Meadow convinces her to go to Sally to talk about the cult, then the front door will be open”. Kai looks at you with angry eyebrows. “We’ll sit in the car and wait for a few seconds, she’ll let Ally in, won’t lock the door straight after her, and then let them talk for a minute before we just walk right in”

-His ego won’t let him take suggestions from somebody below him, so even though he wants to be proud of you for being smart, he’s mad

-He’ll sit for hooours trying to think of any other solution he physically can think of, to not go with what you suggested

-Around the cult, he’d treat you like everybody else though

- “Y/N’s idea was brilliant, Ally just walked in and they walked straight to sit down, she didn’t lock the door”

-He’d praise you to encourage you to think of ideas, which he would later be mad that you have

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

-You’d find out how he felt about you during pinky power

-After being suspicious that he may have feelings for you for a while, you realised this is the only way to truly find out how he feels without him trying to manipulate you

-He’d ask you about something deep, and you’d latch on after he finishes a sentence to ask him your question

- “I have a question for you”

“Go ahead”

“How do you feel about me?”

Kai stays silent and continues to look you in the eye, taken aback by the question but not wanting to show it.

“When you’re with me, how do you feel?”

“I think you have real potential, you’re strong-”

“I’m not asking the Divine Ruler, I’m asking Kai, Kai Anderson”

He takes a deep breath before unintentionally breaking eye contact for a few seconds to think. You wait anxiously for the answer, and with every second passing you know what it will be.

“You’re special”, he starts, looking you in the eye again. “You’re valuable to the group, and to me. And I think you’d be a great… mother”. The last catches you off guard, not expecting Kai to be a family man or to think about this with you.

“You… you want me to… have your children?”

“I think our children would be indestructible, strong, powerful, decisive. They would be the seed of the better future”. Although it was a little forward for somebody you’ve never even kissed, you were beyond flattered, knowing how specific Kai is with traits in people.

“Let’s make a baby”, Kai says.

“Whoa whoa”, you laugh and unlink your pinky with his. “We’re not even dating, Kai”

“Why date if children is the ultimate purpose?”

“Then don’t look at is as dating… look at it… as getting to know the mother of your future children”

-Kai would love this and you’d soon end up dating

-And have like 6 kids

@milly-louise  @amourtentiaa  @kitwalker02  @tatestripedsweater  @therenlover  @maria-akira         @tatesimper  @thxc0untessesgl0ve  @mossybank  @ahsxual  @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess  @mrs-march-ahs-biggest-fan  @kitwalkerangel  @kitisagoldenretrieverboy @darlingkitt  @blackbat2020@elaineygrace @kaiandersonskoolaid  @undeadcortez @whiiiiplaaaaash

As usual, if you wanted to be added or taken away, dm me or comment!! I won’t mind! <3

[angeli-marco-writes]

Harry Holland - Polaroids

A/N & WC - I do not know Harry or the other people mentioned in this fic, nor do I claim to; this is a work of fiction. 3.9k.

Warnings - Swearing, mention of food, smut: depictions of oral (m+f rec), penetrative sex, use of toys, bondage & bdsm, photos being taken in the act, mild exhibitionism and definite voyeurism (not Harry or reader) 18+.

Summary - You and Harry have an exciting intimate life to say the least, and he rather enjoys taking photos of the two of you in compromising positions. However, in his sex-addled mind, one vital fact is let slip when he allows Sam into his room unsupervised.

“BUD, WHERE ARE THOSE PHOTOS you took of my food the other day?” Sam asks.

The sizzling of pancakes overlaps the conversation, and you mussing up Harry’s hair distracts him, his attention drawn to more important matters than his brother. Harry barely swallows his giant mouthful of food before speaking.

“By my bed there’s a huge pile, they’ll be somewhere,” he answers flippantly.

Flippantly.

Usually so cautious and so organised Harry lets one thing slip his mind for five seconds, and his life is going to fall through the cracks. His reputation will be utterly destroyed. Just with his brother, but it still stands. Sam is… more innocent than Harry has ever been. And Sam will also tell the others, and likely their friends…

“Remembered something, baby?” you muse sardonically from beside him, your hand halting its movements as you cup his jaw, turning him to face you.

The second his green eyes meet yours, you watch the world crumble in his eyes. You’ve never seen him scramble up from his seat so quickly. His bare feet slap on the tiled floor violently, thudding sounds echoing through the house as he blunders around, swinging around the banister with the force and elegance of an elephant.

“Sam! FUCK— Wait!”

“Don’t look in that pile of photos,” you add in a feeble shout.

It’s not like what Sam’ll find there is any secret. You’ve been together a long time, you and Harry, and everyone knows full well that you’re shagging, but that doesn’t mean you necessarily want them to know exactly what happens in the bedroom, in your most intimate, secret moments together. That’s sacred, even if it seems like sacrilege to so many.

No matter how quickly you hear Harry legging it upstairs, his lean legs carrying him up the stairs perhaps three at a time, his curly hair even more unruly than before from the exertion, you know he won’t be fast enough, and that Sam is an insolent bastard when he wants to be. You’ve lived with them all long enough and have had more than your fair share of near misses: no chance will you not be found out, this time you’ll be caught. Better than the alternative and the other times, you suppose, as you cram one more syrup-drizzled and strawberry-covered pancake into your gob, reluctantly trudging your way upstairs to the hive of fun.

It’s chaos by the time you get there. Dozens of artfully-taken photos spilled out onto your duvet, Harry’s freckled face paler than you’ve ever seen it, his hands tugging at his pyjama shirt convulsively while Sam stands on the other side of the room, his dark eyes wide, his expression agog, his jaw unhinged, staring blankly and pointing at whatever the most incriminating thing is he sees next. You just hope he doesn’t go ferreting through your drawers, because then you’ll really be in trouble.

“What… the fuck.”

You come up to Harry’s side, and wrap an arm around his slim waist, lending a weak, “Surprise?”

It’s their fault if they haven’t guessed, frankly.

You can’t draw your eyes away from the pictures, so many of them, all displaying different aspects of your sex life at varying degrees of explicitness. You can even recount the minutes and hours of pleasure that led to the photos, each occasion etched into your mind. Sure, you and Harry go at it a lot, but you don’t always go the extra mile, hence why these commemorative photos of your special nights are so treasured. And private. Or, were.

The first one… oh boy, that takes you back to the most far-out, extreme experiment you tried—the most recent, as well: just this past weekend. You’re still covered in rope burn from it, though that could’ve been prevented if you hadn’t writhed or wriggled about so much while in those bonds. The amount of attempts it took, the sheer number of YouTube tutorials you had to watch, but it was definitely worth it. The intricate patterns the ropes formed all across your body, creating braids down your back, suspending you prone with little movement in your arms or legs. It was heaven to have Harry tugging on the ropes, contorting you into new and wonderful positions for his own delightful access to all of you. Perhaps it’s not something you’ll gravitate towards again, but it was fun while it lasted, and it’s another thing to tick off your list of fun, kinky bedroom experiments to try. To be fair, even though the swathes of soft, rose-coloured rope, intricately woven around you were a lot, you certainly wouldn’t be averse to trying something else with rope. Less shibari, perhaps just normal levels of bondage. You can feel the skin on your arms prickling with heat: Harry feels it too, winding his fingers into yours, holding on tight as he struggles to suppress a smirk.

The next set is interesting, and rather common. Harry’s freckled, ring-less hand is unmistakable in the dappled light as it grapples with the handle of a leather whip, or a paddle, even his belt, bringing them down harshly onto your ass cheeks, already reddened with hand prints, purple from bruises. In one of them, your skin is even glistening with his release, and another, your hands are suspended behind your back. Harry’s always been one for spanking, and the rest of them know it. Even before you were sleeping together he’d playfully smacked your bum, and he certainly hasn’t stopped even with the sexual connotations it now conveys between the two of you. As though he can read your mind, he snakes a hand down and pats you on the bum; his wink telling you it’s just for good measure. Cheeky shit.

One in the dead centre brings shivers throughout your body. Not because it wasn’t fun or pleasurable, but because of the way it made you feel afterwards. Yes, you’d talked through it in thorough details—as with everything the two of you do—how it made you feel going in, throughout, and you’d got a safe word sorted, but perhaps you hadn’t discussed all the long term risks of it. The pretty pink collar, the satin blindfold… The whole subservient thing is a big turn on for Harry, and you played into it, you always do and you naturally fall into a position of less power in your relationship because of the way you are, but being degraded in such a way isn’t for you. You can’t help but feel a sting of shame ricochet through your heart. Harry must feel it this considering how reactive he is: he leaps towards the bed and snatches it up, shredding it before your eyes, chucking it into the bin, and curling another protective arm around you.

“Look,” you whisper to Harry, turning his attention elsewhere as you point to the bottom few: your favourite photos of all.

Despite the disarray, they’re all together, and they remind you of an incredible night. Your anniversary, and what a special day it was. Butterflies swarm you at the sight of them again, but it feels strange for someone else to be looking at them. Not that you or Harry are exactly in a fit state to be proactive about preventative measures now Sam’s seen them all. His eyes bulge from his face, his mouth going dry as he swallows viciously, suddenly having to shift his already apparently tight shorts. Again.

“You’re so sexy in those, baby,” purrs Harry.

He’s damn right, you do look incredibly sexy. And though the first one in the chronological series is you mostly covered, you can remember how hard his dick was at the sight alone, salivating, clenching his fists to stop from ripping the lingerie from you piece by piece. You wanted to put on a show for him that day: who was he to deny you?

On top of your bra, panties and stockings was a nightgown, and above that, a dressing gown. Each image shows you in a further state of undress. It was a deep burgundy lace set of negligée with soft satin straps that pushed your boobs together, lifting them up, the lace hooked together with a single eyelet on your spine, whereas the panties, though half covering your cheeks with dustings of lace, hid nothing while they sat high on your hips, revealing your entire upper thigh where a matching satin garter sat with tiny lace bows. The entire thing cost a fortune. You forked out a damn arm and a leg for what you got, even with a discount included with a certain toy you bought.

First went the dressing gown, letting it fall from your shoulders, allowing it to pool around your feet as you showed off the skimpiness of the silk slip in a series of flourishing twirls, much to Harry’s delight. Next went the slip, and you honestly wish you’d taken a picture of his face utterly agog—as you stood there in stockings held up by garters, barely there panties and a push up bra. There’s one shot of his rough fingertips playing with the trim of the stockings delightedly, like a kid in a candy shop. Next went the feeble scrap of fabric that you dared to call a bra, barely covering your nipples, allowing your breasts free, spilling into Harry’s awaiting hand. You remember the next part vividly, because he was just about to peel the panties off when you laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, babe.” you cooed.

His twinkling eyes grew as wide as saucers, and you dared to card your fingers through his curls as you settled yourself over his lap, letting him keep his camera in one hand while leading the other down, down, a little further…

He’s never since made a sound quite like it, so visceral and animalistic, so ready to devour you, to come on sight. He’s never been as hard as he was in that instance.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he moaned, a deep groan released from him the second his fingers slipped through your folds to find dripping arousal all ready for him. “Just—wait a minute…”

You followed his every instruction for the next few moments, finding yourself standing up in a good lighting position, Harry strategically beneath you as he snapped a particularly incriminating (yet oh so sexy shot) of your bare pussy in crotchless panties. Harry’s never recovered. He’s already openly admitted that he uses those particular photos more than any others to get himself off whenever you’re away from him. However, the creases and folded corners of one particular photo can’t be blamed on him, since that’s the one you use when you're away, two of his fingers plunged knuckle-deep inside you in those exact panties, from that exact angle, desperately trying to replicate the irreplaceably pleasurable feeling of him within you. He took a good few more than had to be thrown away. Spillages are awfully unfortunate… He fucked you that night with the panties, stockings and garters still on. Twice. Then without the panties, then without the stockings, then nude at last at some ungodly hour of the morning when he took you at last as the sun rose. You didn’t sleep a wink.

There are more of you with lingerie on, nightgowns and matching sets, scraps of silk and strange one pieces that took you hours to get on, but they’re bound to make a sort of book, stowed away neatly (mercifully) beneath his bed.

Sam still hasn’t moved from his state of paralysed shock, and though you should probably clear the photos up from where they’re dumped, you feel a filthy swelling pride within your chest, a glean of risk as you watch Sam rove his eyes over some more, these all involving toys. If only he knew where you hid them. One his eyes focus on is you with a thick purple rubber dildo deep inside you, a rabbit vibrator stuck to your clit. Your body is but a blur, writhing around for Harry, your hands cuffed before you and not released no matter how much you moved. Harry wouldn’t let you stop coming for what felt like hours: it was the first time you squirted for him as a cry tore from your heaving chest, drenching the bed with your fifth orgasm of the night. Harry vowed he’d be the only one to make you squirt after that, no toys involved, and he’s stayed true to his word.

There’s a few more, and Sam seems to be furrowing his thick brows at the sight of the Polaroids. Glass wands, spreader bars, clit suctions (that admittedly look like they’d be used in a spa for a facial). Poor boy is being corrupted...

Good God, you need to get those toys out again.

With his twin's attention diverted, you snake your hand down the front of Baz’s shorts, wrapping your fingers around his already hard member through his boxers: he seems to be enjoying this as much as you are.

You point out one of your favourite pictures, a debauched mess that shouldn’t be viewed by anyone else, frankly. Harry was reluctant about hurting you or pushing you too far, but you begged to be gagged. You meant just by a tie, maybe his bandana—which features in many images in many different manners: as a bind for your hands, tying you to the bed, keeping your ankles together, even wrapped lightly around your neck, but never as a gag—but he went all out. When you got home, he was waiting in his room with a leather-bound ball gag.

“You begged, baby,” he said, and you couldn’t refute. You had begged, but this was above and beyond. You complied with his every wish that night, and though you’d do it again in a heartbeat, Harry wasn’t a fan of not being able to shove his fingers or cock down your throat at any given moment. He liked hearing your whines and moans and hushed curses, prayers of his name. He also liked hearing your bratty, belligerent rebuttals when he took on a dominant role. You enjoyed it more than a little, but only now can you see how much of a mess you were, messy hair and tears spouting from your eyes, drool down your chin...

Given the chance of the slightest spark of stimulation, you’ll be coming on the spot.

There’s a scattered pile of the two of you in just about every position under the sun, every shape in the karma sutra, fucking both inside and out, al fresco sex beneath the big oak in the garden, anyhow, anywhere and everywhere you could fuck safely and privately, you would, and you didn’t even realise Harry had snapped some of these shots after consenting to him taking them at any time. Your eyes squeezed shut as you peaked, Baz’s palm kneading your chest, your skirt hiked up around your stomach while your jaw was agape, your pussy exposed and glistening slick in the mirror, penetrated by Harry’s cock. That was a good day, mirror sex, and definitely something you’ll try again. This time with your own mirror... There are a few snapshots of oral, perfect Polaroids of Harry’s nose nuzzled into your pussy, his tongue deep in your core, his lips on your labia, all of them for your sake whenever he goes away.

“Gonna recreate that one tonight,” Harry husks, pointing towards one image in particular of you sucking him off.

His huge member down your throat, you’d trained yourself to breathe solely through your nose, but the neatly trimmed patch of hair there tickled your nostrils. Harry’s talent for photography reveals your doe eyes were red rimmed, saliva trickling from the corner of your mouth matching the mascara tracks down your cheeks. You’ve never looked so fucked out, and Harry couldn’t believe you remained in that innocent façade, rosy cheeks and a coy expression even with his dick rammed down your throat, making you gag.

However, the one you’d like to recreate is one he picks up on, surreptitiously moving a hand to your chest, his fingers hovering over your peaked nipple.

“Reckon we can go again the second Sam fucks off?”

“Yes,” he eagerly exhales.

You don’t blame him, especially not when both twins are staring at the same image of your tits, pushed together with Harry’s dick between them, fucking your chest despite the fact his come already painted your chest in hot white strips, a beautiful painting you’d always wish to frame. He certainly has an obsession with your boobs so there are a couple like that, his hands all over them, the tip of his member tapping them, but the debauched one is by far your favourite. Similarly, there’s one of you tied to the bed, completely spread eagle, his dick resting on your stomach while your belly is coated in his come once again.

It seems, however, that’s what snagged Sam’s attention and has his face a ghastly shade of grey because it's so pale, is the one photo Harry never wanted anyone to see. You leap and snatch it up in one fell swoop, and Harry draws you into a bear hug within his arms, kissing your temple affectionately in thanks as you stow it away for safekeeping. Though Harry naturally carries the more dominant title in your relationship, you always like to shake things up, hence why this photo (and a series of others he already has hidden) depict Harry as your submissive. You walked around as the picture perfect dominatrix in stilettos, carrying a whip while Harry lay there with his hands bound, a blindfold on in some photos (you took them so they’re not as great, but he still looks damn sexy) with a vibrating cock ring wrapped snugly around his girth. He’s never come so hard or so much after you finally removed it and cuffed his hands to the bedpost and began to ride him. You can still feel the warmth of him climaxing within you if you close your eyes and clench your thighs.

“I promise I’ll touch you later,” boy do you hope he sticks to that promise he whispers while nibbling on your earlobe, “but Sam’s coming out of his daze in 3... 2... 1...”

“OH MY GOD.”

“Okay, I didn’t see that coming,” he remarks breathily, hazel eyes wide as he pivots, met with two incredulous stares. Tom’s cry wakes Sam up right on cue.

“Harry! What the fuck?!” Sam demands, his voice a bellow, horror and disgust and... something unattainable just emanates from him. “Why do you have three porn mags worth of your girlfriend down here? That’s fucked, mate.”

“No it’s not. We just like to have photographic reminders of all our... sexcapades.”

Sam is, unsurprisingly, retching, now finally turning his head away from the pile without even bothering to pick up.

“This was cool until you called them sexcapades,” Tom chimes, smacking Harry upside the head as he swaggers over to the bed, fishing a few photos up before tossing them back down.

Sam's horrified attitude doesn’t seem to be spreading thankfully, but you and Harry are understandably rooted to the spot, stuck to the carpet, just biding your time until this is over. Then again, you can’t really tell, since no one is saying anything. You nor Harry want to be the ones to break the silence, though, and you can tell with the furtive and expressive stares you’re sharing that his anxiety is increasing the more people are seeing this.

Momentarily, you think someone may remark about your silent communication, your fixed glances and speechless conversation, but instead, Harrison comes up to you both, a sly smirk etched onto his pretty model face as he clasps a hand around one shoulder of yours and one of Harry’s.

“Harry Holland, you kinky fucker,” he praises.

You definitely feel a swell of pride at that. And the fact that Tom is trying desperately hard not to look at you while also trying to hide how flustered he is, somehow still abhorred by the sight. Harrison’s intrigue is palpable, gnawing on his lower lip as his lithe fingers trace you on the polaroid's, whereas Sam? He can’t decide whether to cry or scream. Harry huddles in closer and cuddles you, ensuring you feel every part of him, just how much he wants this lot to leave to finally have you at his mercy once more.

“So you two are shagging,” Tom observes.

You and Harry nod between kisses.

“Dangerously.”

You nod again, though this time a little reluctantly.

You expect Harry to nestle down with you again, but instead he detaches himself, unravelling his arms, and shoulders past Tom and Haz. He gives Sam a death glare as he piles up all the Polaroids and shoves them deep in a drawer for him to organise later, away from prying eyes and judgemental comments.

“Really, though?” Sam bursts out, flailing his arms before grasping Harry’s collar. “I thought you’d just handcuff her and give her a smack at most, very vanilla.”

As much as he tries to fight it, Harry’s face flushes bright red, leaving no visible distinction between his forehead and hairline. “I think those photos, erm, tell a different story.”

He rocks on the balls of his feet, tugging himself out of his brother's grasp, only to fall into another, saved by Harrison’s scowl at Tom.

“Can you lot bloody get out? Please? I’d like some alone time with my girlfriend after that sodding invasion.”

“If you’re having alone time, we’re leaving the house for a while,” Tom jokes, “how long?”

You smirk, striding over to meet Harry, eyes fixed on him as you press onto your tiptoes, wrapping your fingers around his shoulder before kissing his earlobe. He wilts into your touch.

“Two hours should be enough time. Scram.”

They do, gladly, and you slam the door shut as their scurrying footsteps down the stairs recede. Harry’s grip increases around your waist, a growl escaping him as he pushes you onto the bed. You gasp when your back hits the mattress, his lips instantly attacking your jaw.

“Which of those polaroid's do you wanna recreate first, baby?”

—

It’s hours later, and you're all around for your weekly dinner at the Holland house. You and Harry, having some ‘business’ to attend to before leaving the house, are the last to arrive, and Paddy, poor unfortunate Paddy, has the delightful job of letting you into the house.

“Sam asked me to give you this,” he says barely before you’ve entered the porch.

Harry’s face pales as he unravels the small piece of paper bundled into his hand by his younger brother, but you could swear all blood drains from him the second the words sink in.

‘You took them, you lost them, you collect them. What would mum and dad say, Harold?’

“Harry, what’s happening?”

“That utter wanker stole the polaroids as revenge for scarring him. He’s hidden them around the house. We have to find them before mum and dad go looking. You in for the ride?”

“Only if Haz can join us tonight,” you tease, and after calling a hello to Harry’s parents, you follow him around the house, detaching all the pinned photos.

Harry's learnt a solid lesson today: hide his damn Polaroids better from now on, away from the prying eyes of his bloody brothers. But, he thinks with a smirk, by no means will the two of you stop taking them.

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song vii (m).

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire. 

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader   au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, smut; includes jacuzzi (oral) sex, outdoor sex, the angst/drama comes knocking!  words; 8,336

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii  • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

A few days after Arin’s birthday party school started back, and just as you’d known you got incredibly busy, incredibly fast. With admin and getting to know your new students you found that you were too distracted to dwell on all the things that had been worrying you. Yes, it was strange not being able to see Seokjin practically whenever you wanted, and yes, you missed him – and the summer, but with work so hectic it cushioned the blow. You didn’t have time to live inside your own head or get sad about stupid, tiny things. 

Letting the school know about your relationship wasn’t mandatory now that you weren’t Arin’s teacher, but you felt better for it, meeting with Hoseok one morning to inform him. Eunbi already knew, being quite a close a friend to you, and slowly, over the next few days you let some of the other teachers you were friendly with know too. You found it quite exciting. You’d been single for such a long time so finding yourself in conversations about your boyfriend filled you with a happiness you weren’t quite used to. You liked talking about Seokjin, bigging him up, some could call it bragging… He’d even very kindly donated money for a new playground to be built in the kindergarten area. He wanted to help Primrose Hill any which way he could. It meant a lot to you and his daughter. 

It only took around three weeks to get yourself into a routine. For both of you to find a rhythm and make it work well. Your lunch break wasn’t long enough for you to zip to Seokjin’s office and join him so he always made an effort to come to you. Sometimes you’d eat in his car, sometimes yours, or sometimes you’d meet in a small café near the school. You cherished that short time together because sometimes that’s all you could have. Depending on how busy you both were you often couldn’t spend time together in the evenings. You tried to at least once in the week, but weekends were reserved for things like spending the night. 

It was Tuesday today and you somehow had a night free from lesson planning which meant you could join Seokjin and Arin for dinner. You were glad really, because Seokjin had been stressed since yesterday and you hadn’t had a chance to see him properly. He had to go away on last minute business this weekend but it coincided with Misook’s family vacation. He’d asked Nana if Arin could stay with her this weekend but she was busy too. He didn’t know what to do, other than try and postpone the trip. Key word: try. 

Misook had left for the day just as you were arriving, Arin in her room, too busy playing on the Nintendo Switch she’d gotten from Nana for her birthday, so it gave you some brief time alone with Seokjin. You were shocked to see him still in his suit, sat in contemplation alone in the family room. Oh, boy. You hated seeing him so stressed. He was never one to mope or even show his mood. You knew him well enough by now to be able to tell when he was drained, but he still didn’t let it affect him too much, always smiling, always joking around. This evening was different. He’d barely said a few sentences, mostly it involved apologising for his bad mood. He felt selfish, not being much company, yet still needing yours. He had nothing to be sorry for, you reassured, resting your head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close. You reached for his hand, and there you stayed like that for a little while, fingers laced together. 

Arin made her way in soon enough, stomach rumbling, a hopeful lilt to her voice as she walked over to you both, hands behind her back. “Can we have pizza for dinner?”

Seokjin shifted, unlacing your fingers and dropping his arm from your shoulders as you both sat up straighter. “Didn’t we have that yesterday, Arin?”

Arin didn’t miss. She was a professional. “But Y/N wasn’t here yesterday. She missed out.” 

Her comeback even managed to draw a quiet chuckle out of her dad. “We’re not having pizza, sweetie.” 

She sighed softly, crossing her arms around her chest as she looked your way. “Daddy is moody today.” 

You raised an eyebrow, your mouth unable to stop quirking up in amusement. “He is?”

“Why do you say that?” Seokjin asked. His tone was light, but you could tell by his frown lines her casual words had him worrying. 

“I heard you on the phone this morning to mommy. There’s no one to look after me when you go away this weekend and she can’t do it.” 

Seokjin faltered, not expecting such a frank answer. He composed himself quickly. “She’s just really busy, Arin. She wanted to look after you, she just couldn’t this time.” 

“I know,” she replied simply, nodding her head. 

There was a beat of silence and then Seokjin reached for her, kissing her cheek, his voice quiet with apology. “I’m sorry. Was I really moody today?” He looked unsurely your way too. 

“Uh huh. You hardly smiled, and when I tried telling you about the field trip I’m going on next week you weren’t even listening properly.” Arin’s small voice filled with such attitude was comical. 

Seokjin chuckled. “Daddy’s really sorry. I’m smiling now, though, right?” Arin nodded. “And if you’re kind enough, you can tell me about your trip again over dinner. Is that okay?” 

“Hmm.” She thought allowed. “So can we get pizza?”

Seokjin snorted. “Nice try, young lady. It’s still a no.” 

.

.

Seokjin ordered from one of his favourite restaurants, helping you set the table as Arin went to check on her rabbits. You ate together, listening as Arin spoke all about her upcoming field trip, finally having her father’s undivided (and interested) attention. However, halfway in, she completely changed the topic, throwing you both. 

“Can’t I stay with Y/N this weekend?” 

“Hm?” Seokjin looked over at her, visibly surprised. 

You swallowed what was left in your mouth just as Arin’s eyes found yours.  “I can just stay with you while daddy has to go away.” Your lips parted, trying to think of something to say, your years of teacher training falling short. 

Seokjin beat you to it. “No, no, sweetie,” he shook his head, sounded a little flustered, taken by surprise. “Y/N will probably be busy on the weekend. That’s her only free time, she can’t look after you.” 

With a small shrug, she put her fork to her mouth. “It was just a thought.” 

Seokjin looked over at you, expression apologetic as he mouthed sorry. 

.

.

Hey, listen…” You began, feeling oddly nervous as you looked up at your boyfriend. It was a couple of hours later, Arin was in bed, time was getting on, you had to leave soon, but cuddled up against him, both curled up on the sofa as you watched mindless television, you really didn’t want to go anywhere. Seokjin had relaxed a little by now (the wonders of food), but you could still tell his mind was exhausted as his gaze fell on yours. You took a breath, deeper than intended, psyching yourself up. “I really don’t mind looking after Arin this weekend.” 

You didn’t miss the way his eyes widened a tad, obviously taken by surprise, but then his mouth lifted at the side, his head shaking from side to side lightly as he let out a breathy chuckle. “Y/N, don’t feel like you have to just because she brought it up.” 

You found yourself relaxing. He didn’t want you to feel obligated. You’d thought so, but the teeniest tiniest most worrisome part of your brain had thought he might now have wanted, or trusted you, to look after Arin. That wasn’t the case. You could tell by the look on his face. He didn’t want to put you out, ask too much of you. 

You moved and straightened your back, eye to eye now. “No, I honestly don’t mind at all, Seokjin.” You reassured, talking faster as you noticed him open his mouth. “Seeing as Arin was the one who suggested it, I guess she’s fine with the idea. I…” Hesitating, you added something else. “I wanted to suggest it myself but… If she’s comfortable with it, I’d love to.” 

It was the truth. Ever since Seokjin had called you at lunch time, telling you Nana couldn’t manage this weekend, you’d wanted to tell him you were up for it but something had stopped you. Even as he’d tried to think of options this evening – maybe his mom could stay for the weekend, his aunt – you’d held back and bitten your tongue. What if you were pushing boundaries? Inserting yourself into situations that didn’t concern you? Arin liked you, yes,   but being entirely in your care for 48 hours was different. She might not want to, she might feel uncomfortable. However knowing that it wasn’t the case, suggesting it herself so casually over dinner had given you the confidence to push through. Seokjin needn’t be worried about asking too much of you. 

Regarding you silently, he considered your words. Lovingly, you glided your hand up his arm, reaching out for his cheek. He pressed into your touch automatically. “I want to help you out.” At that, he smiled gently, lips turning up in a way that rounded his cheeks, making him appear at least a decade younger. It was wholly unfair. 

Turning slightly, his lips grazed your palm. “I’ll ask her about it in the morning.” You grinned, visibly pleased, and Seokjin took your hand to tug you gently to his chest. This time he placed a kiss on your mouth, humming happily. “Thank you.” 

Arin was more than happy about it. Seokjin suggested you stay at his home for the weekend, seeing as that would be easier for the both of you, but she was pretty adamant she wanted to stay at your place. You understood, kid’s curiosity and all. She wanted to know what your home looked like, she wanted to meet your “pretty best friend” she liked to ask about sometimes. Honestly, you felt touched that she wanted to learn more about your life. It was just another reminder of her acceptance when it came to you, and you’d be forever touched by how easily she’d let you into her life. She was more than welcome to come stay at your place, but of course you’d run it by Soojung first. She’d agreed quite easily, even after you informed her you’d be sharing her bed all weekend, Arin of course using yours. 

On Thursday night Seokjin’s guilt was getting the better of him. He had you on the phone, making sure you were 100% okay with looking after Arin. He didn’t want you to feel as if you were trapped just because you felt compelled to help him. He could cancel his trip. You told him how stupid he was being. Cancelling would put so many people out, including himself. Besides, you not only wanted to help him out, you wanted to take care of Arin. You felt as though you were capable, and if you were being even more honest with him, you felt really happy it was happening. Knowing Arin trusted you this much was a great feeling. Knowing he trusted you enough… 

“Why wouldn’t I trust you?” He scoffed in disbelief. “You’re great with her. She loves you.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you laughed. 

“How come?” He was hellbent on proving you wrong, voice softening as he continued. “You’re so easy to love.”  

You felt your heart skip a beat. He’d said it so casually, so easily, you felt dumb searching too much into his words. It was far too early to think of things like that – for confessions like that. Right? Still, he sounded genuine enough. He meant it, even if it wasn’t in that way. Not that you were expecting anything. You were perfectly happy with how things were, your feelings growing stronger each day. You weren’t in a rush, neither was he. That’s what made your relationship so great. But your heart still felt all fuzzy regardless. You found yourself smiling down the line, your thanks obvious in your tone. “I’m going to miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you more.” He ignored your noises of complaint. “I’ll video call you a lot – and Arin of course.” Then he laughed. “Although, I’ll have a feeling she won’t miss me at all this weekend.” 

The next day you finished up work early, it was a Friday anyway, so you never made a habit of sticking around too long, but this time you were packed and ready to go the same time as the kids. Arin would be waiting in her classroom, ready to go home with you for the weekend. Seokjin had dropped off her things early this morning before his flight, indulging you in a few sleepy kisses before he had to go, a promise of ‘I’ll see you Sunday night,” slipping from his slightly downturned lips, hands reluctant to let you go. 

Arin was visibly excited when she saw you, seconds away from jumping up and down on the spot, your first name rushing out of her mouth without realising. It was no big deal of course, but her reaction was cute, eyes widening as her lips parted into a circle, a noise of realisation leaving her. She looked very much like her father, which made it even funnier. You took her hand, saying your goodbyes to Mr. Moon, her second grade teacher, and left the building for your car. 

“This is a really nice car, Y/N,” she complimented as you made sure she was strapped in properly. You weren’t nervous, but you were slightly on edge, cautious, being a better word, to make sure everything was okay. You needed all bases covered. Arin was in your care for 48 hours after all. You told yourself to calm down, if Seokjin knew you were being this antsy he’d be highly amused. You wouldn’t stop hearing about it for a week. 

“I’ve always wanted to ride in it,” Arin continued. 

You smiled down at her. “Thank you.” She was one of the sweetest kids you knew. Your car was average. Not that she knew anything about makes and prices and whatever else there was. You didn’t either. As long as it drove you from point A to B you didn’t care what it looked like. 

“Will your best friend be home when we arrive?” She asked as you got inside the driver’s seat, sticking the key in the ignition. 

“Soojung? She’ll be still in work. Remember I told she works at a department store?” It was adorable how excited she was to meet Soo. Your best friend’s head would be double the size soon, ego inflated. 

“Mhmm,” Arin hummed responsively.  

“She won’t be done until around 6.” You turned back to look at her, knowing your next sentence would make her day. “I think she wanted to get pizza for dinner. Would you like that?” 

“YES!” Arin exclaimed immediately, eyes lighting up. “Soojung likes pizza too?” 

With a chuckle, you started the vehicle up and started backing out of your spot, replying as you did so. “She does.” But in truth, the pizza tonight was Seokjin’s idea. He’d given you one of his bank cards to spend on the food bill with strict instructions to only feed her the doughy delicacy once this weekend. He knew what she was like – you both did. She’d eat pizza for breakfast, lunch and dinner if she could. If you suggested it tonight, then that was it. She’d be eating your menu come Saturday and Sunday. 

“How far away is your house from the school?” 

You’d lost count of how many questions she’d already asked you since you’d arrived to collect her. It was comical. Seokjin had not warned you about that, but your years of experience had told you to expect it. What was a kid without questions? You’d be worried if she was silent. 

“Not too long.” You replied, glancing in the rear view mirror to see her happily looking out of the window. “When we get in, I’ll text daddy and see if he’s free to videocall.” 

“Okay.” 

You tried to stop the smile that wanted to break across your face at her nonchalance. “Do you miss him yet?” 

With a brief shake of her head, still staring at the whizzing scenery outside she answered pretty simply. “Not really.” 

This time you burst out laughing, unable to stop. She looked over at the noise, meeting your eyes in the mirror as you took a right turn, giggling along. “Don’t tell him though, Y/N. It might make him sad.” 

“I won’t, Arin.” You reassured with another chuckle. “It can be our little secret.” 

.

.

She settled in well that night, immediately warming to Soojung (who despite her lifelong insistence, was great with children). You thought perhaps Arin would begin to get homesick once it was time for bed, but after watching a movie you tucked her in and said goodnight. You thought she’d have trouble sleeping because she was in a strange bed but checking in on her twenty minutes later you found her fast asleep, hugging her rabbit plushie. You on the other hand got ready to share a bed with Soojung – the bed cover hogger… 

The next day Arin had you awake at 6am. You already knew about her liveliness in the mornings, so it was no surprise. You’d been woken up countless times over the summer by a knock at Seokjin’s door, Arin’s voice calling out for him. On days you weren’t there she’d even barge in and jump on the bed. Where she got her energy from so early in the morning was a mystery. This morning however, she caught you on the way out of the bathroom. You’d been tossing and turning all night, wresting the covers from Soo. You’d thought about maybe taking a blanket and having an hours nap on the sofa, but there Arin was creeping out of your room, a smile on her face as she saw it was you. 

There was no tempting her back to bed, so you sat her down at the table and made her some breakfast, snapping a picture to send to her father. (Captioned: Guess who had me up at 6am 😴) You had a few things planned today. Seokjin always made sure Arin was busy on the weekends, it was the only time he got to spend with her fully unless she was with her mom, especially now that she was back in school. Even if it was just something as simple as going to the park, he always made plans. So, to do your part and to keep her entertained, you were going to run by her house to make sure the rabbits were fine (fed and watered), then go to the mall. It was simple, yes, but you needed to get a few things anyway, and you promised after all that walking around you’d stop by the food court. Then she had to accompany you to the grocery store to get ingredients for tonight’s dinner. 

She was pretty damn excited regardless. “I like going to the mall with mommy because daddy finds it boring,” she informed you as she picked out her clothes that you’d helped her unpack yesterday. That definitely sounded like Seokjin, you thought to yourself, laughing along with her. “Mommy told me that next weekend she’s going to take me shopping and buy me anyyy-thing I want.” 

“That sounds like great fun,” you smiled, telling yourself you’d pretend you never heard that… Seokjin was keen not to spoil Arin so you didn’t think he’d be best pleased to find this out. “What do you want to buy?”

“Hmm. Something for Olive and Ariel, I think.” 

You smiled again, admiring her caring nature. Her rabbits were the most well looked after in this entire country. She adored them. “I think they’ll really appreciate that.” 

You continued helping Arin get ready first, and thankfully by the time you were done Soojung had risen. You left them watching cartoons together while you showered, eager to leave by 10am. 

Arin you found out, didn’t just like the mall, she loved it very much. She was practically skipping around the place as she held your hand, helping you pick out the things you needed for your craft session with the students on Monday. While she was recommending paint colours to you, she surprised you with a confession. “I wish you were still my teacher, Y/N.” 

“How come?” You asked gently. 

She gave a tiny shrug. “I’d get to see you every day.” 

Oh. You didn’t know what to say to that, touched at her matter-of-fact revelation. Instead you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a loving squeeze. 

“But actually, maybe I wouldn’t like it.” She added as an afterthought. You waited, curious as to why she’d changed her mind so suddenly. “I’d have to call you Miss Y/L/N. I’d get too confused.” 

You laughed, this child was far too funny for her own good. “Me too, Arin. It’s better this way, right?”

“Right,” she agreed with a nod. 

.

.

“Y/N, this is pretty,” Arin cooed, calling your attention as you rounded the stand. You’d gotten everything you needed and were now browsing around some other stores. You’d let Arin pick a couple out, worrying she might be getting bored, and one of her choices had been Claire’s. She was holding up a charm bracelet. 

“Very pretty,” you agreed. 

And then she struck. “Can I have it?” She didn’t give you time to answer, eyes widening as she began to beg, voice soft and hopeful. “Please. Pretty please.” 

You chuckled. You were practically immune to cute kids, so that wouldn’t work on you. However, she had been really well-behaved all morning, in your eyes she deserved a small treat. “You can. But just this one thing, okay?” 

“Thank you, Y/N!” She squealed, rushing up to you. She gave your arm a squeeze. “I like you much better than daddy.” 

“That will hurt his feelings,” you burst out laughing. She didn’t have to butter you up, you’d already said yes. 

As you were paying the cashier, she wondered off to a stand of keychains, her eyes catching something instantly. “Oooh, pretty,” she purred and the cashier, a woman no more than a few years older than you, laughed. 

“Best escape before she wants something else,” you joked, handing over some cash. 

“My daughter is just the same. Kids, who’d have them, right? We’re glutton for punishment.” She joked. 

“Oh, no, I’m –” You stopped yourself dead, unsure what to say. Had this woman just mistaken you for Arin’s mother? It definitely sounded that way. But just how could you correct her? 

“Don’t get me wrong,” the cashier said, shaking her head. “They’re definitely worth it.” 

You forced yourself to smile, feeling a little wooden, but the chuckle you got out sounded better. “Yeah, yeah they are.” You glanced over at Arin, thankfully she was too distracted by the abundance of cute animal keychains. You turned back and took your bag from the woman, trying to shake off how awkward you felt. “Thank you. Bye.” 

Walking over to Arin you took her hand. “Hope to see you again soon,” the cashier called behind you and you gave a wave, telling Arin to do the same.

“Thank you,” she sang sweetly as she did so. 

.

.

“So, something weird happened today,” you told Soojung as you prepared food, careful to keep your voice low even though Arin was well and truly distracted inside the living room. Taehyung was a master with children. The guy needed a career change immediately. You’d never heard Arin laugh so hard. She’d been in stitches for the last hour. You were worried she’d be way to hyperactive for bedtime once it came. 

Soojung looked up from where she was chopping onion, interested as her eyebrow raised. 

“The woman at Claire’s mistook me for Arin’s mother.” 

Soojung scoffed, lifting her shoulders in a casual shrug. “I’m not surprised. It was bound to happen. It’s normal.” She added, reassuring you as she saw the look on your face. “People just naturally assume.” 

“I guess…” 

“What did you tell her?”

Your expression turned sheepish. “I just went along with it,” you confessed, placing spaghetti in a pan of bubbling water. You caught the look she gave you. “I didn’t know what to say!” It was the truth. “I’m her father’s girlfriend seemed too… I don’t know…” Too impersonal? 

“That’s what you are though,” Soo snorted.

You gave up, knowing you were probably making a huge deal out of this. Was it that serious? Probably not. “I just felt awkward.” 

“Because you hate correcting people, or because you didn’t like someone mistaking you for Arin’s mother,” your best friend pried. 

“It’s definitely not that. It’s just…” You sighed. “How would Arin feel about it? What if she’d heard?”

Soojung shrugged. “She loves you. You’re great with her.” 

That wasn’t the point you were trying to make. “It still might have upset her though. She adores her mom.” You weren’t trying to take Nana’s place and you didn’t want her to ever think that. 

It was Soo’s turn to sigh, dropping the chopped onions into a fry pan. “Do you want my opinion?” 

“Please,” you requested meekly. 

“I think you’re looking way too much into it.” Obviously. “It’s not a big deal at all, and Arin didn’t hear anything so nothing to worry about.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, telling yourself to shake it off. 

“Of course I am,” she quipped, rooting around in a cupboard now. She turned back, a can of tomatoes in her hand. “I’m sure Seokjin will be able to ease your mind with his sexy Dilf powers or whatever he calls them.” 

“Shut up,” you groaned. You weren’t even sure if you were going to tell him. Like she kept saying, it wasn’t a big deal, right? It was an easy mistake to make. Probably happened all the time. 

From inside the living room you heard Taehyung roar loudly, mimicking a lion (possibly) and Arin shrieked out his name, laughter exploding from her. “Quick, let’s get dinner ready as soon as possible.” Soojung begged, dramatic as always. “I’m scared Tae might be getting ideas. I’m too young for kids!”

.

.

The rest of the weekend went by smoothly. Despite the excitement levels that Saturday night brought, Arin was knocked out by 9pm. You, Soojung and Taehyung stayed up for another hour before he had to leave and then Soo made her way to bed, needing to wake up early tomorrow for work. That left you on the couch, awaiting Seokjin’s video call. He’d already called once today, but Arin was so hyped, talking a mile a minute about her day, you couldn’t get a word in edgeways. (Neither could he.) You were thankful for some alone time. You were missing him. He’d gone away on business trips a couple of times in the summer but it didn’t mean you’d get used to it. You both talked about your day, and you decided there and then not to tell him about the Claire’s “incident.” Soojung was right, it was no big deal. It was a common misunderstanding, one you’d probably made unknowingly before too. After you’d said your goodbyes you went to bed, already strategizing how you were going to steal the covers back from Soojung. As much as you’d enjoyed looking after Arin, you couldn’t wait to have your own bed back. Sharing with your bestie was torture. Taehyung was an admirable man. 

Sunday was a chillout day, although Arin still had you awake at 6am. You made her breakfast, watched some cartoons and shared turns on her Switch before you both got ready for the day. You checked in on Olive and Ariel briefly before driving back to your place. There was a park nearby and you promised you’d take her. The weather was still warm despite September trickling by. It was crazy how fast this year had gone, autumn already nearly here. For the rest of the day you both relaxed in front of the TV, waiting until Soojung was home to watch a movie, and then you made dinner. Seokjin was due back around 7pm, so you made sure all of Arin’s things were packed up ready to go. It was just gone eight when he turned up at your door. Arin had already passed out on the sofa after her hot chocolate so he couldn’t stay long. You thought with how entertaining this weekend had been it had finally all caught up with her. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night?” He asked, careful to keep his voice down as he strapped Arin inside his car. (Still sleeping.) You’d followed him out as he carried her towards the vehicle, wanting to say your goodbyes. 

He straightened up, closing the car door as he stepped closer to you. You rubbed his arm. “You must be exhausted.” 

“Don’t baby me.” Reaching forward, he wrapped his arms around you, squishing your arms to your side. “I missed you.” 

You hummed, pressing your lips to his, careful to keep your voice a whisper. “Your dick missed me.” 

He scoffed in disbelief but couldn’t argue. “That’s…not a lie. My heart missed you too though.” 

“How sweet,” you joked, but couldn’t keep your charade up for much longer. “I missed you too.” This time the press of your mouth was much firmer. He matched it, letting you slip your arms around his sides, holding him too. 

“Tomorrow, then?” He asked hopefully, tip of his tongue wetting his bottom lip slightly as he pulled away. “I know it’s a school night but I swear I only get a good night’s sleep lying next to you.” 

Laughing, you nodded your head. “Tomorrow.” You agreed wholeheartedly. Sleeping alone was no fun anymore. 

He captured your mouth again, humming happily. “Can’t wait.” 

The following weekend Arin was with her mom so you and Seokjin had the entire weekend to yourselves. Saturday was busy, you’d both probably been a little too ambitious when you’d decided to cram as many different activities as you could into the day, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. You didn’t get many days to spend together likes this; walking hand in hand as you explored the local market, having brunch together, checking out a new museum exhibit, watching a movie at the theatre… You treasured days like these. And what better way to end one with? Jacuzzi time! 

Seokjin’s jacuzzi was fast becoming one of life’s staples lately. Who were you? A changed woman, that’s who. This was your favourite space in Seokjin’s garden(s). An area of decking, solar lights draped over the sleek fencing. In the middle was the jacuzzi, set into the wood. Now that the nights were drawing in, it was especially cosy out here, summer holding on for just a little bit longer as the weather stayed quite warm. It wouldn’t be like this for long so you had to make the most of it right now. 

You were sat inside the jacuzzi, water gently bubbling around you as you gazed up at the stars that had just started to appear when you heard Seokjin emerging from the house. His footsteps sounded against the wooden steps as he made his way towards you. You didn’t bother looking but when he didn’t join you straight away, you glanced over curiously. To be met with a rather naked boyfriend. 

“What are you doing?!” You exclaimed, eyes bugging out. 

He grinned. It was hardly innocent. “Jacuzzi’s are much more enjoyable naked, didn’t you know?” 

You tsked, watching him climb into the tub and make his way over to you. His mouth was immediately on yours, arms around your waist as he tugged for you to stand up. This wasn’t just any type of kiss. Like you’d said before, you knew Seokjin very well by now, and besides, you’d already noticed his dick was half aroused as he stood above you… He had a plan. 

On cue, he broke away, corners of his plump lips tugging upwards with a suggestion. 

“Join me?” 

“Seokjin…” You warned, voice low, hands grazing the tops of his arms. He couldn’t be serious. 

“No one can see us,” he reassured you with a wider smile. 

You mean, he was correct. This time you let your hands make their way to his shoulders, massaging them lightly. “You’re crazy.” 

“Yeah, crazy for you,” he smirked, leaning in to kiss you once again. His lips were slow, coaxing. Even more so as they made their way down your jaw and to your neck. You keened into his touch, his hands grazing down your sides, fingers toying with the sides of your bikini bottoms. “C’mon…” He sunk his teeth into your skin gently and you whined. “I know you want to.” You did indeed. Very much so. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you confirmed, voice suddenly hoarse. You cleared your throat just as his fingers began to untie the strings of your bra, mouth still peppering your neck with kisses. Until that was your chest was bare, and then his lips were wrapped around one nipple, water rippling with the sudden movement. You moaned as quietly as you could, wanting to encourage him because it felt good, but also nervous as hell because you were outside. You didn’t care if there was no one around for a good mile, you were still out in the open. 

Cupping your breasts in his palms he gazed down at them, sighing dreamily. “Have I ever told you how much I love your tits?”

You raised an eyebrow. “One. Don’t be so crude.” (Not that you didn’t like it.) “And two. Yes, yes you have.” You broke off with a laugh, reaching for him to mesh your mouths together. He couldn’t help but chuckle too, but elsewhere he had a hand down your bikini to grab your ass. 

“What’s gotten – Seokjin!” You practically roared, cutting yourself off as he suddenly dived down into the water, fully submerged, hands attempting to tear your bottoms off. “What are you doing,” you giggled, clinging to his back as you tried to stay upright. He had one of your ankles in his hand, wrestling with the fabric. 

A few moments later he arose successful, flicking his head back to stop his wet hair from dripping in his eyes. He pushed it back further with his hands, forehead now devastating, skin glistening with water droplets. You heart stilled, he looked gorgeous – and naughty. Behind him your bikini bottoms floated to the surface. A smirk spread across his face as he finally replied. “Getting you naked.” And then he was on you. 

He kissed you hungrily, his erection pressed up against you, hot and eager now, just like his tongue. Your fingers threaded through his wet locks, letting him push his body weight into you until the backs of your legs hit the seat. 

“Up here for me,” he pulled away briefly, command light, tapping his hand against the deck behind you. You let him slip his hands around your hips and lift you up, legs spread to accommodate his body, feet still in the water atop of the seat. 

“You’re not too cold?” He made sure to ask, concerned despite being ravenous. You shook your head, desire for him enough despite the night air cooling the water against your skin. Satisfied he immediately dove in, leaning forward to place a kiss against your wetness. You pulsed against the touch, moving back on your elbows to get comfier just as his tongue came out and flicked against your clit. Suddenly you didn’t care that you were outside. 

From up here you had a great view of the expanse of his broad, wet back, muscles rippling as he ate you out. You moaned softly, running a hand through his hair, gaze falling to his face. His eyes were closed, water droplets caught in his dark eyebrows and as if he could feel your eyes watching him, he looked up, smirking against you before he sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth, actions growing more eager as he heard you go crazy for it. 

He knew your body well, which is why he cruelly held off slipping a finger inside of you. Actually, on second thought, he knew damn well that the second he did so, your orgasm would soon follow. It wasn’t hard to tease your body, to control it how he wanted. As soon as you felt his middle digit push inside, you clenched around it, hips bucking into Seokjin’s face as a stifled cry forced its way out of your mouth. He grunted, inserting another finger, curling and uncurling them as his other hand gripped your hip, trying his best to keep you still. It was no use, you were a woman possessed, pleasure beginning to hurtle through your body at an alarming rate. You stretched out, fingers of one hand sliding along the wood beneath you, desperately trying to cling onto something as you moaned uncontrollably. Seokjin hummed along, encouraging you, coaxing the orgasm through your body. With each wave your breath shuddered harder. 

You only started coming to when you felt his fingers slip out of you, his tongue ceasing, mouth now at your inner thigh, kissing you wetly, passionately. Your hands reached for him, wanting him close, but he was already on it, straightening up to meet your mouth. “I need you,” he breathed. You could taste yourself, it was intoxicating. “Here.” 

“Here?!” You exclaimed weakly, unfocused eyes trying to concentrate on his face. 

He kissed you once more, moaning a little. “Yeah.” His hands wrapped around your hips, lifting you further up the decking before he climbed out of the water and crawled over your body, reaching for something behind you. “Look – let’s use this.” He had a beach towel in his hand, the one you’d left draped over one of the wicker chairs, and he hurriedly laid it out, pressing you into it to kiss you again. His cock was hard and wet, bobbing against your inner thighs. 

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” He asked, wet hair now having fallen in his eyes. 

You cupped his face, nodding your head as you leaned up. You were still thrumming from your high. “Yes.” Your tongue curled against his open mouth, slipping in to meet his own. The kiss was messy, distracted, as he spread your legs, hooking one up under your thigh. 

Breaking away from your mouth, he straightened his back and aligned himself at your entrance, needing no hands he was so erect. You clung to his shoulders, waiting for the first thrust. His skin was still dotted with water droplets. “I’m too impatient, baby,” he told you simply, and then he pushed inside. 

Slowly, savouring the feeling of your walls stretching around him, both of you gasping as he bottomed out. With a slow thrust he groaned. “You feel like heaven.” As he leaned in to kiss you, he noticed you trying to hold back a giggle. “What?” 

You burst. “That was so cheesy.” 

Chuckling, he kissed you again, tips of his ears turning red. “Don’t laugh at me.” You snorted, unable to help it, reaching for him in silent apology, despite laughter still escaping you. “Seriously, stoppp,” he whined, dropping his head. 

You grinned. “Or what?” 

That got his attention. Looking up, his top lip twitched. His hand cupped your face, thumb brushing over your lips. “I’ll have to teach you a lesson,” he murmured, voice an octave lower. You opened up, sucking the digit into your mouth, looking up at him knowingly. He knew what you were thinking. That didn’t sound so bad. 

“My mistake.” He smiled, gaze intense as he pulled away, his thumb leaving you with a silent pop. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” 

You were seconds away from agreeing but became distracted, watching him lift both legs up by the back of your thighs now, hiking them above his shoulders. He dick slipped so deep you choked, feeling so full you didn’t know what to do. 

“S-seokjin,” you panicked, your hands clutching his arms. 

He cocked his head to the side, voice soft. “Trust me?”  

You nodded, something already so addicting about feeling him inside you like this. You felt beyond sensitive, beginning to tremble as he slowly thrust in and out of you, bringing the tip of his cock almost all the way out before sinking back into your warmth. You moaned out, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes with a pleasure so overwhelming. He sped up, going harder now that he was certain you were enjoying yourself, wet squelches sounding along with your moans and his grunts. You loved watching him fuck you like this, towering down over you, the wet spikes of hair falling down around his face, fucking you with his entire body weight, your ass sliding back and forth against the towel. 

However, you also loved kissing him. Holding him as he thrust inside, keeping him to you. 

“Seokjin,” you breathed, voice tight, hands reaching for him. He got the message, easing your legs to the ground carefully as he took one of your hands and brought it up to his mouth, kissing it tenderly, your name slipping from his lips, breathless and husky. 

He moved closer, capturing your lips eagerly and you hooked your legs around his waist, clinging to the back of his neck in the process as your hips jutted up to meet each roll of his own. You were both panting by now, grunts of exertion slipping from your mouths as you continued to make out. His movements were messier, wet bodies pressed up close, enough to provide enough friction for a second orgasm. 

“Ah… I’m close,” he panted, mouth grazing down your throat as he attempted to keep the same momentum. 

“M-me too.” 

That spurred him on, hips snapping into yours with a cry, newfound determination, lips pressing into yours once more. You came together, out of breath and quite sweaty, but mouths unrelenting. You’d never get enough of kissing him. It was addictive – especially like this. 

Spent, he slid out of your dampness naturally, having grown flaccid, kissing you slowly now, indulgently, until he was moving south, capturing your left breast in his mouth, tongue encircling your nipple. You shuddered as he pulled back, one of his hands cupping the right breast to give that a parting kiss too. It wouldn’t be long before you started growing cold, but you were so content here you didn’t care. 

Seokjin lifted his head up, gazing straight into your eyes. His were warm and soft, drunk on your beauty (or so he would say). “I want to give you the world,” he breathed, sealing his confession with a press of his mouth. 

Your heart swelled, heat prickling your skin and you clung to him. But despite that, you felt the need to joke around. Call it a defence mechanism, who knew. “Men are so weak,” you chuckled, running your fingers through his hair to pull it back, revealing his face again. The tips had already started to dry. “Let them cum inside you and they’re like putty in your hands.” 

He laughed too, genuinely amused, but his eyes were still soft and he leaned into your touch, content with the way you held his face now. “I mean it though,” he whispered. “Tell me what you want. Anything. I’ll make it happen.” 

You raised an eyebrow. He was being ridiculous, acting drunk. Still, you were pretty simple. You didn’t have many wishes, many dreams. “I want to travel on a plane.” 

It was his turn to lift an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like a private jet or?”

“No,” you giggled, “just a plane in general.” You kissed his nose. “You know I’ve never been out of the country before.” 

“You want me to take you on vacation?” He hummed, turning suggestive pretty quickly. “A sexcation?”

“Seokjinn,” you whined, dropping your hands from his face. 

He nudged his nose against yours playfully. “Well, of course there’ll be sex involved, but,” he grew serious, genuinely interested, “where do you want to go?” 

“Hm, anywhere?”

“Anywhere,” he confirmed, adding, “unless it’s another planet, or the moon.” 

You smiled, amused, yet deeply preoccupied now. Where did you want to go? What was your dream destination? You’d had one place in mind since you were a child. Running a hand down his bare chest you suddenly felt coy. “I want to visit Paris.” 

He grinned. “France, Mademoiselle?” 

You matched it. “Oui.” 

“Done.” He kissed you, sealing the deal. “Let’s go there tonight.” 

You burst out laughing at his idiocy. “I have school. You have work – a daughter!”

He laughed too, but he was distracted, gazing at you tenderly once more. He opened his mouth, about to say something but hesitated. Instead he smiled, nodding his head resolutely. “Okay, soon. Very soon.” He laughed when you squealed in excitement, bringing one of your hands to his lips. “I’m going to take you to the most romantic city on earth, baby.” 

.

.

It was Sunday the next day, which meant only one thing. Lazy morning sex. It was his favourite, his time to indulge in all things beautiful and pleasurable he told you. (i.e. You). You’d grown used to his lame lines, he couldn’t help it, and deep down you secretly loved them. A man so shameless with his desire, his devotion. You really had hit the jackpot. 

Sundays were also your excuse to just be lazy in general. You usually skipped breakfast in choice of an early lunch, but today you wanted to picnic outside. You knew in a week or so the weather would begin to change more drastically so this was your last chance. You made a reluctant Seokjin get out of bed and shower with you, ignoring his advances as you did so. He was like a dog in heat. Not that you usually complained, but today you really wanted to hit the grocery store before rush hour. Sundays were always busy. 

A few hours later you had everything ready, outside in the spot that saw the most sun. It bleated down on you as you kneeled, arranging all the dishes across the blanket you’d placed down across the lawn. 

“Oh, shoot. I forgot the salad.” Seokjin realised by the side of you. “I’ll be one sec, honey.” He kissed your cheek as he stood, smacking your ass playfully in the process. “Don’t start without me.”

“What will you do about it?” You called out to him, unable to help it. 

“If you’re feeling brave, I guess you’ll find out.” He called back with a laugh, retreating into the house. 

A good girl, you waited patiently, but then time started to tick on. One minute, then five… At ten you stood up with a sigh. Where was he? You had visions of the salad bowl on the floor smashed to smithereens. You made your way through the doors that led inside the back of the house. You past his study, calling his name. “Seokjin? Did you get lost?”

You were met with silence, which wasn’t surprising, his home was big after all. Down the corridor, closer to the kitchen you began to hear voices. Seokjin’s familiar rumble, although you couldn’t make it out, and then a louder, unfamiliar voice – female. You followed the sound, realising it was coming from the living room nearest the front door. A sick feeling was slowly creeping its way up your throat, but you didn’t understand why. As you got closer your heart began to race, blood rushing through your ears. There was this sudden feeling of dread. It was so strong you could practically taste it, and you were so frazzled you couldn’t concentrate on the words you were hearing as you rounded the corner of the open door, although you did acknowledge them. 

Immediately as you came into view you heard them loud and clear though. Directed at you. 

“Oh, and this is her, right?” 

They were coming from a woman, her dark eyes piercing into yours. She was beautiful, was your first thought. Tall and slim, with long black hair, so silky she could have come straight from a shampoo commercial. It reminded you of someone. Her hair just as dark and shiny. Arin. 

At the thought of the child’s name, you looked down, spotting her beside the stranger, clinging to her hand, eyes wide and shiny with worried tears. Everything clicked into place then. Confusion clearing, yet the sick feeling got stronger. This wasn’t a stranger. It was Arin’s mother. Seokjin’s ex-wife. Nana. And she looked angry. 

You glanced around, spotting Seokjin who was looking your way with apologetic eyes. His face looked torn. He murmured your name, stepping towards you, a protective hand reaching for your own. He held it tight, giving you a comforting squeeze. His palm was clammy. 

“Yes, here she is!” Nana laughed harshly, needing no reply. It made you wince. Beside you Seokjin groaned quietly, rubbing his free hand across his face before he took a deep breath. As if he was gearing himself up. 

You looked at Nana, chest a little tight, something heavy in your stomach. When your eyes locked the corners of her mouth curled upwards. 

“The stepmom!” She sneered. 

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021