#i took enough art in high school that i can like. hold a pencil and do basic composition and colour theory

[gotyouanyway]

i’ve started teaching myself (again for like the 6th time since i was 14) how to draw people and i’m rly enjoying it for the first time i’m so excited.. i’ve always wanted to be able to draw like people and objects and scenes yknow. art. but never had the patience or a learning mindset now i find i’m actually enjoying the process and even though i’m so bad at it i can see how i’ll improve and augh. feels good

[badasgirl]

accidentally fell in love

bada lee x fem!reader

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when you’re in love with your best friend who constantly goes on date after date, what do you do? what if that best friend also happens to be oblivious as can be?

genre: fluff, angst (my bad), suggestive, best friends to lovers

warnings: oblivious!bada x jealous!reader, bada calls reader her princess, some tension, suggestive with a makeout scene towards the end, no caps on purpose (booo ik terrible grammar).

author’s note: this was not proofread so please be easy on me. anyways, yayyy! i am finally back after a while 🤭 rewriting this made me cry so it took a while and the finale made me really emotional (i still am emotional LMAO) so i ended up pushing this back. thank you for being patient! i hope you all enjoy!

word count: ~3.2k

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you and bada lee have been best friends since one faithful day in middle school. it was a simple mistake really, you had forgotten a pencil for an exam and the teacher refused to give you one. you had to take the exam or else you could possibly fail the class. you had began to tear up and panic as the exam was about to begin and there was no pencil insight for you. luckily amidst your panic, the tall girl behind you tapped your shoulder and quickly snuck you a pencil to use. since that day, you vowed to be by her side and be her best friend forever.

and trust me, since that day you never left each other’s sides. you two were inseparable. you both were now in your final year of university and of course you shared an apartment together. bada majored in dance and you majored in art, specifically focusing in photography. naturally, a lot of the photos you took included bada, she was like your muse. if you ever needed to do a last minute project, she was always down to help. for bada, you too were like her muse for dance, but in a different way. whenever she had difficulties creating or finishing a choreography, she had to see you. she claimed that just by seeing you, you cleared her foggy mind and gave her so much inspiration. how could someone not fall for her? you did.

unfortunately for you, you were deeply in love with your best friend. in fact, she was your lesbian awakening in high school. you knew she liked anyone regardless of gender, however she never seemed to show interest in you at all. well, never directly.

recently, she was always going on dates with guys and coming back home complaining to you. today was one of those days. you were laying down on the couch in your pajama shorts and your (bada’s) t-shirt, watching something on your phone when bada entered the apartment with a loud sigh. she kicked off her shoes and threw her bag on the floor before taking her tall body and laying on top of you, basically smothering you.

“bada, what happened? also you’re crushing me” you said as you tried to push her off you slightly. the girl just snuggled into you more before loudly whining like a kicked puppy.

“princess, it was so terrible. he was sooo full of himself.” bada said tiredly. “he acted like he was doing me a favor by going on a date! i was the one doing him a favor if anything!” she complained passionately as she finally sat up a bit, just to give you enough room to sit up and hold the big human-sized puppy in your lap.

you patted her head softly as you said “bada, i have told you to stop going on every single date that someone asks you out on. especially this guy, seojun is a literal known asshole.”

the tall girl sighed knowing you were right. “i know, but i thought maybe it was just gossip you know? god, i wish these guys were like you y/n…so sweet and caring, never full of themselves. if they were like you, they’d be perfect. i’d immediately fall for them and make them mine.”

you blushed slightly but your heart broke at the same time. you slightly balled up your fists out of jealousy, but bada didn’t notice. you honestly hated hearing about your best friend’s dates. not only did they make you jealous, but bada always said if they were more like you she’d actually date them. “what does she even mean by that?” is something you’ve always wondered. if you’re so perfect for her, why won’t she date you?

you pushed your feelings aside as you smiled at bada and tapped her thigh signaling her to get up. “bada, you’ll find someone perfect for you, trust me. you just need to give it time and going on every date possible won’t help you.” you told her sincerely as you both got up from the couch.

bada nodded in agreement with you before pulling you in a hug. she rested her head atop yours before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “thank you y/n, you’re right. what would i do without you, my best friend.” she smiled at you before taking her bag from the floor and heading to her room to get ready for bed.

however, all you could do was just stand there in the middle of the living room. of course, you were friendzoned time and time again. you hated how bada could make you feel like you were only person she wanted or needed one second and then remind you of your place the next. you let a few tears fall down your face before quickly wiping them and going to your room to sulk over being stuck in the friendzone.

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the next day was definitely one of the shittiest days you’ve had in a while. to begin, you overslept and missed your first class because you were up all night thinking about bada and how much it hurt your heart to see her with shitty people and not you. then if that wasn’t enough, you spilled your energy drink all over your computer in the middle of your second class. fortunately for you, it wasn’t damaged. however, there was nothing to clean it with in the class and the closest bathroom had no paper towels to wipe it clean with. you were running out of time to make it to your last class, so you had to end up carrying a sticky computer in your bag halfway across campus so wouldn’t be late. then to top everything off, when you finally went to one of the dining halls after your last class, they ran out of the one meal you like there. you sat in defeat at one of the tables with arms on the table and your head resting on your arms.

bada currently had 20 minutes before her next practice started up, so she decided to head to the dining hall. she figured you’d also be there after a long day of classes, she knew your schedule like the back of her hand. bada spotted you at one of the tables with your head down, she immediately went over and patted your head softly.

your head lifted up slowly and your eyes met hers. “hey sleepyhead, why are you napping here?” bada asked grinning at you as she sat down next to you.

you sighed and fixed your hair. “i’m not napping, just drained” was all you could really say. you didn’t really feel like explaining the whole timeline of events that occurred. bada nodded her head in response before giggling to herself.

you looked at her with a confused face. “what’s so funny?” you asked her curiously.

“nothing really, it’s just i’m going on the blind date later after practice and i think the guy might be daehyun! you know the guy from your major.” bada explained while chuckling about thinking of going on a date with a fairly popular guy you know due to being in the same major and working together before.

this was your last straw. not only had you had a very terrible day, but now bada’s going on another date. you guess nothing you said last night mattered to her at all. you felt as if you don’t matter to her at all. you had began to accept being friendzoned, but now she’s completely ignoring what you tell her? what will happen when she starts actually dating someone, will she just ignore you all together?

tears brimmed your eyes as you quickly got up from the table and harshly grabbed your bag. you looked at her, your voice unsteady before saying “i don’t care, do what you want. have fun on your date bada, don’t bother complaining about it to me later because i’m not listening anymore.”

you walked off before bada could register what was even happening. she stood up once she finally realized what was going on and went to look for you, however you had walked far enough away for her to not see you anymore. she immediately pulled out her phone to text you.

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you made your way back to your shared apartment, crying your eyes out on the way home. “why are you so emotional? were you too hard on bada?” were the things you thought of on your walk back home. once you reached the complex, you quickly made it to your unit and went inside. all you could manage to do was take your shoes off before slowly walking over to your room, throwing your bag to the side, and flopping face first onto your bed. you curled up in a ball and cried your eyes out again. every insecurity you had about your friendship with bada came to the surface. even if she didn’t love you romantically, how could she just ignore your advice time after time if you’re her supposed best friend. how could she not realize the right choice has been in-front of her the whole time. she wanted every quality about you in the person she dated, so why not just date you? did she find you that repulsive?

you were wallowing in your thoughts for a while before you decided to check your phone. you felt it buzz as you walked home, but you were too focused on just making it home to check. your notifications revealed 4 missed calls and 10 texts in a row, all from bada. they all happened about 20 minutes ago.

my sea 🌊

——————————

y/n

are you okay???

did i upset you??

where did you go?

are you going home?

y/n princess please tell me you’re home safely, i’m worried.

i hope you’re alright, please don’t cry anymore.

i’m sorry i don’t know what i did, but that doesn’t matter i just need you to be okay

princess?

please let me know when you see this, let me know you’re safe.

you felt like crying even more after reading bada’s texts. maybe you were the one who fucked up. you didn’t want the girl to panic too much and actually call the police, so you mustered up all your energy to text her back.

you

———————

i’m home, i’m fine.

you shut off your phone and threw it to the side as you slowly let more tears fall and sleep over take you. the day was so draining, your body couldn’t help but want to give into sleeping.

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the moment bada received your text, she immediately grabbed her stuff and ran out of practice. she ran over to the nearest convenience store to grab a bunch of all of your favorite snacks and drink: fruit jellies, potato chips, and strawberry milk. she had no idea as to why you suddenly became so upset, but the only thing on her mind was to make you feel better. once she purchased everything, bada rushed to your shared apartment quickly.

after you had barely fallen asleep for maybe 45 minutes, you heard a knock at your bedroom door and someone softly calling your name. you assumed it must be bada. you sighed deeply, rubbing your eyes awake. you honestly didn’t know how to react or what to do at this point.

“princess? you awake?” bada asked softly while gripping onto the plastic bag holding the things she got for you.

“go away bada, i’m fine” you mumbled at the door praying she could hear you.

that answer wasn’t good enough for bada. she may be oblivious to a lot of things, but she always knew when you didn’t feel okay. she slowly opened the door and looked at you balled up figure on your bed. the tall girl placed the bag of snacks on your desk and went to sit next to you on your bed. you huffed, sat up, and turned to face the taller girl.

“bada what don’t you understand about “go away” or “i’m fine”?” you asked the girl next to you tiredly. “i’m so tired just leave okay?” you pleaded.

“y/n i can tell you’re not fine, don’t lie to me now. we’re best friends.” bada said seriously looking you in your eyes.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes at her statement. bada tilted her head in confusion at your actions.

“what does that mean?” the oblivious girl asked.

“bada, if we’re seriously best friends…then why do you ignore and throw away every piece of advice i give you?” you started to get worked up, tears already brimming at your eyes again. “you act like you listen to what i say and you cherish it, but in reality you never do.” you said with your voice beginning to get shaky.

“y/n what-“

you cut off your best friend immediately. “don’t ask me what i mean because you know what i’m talking about. i tell you that going on a bunch of dates won’t help you find the one who deserves your love, you agree, say you appreciate me so much and wish you dated someone like me, and then turn around a few days later to go on dates.” you said as tears slowly began to fall down your face. you could barely think about what you were saying at the point, you were just speaking. bada sat there silently in shock listening to you explain everything.

“and bada you always do this. sure, it’s my fault that i accidentally fell in love with my best friend, so yeah seeing you go on all these failed dates and you saying you wish they were like me always make me jealous. but as your best friend it breaks my heart ten times more to see you just waste your time on these losers and just tossing me to the side.” you said as you were fully crying at this point. you were so deep in your emotions you didn’t even realize you just confessed your love to your best friend.

it took bada a while to understand what you had just said but once she did, she immediately started crying with you. you were very confused to see bada cry along with you. you were going to ask why she had began crying but she had said “you’re in love with me y/n?”

you were so shocked as you didn’t even realize what you had said until she said something, you gasped at the realization and looked up at bada, now you were afraid. even though you were upset with bada, you didn’t want to lose her all together.

“bada wait i-“

“no y/n, be honest with me…are you seriously in love with me?” bada asked looking into your eyes, grabbing your hands and holding them tightly in hers.

you looked down, unable to face her. “yes bada, i’ve been in love with you for years. you were even the reason why i realized i was a lesbian, since i’m telling you everything…” you laughed slightly out of embarrassment.

bada couldn’t help but to smile at your confession through her tears “y/n- no my princess, i should have just been honest with you and myself. i also fell in love with my best friend. i thought going on all these dates wishing they were you would maybe help. i never knew you could feel the same way, i was so oblivious. i am so so sorry i hurt you in the process, i never wanted to do that. you are the most important person to me. i love you so much princess.” bada confessed to you while still holding onto your hands. your head shot up at her confession and you looked at her in her eyes to make sure she was being serious. you could tell she was being serious so you couldn’t help but cry out of happiness.

bada pulled you into her and hugged you tightly. you wrapped your arms around her waist and cried into her chest. she let her tears fall freely as well as she held you in her arms as her own.

once you both calmed down, bada pulled away to look at your pretty face and admire the girl she loved so much. she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and smiled at you. you smiled back at bada and giggled.

“does this mean…we’re girlfriends?” you questioned shyly.

bada chuckled at your shyness before nodding. “yes, yes you’re my girlfriend and i’m yours princess.”

you giggled and placed a quick peck to bada’s lips, still holding her close. bada blushed at the peck before bringing you back into her and kissing your lips softly. you both sat there letting that kiss make up for the lost time that you could’ve been together.

when bada pulled away from the kiss, you whined and looked up at the taller girl with puppy eyes. bada laughed at your actions before smirking down at you.

“why? does my princess want more?” your girlfriend teased you while rubbing her hands up and down your sides. you nodded quickly in response before stretching your neck back up to meet her lips.

bada deepened the kiss, biting your lips softly. your kisses got messier and filled with more and more passion. you were holding onto bada for dear life as she licked across your lips, signaling you that she wanted in. you let her have access so easily, her tongue easily dominated yours as you both continued to hold each other close and make out on your bed. the whimpers and moans you both let out were swallowed by the other within your kisses.

eventually after you both pulled away to catch your breaths, you spotted the plastic grocery bag on your desk.

“baby what’s that?” you questioned softly while pointing at the bag with your finger.

bada blushed at the pet name you gave her before answering you. “it’s all of your favorites princess! fruit jellies, strawberry milk, and potato chips. i bought them earlier to try to make you feel better.”

you smiled up at your girlfriend giggling at the sweet action. “you’re perfect, oblivious as hell, but perfect. i’m so lucky” you said sweetly while getting up to get the bag of snacks.

bada watched you get up as she shook her head in disagreement. “princess, i’m definitely the lucky one, you’re the best girlfriend i could have asked for. i should have really just dated you from the start…” bada trailed off as her face turned into a pout.

you returned to the bed with your snacks acquired and kissed the cute pout off of bada’s face. after that quick kiss, she was nothing but smiles.

“now hush you big puppy, let’s not focus on the lost time. let’s just focus on us now.” you stated as you snuggled into bada.

bada held you close as you snuggled into her. she knew you were right, there’s no use in dwelling on what already happened. all she wanted to do now was create new amazing memories with you.

bada looked at you while smiling and said “so a movie and snacks?”

you chuckled and smiled back at her “you read my mind baby.”

[cowgurrrl]

It Ain't Me Babe

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: A holiday present from me to you ❣️

Summary: Ellie’s first art club meeting [2.8k]

Warnings: creative insecurity, mentions of financial instability, teacher things, Ellie talking about Sarah, more flirty flirt, I think that’s it??

Nothing has ever been as annoying or guilt-inducing as an unfinished piece of art. Sure, every artist— no matter the medium— has felt like an uncreative, unoriginal hack, but it still feels just as new as it did the first time. Moonlight streams through your window as you glare at the canvas, hoping for an idea or stroke of genius. It's late. You should be in bed, especially since it's a Sunday night and you spent your weekend working at the bar down the street. But you're holding a paintbrush between stained fingers and praying for a miracle. It's been eight months since you last sold a piece for a whopping $200, chump change when it comes to living in Austin these days. Even with two jobs and doing commission work, you're living paycheck to paycheck. Maybe that's why it's so hard to create? That has to be the reason. You don't remember it being this hard when you were younger.

Creating art was the only thing that brought you solace during your teenage years. It didn't matter if it was drawing, pottery, painting, sculpting. All that mattered was that you were doing it and you were good. You won awards, scholarships, and attention. Your art teacher, Ms. Henry, was a godsend. Grey-haired, glasses-wearing, colorful Ms. Henry glided through lessons and projects like it was second nature. She always had pencils in her hair, a mug in her hands, and a kind word on her lips when you entered her classroom. She's the one who pushed you to go to your artsy liberal arts college full of people richer and better than you. Even with her love and support, you struggled and almost dropped out after that first semester. 

"There's always someone better," she told you when you ended up crying across from her in a coffee shop. "But there's nobody in the world who can make what you will because there is and never will be another you. I mean, God, what a gift. I'd hate to see you waste it." That sobered you enough to keep going and eventually pursue a teaching certification. Ms. Henry has since retired to the Pacific Northwest with her wife, Mable, and sends you a postcard every once in a while because she believes smartphones will be the downfall of civilization. After so many years in education, you're ready to agree with her. 

You sigh, feeling your motivation fluttering away with your breath, and plop your paintbrush down in the cup engraved with the words "DO NOT DRINK" in bold. The canvas doesn't look like much of anything right now— just a mass of colors and shapes that could potentially pass as an abstract version of a landscape. It looks like the other painting you left at the school to work on when you have time. And the painting before that. And the one before that. You curse at exactly the same time your phone buzzes with a text. 

You awake?

You don't bother responding and go straight to FaceTiming her. She picks up on the second ring, her beautiful, round face greeting you with a smile. You met Andie during high school, and her effortlessly cool attitude and bulky violin kit quickly became a part of your heart. You two were inseparable all four years of high school, dividing your time between rehearsals and time spent in the studio, but college took you to art school and her to a prestigious orchestra program in Vienna. She's been there ever since graduation, playing for diplomats and royals alike, but she comes home for holidays, and you've been trying to save money to go see her. Being so far from her is hard, but you make it work. 

"Why are you awake?" You ask by way of a greeting, more than accustomed to your seven-hour time difference and her early riser habits. She laughs, and you hear a tea kettle whistle in the background. 

"Well, hello to you, too," she says. "I have rehearsals all day today, so I got an early start. Why are you awake?"

"I'm staring at my waking nightmare." 

"Oh, God, are you having another spiral?" 

"I'm a hack."

"You're an artist."

"I got rejected again this weekend," you say as if to prove your point, and she sucks her teeth. "They said my art didn't fit their vision for their exhibition, but to feel free and submit another time."

"Well, they must not know great art when they see it. There will be another exhibition and another chance for you to show off your amazing skills. And when you get accepted, which I know you will, I'll fly in, and we'll drink fancy champagne and talk shit the entire opening night." She says, and you sigh. Her persistent optimism is one of the things you love about her, but sometimes, all you want to do is sulk. 

"Or I could fly to you when your first composition gets performed, and we could do all those things in Austria instead of this shithole."

"Hey, some of us like that shithole."

"Some of us haven't lived in the shithole in ten years." 

"Touche," she concedes. "But I'm serious about what I said. You're a good artist, just going through a little bump in the road. One day, we'll be really sexy and successful, and we'll look back at this and laugh with our rich spouses while drinking expensive wine."

"One day," you say, smiling. "How are rehearsals going?" She groans at the question, and you laugh. Whenever you talk to her, she's working on a new show or with a new conductor and always has something to say. There are many things you could call your best friend, but lazy is not one of them.

"I feel like we're stuck on this one part, but the conductor won't listen to me. He says he knows better than I do, which might be true, but also, if he just listened to me, then we can move on. I don't know. I'm sure if I poke him enough, he'll have to listen to me."

"Sounds reasonable." 

"That's what I'm saying," she says as she shuffles her coffee mug and breakfast to her dining room table before checking the time. "It's midnight there. Don't you have school tomorrow?" She asks, and you sigh.

"And an early morning staff meeting and art club after school." 

"Sometimes, I worry about your mental health." She says, and you laugh a little too deliriously to prove her wrong. You stay up talking with her for a while before finally getting hit with a wave of fatigue and crashing into bed. 

The next day is not any less hectic than your weekend was. The staff meeting early in the morning is mind-numbing and completely unnecessary. The printer in the teacher's lounge breaks halfway through a heavy-duty print job, and you're left scrambling for new activities and lessons. Not only that, but your students were more out of control than usual, prompting a veteran teacher to come in and scold your class on your behalf. It would be kind if it didn't make you feel two inches tall and your students didn't look at you like you betrayed them. You spend your planning period indulging in the silence of your empty classroom and fighting off a migraine. 

The second the final bell sounds, your art club kids are knocking down your door, more than ready to work on their projects for the winter showcase. The winter showcase is hosted by a local art gallery that opens for submissions from students every fall. If a student's work is taken, it gets shown in the gallery, and they get entered into a prize to win money and a chance to paint a mural downtown. It's a big deal. So far, you haven't had a student win first place, but you've had them get very close. You always assure them you're proud of them no matter what, which is especially true when Ellie slinks into your classroom with a shy smile.

"Hey! We're just setting up supplies to work on stuff for the showcase. Do you have something to work on?" You ask, gesturing to the students working around the room in a buzz. 

"I think so. Are you gonna play music?" 

"Who do you think I am?" You make a face, and she laughs. "Why don't you find a spot and get comfortable while I queue up a playlist?" She hesitates for a second before she takes a deep breath and musters up the courage to approach another student to ask if she can sit with them. They start chatting easily, and her shoulders relax as she gets more and more comfortable with all the new people. You put on a random playlist and move around the room to answer any questions about colors or give an opinion when asked for one. Over the course of an hour, Ellie makes her own little group of friends, and they all talk as if they've known each other forever as they work. She seems so in her own element, and you can't fight the pride beaming in your chest. Okay, so maybe your job can be pretty cool sometimes. Not fame and fortune cool or traveling overseas cool, but cool nevertheless.

Students gradually start packing up their things and leaving when they get texts from impatient parents in the parking lot or close to dinner time, but Ellie stays behind, bobbing her head to a beat or bouncing her knee under the table. She's the only one left in the classroom when you start packing your stuff and preparing the room for the next day. "You've got a ride home, honey?" You ask, and she glances nervously between you and her phone.

"Yeah. My dad should be here soon." She says. 

"Alright, well, I've gotta lock up here, but I'll wait outside with you until he gets here."

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"It'd make me feel better knowing you weren't left behind. Plus, I'm the adult responsible for you until he picks you up, so it's kinda illegal for me to just leave you here." You say, and she looks hesitant again but nods. Together, you walk out of the classroom and through the empty hallways until you get out to the scorching September afternoon. You stand outside in silence for a few seconds, taking in the sunset, before you turn to look at her.

"How'd you like the club?" You ask. 

"It was fun! I met lots of cool people."

"I told you, kid. You just needed to give it a chance."

"I know, I know," she rolls her eyes, and you smile. "Thank you for pushing me to go. I don't think I would've gone without you." She's so genuine and kind in her tone that it throws you off-kilter. You're used to being berated by students, staff, and parents. To be told you actually had an impact on someone is not commonplace, to say the least. 

"I'm sure you would've found your way there without me." 

"Maybe, but you helped me get there a lot sooner than I would've on my own." She says, and you take a deep breath. It feels nice to be acknowledged, especially after the day you've had, and Ellie seems to sense it. You're looking for something to say when she looks down at her shoes and kicks a stray rock. "Just take the compliment and move on. Don't make it a thing." 

"Alright." You say, laughing, and she cracks a smile, too. Traffic will be horrible on the way home, and you have nothing to eat for dinner, but it's okay. You did one good thing today. That's all you need. 

"Sorry, my dad is taking so long." She changes the subject, a touch of anxiety creeping in, and you shake your head. 

"Does he always work late?" You ask, and she shrugs.

"Sometimes. Dad and Uncle Tommy have been picking up jobs to send money to my sister in Boston. "

"What's in Boston for your sister?"

"Medical school. She's about to go into her internship at a hospital there."

"That's a big deal." You say, and she hums. 

"Yeah. She'll probably save the world or something one day." There's a hint of something nostalgic in her voice, and you decide to push just a little. 

"Do you miss her?"

"A lot," she says. "She's my best friend."

"She's lucky to have you." You say. She smiles but doesn't say anything. You want to ask more about her family, but a rickety, greenish pickup truck comes rumbling through the parking lot before you can. Ellie shifts her backpack on her shoulder as her dad and uncle come into view, and you smile at them. Joel, however, looks frantic. 

He's unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the driver's side door before the car can even finish moving. There's dirt on his pants and a little bit of a sunburn across his arms, the muscles straining across the black fabric. He politely pulls the ball cap off his head to reveal sweaty curls as he approaches you, jerking his head toward the truck at Ellie. "Why don't you wait in the truck with Uncle Tommy? He's got a snack for you." He says, and Ellie lights up at the mention of food. When you're alone, he tucks his hands in his pockets and gives you an apologetic look. 

"'M so sorry. We got caught up at work and lost track of time. It won't happen again." He says, wringing his hands like he's waiting to be scolded, but you wave him off. 

"It's okay. Things happen, and I'm just glad she's got someone picking her up." You say. 

"How'd she do today?"

"Really good. I think she fits right in."

"She make some friends?"

"I can't give away all my secrets. What else are y'all gonna talk about at the dinner table?" You tease. 

"I guess that's right," he says as he stares at you, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "Thanks for waitin' with her."

"It was my pleasure." You say. You stand awkwardly for a few seconds, rocking back and forth on your feet. His eyes are locked in yours, and there's a silent competition to see who's gonna blink first. "Well, I should let you get home. Have a good night." 

"Uh," he starts, stopping you before you can even fully take a step. "I wanted to apologize for the other night. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable," you say a little too quickly, and he smirks. "I was very flattered. Besides, it's not the first time."

"Beautiful woman like you, I'm sure you've got 'em linin' the block for a chance with you." He says. You're dancing a delicate dance here. You're not not flirting, and you're not not interested in him, but if your principal finds out, it could cause a whole new world of problems. Still, it's nice to be wanted after so long of being on your own. You're not a saint, but you're also not doing anything inherently wrong, right?

"The teacher thing usually freaks 'em out before they can get very far."

"That's a damn shame." He's quick with it, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes at the line. A buzz in your bag reminds you of the time and why you're still at school, and you find your footing again. 

"Uh, I usually give out my contact information to the parents of my art club kids in case they need anything or need to contact me quickly. Since Ellie's an official part of that, I figured I should give you my phone number in case anything comes up. If that's alright?" You say, and he pulls his cracked phone from his back pocket. 

"Yeah, yeah. That's more than alright." He says, handing it to you to punch in your information. 

"It's for emergency purposes only."

"What d'you consider an emergency?"

"Mr. Miller-"

"Joel." He corrects, and you give him a look as you pass his phone back. 

"Don't abuse it. I'd hate to have to put you in a group chat with all the PTA moms."

"You're evil." He groans, and you laugh. Tommy, leaning over and honking the truck horn, interrupts your conversation, and he shoots daggers through the back window. 

"I'll see you next week, Joel." You say, dismissing him, and he hesitates for another second before nodding.

"See you next week." He says and turns on his heels to get back in his truck. You think you vaguely catch Joel scolding Tommy for being impatient, but you ignore his deep voice and the engine sputtering as you walk to your own car with a little more pep in your step than this morning.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 (look at how many of you there are!)

[dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd]

Blur The Lines

Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 - Break-In

Work Summary: Y/n is a struggling artist living in Gotham and stuck in an office job that she absolutely hates. Her dull life gets a spark of excitement when the Joker breaks into her apartment. Over time his stay becomes more voluntary and Y/n develops a connection with the clown. In exchange for a place of safety, Joker agrees to give her some tips that will help boost her art career. But eventually, Y/n realizes she may be getting into more than she signed up for.

Chapter Summary: It's a typical boring day at the office for Y/n. She returns home once again to the frustrations of her failing dreams. As she tries to distract herself and make something of yet another unfinished drawing, a certain someone decides to break into her apartment.

Author's Note: So I'm starting a new fic! I'm really excited for this one. I've been thinking of doing a reader insert fic for several months now. My goal here is to write a more in-character or darker Joker than I usually do and a more developed MC instead of just another Mary Sue. She is heavily inspired by me as I'm kinda writing with myself in mind but anyone can read it and place themselves in the story. Idk if there will be any smut or implied smut in here. I'm still not entirely comfortable with writing that yet. So if there is any here's your warning. I'm done yapping now, enjoy the first chapter!

Taglist: @alittlesmartcookie @furisodespirit @lightsabergirl @gothic-aesthetic-gal

If you would like to be added to the taglist please let me know! <3

Next Chapter >

A cool autumn breeze ruffled your hair as you left the office building with a defeated sigh. You began the monotonous trek back home, holding a thick stack of paperwork and other work related crap. Your boss just threw it on you at the last second. The joke was him, you weren’t actually gonna do it.

Nope. He needed to realize you had a life outside of work. A simple one, but still a life. You only carried the stack out with you for appearances. Honestly you could care less if you were fired. It was only a matter of time before you quit anyway. This was not the life you wanted. 

Every day it was the same thing. Wake up early, go to work in an office all day, waste hours of your time, go back home to a shitty apartment, yearn for a better life, go to bed, and repeat the next day. Much to your relief you were off on the weekends. You treasured those days and used them to destress and help yourself feel alive again. It was hard to believe how draining something as simple as an office job could be. 

You often found yourself reminiscing on the old days when you were a little girl growing up in your small town. You lived in a modest house on a lively farm. Your father raised cows and chickens and grew numerous crops. Your mother was a local school teacher. They were loving parents for the most part. They had their evident flaws but what parents didn’t?

You did well in school and you rarely got into trouble. They were difficult to make, but you had a few friends. You adopted many stray cats and took care of them. Your dad let you keep so many because they were good for keeping mice out of the barn. 

Life was plain and honestly quite boring. As a young girl you had big dreams. You longed to move away and start a new life somewhere else. Home would always be home but it would never satisfy you. 

Your escape from it all was art. You had been drawing since you were old enough to pick up a crayon. As you grew older, art became more than just a hobby. When you picked up a pencil or a paintbrush, you felt free. Putting your deepest thoughts and opinions to page was so liberating, especially when a lot of times you couldn’t outwardly express those things. 

Your high school art teacher said you could go places, and you believed him. An art career was something you always wanted. With his encouragement and a few others, you decided to go for it. So after graduating, you spent a few years figuring things out. As a backup plan you went to a community college for a 2 year degree and successfully obtained it. Then with enough money saved up, you moved to Gotham City when you were 21 in hopes of becoming a full time artist.

Your parents thought you were stupid. Your friends laughed at you. They all told you over and over it wouldn’t work out. Maybe they were right. You found out pretty quickly that Gotham’s art scene was super competitive. It was nearly impossible for a nobody from the middle of nowhere like you to get noticed. But you wouldn’t give up. Not yet.

Obviously you needed money to survive and fund your projects. Supplies weren’t always cheap. Hell, it cost money for you to even enter certain art galleries and contests. You also knew that your art career of course wouldn’t take off right away, so you were forced to look for work. 

That’s when you stumbled across an office job in the Downtown area. It paid just enough for you to afford rent and groceries, along with a little extra to set aside for art related things. You mostly answered calls, filled out paperwork, and scheduled things for your boss. You were a receptionist or secretary of some sort. You hoped that you wouldn’t be doing this for very long and your art would gain some traction by now, but no such luck.

You came to Gotham 2 years ago and still nothing changed. You were still stuck in your cramped apartment and dead end job. It was hopeless, but something in you was driving you to keep trying, to prove everyone back home wrong. 

Rounding the last corner, your apartment building came into view. You sighed as you pushed the double doors open and entered the lobby. You passed the front desk where your landlord was reading the paper and waved to him wearily. “Hey, Jimmy.”

“Hey, Y/n. Long day?”

“Yep.”

You dug your keys out of your pocket and unlocked your mail slot after scanning the rows. Nothing but junk mail. You threw it away in a nearby trash can and started towards the stairs with a tired sigh. It wasn’t too long of a walk, but trudging up four flights of stairs everyday was not something you looked forward to. 

Soon you reached the fourth floor and walked down the hall until you reached apartment 405, your humble abode. You unlocked the door and entered with an exhale of relief, discarding the heavy stack of paperwork on the kitchen table. You wouldn’t think anything of it for the rest of the night and it would sit there until the next morning when you had to go back to work.

Flipping on the lights, you moved into your bedroom and changed out of your work clothes into something more comfortable. You picked out your usual sweatshirt and shorts combo and threw it on. Once dressed, you grabbed your sketchbook off of your dresser and returned to the living room. You set the sketchbook down on the couch before going to the kitchen and heating up some water to make Cup Noodles with. It wasn’t the healthiest meal, but it was cheap and good enough for you. If you ever got rich off of your art, you could start eating healthier then.

Cup Noodles in hand, you grabbed your sketching pencils from your art desk and plopped down on the couch to finish up your current ‘work in progress’. You slurped up the noodles as you examined what was already on the page and tried to figure out what to do with it. Something about it just wasn’t looking right.

You grabbed the remote and switched on the TV for background noise. The evening news was on. As you set to work on the drawing, you heard a little bit of what the reporters were saying. The cops were after someone on the run but you didn’t catch who or where. It didn’t surprise you. This was Gotham after all.

You erased what you originally had on the page with a frown. The proportions just looked so off. Maybe your second attempt would be better. You tried to remind yourself that everything in your sketchbook was just practice. Some of it might get put to canvas or inspire a future project and some of it might not. Still, every time something didn’t come together right away you felt like a failure. You’d start to think that maybe you really weren’t good enough and that was why this art career wasn’t working out.

At this point you screwed up the second attempt and moved on to your third. You were growing increasingly annoyed at both the drawing and yourself. Nothing you did was fixing it. With an exasperated sigh, you started erasing yet again.

You paused when you heard a faint tapping on your window. You looked up at the sound, but seeing nothing there, you paid it no mind and continued to erase furiously at the drawing. It ripped at how forceful you were and you nearly screamed in rage. You took a deep breath and crumpled up the paper. The original drawing just wasn’t working. It was best to start over on a new sheet of paper. Even if this was your fourth attempt.

Some more time passed as you got lost in the drawing process and then you heard the noise again. Louder this time. Something hit the window hard and then the glass started to crack. It dawned on you that someone was trying to break in.

You scoffed. Not on your watch.

You turned the TV off, stood up, and crept cautiously towards the window, baseball bat in hand. With the crime rate as high as it was in Gotham, you kept an arsenal of everyday things to defend yourself with and had a plan in mind just in case a situation like this should happen. 

Intending to simply bash the intruder over the head and scare them away, you pried open the window just as a familiar painted face appeared right in front of you. You screamed and fell backwards. 

There was no way. There was no fucking way. 

The figure crawled through the opening and tumbled right into your apartment. Paralyzed with fear, you watched him sit upright in horror. This was no ordinary thug. This was the Joker. The Joker was in your apartment. 

“Sorry, uh, for the scare, darlin'. I’m kinda in a bit of a pinch here.” He said as he stood up and approached you.

You noticed he had a small limp and his clothes were soaked with blood. His hair was sweaty and wild. Very faintly you could hear his erratic breathing. 

“Wh-What do you want?” You asked, backing away from him. 

He seemed to find your reaction amusing. “Just need a place to stay for a bit until I can get the pigs off my back. I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

You were stunned speechless. You could only muster a soft, “You’re injured.”

Joker shrugged. “Yeah. Happens every time. I couldn’t get very far with this leg.”

“So was this apartment building the closest thing to you or…?” You inquired, surprised at your own voice.

“Yep. Nice place ya got here.”

“I-I…I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

“I wasn’t asking you.”

You didn’t like his tone. You took a deep breath and lowered the bat, propping it against the wall. 

“So you just want a place to hide? That’s it?”

“Yep. It’s too risky for me to travel across the city right now. I can’t get to my hideout until the heat dies down.”

“How long are we talking?”

“I don’t really know. At most two weeks.”

“Two weeks?! You can’t just-!” You exclaimed.

Joker threw his hands up. “I said at most.”

“No. You can kindly get the hell out. I won’t call the cops if you just go.”

Joker smirked and advanced towards you slowly, lifting his coat to reveal a hidden pistol. “Orrrr…you can kindly shut up and let me stay here because I’m the man with a gun.”

You froze at the sight of the gun and contemplated what to do, your mind running a mile a minute. Your shoulders slumped as you realized the position you were in. It was best to just go along with what he said.

You sighed, “I don’t really have a choice here, do I?”

When you looked back up, Joker wasn’t there. He lost interest in talking to you and wandered into the kitchen. You stared at the clown in disbelief. The fact that he was being so nonchalant and inviting himself into a stranger’s home baffled you. Man, the nerve of this guy.

You scampered after him and against your better judgement grabbed his arm to confront him. He whipped around to face you, his dark eyes boring into yours.

You gulped. “Shouldn’t we, uh, treat your wounds first?”

Joker lightened his expression. “Mhm. That would be helpful.”

You led him into your bathroom and gestured for him to sit on the toilet. He sat down without a word and stared up at you. You nervously grabbed a first aid kit from your cabinet.

“I don’t have much but I’ll make do with what I can. Where are you hurt?”

Joker rolled up his pants leg and pointed to a deep gash across his calf. It was swollen red and oozing blood. You had to turn your head for a second. When your stomach stopped lurching, you knelt down in front of him while still maintaining a safe distance.

“Anywhere else?”

Joker grinned and pointed towards his left arm. “Just a little graze on my shoulder. They missed me. We should probably focus on the bigger one right now.”

You nodded. “Okay, uh… I guess I should clean it first?”

Joker made no reply and just kept staring at you. You frowned. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing, man. How do you usually do this?”

“You clean it first. That’s kinda obvious, darlin’.” Joker muttered. 

“Oh I’m sorry. I don’t get into police shootouts on a regular basis.” You spat. 

Joker snickered. “Feisty, aren’t ya?” 

You rolled your eyes and got to work. You took an alcohol wipe and disinfected the wound, trying to be gentle because you knew it would probably sting. To your surprise Joker didn’t even flinch. Sensing he wasn’t going to mind, you continued on at a quicker pace and wiped away the blood, patting it dry with a nearby towel. 

Next you grabbed some gauze from the kit and wrapped it around his calf to bandage the gash. You could practically feel Joker staring down at you as you worked. This was crazy. You were treating the Joker’s wounds and letting him stay in your apartment. He did force you, but still, he was an extremely dangerous man to have in your home. Was he going to kill you? Heh, you hated to say it but maybe that was a good thing. He’d put you out of your misery. 

You shook off that thought. No, y/n, that isn’t a good thing. Once you’re dead it’s over. If you stay alive, at least you still have a chance. You didn’t come this far to give up. He’s not going to kill you. You’re going to make sure of it.

Joker’s gruff voice startled you out of your daze. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

“Well y/n, you might not like these circumstances but it’s really helping me out. So, uh, thanks I guess.”

“I’m literally only doing this because you threatened me.” You huffed.

Joker chuckled. “Fair enough.”

“Stay still. I can’t bandage it right if you keep moving.”

You didn’t catch the fiery glimmer of anger flash across Joker’s eyes at being bossed around. Regardless he listened to you and kept his legs still as you cut off the remaining gauze and tied the bandage in place.

“There. Now let’s take care of your shoulder. Can you uh…?” You gestured to his suit.

Joker yanked off his purple coat with a sly smirk. “Tsk. You just met me, y/n. Want my clothes off already?”

You turned beet red. “No! Ugh, that’s not what I meant. Just take off your shirt enough that I can bandage up your shoulder.”

Joker wheezed. “Alright, alright. I’m kidding.”

You didn’t find him one bit funny. Some clown he was. 

Joker finally got his shirt pulled down so you could treat the graze on his shoulder. You repeated the same process as you did for his calf and bandaged it accordingly. Joker fixed his shirt back and left his coat off, draping it over his shoulder.

You put the medical kit back where it belonged and started out the door towards the living room again. Joker stood up from the toilet and followed you, still limping a bit. He sat down on the couch and you sat down at your art desk across the room, unsure of what else to do but sit down. 

Your heart skipped a beat when you realized you left your sketchbook on the couch and it was still open. You hated when someone looked through your sketchbook without asking. It was so embarrassing. Flashbacks to high school replayed in your head. You silently prayed Joker wouldn’t notice, but it was too late. He picked it up and flipped through the pages curiously. Did he not have any understanding of privacy?!

“What’s this?” He asked, examining a page.

“It’s my sketchbook. I’m an artist. Well, sort of…” You answered quietly.

Joker said nothing and continued flipping through the pages.

“Can you not? Please?” You tried not to sound desperate.

Joker stopped and looked up at you as if he sensed your distress. “Why? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

You walked across the room and shut the book, taking it out of his hands. “I just don’t like people looking through my sketchbook. I don’t know. It’s just personal.”

“Alright then. I, uh, assume art is just a hobby. What do you do for work?”

“I have an office job. I don’t really know what my title is. Receptionist? Secretary? Assistant? Something like that.”

“Oh. Sounds boring.”

“It is. I hate it. I’d rather be more of a professional artist but nobody takes me seriously.”

“Why?”

“Beats me. I guess those rich pricks would rather see a few slathers of paint on a canvas instead of actual art. But hey, I won’t judge the abstract. Some of it is actually meaningful.”

Joker laughed. “Yeah. One time I tried to rob a featured gallery in an art museum and ended up leaving with nothing because everything was just so tasteless. It was said to be worth thousands of dollars but I didn’t waste my time on it. Most of today’s modern ‘art’ is just crap.”

“I mean, it’s not all bad. It’s just so hard to get noticed. The reason that kind of art is so valued is because it’s made by influential rich people who get bored one day and decide to make a painting.”

“Well put.”

You blinked for a second and processed the story he just told you. He described robbing a museum as if it was the most normal thing in the world, like grocery shopping. It brought you back to reality and reminded you who you were in the room with. You held back a shiver.

“Uh, why exactly were you running from the cops?” You asked.

“Well, I just broke out of Arkham last week so I guess they were on high alert. My dumb ass decided to stage another heist because I needed some funds instead of waiting a little longer. Somebody tipped them off that we were going to be there and they showed up right as we tried to leave. Then the chase ensued and that’s when I ended up here.”

You shook your head. This was actually happening. A psycho killer clown was sitting in your living room and telling you about his failed bank heist. Why did it have to be you and not the annoying neighbor who lived right beside you? “I still don’t understand something. Out of the rows of windows, why did you pick mine?”

“It looked like there were no lights on. I thought no one was home.”

“Okay, but why the 4th floor?”

“I dunno. I needed to get up high to see what was going on around me and then I decided the best thing to do right then was to hide in one of the apartments so I just picked a random one.”

You rubbed your temples and took a deep breath. You really had the worst luck ever.

“As much as I’d love to sit and chat, I’ve had a really long day and I need to catch some sleep. So I’ll be in my room.” You announced and started towards your bedroom door.

“Fine by me. You do what you gotta do.”

“I really can’t offer you anywhere to sleep besides the couch.”

“That’s alright. I can sleep pretty much anywhere.”

“Oh. Well, I’m going to bed now. So goodnight, um, what should I call you?”

“J is fine.”

“Goodnight, J.”

“Night, Y/n.”

You entered your room and shut the door, leaning against it once inside. You let out a long shaky breath. This night was just so unbelievable. The Joker was in your living room! And you were still alive! And he saw your sketchbook! You cringed, wanting to simply pass away at that thought. In the scheme of things you guessed it didn’t matter that much but it was still embarrassing.

You went to the bathroom inside your room where you treated Joker’s injuries earlier and brushed your teeth. You put up your hair and turned the light off before walking over to your bed and collapsing onto it. 

You were exhausted but for the first hour you found it so difficult to fall asleep. You were completely paranoid. And who wouldn’t be? All you could think about was the madman on the other side of your door who could kill you with his bare hands. 

Would he do it while you slept? And how would he do it? You shuddered at the possibilities. 

All the worrying and speculation only tired you out further. You stayed awake as long as could until your body finally crashed. You dozed off, all thoughts of Joker fleeting as you entered the comforting embrace of sleep. You could deal with him in the morning. Hopefully.

[emma-m-black]

The Daughter - Chapter Three

Tim Gutterson x OC (FanFiction) - MATURE 18+

Tim Gutterson comes to the unconventional aid of one Elenora Crowder, ward of Art Mullen and daughter of Raylan Givens.

This will be a multi chapter story and will get spicy as it goes. This is a rough draft and only slightly edited for grammar and spelling. Just needed to finally get it out because Tim Gutterson is one of my favorite characters, and there is not nearly enough fanfic for him.

Author Master List

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three,

Chapter Three:

When Elenora awoke, she did not remember how she had gotten into bed.

She felt hungover, maybe almost worse than hungover. Her head was fine, but her body was stiff. After a slug of a walk to her bathroom, she showered under the hottest water she could stand, and when she had washed both her body and hair twice, she felt a hundred times better.

Elenora had gotten dressed in a simple pair of black skinny jeans and a loose fitting thin white sweater. Its collar was high on her neck to ward off some of the chill from both the night air and the air-conditioning at the school. A pair of large gold-rimmed glasses sat perched on her nose and her slightly damp hair clung to her cheeks. She moved to collect her jacket from the back of her desk chair, only to discover a green jacket that was not hers. For a moment, she had forgotten that hers would still be in her SUV, which was at the school. Lifting the jacket towards her face, she inhaled Tim’s scent. Something sweaty and a hint of fire smoke. It reminded her of the night after the bar, when they had gone back to his place, and she had laid with her head on his chest as he ran a finger up and down her arm. Something that had felt so natural that she would have thought they had done it a hundred times.

Draping the jacket over her arm, Elenora picked up her book bag and plucked a pencil from her desk. Heading to the kitchen, Elenora found Art and Leslie sitting at the table, each with a cup of coffee in their hand. “Good morning.”

“Moring Elenora. Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah, surprisingly. Would you mind if I came with you to the office with you today, Art? I would like to thank that Deputy for helping me last night and return his jacket.”

“I need you to sign a statement for me about what happened, so we can do that as well.”

Elenora gave a nod and draped Tim’s jacket over her bag. With the pencil she took, she spun her hair around it and shoved the point through the bun that had been created, effectively holding it in place. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Okay.” Art stood up and placed his coffee on the table. Moving past Leslie, he dipped down and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. “See you at dinner.”

“You have a good day now, and say hi to Tim for me, Elenora. It was mighty nice of him to bring you home last night.” Leslie gave Elenora a wink, and she wondered if something had happened during the missing time in her memory from the night before.

The ride to the courthouse was quiet and once Art had escorted Elenora through security, the two made their way into the elevator. When the doors opened on the floor, the two stepped out, along with a small throng of other people going about their day. Art held the door open for her and allowed Elenora to enter first.

Her eyes zeroed in on him right away. Tim was sitting behind the desk closest to Art’s office. He was leaned back in his chair, rocking it back and forth as he focused on whatever was on his computer screen.

“I’ll go grab the papers from my desk. Just meet me in the conference room when you're done talkin’ with Deputy Marshal Gutterson.”

Art saying his name seemed to grab Tim’s attention and his eyes shot up from his computer screen to lock onto hers. He got up from his seat a little too fast to be casual, but if it appeared unusual, Art did not say anything as he walked into his office.

“I wanted to return your jacket to you, and thank you for what you did last night.” Elenora held out Tim’s jacket to him and he took it with a smile. She noticed Art look at her through the glass of his office and point to the room next door. She nodded her head in response.

“I’ll let you return the favor one day.” Said Tim with a smile.

“What save you from being kidnapped?”

“Have you seen me? Lookin like this, I’m getting jumped at once, twice a week.”

Eleanor laughed. “Your getting jumped because you wear a badge, although.” She took a step towards the conference room and next to Tim. “I wouldn’t blame them for jumping ya.”

“Cause I carry a badge or because of my dashing good looks?”

“I’ll let you decide, Marshal.”

With that, Elenora walked into the conference room. Art directed her to sit and quickly he went over what the papers said and told her where she needed to sign. Before she knew it, she was done, and she and Art were walking back out into the main room. “Let me just make a phone call and I can drop you off at your SUV.” Said Art as he walked into his office. Elenora looked around and found Tim talking to Rachel, whom Elenora has visited with the few times she had been in the courthouse.

“Hey Rachel.” Greeted Elenora as she approached the two.

“Hey Elenora. I heard about what happened. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“You should have seen her. It was quite the takedown.” Said Tim, a tone of pride in his voice.

A smile raised on Elenora’s lips and she could feel her cheeks warm. “If only my daddy hadn’t banned me from law enforcement.”

“How is school going? You must be about to graduate?”

“Yeah. Last final is Friday. Already got a job lined up at Sayre’s Private School.”

“That’s great, and just across the street. It’ll make it easy for us to grab a coffee.” Said Rachel, with a genuine smile on her face.

“Ah, that explains this sexy authority thing you got goin’.” Said Tim. “You can put me in detention any time, Ma’am. Use the paddle and everything.”

Elenora felt the heat spread all over her body in both embarrassment and horror.

“Tim!” Rachel gasped in horror as she looked at her team mate. Then she turned to look at Elenora. “I apologize for him. The man has no filter and generally speaks without thinking.”

“It be weird if I didn’t.” Replied Tim with a casual shrug as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Did you need a ride to your car? I still need to finish up my lead in that area.”

“That be great, thank you. Rachel, can you let Art know Tim’s gonna drop me off?”

“Of course. Just don’t be afraid to smack him when he gets goin’ now.”

As if to emphasize Rachel’s words, Tim threw an arm out toward the doors and took a deep bow. “This way, my lady.”

Both Rachel and Elenora let out a laugh as Tim righted himself. Without another word, Tim and Elenora headed out of the office and towards the elevator. They waited casually until the doors finally opened, and once everyone had filed out, they went in. Tim pushed the button for the garage and the two watched as the doors closed, leaving them together, alone in the elevator.

Once they were closed and before Elenora could even comprehend what had happened, she found herself pinned against the elevator wall, the buzz of the emergency stop ringing in her ears and Tim’s lips against her own. One of his hands was on her hip and the other had wormed its way into her hair, effectively knocking the pencil from its home. At some point, and what she figured must have been instinct, she had dropped her bag as her own hands moved to the back of Tim’s neck. The kiss was hard and hungry, and just as fast as it happened, it was over, and the two had pulled away from each other. Each deeply breathing and with an itch they could not scratch in the elevator. “I’ve had this dream before.” Elenora whispered with a smile.

“Ooo, I expect you to tell me all about it later.” Tim responded with a smirk before restarting the elevator, and Elenora picked up her bag and pencil.

Right away, the doors opened on the next floor down and a few patrons entered, so Elenora and Tim shifted towards the back. They stood shoulder to shoulder as they watched the people file in and out of the elevator. As they were nearing the garage level, Elenora felt Tim lean into her. “You know, never thought my type was a naughty school teacher.” It came out as nothing more than a whisper and she was sure had anyone else in the elevator heard, they would have turned around.

After what seemed like an eternity, the doors to the elevator opened and everyone filed out including themselves and Elenora noticed Tim’s hand had fallen to her lower back like it had in the past, and she let him softly guide her through the garage to where he was parked. Once they arrived at the SUV, Elenora turned to look at Tim and leaned against the door. “So what happened last night when you dropped me off? I don’t really remember much after gettin’ in the SUV, and Leslie was looking at me like she knew a secret.”

Tim gave up a smirk and stuck his hands in his pockets. “You may have muttered something about being madly in love with me when we got in the house.”

“No...” Elenora’s eyes went wide and her hand, which still held the pencil, moved up to cover her mouth in horror.

“You fell asleep shortly after we started the journey. Didn’t wanna wake you so I carried you inside. It wasn’t anything special.” Tim said with a shrug of his shoulders, but Elenora knew there was more to the story.

Elenora just smiled in response. “Would that lead of yours involve some coffee and breakfast?” Turning around, Elenora allowed Tim to open the passenger door for her and she hopped in before Tim placed a hand on the frame of the SUV and another on the inside of the door before leaning in towards her.

“Don’t you have class?”

“No, it’s just a week of studying and my final. I can spare some time for food, ooh! Ice cream. Can we go somewhere with ice cream and coffee?”

Tim’s eyes scrunched up and Elenora knew exactly what was going through his brain. It was the same thing everyone thought when she mentioned ice cream for breakfast. “You want ice cream for breakfast?”

“Yeah, eggs, milk. It’s no worse than a pancake slathered in syrup.”

“I don’t know if I can be friends with someone who has ice cream for breakfast.”

“I don’t know if I can be friends with someone who doesn’t have ice cream for breakfast.”

Leaning in a little more, Elenora watched as Tim’s eyes fluttered down to look at her lips before looking back into her eyes. “Well, I guess that’s that.”

“Your lips say one thing, but your eyes are sayin’ another there, Marshal.”

“Ma’am, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. Besides, maybe it’s not friendship I’m after.”

Elenora’s lips turned upwards. The smirk was hard to keep down. “Acquaintance then?

“Range buddy? Bum Chum? Girlfriend?”

“Are you saying you want me to be your girlfriend, Marshal? You don’t even know me.”

“I’m not good at this stuff. I’m not a sleep around type of guy. I shoot people and have shit hours. I got a slight drinkin’ problem, and some P.T.S.D. I’m not the type of guy girls continue to talk to unless they got daddy issues or arrest warrants. Honestly, I will probably forget whatever anniversary you feel is most important and I don’t know if I would ever want kids considering how fucked up growing up was for me. But you, you are all that I can think about right now, and I’ve never felt the way I did seeing that guy attack you last night. Maybe arrestin’ you was the best decision I ever made.” Tim’s voice held a monotone that Elenora was sure most would take as uncaring, but she could see the emotion in his eyes, that he was baring his soul to her in this moment.

“I’m not good at this either. I cling real hard and real fast. My momma was a junkie and a criminal. Who I found on our kitchen floor after she OD’d. The rest of my family is no better. They are racists, drug dealers and thieves. I have serious daddy issues. I’ll also probably forget what ever anniversary we are on, as well as your birthday. Kids scare the shit out of me, and I would much rather borrow them for the day and hand them back so I can go home, drink and selfishly spend my money on myself. I’ve never had a mutually serious long-term relationship of any kind. I usually scare them away before that, and while I was supposed to be studying yesterday, all I could think about was you, and that our wedding colours would be dark grey and teal.”

Tim said nothing in response. His eyes just moved around her face as if he was searching for something, and Elenora just watched him as her nerves ate away at her. Folding her lip in and between her teeth, she bit down, hoping the pain would distract her.

It felt like hours before Tim’s eyes settled back on hers. “Teal’s a nice colour.”

Chapter Four

[razzek]

how does your blindness impact your art? I would have thought that it would be impossible for a blind person to work in a purely visual medium like you do, but clearly that's not the case. do you use adaptive tech or specific styles/techniques?

(I apologize if this question is ableist. I would like to know more about your experiences, but I don't have a great grasp of what's appropriate to ask and what isn't. I am not trying to be rude.)

Oooh thank you for asking! :) For the record, I’m pretty chill, I know there aren’t exactly a ton of us blindies out there, so feel free to ask questions with the language you have. :)

Haha oh man, my blindness has impacted my art from the very first thing I drew at age 4. I have a small amount of vision in my left eye; no depth perception, no peripheral vision, no distance, pretty good colors though. Life to me is basically a smear of nonsense colors that I put meaning to through context and location. The closest thing to seeing anything clearly I’ve ever gotten was watching cartoons, which I did obsessively as a kid. So first and foremost, I don’t and can’t draw from life, it makes no sense to me. The bold, simple actions of animation and the heavy stylization has taught me a ton.

Over the years my style has become very much about being high contrast, high visibility. But it also tangles with my love of doing pretty intricate detail work (it’s soothing, what can I say XD). In the past I was strictly a traditional media artist and I drew with what I had on hand. Growing up in poverty, what I had was the pens I used to write with in school and the paper I scrounged out of recycling bins. I basically mashed my face on the paper and worked in light angled over my shoulder that wasn’t too bright. I clipped paper to clip boards so I’d always have something lightweight enough to hold in one hand while I drew with the other. I’d sketch in pencil and ink using my very beefy prescription reading glasses, and everything I do had to be self taught. Life drawing class just doesn’t do anything for the dude who can’t see the model. :D

In 2019 a botched cataract surgery cost me most of my functional vision. I can no longer read print for any length of time, I don’t watch tv, and increasingly I just forget to look at most things with my eyes. But! I have an iPad. :D It took a few years and finding a pair of beefy store bought readers so I can focus enough to draw, but using Procrate and zooming down to the pixel as well as sketching on a black background makes the art still possile. I still draw mostly the same way I did with traditional media. I know brushes could probably be used to make some things easier, but I don’t have the spoons or visual stamina to figure out how to use them except for making quick backgrounds (pro tip: never have your character or object floating in a white void, even a single line to ground them will make your work better).

Color of late has been an interesting thing because I literally do not understand how light and shadow really works. I’ve read up on it but there’s only so much anyone can do when they just can’t see the thing. I like to ink the best and color is just an experiment I’m trying every time I do it heh. I make up little rules of style for myself and do a lot of guesswork based on the full shape I think a thing or character has, if that makes sense. I don’t know how a lot of things work visually so I will make stuff up, guess, or you’ll see some funky style things that happen because I read a medical paper once and just like drawing the holes in an iris (that’s what the lines in characters’ eyes are heh).

I’ll have to make a video sometime. Some of this stuff probably makes more sense in action.

Tl,dr: I mash my face onto an iPad and use 35-ish years of drawing experience to guess at what leoks right. :D I don’t think I would have become an artist if I wasn’t blind, I would have had more to look at to distract me. XD

[ekaarts]

Unless anyone can give me a proper, good reason not to, I fully support the ongoing protest against AI-generated images.

(Please read other people's posts too. This might give you a better understanding of the subject.)

While it has a lot of potential, even for artists, non-artist people took it to the point that it threatens our current and future job opportunities.

Honetly, it is a scary experience seeing it happening.

I've been drawing since I was able to hold a pencil. I've been drawing ALL MY LIFE, and just when I think it's going to pay off, when I think my pieces are getting good enough that I might be able to do it as a full-time job, something like this happens.

And I haven't even mentioned the art theft aspect of it. These pieces are NOT ORIGINAL WORKS. They're all based on other people's works, who DID NOT GIVE CONSENT TO USE THEIR WORKS.

I get it; it is wonderful to create something and frustrating when you don't have the skillset. But even this simple piece I created for this post has more life and feelings implied than all those AI "art pieces" put together.

It has my anger, sadness, disappointment, and fear in it.

It has that kindergarten girl in it who is still remembered by her former teachers for always drawing.

It has that suicidal preteen whose only happiness was writing her little stories and drawing the characters from them.

And it has that almost-adult high school student whose dream is to become like that one artist, to whom she can thank her life.

That one artist has barely any idea that I exist and definitely has no idea what she has done. I'm not sure if she realizes her childish stories from back then saved a life, but they did.

This is what art is for me.

Something you spend your life on without realizing it, getting better and better. Something that is perfect because it's human-made. Something that has feelings in it, even if we don't intend them.

[joshstambourine]

A Seconds Glance

"Hi I have a request for either Josh or Jake 💛 can I get a story where they see a girl, either at school or they can already be famous in this, and is instantly enamored. I don't know if you've seen The Virgin Suicides, but if you have then something similar to when Trip sees Lux for the first time. I'm interested in how those two would go about getting a girl's attention when they have a crush.💕💕💕" - Anonymous

//Hi Doll! I can’t say I have seen that--- but I will try my best to write something that I feel matches the idea you had. 

I’m gonna be repeating this forever--- but again, I’m so sorry it took me so long to get this request out for you! I decided to go with Josh being in school for this one.//

Warnings: Cursing, awkward beans

Word Count: 1969

Synopsis: Josh had never really believed in love at first sight... but yet....

Josh Kiszka x Fem!Reader

The first day of sophomore year. For most this was just the start of another school year; a sudden reminder that a new binder or fun pencil case is exciting for all of 10 minutes when it comes to actual classes and work. But for Josh… this year felt like it was filled with possibilities. It sounds like some sort of stupid thing you'd see on a motivational calendar, but it really truly did.

Josh hadn't imagined for a second that he actually would have a chance in making music his career; and yet, he had spent all summer with his band mates playing for different occasions and pubs. All the while they were working, working hard on writing songs that they could be proud to play for others.

All of that said, Josh was returning to high-school this year with a new found amount of confidence and excitement; it showed in every step Josh took. His one hand held loosely on to the arm of his backpack, walking in time with Jake.

"But what do you think? Would it look good on me?" Jake inquired, fingers lightly playing with the mid-length pieces of hair on his head.

"I mean… I don't know…" Josh lightly starts, glancing at his twin and begins to take a good long look at him.

Jake's eyes widened just a touch, his expression becoming one that said, 'Well…?'

"Uh… honestly I don't really know Jake. I've never seen you with anything else than this." Josh admits, then snickers a little, "Except for that one time when we decided it'd be fun to take those scissors and---"

"No, that's fine, I didn't need to think about that." Jake immediately stopped him, his hand going to take a full dive into his mess of dark brown hair. 

"Cmon, it was really funny though. Ma really lost her shit when she saw your head like that." Josh continued to muse, hands folding into his pockets with the utmost of ease. 

Jake shook his head in a mournful way, "I can say I will never go back to a buzz-cut again… not without a fight."

Josh's smile never faltered, it was his laughter that changed, softening into a bit of a sigh as they reached the double doors at the front of the school. With a swing of the doors they both were making their way down the hallway to their lockers.

"Meet by Mr.Shapiro's class before lunch?" Jake questioned, to which Josh nodded. No matter which school the twins went to the teachers seemed to know that the best course of action was to keep them separated. That said Josh and Jake always had separate homerooms at least, through most of their time in school.

"See ya in a bit." Josh waved, taking a few steps back before turning on his heels and heading to his own locker.

Josh's excitement to be back in class showed on his face more than he probably would have wanted. A few pencils in his hand along with a binder filled with blank paper and tucked away dividers.  

As soon as Josh stepped into the class room his eyes were met with many familiar faces. Some of these people he had been in school with since kindergarten; like Meg, a rather tall blunt faced girl with long kinky black hair. She simply threw a peace sign Josh's way as he stepped through the doors; he eagerly returned it, bringing a small smile to Meg's lips. 

With some brisk steps Josh moved to place himself at the back of the classroom, just behind Meg. He threw his things on his desk without much thought. Despite there being a good number of kids he knew... there seemed to be equally just as many new kids. 

Leaning on his desk Josh moved closer to Meg, "Where the hell did these guys come from?" 

Meg's brow lifted as she leaned back a little, "Know the high-school on the east side?" 

"The one where you can get crack for super cheap?" Josh inquired, 

Meg's head bobbed, "They closed it down, so now we get half the kids that went there." She explains with her head resting on her hand in a bored way. 

"Oh shit really? That's a lot of kids---" Josh was quick to respond, glancing around the room. 

"Oh yeah... way too many in my personal opinion --- not that anyone cares." Meg mutters, beginning to click her mechanical pencil. 

Josh's eyes were still taking in all the new faces as he started to respond, "Wow aren't we positive today." 

Meg sighed, "Eh.... I'm just not excited, Justin and I broke up over the summer and I'll have to see him in history." She began to explain, "Things are just really tense, yknow?" 

She waited a moment for him to give some comforting... but still idiotic response, however none came. It finally got Meg to turn and look at him, as she did she immediately noticed that Josh's eyes had widened just a touch, cheeks dusted a light pink. 

Meg followed the line of his eyes to a beautiful young woman. The expression he wore was more than enough to tell Meg that she should move. 

Josh was so busy just... taking the new girl in that he didn't even notice Meg slip to the free desk to the side of the one she was previously sat in. Josh just couldn't put his finger on it, there was something... something so breathtaking about her. Was it her eyes? Or maybe how her hair fell around her face? He couldn't be sure. What he was absolutely sure of was that he had never had a moment in his life where he could hear music just by looking at someone. 

"Hey... do you know if this desk is free?" A new voice shook Josh. It was her. She was standing at a desk to his left with a bit of an awkward air. 

He was just so shaken. What did she say again? Something about a desk? Josh's lips parted, "Uh--- I uh, what did you--?" 

"No that one isn't open, but the one just in front of my dude Josh is, right Josh?" Meg interrupted, pointing to the desk ahead of him. 

"Oh y-yeah, that one's open! Definitely 100% open! It couldn't be more open even if it tried!" Josh started spouting, he really wasn't even aware that his mouth had moved, and that was clear in the fact that it just kept moving when she had come to sit down. "Do you need any pencils at all?? I have like 20!" He continued, though his hand held one full sized pencil and one shorter than the average person's pinkie... both chewed on. "I mean not on me but--- who needs a pencil right?" 

The girl laughed a little awkwardly, her gaze moving from Josh to Meg and then to the desk. "No, no I'm okay thank you though." She slipped into the chair, keeping her gaze frontwards. 

Meg looks to Josh with a shocked look, 'What was that??' She mouthed, 

Josh responded with an absolutely mortified expression. He would never say he was the smoothest guy on the planet, but he had never been that awkward in his life. 

Meg shook her head before reaching out to tap the girl's shoulder, "I'm Meg!" She introduces, "And that goober is Josh." 

The girl lightly moved to glance over her shoulder at Josh in a shy way. "It's nice to meet you both. I'm (Y/N)." She hummed with a sweet smile. 

"That's a pretty name, isn't it Josh??" Meg quickly said, trying to get him to continue the conversation in a less awkward way.

Josh nodded very enthusiastically, "The prettiest name I've heard in a long time!" He said with a smile, 

(Y/N)'s cheeks began to hold a flush of their own. "Oh! Uh... th-thank you!" She sputtered out. 

'OH FUCK. She's so cute.' Josh thought to himself, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat with a shaky swallow. 

Little did Josh know that (Y/N) was thinking something very similar. She might not make it as obvious as he was, but being so much closer now... being able to see the warmth in his brown eyes, seeing how his wavy brown hair came to cup his cheeks --- she couldn't help but continue to stare back at him. 

The only thing that could pull them both out of the little trance they had fallen into was the bell. Both of them quickly looked toward it, followed by a man's voice at the front of the class. 

"Alright everyone, take your seats!" 

(Y/N) was reluctant but she turned herself to look toward the front of the class. A little bit nervous, but mustering an ounce of courage she tore a piece of paper from her notebook quietly and began to scribble something down. 

Josh hardly got anything out of that language arts class, he was way too busy trying to figure out what excuse he could make to talk with (Y/N) again. He was just rattling through every little conversation starter he had ever heard in his life... but none of them felt like they would work. 

Before long the bell had rung overhead once more and everyone was shuffling to grab their things and head to all of their next classes. 

Biting his lip, Josh was determined to catch (Y/N) before she could head off to her own next class. Luckily for him she had a similar idea. Both turning to each other as they stepped out of the classroom, it was painfully quiet at first. It seemed as if they were trying to get their thoughts together really. 

Finally they spoke, 

"Hey would you---" "I was wondering if you'd---" 

At once. 

A small awkward laugh left their lips, "Please, go ahead I was going to say something dumb---" Josh quickly said moving to rub the back of his neck. 

(Y/N)'s lips parted as she let out and unsure chuckle, eyes moving downwards for a moment. "I was just going to ask if you would mind if I joined you for lunch? I just am new and don't really have any---" 

"Yes!" Josh quickly said, "Yes absolutely. You didn't even have to ask, you could have just showed up if you wanted to!" He quickly says to her. 

The speed he seemed to talk at entertained (Y/N) a heck of a lot. A smile creeping across her face, "Okay! Thank you!" She responded. 

"Do you know where the cafeteria is? I can show ya if you want??" Josh quickly continued, "I mean I'm sure you could find it on you're own, you seem very smart and capable. Most women are to be honest; I remember reading an article about how men need to---" 

"That would be really great actually." (Y/N) smiled in a gentle way. 'He's even more nervous than I am.' She thought to herself. 

"Oh-oh! Okay cool! Uh, do you know where Mr.Shapiro's class is?" He asks, 

(Y/N) seemed to think for a minute, "113... right? I have him for chemistry this afternoon I think." She mutters. 

Josh swiftly nods his head, "That's the one!! Meet me there okay?" He says. 

(Y/N) nodded back, understanding the little plan they now had. "I'll see you in a little bit then?" She lightly asks. 

"Yeah absolutely." Josh began to grin, suddenly beyond excited. Even as she began to walk off to her class all he could think about was how sure he was now that this year was going to be fantastic. 

That was until a warning bell played overhead, "Oh shit--" Josh jumped in shock, immediately beginning to run to his next class.

//That's all for now lovely! I do actually have an idea on how to continue this one if anyone would like! Pretty please let me know in the comments if that's something you guys would like 💜//

[parkerslatte]

Years Passed [Chapter One]

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Part Summary: After a decade of living in England, Y/N finally moves back to America to be closer to her family.

prologue / next chapter

Years Passed Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist

***

CHAPTER ONE: FAMILIAR FACES

Y/N was always one to follow her dreams. Originally her dream was to become an astronaut but she soon found that she wasn’t smart enough for that. That’s when she found herself falling down the route of art. Y/N had always been a gifted artist since she was a child. While everyone in her class was drawing stick figures and calling it a day, Y/N would take time to get the proportions of the body right. People would always say she was trying too hard or just trying to get attention. Y/N didn’t care - she was doing what she loved.

It wasn’t until high school where she began to take art more seriously, people would come to her to do art commissions. At first Y/N refused, she didn’t want to charge people for her art but once she realised how much she could make from it, doing art commissions became her job. Throughout high school it was her main source of income. However, it wasn’t until the end of high school where Y/N decided that art was the thing she definitely wanted to go down. 

Opening up her own gallery became her dream. A couple of years after breaking up with Spencer Reid, Y/N moved to England. She didn’t exactly know why, all she knew was that she wanted a fresh start. Y/N moved into a small flat in Cornwall. It was perfect for what Y/N needed. She spent just over ten years of her life living in Cornwall and Y/N couldn’t be happier, however there were many instances where she missed her family. Y/N could never afford to constantly go between England and America and neither could her family. A lot of her time was spent on phone calls and video calls with her family. 

It was only recently that Y/N moved back to America. Six months to be exact. After nearly eleven years of being away from her family constantly, Y/N decided to move back to America. She didn’t make the decision lightly, it took her many months to come to the conclusion. Y/N had many friends in England. She had her small art gallery. Most importantly, her daughter had her friends in England and her school - everything she had ever known. 

Y/N’s daughter, Harper, was seven and she was the light of Y/N’s life. Everything she did was for Harper. Y/N didn’t want to pry Harper away from her home, but she wanted her to get to know her family. When Y/N told Harper the news, Harper was excited, she had always been a curious girl and moving to a new country was exciting for her. 

“Mummy!” Harper yelled, running out of her room to Y/N who was sitting on the couch. Her daughter’s accent was a little messed up. Some words would come out in an American accent and some in a British accent - more specifically the Cornish dialect. 

Y/N smiled upon seeing her daughter. As she ran, the wild curls on top of her head bounced up and down. Harper approached Y/N and climbed onto the couch next to her. Y/N wrapped her arm around her daughter and pulled her in close to her side.

“What’s got you so energetic?” Y/N questioned. 

“Can we go to the park?” Harper asked, “You said that we could go today.”

Y/N checked the time on the clock on the wall, “You really want to go at ten in the morning? You don’t want to wait until midday then we can go out for lunch?”

“Can we go now? I’m bored.” Harper draped herself over Y/N’s lap dramatically.

Y/N shook her head, a smile on her face. Harper was definitely one for dramatics, something she inherited from her father.

“Okay, how about this?” Y/N started, “We wait until eleven and we can invite Melanie and Toby and we can go and get lunch with them?”

Harper nodded her head vigorously causing Y/N to chuckle slightly. The only reason as to why Y/N wanted to wait longer to go out was because she was waiting for Harper’s birthday present to turn up. It wasn’t her birthday for another three weeks but Y/N always wanted to leave time in case the package never turned up in case she needed to buy something else. 

“Why don’t you go and play in your room and I’ll come and get you when it’s time to go?”

Harper nodded before running off to her bedroom down the hall. Checking the clock again, Y/N realised the package wouldn’t be here for another half hour. Deciding she had time to kill, Y/N made her way to her bedroom to get changed. If she was going to be out for most of the day, she decided that being in sweatpants and an old shirt wasn’t going to look so good. 

Picking out a simple sundress, Y/N got changed in a flash before she found herself seated on the couch again. Over the last few days, Y/N had found herself being more tired than usual. Everything she did drained the life out of her, obviously she wanted to run around and play with Harper but she would tire out quickly. Harper would try not to get sad about it as she understood why Y/N got like this once a year. Y/N wasn’t going to explain it until Harper got a little older but she understood perfectly. 

Grabbing her phone off of the coffee table, Y/N pressed on Melanie’s contact. Melanie had been Y/N’s friend for a while. They met a year before Y/N had moved to England, due to their long distance friendship, Y/N had expected that they would fall out of contact but they never did. Melanie was godmother to Harper and Y/N was godmother to Melanie’s son Toby. 

The phone rang a few times before Melanie picked up. 

“Hello?” Melanie’s voice came through the phone.

“Hey Mel!” Y/N greeted.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Well Harper and I are going to the park in an hour and I was wondering if you and Toby would like to join us?” 

“We’d love to,” Melanie answered, “Toby’s been pulling my leg asking when he would see Harper next.”

Y/N chuckled, “We’ll meet you at the park if that’s alright.”

“That’s more than fine, we’ll see you then.” Melanie responded before hanging up the phone. 

Y/N tossed her phone back on the couch and slumped back down. She could easily turn on the television and watch something but she didn’t feel up to it. Getting back up from the couch, Y/N headed over to Harper’s room and pushed it open. Her daughter was hunched over her small desk, scribbling away on a piece of paper. Y/N smiled at the sight. Her daughter had taken after her in artistic skill, always having the dream that one day she would be as good as her mother. 

“Hey Harp.” Y/N said, entering her room. 

“Mummy, look I’ve done a drawing!” Harper said excitedly holding up the picture, “It’s the same one you painted.”

Y/N took the drawing out of Harper’s hands and held it up. Y/N had painted a landscape of a forest a few weeks ago and Harper had copied it almost exactly. Every time Y/N would do a commission or a painting for fun, there would always be smaller versions of the same painting but made with colour pencil. Sometimes Harper would sit next to Y/N while she was painting and they would do it together. 

Y/N always enjoyed doing art with Harper by her side. She would constantly ask questions about it and Y/N was always more than happy to answer. From sitting next to her and watching her paint, Harper had been teaching herself how to paint. Y/N would always offer to help her but Harper always refused the help, letting Y/N only watch from a distance. Their whole house was filled with paintings from both Y/N and Harper. 

“It’s incredible, Harp.” Y/N said crouching down, “Even better than mine.”

“No it isn't, your one is better.” Harper said, “Yours are always better. I want to be like you when I grow up.”

Y/N pressed a kiss to the side of Harper’s head, “I don’t want you to be like me, I want you to be like you. You are going to grow up and be an extraordinary person, like you already are.”

Harper hugged Y/N tightly, “I love you mummy.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.” Y/N pressed a kiss to the side of her head once more before she heard the doorbell ring. 

“Is that Melanie and Toby?” Harper questioned.

“No, it’s someone else, Mel and Toby are meeting us at the park,” Y/N explained, “Now why don’t you clean up in here before we head out.”

Harper nodded before she began clearing everything away. Y/N headed out of her room and opened the front door. Y/N expected it to be Harper’s present however she was greeted by two people - more specifically FBI agents. Y/N looked between the two, very obviously confused. 

When Y/N looked up at the male agent, her eyes widened the slightest amount. His hair was curlier and he had a slight stubble. He looked as if he filled out his clothes more as well. Even if it had been more than a decade, she could recognise him anywhere. 

Spencer Reid.

PERMANENT SPENCER REID TAGLIST

@spenxerslut  @averyhotchner @drayshadow @moviequeen51 @spencer-reid-am-i-right @ssavanessa22 @amurderofcrowsinatrenchcoat @mbjackie @jklemps @reformedmoneyshovel @nomajdetective @jesuisbenny @jooniehomie @spencerreid-187 @onyourfingertips @uhuhuh @rubyhi208-42 @archer561 @c0rpsecore @sweetandsunny @zoeygraygubler @algonsa @jswessie187 @shemarmooresfedora @kaz-2y567 @alfonsais @aikrus @nani-2305 @death-becomes-her @sarejane @isabelle-558 @measure-in-pain @the-nerd-gang @manuosorioh @luredwithpretzels @ceeellewrites @totallyclearwitch @jekkles @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @sarahpaulsonlov3r @periwinklemax @kuolonsyoja @heartmira @hoodpankow @parahmur

SERIES TAGLIST

​@its-9pm @nani-2305 @reidsfish @mochionly @spencerswildestdreams1 @magnetas @matthewscumslut @madsgraygubler @bakugouswh0r3 @rexit-mo @shinshankai

[jadelynlace]

ink drinker / modern vikings au, Ivar x F!Reader

author’s note: long story short, I wrote this series but used an OFC that I use for most of my longer series. many thanks to @victoria-styles for her suggestion of making it a reader / Y/N story. major plot tweaks as well.

synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend: you.

pairing: Ivar x Reader

✎

“Not into the million dollar bullshit?” You heard a voice beckon from behind you, stepping forwards with a light to start the cigarette that hung between your Oxford red stained lips.

“Crawling through the depths of hell sounds more pleasant than being here,” You grumbled back through the cloud of grey smoke slipping past your lips. You watched the figure next to you light up his own cigarette, taking note at how his fingers curled around the stick as he laughed with your words. “I’m only here to calm Hvitserk,”

“And he’s not even here,” He said back with a laugh, blue eyes peeking to grab at yours.

“Structure fire across town,” You tell him. “Told him that if he’s so inclined he can bring the truck over here and spray the party with the water,” Ivar laughed at that.

“Fuck, you clean up nice. And I love a woman in uniform,” He teases, smirking as you do too. It went silent for a second between you two, sticks of chemicals on your lips as his eyes did not miss the way your dress hugged at your body, how your stilettos were secured around your ankles. He couldn’t pull his mind back quickly enough before he was imagining them over his shoulders, your lips that curled around the filter and how they might look around his cock. How you were the first person who gave him complete reign over the ink he was going to forever mark your body with.

“Let’s just say I’d rather slice my own tongue off and choke on it than admit to that, actually wearing something other than the blues, and enjoying it,” You groan as the man next to you laughs, a sick snicker coming from his lips and you find yourself smiling too. “But you don’t clean up half bad yourself, Ivar,” You tease back as your eyes catch sight of the roll of his sleeves, how he maneuvers the buttons and pulls the white fabric back to show the first indications of sleeved out arms.

“Where do you want to go?” Ivar asks, taking the cigarette from his mouth to stub.

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t think I fucking stuttered,” He started in challenge. “You said you didn’t want to be here, so where would you like to go?” He asks a quick swipe of his tongue over his lips as he cocks his head to the side awaiting your answer.

“Alright, Ragnarsson, you’re fucking on,” You laugh back, crushing your own stick with the spike of your heel as you follow him.

*

Hvitserk was a man who took most things with a grain of salt, others came with a few shots of whiskey. He had seen the darker side of humanity, and you were right there with him when he did. Your interest in becoming certified for emergency medicine had followed you since your high school graduation, and you were right on the top of the sign up sheet when class enrolled. And you stayed on top when your graduated. Company firings and how it lead to short staffing, moving of some onto better things lead to an opening you leapt on and found yourself paired with a paramedic with blonde hair and a smile that could cause most of the human population to smile back. It did not take long for a friendship to strike up, even outside of the station and the blazing sirens. His humor, his companionship kept you sane, kept the darkness of the horrid calls at bay, you two grew close, quickly.

Even if company policy allowed the romantic attachments between co-workers, you still couldn’t find yourself catching some sort of feeling to Hvitserk. He was a friend, your best, and it was left at that. You trusted him with your life, you’d gladly lay on the stretcher and head into the emergency room as long as he was the paramedic who was treating you.

Sigurd came next in the line of his brothers, an obsession with music, and nothing but the best that world could offer. He had an artistic hand, Hvitserk drove you towards his place of employment for permanent artwork to your liking and that was how you met Ivar. He watched you tip toe through his portfolio, but if Sigurd had talent, then Ivar was a God. You had never seen such movement on skin where he would trace his ink. You didn’t want to pull a design off of the internet and ask Ivar to put in on you, it seemed almost rude, instead you told him where you wanted it, and told him to go crazy. He looked at you in such a way, thinking you were joking. Perhaps too un-educated in the world of tattoos, but you held your ground and he was proud of such a feat.

Work was all too consuming, trying to leave space for time other than the blood pressure cuffs and patient history. You’d spend time out on town with Hvitserk, his brothers soon in tow, a party of their own that they could become. You were shocked Hvitserk hadn’t caught on, that none of them had, how long you had been spreading your legs for Ivar in secret. Petty bantering between the two of you, the others making bets to see whom would kill whom first, but that chatter went towards the foreplay that would follow you two into the bedroom. The most shock you came to realize was how Ivar was always there in the morning—it took a lot of you to convince him to leave, but he always mumbled something about five more minutes just for holding you.

Perhaps it was how your days were spent doused in testosterone, one of the three women of the entire station, entire company, leaving you to be able to handle yourself around men with egos far bigger than the dicks they would carry. That was how you were so seamlessly integrated into the Ragnarsson brother’s, struck up like the sister they never got. That was how Ivar found himself thinking about you far more than a friend with or without benefits would, how tightly you snug around his cock, how you look and sounded when you came for him, how you had pulled more from him than any other woman he had slept with. How you made him feel appreciated and not like a man who needed to navigate himself with his dick to get what women he wanted. How you didn’t toss him to the side after the first fuck. You drove him crazy and he didn’t have the words to admit to it.

“If I hear a grumble from you one more time Ivar, I am going to kick you out of the shop,” Sigurd spoke from his spot at the front desk, thumbing through a magazine of industry products as Ivar hissed a curse at him in reply. “What the fuck is you problem?”

“Y/N,” Ivar answered all too quickly.

“What? She hurt your ego too bad last time we were out? Didn’t stroke it enough to your liking?” Sigurd teased.

“No,” Ivar said. “She didn’t stroke me enough to my liking,” But Ivar said the words far too quickly before he could catch them.

“Are you fucking her?” Sigurd said, sitting up in his chair. “You two are fucking?” He laughed.

“Shut up,” Ivar grumbled, a toss of his pencil flying to grace the space Sigurd was at.

“She cut your dick off? That the issue?” He teased. “Hvitserk’s going to go ape-shit, dude,”

“That’s why we’re not telling him yet, right Sigurd?” Ivar said “Right, Sigurd?” He repeated with an extended finger at his brother.

“How long have you two been fucking—I need to know that, for science, and because I am still in shock. How did you—her? She’s too good for you Ivar, you have to be careful there,”

“Two years,” Ivar remarked and Sigurd nearly fell out of his chair.

“Fuck! You ask her out yet?”

“We’re not talking about this—or telling anyone else, right?” Ivar said again.

“Yes, sir,” Sigurd nodded, a fake salute from his hand as his mind was still scrambled.

“Don’t call me sir,” Ivar snapped.

“Yes ma’am,”

*

You’d never forget the call that came through dispatch a month after you and Ivar had started to screw around more often than fuck buddies would. The address sounded familiar, but Hvitserk was the one who made the connection it was the shop. Ink Drinker was a parlor bathed in black; walls and dark floors that made the rooms look like they never ended. The art displayed belonged to that of Ivar, of Sigurd, of the few others who came and went for their tattoo work. The owner had wooden sculptures of his own to line the spaces, but you had only ever seen the man through his social media.

You feared suddenly something happening to Ivar, or Sigurd, readying yourself for the sight that may hold them there, but it wasn’t them. A patron had passed out to the sight of the needles, sending Ivar to sour his entire mood at the weakness for something he found so simple. His flash of anger changed suddenly when you and his brother showed up, jumping from the rig in full expectance to see either sibling in a bloody mess after fighting to their death.

“I called and specifically asked for Hvitserk Ragnarsson and his partner,” Sigurd teased as the teenager came too, apologizing and still paying Ivar for the appointment he was too scared to cancel.

“I was hoping it would be a trauma call, you finally snapping and kicking Ivar’s ass,” You answered back, smirking at Ivar as he rolled his eyes in distaste. Ivar’s eyes climbed your whole body as you worked, the uniform marking your hierarchy and importance as you took the patient to the hospital. His text message not ten minutes later almost made you head back just to smack him.

“You’re keeping the uniform on next time we fuck.”

Tags:

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[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

When Clary meets Ash (Fan Fic)

Hey :) this is how I imagine Clary and Ash's reunion (after the events of TDA) in the fic I am currently writing.

It's Chapter 5 of "The new Shadowhunter Academy" (Ao3 link to the full fic is here but don't click or skip Chapter 4 if you are not in for Kitty sexy times).

Thanks to @amchara for providing beta work and to @blaidr for letting me bounce my ideas off him.

To give you context, Ash met Dru in Faerie and they exchanged their numbers. Clary seized the opportunity to obtain Ash's number from Dru and write him the following text message:

“Hey, Ash. Dru gave me your number and please don’t be angry with her, I am very strong headed and there was absolutely no way she could have refused. I am Clary. You may have heard of me. I am your late father’s sister. That’s right, your aunt. You can call me whatever you like. Emma told me what you did in Thule, how you saved her. How you saved everyone. That was very brave of you. In a way, both of us were faced with a very difficult choice and made the same. Doing what we thought was right. I would love to meet you and tell you about my mother – your grandmother – or just talk about anything. It can be things totally unrelated to the Shadow world. Hobbies, movies, books and games we like. You can pick the time and place. Neutral territory. Hope to see you soon. Clary.”

This is what happens following the text:

*****

Clary wrapped her oversized woolen coat tighter around herself, as she made her way through the crowded streets of Manhattan. The route was familiar. She took it almost every week to meet up with her parabatai and have what they called their “mundane hour”. They talked about everything, from Clary’s art to the latest TV shows they had binge watched. No topic was off the table, save for anything related to Shadowhunter duties, and the Shadow world in general. As co-head of the New York Institute and since recently, artist owning her own gallery, her weeks were very busy so she looked forward to those rare and precious moments when she could escape with Simon. Her heart rate seemed to accelerate with each of her steps, and it didn’t help that she also had the strange feeling she was being observed. When she reached her destination, she took a deep breath and opened the double glass doors leading her inside the coffee shop. She and Simon had their regular routine there, and her gaze went automatically to their usual spot, near the large windows.

A broad-shouldered jock with a baseball jacket was already sitting there, speaking loudly to his cheerleader girlfriend. Two of his friends were standing next to him, mock punching his muscular arms. It made her realize that Ash probably never had this. High school friends and romance. Ash. She was still struggling to figure out why he had asked her to meet up at this place, at the exact time she usually got there with Simon. Was it him being considerate, a clumsy way to make her feel comfortable in familiar surroundings? Or was it a warning? I know your habits, and precisely where you take your coffee, when and with whom.

Her gaze swept over the crowded room - her heart seemed to have moved up her throat, the frantic pulse almost choking her - and zeroed on a tall, white blond haired boy ordering coffee at the counter, standing with his back to Clary. She sucked in a breath. Ash. He was fully clothed in black - Dru had told her that was his usual style - and huge headphones were covering his ears. She slowly and cautiously approached him and when she was close enough, put a tentative hand on his elbow. “Ash,” she whispered. The boy glanced over his shoulder, his blue eyes quizzical and… it was not Ash.

She mumbled an apology.

“Clary,” said a voice coming from behind, and she froze. It was not a boy’s but a man’s voice, the sound beautiful and ethereal. She just stood there for a few seconds before she slowly turned.

What had she expected? Merely a taller version of the young boy with pointy ears and a sour expression that she had met three years before, dressed in the same refined velvet clothing threaded with gold that identified him as fey royalty?

If so, she had clearly been mistaken.

She blinked a few times to make sure her mind wasn’t playing tricks. He was tall, as she had anticipated (Sebastian had been after all). At least two heads taller than her and probably taller than Jace. But he was also very different from the Ash of her memories, from the sketches she had drawn of him after they had crossed paths. He had amazingly grown into his features, his face now the best combination of the Seelie Queen and Sebastian’s. As if he had picked the most alluring colours of the palette. And the result was… Stunning. Clary’s hand twitched, aching for a pencil.

He was not dressed in black, but in plain blue jeans and he had stuffed his hands in a very elegant, long pale gray cashmere coat. His white blond hair and pointy ears were concealed under a deep green beanie, the same colour as the scarf around his neck.

He arched a silvery eyebrow at Clary, his expression bemused, and she realized she was staring.

“Clary, seriously?” he said, his gently scolding tone at odds with his enchanting voice. “This guy isn't even half as good looking as me." He glanced pointedly at the patron in question, who was gaping at him, and shrugged. "No offense, dude,” Ash added as an afterthought.

He turned his attention to the barista. She was beautiful, dark skinned with long braided hair and pouty lips. “Hello, gorgeous. We’ll have a double espresso with oat milk and a dash of cinnamon for the lady and a plain black coffee for me.”

Clary stifled a gasp and tried to hide her discomfort. He knew exactly how she took her coffee, and she didn’t know how she felt about this.

The pretty barista nodded eagerly, her cheeks red and her big dark eyes dreamy as she stared at Ash. “Why don’t you… Go sit at your table and I’ll bring you your beverages when they are ready?” the girl offered enthusiastically. The long line of patrons that had formed behind Clary and Ash would probably disagree but she didn’t seem to care.

“That would be lovely,” Ash said in his euphonious voice. “And so are you.” He winked at her, and Clary wondered if she would need to catch her while she swooned. He paid before Clary even had a chance to reach for her purse.

“Come,” he said in a commanding tone, as he made his way to Clary and Simon's usual table. This was unnerving.

The jock seated there paused in the middle of his conversation with his girlfriend when he saw Ash stand casually next to him. Clary braced herself for a heated exchange, but she should have known better.

“You want to sit somewhere else,” Ash said evenly, one hand inside the pocket of his designer coat and the other stretched out in front of him as he studied his fingernails.

“I want to sit somewhere else,” the jock repeated in a monotonous voice, his gaze blank. He stood, as if in a trance, and his girlfriend and friends followed him, puzzled, to an empty table at the far end of the room.

Ash drew a chair for Clary and she sat. He did the same, opposite her. He pulled off his beanie, and shook his silvery hair, like a crown of liquid white gold. He wasn’t dressed for the part but he had never looked more like a prince.

“Ash… please don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Your mind tricks.”

He cocked his head and observed her, his face unreadable, for what seemed like an endless minute.

“You’ve been my aunt for what? Five minutes? And you’re already trying to boss me around?”

“I am not trying to boss you around, Ash. Simply asking you not to abuse your powers.”

A shadow flickered across his green eyes.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Clary. I spend much more time and energy holding back than using my powers. If I did let go, trust me, you would know.”

Clary opened her mouth to reply but was cut short as the barista popped in front of them and placed the mugs on the table. She slid a paper napkin to Ash, her phone number scribbled on it. Clary tried not to roll her eyes, as Ash flashed his dazzling smile at the girl, who almost tripped on her own feet as she returned to the counter.

Clary lifted her cup to her lips and paused, as she caught sight of the cinnamon powder floating on the surface. She put it down.

“What about this?" She pointed at her coffee mug and waved around them. “ What is it, if not a show of power? What are you trying to tell me? That you know everything about me? That you’ve been spying on me?”

Ash pulled on a fake shocked expression, mouth open and green eyes wide in mock innocence. “Spying on you? What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Ash. The evidence is right here.” She lifted her cup abruptly, and hot liquid splashed out of it. “You know exactly how I like it. When I take it, where I take it.”

Ash’s mouth twitched. “Where did you pick up these lines? From the script of some lame X-rated movie?”

“Adult movies have storylines?” Clary asked, arching her eyebrows.

“Of course they do. Where do you think the Grimm Brothers took their inspiration from?”

He grabbed the paper napkin and started mopping the coffee she had spilled on the table. The blue ink faded and the barista’s phone number vanished.

“You lost that girl’s number,” Clary noted.

Ash shrugged. “I have a girlfriend now.”

Right. Drusilla Blackthorn. From the moment she had met her, Clary had known that the smart and quiet turquoise-eyed girl would someday turn heads.

Clary knew that Dru hadn’t really confirmed their relationship status yet, but it was neither the time nor place to broach the subject with Ash. She was, after all, on a mission to win over her nephew and had not been doing a very good job so far.

A young lanky boy with pink hair and piercings covering his skin walked by and dropped a glossy flyer of the upcoming Mortal Instruments concert on the table between them. Clary hid a smile. It reminded her...

“I have something for you.” She said as she fumbled inside her bag and took out the drawing she had made of Jocelyn, Luke and herself, in front of Luke’s upstate farm (before it was turned into the new Shadowhunter Academy) and laid it on the table.

Ash looked at it hesitantly, like a kid who really wanted to grab the candy but was afraid there was a mouse trap under it. He hunched his shoulders forward and clasped his hands under the table, as if to keep himself from temptation.

“I recognize your art. I like it. I also appreciate Julian Blackthorn’s but I may not be as objective where… one of the subjects of his drawings is concerned.”

“You’ve seen my art?”

He leaned back on his chair, crossing his long arms behind his head. Somehow, he managed to make it look graceful.

“Which Shadowhunter hasn’t? I noticed that you often drew Jace with angel wings.”

“Yes. That’s how he used to appear to me. In recurring dreams.”

“Was it?”

“Was it what?”

“Jace. In your dreams.”

“Who else would it be?”

“Someone who looks like him, but who actually has wings.”

“You mean Kit.”

Ash shrugged. “It would make more sense.” His gaze flickered back to the drawing, which still lay on the table, untouched. “You look a lot like your mom.”

“So do you”, Clary blurted before she could take it back.

Ash shot her an unfathomable look.

“How is she?” She asked.

“You mean, the Seelie Queen? You tell me. You must see her more often than I do.”

“Well, not really. I am not that involved in politics, even though Alec is Consul. Julian Blackthorn is the one who deals with her most of the time. She appears to have... a fondness for him.”

“Who doesn’t?”

Clary’s mouth quirked up.

“I am glad you are getting along with the Blackthorns. They are such an incredibly strong and talented family.”

“They are.” He turned his face away, but not before she could see the expression of longing plain on his delicate features.

She swallowed. She was painfully reminded that Ash never had a shot at a happy family. Born of a political union, and dragged here and there, though interdimensional portals, by people more interested in his powers than anything else he had to offer as a person. And judging by how Dru talked about Ash, he had a lot to offer.

“I imagine it must have been awful living in Thule… But what you did for Emma and Julian back there... if it hadn’t been for you…”

“I don’t want to talk about Thule,” he interrupted her. “Can I borrow this?” He asked, his long fingers brushing the Mortal Instruments concert flyer.

“Sure.”

She watched as he started folding the paper, realizing with a jolt of surprise that he was making an origami and wondering what shape would come out of it. It was odd seeing him doing such an innocuous thing, as if he was not a faerie prince with a heavy heritage and a giant target on his back, but an ordinary boy. She remembered what Emma had told her of her encounter with Ash in a nightclub in Thule. The way he had shown no interest, playing a video game in a corner of the room, while Sebastian was committing atrocities. Had he really been as indifferent as he looked?

“Ash, we don’t need to talk about Thule if you don’t want to, but if I can help you… If there is anything I can do-”

“Why?” He looked up sharply. “Are you able to create a rune that could undo the things I saw?” His tone was even, but his delicate fingers had started slightly shaking and he suddenly dropped the paper - his work unfinished - to fold his hands under the table to hide it. From that moment, she knew.

“No…” Clary said, drawing the word out. “But trust me, coming from someone whose memory has been tampered with... it’s not a solution.”

“I said undo. Not forget.” He snapped. “I am not such a coward that I would choose blissful ignorance over knowledge.”

He caught himself, blinking, then clenched his jaw and looked away. As if he was ashamed he had allowed himself to show any emotion at all. But Clary had managed to catch a glimpse of what lay underneath the mask and wanted nothing more than to see the rest of it.

“I don’t think you are a coward,” she said.

He looked over at her, a silver eyebrow raised. “I let it all happen, didn’t I? I didn’t lift a finger.”

“Because you couldn’t. Sebastian would have killed you. And you, Ash, are just like me. A survivor.”

He snorted and crossed his arms in front of him, leaning back on his chair. He had stretched out his long legs and Clary realized that he was tapping a foot nervously next to hers.

“Wrong. I could have. I chose not to. Because I am selfish. I don’t care about other people’s fate.”

His face split into a lazy, wicked grin. Clary could see Sebastian’s influence in his leer, but she wouldn't let it deceive her. Just as she wasn't fooled by his laid-back demeanor.

“I think it’s the opposite, actually. I think it’s because you care too much. It’s not death you are afraid of. The thing is, you have such a tender heart, you need to protect it from an affliction far greater than any physical pain you could endure. So you’d rather lie to yourself and pretend you feel nothing.”

From the long conversations she had with Tessa about her ancestors, Clary knew of a Fairchild boy who had been too compassionate for his own good. And he had been surrounded by loyal friends and loving parents, even though he had shut himself, putting on a facade while burying his grief in alcohol. Ash never had that kind of support. Throughout his life, he was left to figure things out on his own. If he was as empathetic as Clary thought he was, Ash probably had no other choice but to deal with his sensitivity alone. It was a miracle he had turned out the way he did.

“You have a lot of imagination,” he said after a moment. The ghost of a smile was still playing on his lips but something had passed across his eyes. “Then again, you are an artist. You seek beauty in the ugly. You find colors on a blank page. I admire your faith, but in this case, there is nothing to see.”

Clary jutted her chin stubbornly and they held each other’s gaze - his green eyes glittering in amusement and hers dead serious - in a staring contest.

“Still,” he said when he finally broke, first. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. I am sorry.”

Clary softened. “Don’t be. I am glad you are finally showing your true self. You don’t need to wear your mask around me, Ash.”

He chuckled. “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”

“It’s funny that you would quote Oscar Wilde.”

“And why is that?”

She shrugged. “Just another thing you share in common with a Fairchild I heard stories about.”

“Clary,” he said in a gently reproving tone. Her name sounded like a caress in his melodious voice. “Are you being purposefully cryptic to arouse my curiosity?”

She moved closer, so she was sitting at the edge of her chair, and leaned forward, hands folded over the table.

“If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” she whispered. “Let me in. Shed all pretense.”

“I can’t promise you that,” he whispered back in confidence, leaning closer still so that their faces were inches from each other. “It’s like fabric that burns and melts into skin. If you peel it off, the skin goes with it.” He grimaced, reclining on his chair. “It won’t be a pretty sight. I don’t think even my level of hotness could sustain it.”

“Ash…” Clary said, sensing that she finally had an opening to say what she had been brooding over ever since she had learnt of Ash’s return from that forsaken land. “I wanted to tell you… I am sorry.”

Ash’s green eyes widened.

“Sorry for what?”

“I should have looked for you. I should not have given up on you.”

Ash’s jaw clenched and he looked away. “Don’t,” he said through gritted teeth. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I do. Seb-...Ash, we...”

“What did you just call me?” He snarled. His eyes snapped back to her, suddenly cold as ice.

“Sorry, Ash. What I meant to say is… we are family."

“I already have a family.”

“I know that you care about Janus…”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” he cut her off.

“And we don’t need to. I just wanted you to know… I understand that he’s been like a father to you, and I don’t plan on moving against him, unless he strikes first or makes it impossible for me to overlook his actions.”

“Because of me?”

“Of course, because of you.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Ash… You are my nephew, my blood. You may not feel the same way about me, but that’s how I feel about you. I want you to know that, if things go wrong, for any reason, you can always turn to me. My home is your home.”

“What you are actually telling me is, Ash, if I kill the one person who has ever really cared about you - and it might definitely come to that - you can always grab my hand, still sticky and warm from his blood. Well, how nice of you. To quote Oscar Wilde again, true friends stab you in the front.”

“That’s not what I am-”

“Clary,” Ash interrupted as he stood. “Do not make me choose between you and him. Because…” Looking down at her, he swallowed hard, as if the words pained him. “Because you will lose.”

She knew exactly what he was telling her. Because they were the same in that way. Ruthless, even with their own blood, when it came to protecting their loved ones. If I had to choose between killing him and you, I would not hesitate. I would end you. Yet, despite his cold statement, despite his sharp and resolved tone, his eyes seemed to carry a deep regret.

“Ash, I understand what you're saying and I swear I am not trying to make you pick a side”, Clary said, suddenly desperate, as she mirrored him and stood. “Please don’t go. I am sorry I brought it up. We will stop talking about him. Starting now.”

“This was a bad idea. Never try to contact me again.” He drew his green beanie from the pocket of his coat and put it back on. He turned and strode toward the exit. She grabbed the family drawing that still lay on the table, stuffed it in her bag and followed him, half-running, as he was quickly losing here with his long legs.

“Ash! Please. Give me another chance. I am so sorry.”

He paused right outside the coffee shop, closed his eyes and sighed. “Don’t be. It didn’t change what I had planned to tell you anyway. I don’t want to know anything about you or your mother. I don’t want to have anything to do with either of you.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” she said, and he whipped his head around to look at her in surprise. “I know you were under house arrest. You probably had to break out of whichever place they were holding you in to come here. You wouldn’t have done that unless you wanted something. Something from me. Tell me, Ash. Tell me what it is.”

He turned his face away so she could not see his expression. A full minute passed and she had almost given up on receiving an answer, when he finally spoke.

“My fa… Sebastian. How different do you think he would have been if not for the demon blood?”

“Oh. Ash.” she whispered. She brought her knuckle against her sternum instinctively, as if to cover the gaping whole in her chest. “I saw him, you know. The brother I should have had. The father that should have raised you. If only for a few minutes.” She paused to bite back tears. “In those few minutes, he told us how to get rid of the Endarkened and said he was sorry. It’s not much to go for, but… that’s not all. I have recurring dreams of the green eyed boy that was robbed from us. And I know in my heart he would have been the best brother a sister could ever dream of.”

He was still looking away and she could see the sharp line, the stubborn set of his jaw. She wanted to hug him, to tell him she would not fail him again. That they could mourn her brother, his father, together. That he didn’t need to bear the anger at everything that was wasted alone.

He finally turned to look at her. A tear had escaped to run freely down his cheek. He had completely shed off his mask, and what Clary saw was like a stab in her gut. She shivered. Wordlessly, he reached for his deep green scarf and tied it gingerly around her neck. The way Sebastian had when they had walked down the streets of Paris. Ash looked nothing like her brother had then. His green eyes held an infinite sadness that spoke of a grief deeper, older than the short years of his life.

“It doesn’t change anything.” He said - she hadn’t imagined his beautiful voice could sound so hollow - and turned to leave.

“Ash, wait.” She grabbed him by the elbow and he froze. His eyes widened as his gaze zeroed on the fingers covering his coat, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. She realized she had never touched him before.

“Clary, what do you want from me?” He asked in a tired voice.

“I just want to get to know you.”

“Trust me, you don’t. I am not the brother who was stolen from you. I cannot replace him. If anything, I am just like Sebastian was before me... my father’s broken toy. There is no way to fix me.”

“I don’t believe it for a second,” she said, almost frantic. “And I don’t want to find my brother's replacement, I want to get to know you! Ash. The real Ash.”

“I already told you. That’s not happening. Don’t ever try to contact me again. I am serious.”

“So that’s it?” She tried not to sound too whiny but panic was eating away at her stomach and she thought she would throw up. “You went through all this trouble spying on me, learning how I take my coffee to simply disappear from my life from one moment to the next?”

He gazed at her for a moment, his expression unfathomable. It seemed like an eternity before he finally spoke.

“I was not spying on you, Clary. I was merely following your stalker.”

“What? You were… protecting me?”

“Take care of yourself, Clary.”

He said as he stepped away from her and vanished into the crowd.

****

Clary threw herself in Jace’s arms as soon as he opened the door to their bedroom at the New York Institute. He froze, then started stroking her hair in a soothing gesture.

“Clary, what happened? Is everything okay?”

“No,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

“Tell me, Clary. What is it?”

She pulled away and wiped tears with the back of her hand. Jace’s face was a mask of shock. Clary couldn’t blame him. She almost never cried.

“I messed up.”

“What did you mess up?”

She walked to the bed and sat on the mattress. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for his reaction. “Ash. I met up with him earlier today.”

Jace tensed and his hands clenched into fists. “WHAT- Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you would have insisted on coming.”

“Damn right, I would have. And I would have been right, too. Look at you, you look miserable.”

“It’s my fault,” she said in a small voice. “I pushed him too far.”

Jace sighed and came to sit next to her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder. “I am sure you did nothing wrong, Clary.”

“I thought- When I showed him the drawing… the way he looked at it, Jace. He is not indifferent. He cares.”

“What drawing?”

“The one I made of the family,” she said absently, as she grabbed her bag and started fumbling inside.

She sucked in a sharp breath. The drawing wasn’t there. Peeking out in its stead, and folded out of the flyer of the Mortal Instruments concert, were origami faerie wings. The Fairchild family symbol.

[creativeashproductions]

Curiosity // Luke Patterson

Summary: After filling up another journal designed his songbook Luke is left empty handed. With the offer to a shelf of blanket journals is given he’s immediately choosing. But Luke’s curiosity leads him to a discovery. In other words Luke finds Perfect Harmony in Reader’s bedroom.

Requested: Yes by @averyharrypotterlife​ 

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.7 (including lyrics)

A/N: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the 5000+ followers whether it was years ago and you didn’t unfollow or in the future. Thank you for enjoying and interacting in something I’ve always loved: writing.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

Luke’s always been a curious person going as far back as his early childhood. The most consistent evidence being during the Christmas holidays. Until he was ten, yes, he’s aware that his friends stopped believing in Santa way earlier. The young lad would stay up hidden in the living room waiting to catch Santa. Without fail, Luke would wake up in his outer space planet sheets having fallen asleep in his mission.

When he was twelve years old, he was left at his aunt and uncle’s house for the weekend due to a work-related thing. His older cousin was eighteen at the time and at college, so Luke stayed in his bedroom. Luke couldn’t help but snoop through Bryan’s personal items, and in a drawer with a false bottom, he discovered magazines.

Luke had a lot of fun that weekend diligently going through the magazines his mother would skin his hide even knowing about them. He may have had to use the excuse of having a cold for the entire box of Kleenex missing. No one was the wiser on that weekend.

Now when Luke was fourteen years old, he had snuck into the Rated R film Candyman with Alex and Reggie. Luke’s parents had been strict in their rules and definitely had shot down the question of seeing the film. The three didn’t sleep with the lights out for a month after that, and the truth came out when no lie was sufficient to their concerned parents.

Luke Patterson didn’t care about boundaries. Why ask for permission when you can just ask for forgiveness? It worked with going through Julie’s dream box, but all personal items got hidden from the ghostly guitarist.

“No!” Luke exclaimed flipping through his song journal once more in hopes of a blank page. The frustration in his body snapping the pencil he had been using.

“You good?” You questioned glancing up from the essay you graded as a teacher’s assistant for an AP course. Luke’s frustrated brown met yours with a cute pout on his lips.

“I’ve filled my journal up. I hate using loose-leaf, but no money means no buying things.” Luke roughly scrubbed one hand on his face.

“You could always just forever borrow one from the- “Luke quickly shot that down with a look of absolute horror, “Okay…so stealing a no.”

“I did listen to my parents on certain aspects. I would never steal anything, other than the food when we didn’t have enough cash.” Luke’s brown hue had softened back into the hazel that caused flutters in your heart, “I have no respect for thieves.”

You nodded before scribbling a suggestion on the paper in dark red, “I have a shelf in my room dedicated solely to blank journals. If you want to, you can take one free of charge.”

With a quick smile, Luke disappeared from the room to your personal domain he sometimes hung out with you in. You had no misgivings on the teen finding solace in your room and gave him free rein; your prized possessions hidden very well.

Luke appeared in the soft blue and lilac bedroom with the queen white iron wrought style bed in the middle. A white desk in the corner with a multitude of bookcases and shelves in the room. The desk chair neatly pushed into the desk as well he went straight to the shelf.

Journals of all colours and styles with a label on the shelf noting them as empty. It was packed with dozens, but it was the midnight blue one that called to the boy. In his reach, he bumped an emerald green one off the edge. It opened having hit the edge of the desk.

As he leaned down, he noticed notations in the margins, now remember how Luke is a curious guy? He only hesitated a second before he was reading the pages of words in your signature script.

The guilt flared for a second before he justified it as being on the shelf you declared free game. So Luke settled sitting criss-cross against the side of your bed reading the words so eloquently written. Even notes allowed Luke to hear the melody in his mind.

Assignment: Write a piece of literature from two points of views. Genre doesn’t matter as long as it is a minimum of one page and not exceed eight.

Step into my world

Bittersweet love story ’bout a girl

Shook me to the core

Voice like an angel

I’ve never heard before

The words took his breath away, recalling a moment he gushed to Alex on how he had caught you singing. He had described your voice as being angelic, and it took him by complete surprise. He remembered Julie, and you entered the room shortly after with a nervous feeling if you had heard. Now Luke had his answer. His phantom heart pounded in anticipation for the reply to this first point of view.

Here in front of me

They’re shining so much brighter

Than I have ever seen

Life can be so mean

But when he goes, I know he doesn’t leave

The smile threatened to split his face with the elation as he continued reading with a subconscious hum. His fingers tapping the sides of the paper as his hazel irises tinged green ate up the words.

The truth is finally breaking through

Two worlds collide when I’m with you

Our voices rise and soar so high

We come to life when we’re

In perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

The world faded as Luke distinctly heard your angelic voice singing the parts he could easily recognize as perfect for you. There was something so powerful in this incredibly personal song only intended for your eyes and your teachers.

The next handful of lines left him breathless and astonished as he visualized not sitting across from each other. But engaging in another art form that can be so incredibly intimate for people; he imagined singing this while holding you in his arms.

You set me free

You and me together is more than chemistry

Love me as I am

I’ll hold your music here inside my hands

We say we’re friends, we play pretend

You’re more to me, we’re everything

Our voices rise and soar so high

 We come to life when we’re

 In perfect harmony

 Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

 Perfect harmony

 Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

 Perfect harmony

Luke went from humming to softly singing to the heartfelt tune with a flutter of butterflies deep in his stomach. When Julie saw Unsaid Emily, he had denied it as an experiment, and it was the truth. Luke wrote rock anthems and rock-pop with his living friend. He never dabbled into romantic ones.

He’d never read something so poetically beautiful it felt him weeping at the sheer amount of feelings.

I feel your rhythm in my heart

Yeah yeah yeah

You are my brightest burning star

Whoah whoah oh

I never knew a love so real (so real)

We’re heaven on earth

Melody and words

When we’re together we’re

In perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

We say we’re friends (we play pretend)

You’re more to me (we create)

Perfect harmony

His eyes found the last line of the song setting him back in a dead silence returning to the start to reread it. On his third read, he found the notes from your teacher on a separate page.

Y/N, in my years of teaching, I’ve never read something with such meaning behind it. The longing, passion, respect and love you artfully encapsulated is rare. To have written, this means you’ve felt this. No corrects needed, and I felt compelled to not mark on the piece. Thank you for being vulnerable with me, for letting me step inside your mind and please never let this emotion fade.

Your grade is A+.

Luke’s lips pulled apart at the genuine words your teacher had written because it indeed was a word of art. Carefully Luke returned the notebook back to the shelf to retrieve the blue one that caught his attention. AS he turned, he found you leaning against the door frame with a soft smile.

“I am so sor-“

“No.” You replied, walking into the room, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I told you any notebook on that shelf. I can’t get mad, and I’ve seen you can’t leave something half-read.”

“Probably why my book reports were insanely well done in school.” Luke joked as you stepped in his personal space. The tension faded from his shoulders as he took in your features, “You got a perfect grade.”

“I did.” You simply spoke, staring up into his eyes, “You helped me with it.”

“How?”

“You told Alex what you felt about my voice. You looked nervous when I walked in, so I let it go. It wasn’t the time to bring it up. It’s called Perfect Harmony.” You told the ghost gently grazing your fingertips on his hand. The feeling sends shudders down his spine.

“I guess it just wasn’t the right time. With the band and-“

“-the whole soul owning thing. Too much but now that you’ve read that…what do you feel?” You hesitantly asked because reading it and discovering how someone feels is another to if the feelings are reciprocated back.

“That I was always meant to live in 2020. That I was meant to love you with every atom in my very being.” Luke murmured before he crashed his lips onto your own in a searing kiss that had your toe-curling.

The midnight blue journal dropped to the floor as his large calloused hands cupped your face to feel the warmth. The very journal would be filled with songs all about this person, Luke adored not matter his state as a ghost. Two worlds collided just as two souls came together in perfect harmony.

So, wrapped up in each other Luke didn’t notice something magical encased in the warm love. In the bedroom, the two teens were kissing in had two distinct heartbeats with a glow emanating from Luke Patterson.

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[jalapeno-princess]

Kiss Me More

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word count: 6.1K

Genre: Very fluffy smut

Warning: Some sexy time in there nothing too extreme (hehehe...or is there?)

Summary: You were confident in the fact that your sex life with Mark was very exciting, wild and fun to say the least. In more or less words, it was perfect. Just your relationship in general was the kind that many people around you would be the envy of. It’s been four years since you began dating and you could honestly say it has been the best four years of your life so far because of him. He was the best boyfriend you could possibly ask for; kind, funny, gentle, considerate, soft-spoken, generous and extremely handsome. He took really good care of you and it was obvious by both his actions and his words that he was madly in love with you. As the two of you are coming down from your sex highs, you grow curious as to why once your love making sessions were over, so is the intimacy. Surely, your boyfriend has his reasons for not kissing you for too much longer as you’re about to go to bed. Right?

A/N: Based on the song “Kiss Me More” by Doja Cat and Sza. I am obsessed with this song and I knew I had to write something based on it so I hope you all enjoy! (I don’t really care for how the ending turned out but whatever).

We hug and yes, we make love And always just say "Goodnight" (la-la-la-la-la) And we cuddle, sure I do love it But I need your lips on mine

Can you kiss me more? We're so young, boy We ain't got nothin' to lose, oh, oh It's just principle Baby, hold me 'Cause I like the way you groove, oh, oh

Boy, you write your name, I can do the same Ooh, I love the taste, la-la-la-la All on my tongue, I want it (la-la-la-la) Boy, you write your name, I can do the same Ooh, I love the taste, la-la-la-la-la All on my tongue, I want it

“Ah—shit, shit—baby, I’m going to need you to slow down. Please—we have the whole night, I just—y/n—fuck. You’re so fucking sexy—“ Against your boyfriend’s pleas, you only sped up your pace to rile him more than he already was. 

“The whole night? We’ve been at this for three hours baby. I think I’m gonna tap out here soon. Aren’t you tired?” 

The devilish grin that immediately rose on his face at your confession confirmed that no—he was not tired or if he was, he still had enough energy to keep pumping in to you. You were currently bouncing on his cock; sinking up and down on him like it was your life duty to do so. 

Your walls were clenched around him deliciously; his hardened length filled you up to the hilt with every thrust. The tip grazed along your nub; flicking it with every pump and it was quickly driving you to the brink of insanity. Honestly, you didn’t think you’d find yourself in this position tonight. 

The two of you were exhausted beyond belief; you were at school since six in the morning up until four in the afternoon earlier today. You had finished two midterms and one very important exam you’ve been studying almost an entire month for. Tired wasn’t even a good enough word to describe your current state. 

Your boyfriend was just as much in bad shape as you were. His boss had him doing multiple errands today on top of completing his own assigned work. He only arrived home a little over an hour ago. When you heard the front door of your shared apartment gently open, you had to prevent yourself from running towards him and embracing him with all the power you had in your tiny body. 

You were confident that he was probably worn out and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. From previous experiences, sometimes your boyfriend would go straight to bed upon arrival—being too fatigued to care about eating or taking a shower even. 

Although you were just as tired and in more or less words; overworked to the bone, seeing your boyfriend slumped while his dark circles grew more and more prominent every day, you mustered up enough energy to iron his clothes for the next day, prepare the clothes he’d wear to sleep, pack him a lunch and even get some of his toiletries ready if he felt like wanting to rinse off just a bit. 

To your surprise, as soon as he made his way towards you—before you could even open your mouth to ask your boyfriend how his day was, his pretty, heart-shaped lips that you loved so much were fervently smashed against yours. He gave you no time in preparing yourself for what was to come next before he roughly grabbed you at your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

His mouth never left yours as he led the two of you to your shared bedroom. It boggled your mind that he was giving you his full attention; gnawing and sucking on your lips while he carried you to the room without bumping in to anything or tripping on the rug. Maybe he’s gotten used to doing so since the two of you have been in this exact same scenario more times than you can count on both hands. 

There were so many thoughts running through your mind and questions on the tip of your tongue—concerning the sudden affection and lust he was currently showing you, but whatever you wanted to ask him no longer mattered the second he shoved his tongue down your throat and squeezed both your ass cheeks before slapping them hard. 

“Mark—babe is everything okay—“

“Work was shit—complete and utter shit. I missed you so fucking much like I do every single day I’m at that shithole and so I logged on to Snapchat and to my surprise—and delight, my beautiful girlfriend sent me a few snaps of her pretty outfit today. Don’t play innocent baby, you knew exactly what you were doing as soon as you hit send. You are well aware of the fact that I was seconds away from calling in sick this morning and fucking you in to oblivion right against the kitchen counter when you walked out in to the living room. Ah—there was so many things I wanted to say. Don’t get me wrong, you look breathtakingly beautiful in every single thing that you wear, but my dress shirt and that pencil skirt that hugs you in all the right places and leaves little to the imagination? Tsk tsk—it’s like you wanted me to rearrange your guts tonight.” 

You looked at him in curiosity; it took you a few moments to pin point exactly what photos he was referring to. Since you were so busy today, you completely forgot about sneaking to the bathroom and taking a few pictures of yourself. This last week has been extremely busy for both you and your boyfriend—and so the thought of being intimate with him felt like a fever dream. 

Sex with Mark had to be one of your favorite activities not only as a couple, but just in general. One thing about the older boy that you admired was the fact that he was very talented in each and every single thing he put his mind in to. Baseball, volleyball, football, golf, tennis, soccer, martial arts—it wasn’t even only sports. 

Mark was exceptionally intelligent; he was one of the only people you knew that was good at both reading and math. He also could finish a Rubik’s cube in under two minutes which was quite the impossible task. Every single thing your boyfriend did never failed to impress you. However, you felt as though he was the best at blowing your mind in more ways than one. 

The older boy was extremely generous; he always bought you cute little gifts that reminded him of you, he’d pay for every single date against your pleas no matter where the two of you would go, he’d sacrifice his time and work his schedule around yours so he could pick you up and drop you off wherever you needed to go. When it came to the bedroom, he always put you and your needs first. Mark always made it his main priority to make sure you came first, that you were genuinely having a good time and overall he wanted to do whatever he possibly could to make you comfortable. 

Some days, he’d be so focused on eating you out that he found pleasure and got his full strictly by sucking on your pussy. If you were having a rough day, he’d prepare you a bath and get you all your favorite snacks in attempts of cheering you up but not before finding his place in between your thighs and dragging his tongue along your slit faster than you could actually handle. Mark was the king of overstimulation; one of his kinks was driving you crazy and not giving you a chance to do anything about it. 

He was extremely good at sex— and his body was handcrafted by God. Every single thing about him was annoyingly perfect; he wasn’t the most muscular man but he wasn’t exactly skinny either. He had just the right amount of muscle, a six pack and he was well endowed. Although you considered penises very unattractive before you met Mark, something about his was so pretty and it always made your mouth water. 

You weren’t sure if you preferred having it buried deep inside of your cunt, or filling up your throat—both felt so phenomenal. Out of all the positions you and Mark experimented in during your four year relationship, your favorites had to be doggy, missionary and the one you were currently in right now. In most of your love making sessions, Mark took the lead and dominated you—not that you ever objected. 

A dominant Mark—degrading, rough, animalistic was the sexiest Mark—well, next to jealous and overprotective which usually led to the passionate and extremely freaky sex the two of you’d have. But there were times where you would take control because Mark was the definition of a switch; and something about him submitting to you and whatever you told him to always sent your mind in a frenzy.

Mark was very vocal about how he came faster whenever you would find yourself riding him specifically because watching your breasts bounce, getting to see your gorgeous face and observing your pussy swallow his cock whole—your juices coating his entire length, the sensation was lethal. His hands gripped on your waist all but gently; you might have been the one on top but your boyfriend was a powerbottom. He never allowed you to do things on your own, especially during sex. 

“Nope. I’m like the energizer bunny whenever we make love. In fact, I could probably fuck you for a solid four more hours. I know sex isn’t everything in a relationship and there are so many other things I love to do with you—but damn, you’re a fucking dream y/n. We have sex almost every single day and it always feels like the first time. If you’re exhausted baby, you can get off. As much as I particularly enjoy and get off on the feeling of your ass clapping against my balls, I’m sure it’s pretty tiring.” 

You had to stifle back a laugh at his choice of words; when the two of you first became intimate with one another, there was a lot of laughter and playful banter in the duration of your sexy time to which you didn’t think was normal. Then again, your relationship with Mark was never normal from the start. Your relationship was the envy of a lot of the people around you. 

It’s been over four years yet somehow—maybe it was the deep, passionate love you held for one another, but you were still surprisingly in the honeymoon stage. Neither you or Mark could get enough of each other. Sometimes, whenever the two of you would tumble in to bed together, some jokes, corny pickup lines and even riddles would be thrown in while Mark would be railing you and on some occasions, he’d say things at the wrong time, but you still had so much fun nonetheless. 

“I’m not too tired, I just don’t want to be immobile for the next week. My thighs are jelly and I have work in the morning. I’ve called out three times already in the last month because you fulfill your promises of wrecking me and I’m sure my boss is aware of the fact that it’s not possible for me to get food poisoning that many times within days of each other—“

“I mean, I have no regrets honestly and if I remember correctly, you’re always the one telling me to “go faster” and to “fuck me harder daddy”—ow! What? I’m just stating the facts—“

“I know, but it sounds weird when you say it.” 

He playfully rolled his eyes before stealing a sloppy kiss from the corner of your mouth and motioned for you to get off of him. As much as you were reveling in his many wanton noises and lustful facial expressions, you could feel your legs giving out and you were in no position to be calling out sick again. At least not for another week or two. You let out a whine at the feeling of him slowly pulling out of you; you weren’t ashamed to say you were a huge fan of how it felt to be full of your boyfriend’s cock. 

Cock warming was another favorite kink of yours. Mark on the other hand, would have to mentally prepare a few minutes prior to staying inside of you. It was hard for him to stay idle—he’s told you this many times. As much as he wanted to do whatever you asked of him and wanted to please you no matter what it was you desired, the feeling of your tight, wet and warm walls clenching around him was too much. He allowed it to happen, but not for too long. He could be the one to tap out, but a couple minutes of cockwarming could lead to another round of sex and in many cases; it did.

“What a baby, can’t even go a couple of seconds without my dick inside of her—“

“Shut up, I can go in to the bathroom and finish myself off if I wanted to—“

“We all know your fingers aren’t enough to get you seeing stars princess. And that stupid dildo you bought when I was away in Taiwan last year can’t do shit for you either.” 

Thankfully, he didn’t take too long in throwing you against the bed and lining himself back at your entrance. You were seeping of your essence at this point and he swiped himself along your folds so that it would be easier for him to slip back inside. He brought his face up to your ear and his breath was hot against your jaw as he leaned in to whisper naughty words that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure. 

“Only I can bring you to sheer ecstasy. Only I can get you to see white—only I can get your head spinning. My fingers; we both know how much my fingers are one of your favorite body parts of mine.” He wrapped one hand around your neck gently, making sure to glide his thumb along your pressure point while swiping some of your juices with his index finger and bringing it up to your mouth. 

“Taste yourself baby. I want you to experience the euphoria I go through whenever I eat out this pretty cunt of yours. Well—back to what I was saying, my tongue, I know exactly how to use it as we make out, when I suck on this pretty little neck of yours or when I suck the life out of your pussy—so even if you were to finger yourself like the dirty girl you are, you’ll never reach the mind blowing orgasm only I can give to you. Now, I think it’s time I teach you a lesson for speaking out against me.” 

You bit your lip in anticipation for the excitement that was to come; whenever Mark would get jealous or whenever you were bratty and went against whatever he commanded you to do, that’s when he would fuck your brains out. How the two of you were still going at it with such a rapid and forceful pace had yet to really process completely in your mind, but you didn’t question it. A muttered groan fell from both your lips and his as soon as he found his place back inside of you. 

Immediately, he placed his face in the crook of your neck for what you were accustomed to him trying his best not to moan loudly. He dragged his teeth along the juncture of your nape before sinking his teeth in and leaving a dark love bite in its wake. 

“Mark!” 

You swatted his arm once you felt the spot begin to throb. Sure, you found it extremely sexy whenever he’d mark his territory because it proved just how possessive and overprotective he was over you but at the same time, hickeys were difficult to cover up and you were confident the purple mark would be on display for your professors, classmates, coworkers, boss and clients to see. 

“Sorry baby, I couldn’t help myself—I’ll help you put some makeup on it tomorrow. It’s just that—ugh, how the fuck are you always so damn tight? We have sex on a daily basis, you should be stretched out by now.”

“You men obviously don’t understand the anatomy of a woman. You’re lucky you’re attractive and very sweet, you’re lacking intelligence—“

“Hey—“

“Just fuck me already asshole.” 

You didn’t have to ask him twice. He went straight in to ramming his cock in and out of you. There was no time to be soft or gentle; the two of you were just moments away from your releases. You preferred the softness and romanticism that came with making love, but right now all you could think about was how amazing it felt when the tip of his cock reached your cervix. 

“Feels—“

“So fucking good.” 

Your breasts were bouncing up and down with every thrust and to your delight, your boyfriend cupped one of your mounds in his hand; flicking your nipple all but gently and earning himself the sexiest growl he’s ever heard in his life. He wrapped his lips around your other breast and swirled his tongue around your nipple—bringing the nub in between his teeth and nibbling on it. 

“Such pretty titties—so soft, so big—your body belongs in an art museum. You’re a masterpiece. Everything about you—I can’t even wrap my head around your beauty. You’re really a sight for sore eyes you know that?” 

Slowly, you shaking my brought your palm up to his face and cupped his cheek feather lightly. You brought your free hand in to his hair and softly tugged at his curly, brown locks. 

“I—I love you Mark—“

“Mmm—I love you more baby girl. So much more. Every time you say those three words, I feel like a little kid who’s crush complimented his outfit. You do wonders on my heart. What did I do to deserve you?” 

Out of no where, he lifted up one of your legs and placed it on his shoulder. This position allowed him to reach deeper inside of you which you didn’t even know there was more of you for him to reach. 

“Shit—shit, just like that Mark—“

“You like that baby?” 

You nodded in agreement fervently; he needed to know the effect that this position was having on you. Something about having him on top of you, even if missionary was a position that most people considered boring and ordinary—you felt like you were going to burst in to flames at any moment. The sound of his pelvis clapping against your ass cheeks sounded off throughout the room. It only heightened the sexual desire that already filled up the atmosphere. His grip on your lower waist tightened as the two of you grew closer and closer to your ends. 

“So tight—so wet—so perfect and all mine.” 

He brought your other leg up on to his shoulder and you could fill your orgasm right at the edge. A loud moan fell from his lips and he tried to conceal it by smashing his mouth against yours, but you only felt the vibration on your tongue as he hummed in contentment. 

“Mark—I can’t—it’s too much—“

“I know baby, I know. I’m almost there too. Can you hold on for just a little longer?” 

With all the energy you could muster, you nodded against his chest and allowed him to reconnect your lips together; his speed was relentless and with the way the bed was creaking, you knew that there was a huge chance it would break soon and you would get yet another noise complaint. Probably the seventh one in the last month. You were secretly hoping that he was closer than you were and that he was only holding on as long as possible so you both could continue your late night romp. 

Your boyfriend was a nymphomaniac; sex might not have been the most important part of your relationship, but after a long, stressful day at work, he found relief in releasing his anger and frustration on your body. Making love was even better—but it didn’t matter how the two of you were intimate, just having your skin against his and your tongue battling for dominance with his, the sensation never failed to turn his sour mood in to a much happier and lighter one. 

He was happiest being one with you. Just by the way he let go of your hips to intertwine your hands together, you were confident that he was about to cum. Whenever he was at his end, he’d stop whatever he was doing to hold your hands and leaned back so that he could get a better look at you. Seeing your fucked out state; sweat dripping down your neck and chest, cheeks flushed with warmth, hair sticking to your forehead, mouth gasping for air—knowing that he was the cause behind your beautiful glow, it brought him confidence and glee. 

Soon, you were being filled with his warm creamy liquid in spurts—the sensation of being full of his sperm was one that you still haven’t gotten used to. It was just that mind blowing. Your orgasm followed in suit just seconds after. It felt like a tidal wave swallowing you whole, you were drowning but in the best way. It was hard to describe; but it was a high you never wanted to come down from. You were speechless; there were no words to describe just how on top of the world you were currently feeling. 

Mark called it a sex high. Whenever you and your boyfriend would find yourselves tangled in the sheets, you felt like you were in another world. Maybe it was just a high off of Mark himself. He was hot; there was no doubt about it and honestly you could stare at him all day if time permitted you to. For a couple of minutes, there was a peaceful silence.

All you wanted to do was calm your rapid heartbeat and to get your breathing under control. Mark’s heart pounded against your chest and his dick that was once hard as a rock was now soft and limp inside of your cavern—neither of you moved; he was pressed up against your breasts and his head was smashed up along your collarbone. Your mind was too hazy to really feel the stickiness of his sweaty body, but if this were under different circumstances you probably would’ve pushed him off. 

Less than five minutes later, Mark leaned back enough so that he had a better view to look at you. He gently brushed back some of your hair and glided his thumb along your cheek—bringing it down to your bottom lip. The soft smile he was giving you as you placed a kiss amongst the calloused digit sent electricity through your veins. In times like these; where you were bare, not just physically but spiritually and mentally and in the comfort of your boyfriends arms, you always felt so safe—so at ease, so serene, so loved. 

You might have just did something so naughty, yet you couldn’t help but blush timidly. No matter how many times the two of you relished in your love for one another, you always felt so shy with his wandering eyes gazing all along your body. Even if he’s seen you naked at least a hundred times, you still found yourself turning red under his stare. 

A few sweet kisses were placed against your mouth as what you assumed was a distraction because as he began to nibble on your bottom lip, he slowly pulled himself out from your slick walls. The two of you groaned at the feeling of emptiness; you gave him a glare—upset that he pulled out so soon especially since you told him earlier that you were in the mood for cockwarming. 

“Mark—“

“I know, I’m sorry baby. I just want to clean you up and get us ready for bed. I think your pussy puts me to sleep a lot more often now. But if you want to take a bath, I can go prepare one for you—“ 

Something about the thought of fucking Mark to exhaustion made you giggle. Especially because moments ago, he was wanting to continue having sex for much longer. “No, I don’t think I can walk you asshole. I’ll just take one in the morning before my shift. But thank you. Am I wearing you out Tuan?”

“Yes and I’m not afraid to admit it. I think five orgasms in less than two hours would do that to someone. You’re so fucking sexy and so damn good to me there’s no point in trying to conceal my feelings for the sake of my pride. I’d shout it at the top of my lungs if I had to—I’m completely whipped for you and I have every intention on keeping it that way for the rest of our lives. Now, I’ll be right back okay?” 

With a couple of kisses against the corner of your mouth, he disappeared in to your bathroom. It was only natural for you to snicker to yourself at the sight of his cute little butt as he quickly walked over to get a warm wash cloth and a bottle of water. You decided to take that time to reminisce on tonight’s escapade. 

Every time you thought about your love making sessions with Mark, your stomach would swarm with butterflies. In the beginning of your relationship when you were just beginning to learn more and more about each other, the sex the two of you would experiment in was exciting, fun and intoxicating—not that it wasn’t like that anymore. 

But now that you were both so madly in love with one another, it was more passionate, more meaningful and a lot more desirable. You always had to be touching him and without even having to ask him, he’d always have his hands on you too. The bed sank and before you could even comprehend what was going on, a wet towel was gently being brushed along your lower body. 

He first got in between your thighs, making sure to wipe up any excess cum that might have dripped from your entrance. Then he brought it up to your navel, making sure to rid visible sweat—then finally he cleaned your folds and with the way a tingling sensation began to develop, you knew he was purposely taking his time to mess around with and to get a rise out of you. 

Right as you were about to whine in attempts to get him to stop, he got another washcloth and wiped your face. Mark was well aware of how your skincare was very important to you. He’d watch you take the time to put on moisturizer, toner and sunscreen on in the mornings and right before bed. 

It was the little things that he recognized that made your heart swell; no matter how many times a day he’d tell you that he loved you, he professed his love just a little bit more through his actions. Once he was done, he helped you put on a clean pair of underwear and one of his t-shirts—a reoccurring act of affection he did not too long after you came down from your highs. 

With a sweet kiss on your forehead, he went back in to the bathroom to prepare for bed; brushing his teeth and putting on a pair of sweatpants before taking his spot next to you under the covers. By instinct, you were pulled up against his chest and his arms snaked around your hips. He left wet kisses all along your face; making sure to steal a few pecks from your lips as he smiled against your mouth. 

“That was mind blowing as always. My pretty—pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect. What did I do to deserve you? God, I can’t believe it’s been so long since we’ve made love—“

“It’s been three days Mark—“

“Exactly. That’s a long time baby. Especially because I crave you every second of the day. I can’t get over how wonderful you are. Literally flawless. Rest up baby, once you come home tomorrow I’m having you again and again and again—“

“Oh God, how I’m not pregnant at this point is still a mystery to me. Horndog.” 

He let out the most adorable little giggle while turning your body so that he was spooning you. He’s told you many times that as much as he loved being able to see your face, he was more comfortable in this position. You were confident it was because he’d get to feel your ass pressed up against his length, but you didn’t want him feeling embarrassed if that was the real reason behind. Besides, you felt so safe and protected in this position. 

However, you’ve been contemplating on voicing your feelings about how nights would end right after you and your boyfriend would tap out from either exhaustion or overstimulation. Sure, you loved the cuddling and being held by him, but that was pretty much it. He’d kiss you a couple of times and then he’d say good night. If you both had even the tiniest amount of energy, you’d stay up and talk about whatever it was that your hearts desired. 

You wanted to kiss him for much longer than the fleeting kisses—you fantasized about spending a little more time with his soft lips on yours. Maybe he saved the makeout sessions for the bedroom. But even during sex, the kisses were hot and wild—in the heat of the moment, but you were too busy focusing on being penetrated to really enjoy kissing him. 

“Well, I mean my pullout game is the best—“

“You literally just came inside of me that’s a joke right?” 

He let out a scoff of disbelief and although you couldn’t see him, he playfully rolled his eyes. “I mean, well, you know—yeah whatever. The thought of impregnating you is a huge kink of mine. You’re stuck with me for the rest of our lives. You’re going to be the best mother one day and the cutest little pregnant lady. I can’t wait to see you swollen with my baby and I’m even more impatient in finally starting a family with you. You really are the love of my life. Look at how sappy you’ve made me. Mmm, I love you, I love you, I love you. Sweet dreams my love.” 

Hearing him confess all that he did about his love for you and the future the two of you had together—you couldn’t stop the smile from taking over the entirety of your face. Almost every single thing Mark said—no matter how naughty or straight up cheesy it was never failed to make your heartbeat increase. You were soon feeling silly for worrying about such a minuscule thing and you wished it could have been enough for you. Yet, the question was on the tip of your tongue; you were mentally battling with yourself. 

There had to be a reason why the kissing stopped once you both reached your fill. You didn’t want to seem too clingy or overdramatic—maybe you were overthinking things. Your mind kept telling you to leave it alone and that he had his reasons, yet you couldn’t stop the tiny voice in your head that begged you to continue to pry at him. Mark looked down at you in curiosity when you turned around to face him. He lifted up your chin and furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“Everything alright y/n?”

“Why don’t you kiss me more?” Your question was muffled since you were too shy to ask him out right and hid your face in the crook of his neck. 

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you—“

“I want you to kiss me more.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean? Where is this coming from baby?” 

An exasperated sigh fell from your lips and you were soon regretting actually asking him the question that’s been weighing heavy on your mind for months now. It was extremely silly now that the question was actually out there but the reason why your relationship with your boyfriend had been so healthy all these years is because conversation was one of the most important keys to making sure you were both on the same page. 

The last thing Mark wanted was for you to be uncomfortable or to feel as though you had to hide your feelings for his sake. Which is why you weren’t surprised to see him looking at you worriedly, waiting patently for you to go in to further detail. 

“Right before we go to bed, whether it’s after sex or just once we’re done doing whatever it is after we both come home from work, you give me a few kisses and then we cuddle and fall asleep. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy doing those things. I just—I want more. I love kissing you if you didn’t already know that by now. Kissing you is one of my favorite activities that we do because your lips are so addicting. But we only ever passionately kiss during sex and when we make out it usually leads to love making and theres really nothing wrong with that. I just wish we could kiss without having it end up or only be during sex.” 

Although the lights were off and you could barely see him, you could tell he was wearing a blank expression on his face. He continued his ministrations of gliding his fingers along your sides but he stayed silent for a few moments. You wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole; you were so embarrassed but this was your boyfriend. 

He needed to know how you felt if your relationship was going to continue as beautifully as it currently was. To your surprise, he lifted up your chin and reconnected your lips together in a very passionate kiss. His hands cupped either sides of your face and he roughly nipped and sucked on your lips; leaving you breathless as he deepened the kiss further.

It was only natural for you to smile against his mouth; you were hoping you didn’t upset him and that he was only kissing you like this to please you. You were hoping he too was finding some enjoyment in kissing you right now. As his lips continued to attack yours, he took that chance to flip you on top of your back and stole a couple more kisses before sucking on your sweet spot right below your ear. This was what you wanted; it felt so wonderful and you felt even more closer to him than you felt a little over half an hour ago with his cock buried deep inside of you. 

“How was that? By that gorgeous smile of yours and the way your lips are swollen I’m assuming you quite liked that.” You nodded in agreement and stole a few kisses from the corner of his mouth. 

“I’m sorry if I made you feel as though I’m not interested in continuing our intimacy once we’re about to go to bed. Trust me, kissing you is my favorite thing to do with you too. You drive me fucking crazy. I’ve actually questioned myself about this numerous times too but I just assumed you were tired and I didn’t want to press you in to doing something just because I wanted to do it. Plus—“ 

He led your hand down to his sweatpants and your cheeks grew warm at the feeling of his hardened cock. It never failed to make you laugh seeing as how easy it was for him to grow horny at just the simplest touch. “This is why our make out sessions lead to sex and why I was hesitant about telling you that I wanted to be more intimate with you rather than the small pecks and holding you before falling asleep myself. It’s just going to lead in to another round. God, I sound like such a nymphomaniac but I’m proud to say that I am. I got a very sexy girlfriend, who could blame me for wanting to relish in our love at least once a day? Well, now that I know how you feel y/n, I would love to kiss you more. A lot more. why don’t we experiment a little tonight and see where it leads tomorrow?” You beamed up with him and with all the energy you still had left inside of you, flipped your bodies so you were on top. It obviously riled him up and the cheeky grin he was giving you sent warmth to your core. 

“That sounds like a plan. Now kiss me.”

“With pleasure.”

[binniesthighs]

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

a/n: hehe hello cuties, before i get to the chapter, I just wanted to say thank you so much for all of the support and lovely messages you that you sent to me for the last chapter. as I said, it was one that was super personal to me and for it to be so relatable and emotional for you all makes my heart feel so, so full. these themes are going to continue, so please read the warnings cuties. as always, thank you so very much for reading my stories <3 

Part 6 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung 

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!changbin, rapper!jisung, establishedfwb!jisung, artist!reader, skz side characters, bestfriend!chan, bestfriend!felix, roommate!minho, explicit language, HARD fluff to HARD angst, some sensual-azz fuckin’ (muhaha), unprotected sex (stay safe cuties!), lil bit of breath play, nipple play (f), cumshot, mentions of food, changbin has a cute butt (that’s the tweet) 

CWs: aftereffects of traumatic experiences, mentions of past toxic relationship, self sabotaging tendencies 

Word count: 6.6k (remember when i said i wasn’t gonna write long chapters? wellllll...ooP)  

Chapters 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7

When you were back in high school, before you knew a thing about what love was, your Art teacher had given you an assignment: what do you think that love looks like? At first, all you had really known love to be was the kind that you shared with your friends and your parents, and maybe with your family dog. You had read about love in your favorite books and seen it in your favorite movies, but you had never really considered what it looked like. Obviously, the assignment was all up for you to decide, but there being a million and one things that you considered love to be, to put it to paper with your own hand was something different entirely. 

At first, when you thought of love, you thought of the typical: hearts, hugs, the colors red and pink. But, this was too simple. 

“What are you drawing?” You had sneakily whispered to your classmate. 

She shrugged, and continued scratching away at her sketchbook. You had peeked to see what she was putting together, and for her, she had started to draw what looked like a house on the edge of a lake. The house was in the middle of nowhere and it was surrounded by trees of all different kinds and there was a single bench that sat at the edge of the water. 

You figured, love can be a place, so you started drawing that. 

Your pencil swiped over the paper in strokes big and small, and the lead rubbed off on the side of your pinky as you outlined the corners of your apartment building. 

You thought, I love the people who live here, therefore, this must be love. 

It made sense. People and places could make up love. 

When you turned in your drawing of your apartment building you were surprised to see the variety of other paintings and drawings that the other students had turned in. One student had turned in a whole piece that had been drawn with oil pastel. It was a jumbling of colors: mostly red, as you had expected, but it also held streaks of gold, black and teal. You remember your teacher really liking that one. 

Today, if you would’ve gotten that assignment, it would’ve been completely different. 

It was a sunny afternoon when you sat at your easel with your pencil in hand. Drawing out the mere outline and rough draft, tears welled in your eyes. A long time ago you had promised yourself that if your art didn’t mean anything, what even was it?

The sun filled your room in the golden hour of the day best it could from your frosted glass window. The warmth that the rays held made your whole body swell with a warmth, and it gave your shaking arms the power to keep going. 

You brushed lightly over the rough canvas with your pencil, tracing out the lines as if they were the very memories that you had kept painted in your mind. 

You drew a snowy night, not much unlike the ones that you had been seeing recently. You drew an empty alley, not lit by much light. You drew the way that the oil slicked in potholes mixed with the snow. You planned out the way that the industry of the city lit his back as he stared out into that dark expanse where you knew that darker figures were hiding. You drew him. You drew him on that exact same night that you had fist seen him: a dark outline, who would become full of color. 

╚ ——————��———————— ╝

“What’s that?” 

Changbin pointed to your easel with a sheet draped over it. 

“A surprise.” You answered. “I know that I’m not good with surprises, but, are you?” 

“I don’t mind them.” He chuckled. “For me?” 

“Mmhm. Its not ready yet so you’ll have to wait.” 

“I’m fine with waiting.” He sighed out. 

You nuzzled closer into his bare chest, right up to his heartbeat. Both of you were admittedly a bit dewy in your sweaty afterglow, but this was of no concern to you. These past few days, this had been your preferred way to drift off to sleep. Even on the occasional times when the both of you would be too busy to make the time, when you finally could see him, it was everything to you. In his large and muscled arms, there was no place else where you had felt safer. You too wrapped your whole being around him with a feeling so close it must’ve been unreal. If you could hear the muffled little rhythm of his heartbeat, you were sure that he could hear yours. 

“Soon, all this snow is gonna melt, and then I can take you to loads of other places. I’m just getting started.” Changbin’s airy breath tickled your scalp. 

“Really? Taking me to all the usual places?” You mocked. 

“No.” He said seriously. “I want to take you to places I haven’t taken anyone before. My secret places. I...you know...wouldn’t mind if you could draw them for me either.” 

You giggled, “Ever heard of taking a picture?” 

“Hey! It’s not the same.” 

“Fineee. Okay, okay. I’ll draw them for you.” Your fingertips traced down the muscles of his back. “Maybe I should start charging if you’re gonna keep being like this.” 

“You don’t do pro-bono?” He ran along with your joke. 

“If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll consider it.” 

He tsked, “Could you please draw for me?” 

You masked another adoring chuckle. “I do like it when you say please.” 

Everything about the one moment felt so sickly sweet, it was like you must’ve dreamt it up. In between the swaddling of sheets, you tried your best to enjoy the one moment: it was just enough to keep the doubtful whispers away. After all that he had done, said, all the pain that he had kissed away, or compliments he had hushed into your ear, the creeping feeling that you hardly deserved it all would rear it’s head time and again, even when you didn’t expect it to.

The two of you were quiet for a moment as you fell into the serenity of just existing together. After a while, you would narrow your focus best on the way that his breaths would rise and fall and the way this his body heat would melt into yours under the mess of sheets that neither of you bothered to fix. He would use his thumb to rub reassuring little strokes into the back of your neck where he had you. 

Your hand would fall down his arm, all the way down this wrist where his scar lived. Ever since you had noticed it, you couldn’t stop looking at it. Every time that you did, you were given a tangible reminder of everything that he had been, and was, to you. You rose the uneven skin to your lips to gift a little kiss to it. 

Changbin tried his best to hide his giddy smirk at the action. 

“Do you have to leave tonight?” You settled his arm around you once more. 

“No. Not tonight. But, for the next few days I don’t think I’ll be able to. They put me on the matinee shifts at the theater. I fucking hate those. No one comes in at all so it’s like I’m just sitting there.” 

“Wanna sneak me in some time this week? I should have a break.” 

“I would but...I’d prefer to keep that job. As much as I hate it.” 

“We could do something this Thursday? You aren’t busy on Thursdays as much right?” 

“Ahhhh I think so.” Changbin rolled the two of you over, allowing himself to lean over top of you. With a sly smirk he lowered his voice to say, “You know, my ribs really aren’t hurting as much any more.” 

“Oooh? Good to know.” You ruffled his curly strands. 

“I’m trying to say that I can go for another round if you would like to?” He bowed his head to kiss lightly into your neck and the fading love bites that he had put there himself. 

Your eyes wandered to your clock telling you that it was nearly 2 in the morning. If you had better judgement, you would’ve said no. But, these days, judgement wasn’t something that you took too seriously. 

He kissed down deeper, and pulled at your skin just in the way that he knew you liked it. Changbin knew the ins and outs of you perfectly, as well as exactly what to do send you quivering under him. All he had to do was press his body into yours so you could feel his weight, and it made you fold just for him. He followed his kisses up your jaw where he then lead them into your bottom lip and over every angle that your mouth would crave him. He often didn’t mean to do it intentionally, but between your parted mouths, his tongue would sneakily find yours, and he would slowly slide it against yours. 

“Do you want to?” He muttered between kisses. 

Under the covers, his hand cascaded down your side in a way that tickled slightly, but also made you shiver. 

He broke from his kiss to hold your eyes seriously. “We don’t have to.” 

“No, I want to.” You reached up to hold his sleepy and puffy face in your hands. 

Changbin said nothing more, but instead returned to weaving kisses back down your neck. Under your waist, you felt him angle up your hips higher and the heat of his tip teased at your entrance still slick with your arousal from before, and now renewed. He bowed his head down to your chest to pump himself with a few muffled grunts. After, he rose his head to hold your eyes with his own. The muscles on his arms flared where he held himself up, and those adorable little stretch marks in the corners of his arms moved with them. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.” 

You melted under his compliment. No matter who many times he had said it, you still weren’t use to it. 

“So are youuuu.” You said with a dreamy tone. One other thing that you had figured out about him was that returning such comments to him made him a flustered mess. It was utterly adorable for someone as stoic as him at times. 

“Psh.” He scoffed, then lowered his voice once again. “Beautiful how I fill you up sweetheart?” Changbin angled your waist up higher, then spread your thighs, finally pushing them into your body to tighten you. He aligned himself over you, then pushed himself in agonizingly slow. “Beautiful how I can fuck you so deep? How I can m-make you...” 

He had given up on talking, but rather thrust himself further into you with his shaking breaths and little “mmm’s” getting caught on his tongue. 

“B-Bin...fuck, f-feels s-so good--”

He pushed your legs up closer to your body, allowing himself greater access to graze your g-spot. Your busy fingers found their way around his back to claw all the way down. He still relished in taking his time with you, and would never rush fucking you--it was as if he had all the time in the world to unravel you. You returned around him, tightening has he fucked in and out with his own pace. After a while of doing the same, his hand crept around your neck to give you a couple choking squeezes that made you whimper out like a kitten. He would never keep it going for long however, but rather indulged himself in the way that your gasps would remind him of how good it all felt. After, Changbin dipped his thumb into your mouth to run the pad over your tongue. 

The tip of his teeth caught the skin of his lip which he bit into hard. 

“You feel so good baby. F-feels so good on my cock. It’s all for you angel.” 

An unrestrained groan escaped from your mouth as he continued and your orgasm pooled steadily. In and attempt to steady yourself you clawed back into your pillow supporting your head. 

He swiftly changed your position, taking both of his hands to turn you on your stomach. Without a pause he lead his swelling head back into your pussy where he kept on going at his favored slow pace. Your face smushed into the pillow with hips raised in the air. The fluffy fabric muffled your helpless moans. 

“Louder for me princess.” He growled. 

With one hand he arched over to tweak at your nipples with force: twisting and pulling, then he wet his hand with his own saliva to let your skin feel the cold and wet sensation. His other hand he used to reach around and rub circles into your clit. He was gentle at first, but worked your bud harder and faster. Your knees and legs shook the faster he rubbed, and you spilled your loudest and most unapologetic moans into the room that had risen in temperature. 

“Fuck...” He swore. Changbin allowed himself to quicken his pace inside of you. The action alone sent you spinning wildly into your orgasm: a tear of white hot heat that shook your whole body and turned your swollen bud into a sensitive mess under his fingers which did stop, even when when he knew that you had just cum all over them. The harder he pressed, the more wonderfully painful it felt, and you let your tears fall hot from your eyes to the sheet. You attempted to call out his name, but no words that left your mouth made sense. 

He turned your body once more, using brutish hands on your hips as he pulled you overtop of the sheets to fuck you into the bed once more with your sweating back stuck to the comforter. Your body shook with your orgasm still, and you needily brought his lips down to yours to kiss him with your thank you’s as he milked himself out in your tightening walls. 

Changbin was animalistic in the way that he finally let his hips snap over you, at last reaching his orgasm mere seconds after he had pulled out and jerked himself over you. Ribbons of his white cum came spilling out over your gasping chest and stomach and dripped lazily from his pink and flaring tip. He took in shallow inhales as he did, and kept rubbing until the very end and he had nothing more to give. Even as his hand dropped, you took his dick in your own hand to just twist lightly and ride out the last of his orgasm. He softened in your hand with eyes closed in his focus and came down. 

The combination of your lust held in the air for a few silent moments, then he collapsed back down next to you into a blushing and exhausted mess. His pink chest shook, and his soft heather eyes found you. 

“We should...probably take a shower right?” 

“Probably.” You grinned. 

Changbin leaned over to plant even more sugary sweet kisses on top of your lips. He always was one to admire his work, so he chuckled lightly seeing the way that he had properly covered you in his cum. 

“I can help you clean that off.” 

The bed shook and he rose to get you something to clean up. You wished that you could’ve moved to see him saunter around your room without a single piece of clothing on. It was no secret that he had one hell of a cute butt. 

Changbin helped you out of the bed, finding that your legs had started to shake and betray you a bit more harshly than you had intended. He ran the water for you both, inviting you in to take the task of cleaning you to himself. He took the suds in his own hands to brush them all over your body and took careful and gentle attention to the more sensitive parts of your body. He giggled a little at the way that even under the warm water, your nipples would still harden when he ghosted his fingers over them with soap. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” You scolded him. 

He took care of the little bruises on your neck and collarbones, giving them kisses under the clear stream of water as if he was healing them. After he was done, you did the same and cleaned out his hair with your shampoo. He always let out happy little groans when you would massage his scalp. He still had a couple scrapes on his face from a few weeks ago, so you kissed all of them too. 

Changbin’s favorite part was how he could mess up your hair with the towel afterword and make you look as ridiculous as possible. Of course, you would do the same. You would brush your teeth together, and dress somewhat all of the way back again. A while ago he decided keeping clothes at your place was a good idea, but you ended up wearing them more than he did. You blamed it on dirty laundry, but you really did just like the way that they would smell all tangled up in your blankets on your nights alone. 

With bare legs, you would tangle yourselves all up in eachother once more, and not even bother to look at what time it was then. 

As it had become his habit, before the two of you drifted to sleep, Changbin would kiss into your forehead “l love you. You know?” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Chocolatey goodness wafted up Felix’s nose, and he let out a happy little squeal. 

“~Thank youuu~” He beamed to the waitress. 

He took a careful sip not to burn his tongue, then turned his head to watch the way that the snow had started to flurry outside of the diner window. Minho flipped the pages of his book and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Whatcha reading?” Felix said with a little tap of his feet under the table. 

Rather than answering, Minho sighed out and closed his book. “Nothing now. If you’re gonna ask questions, then I’ll get distracted, so, nothing now.” 

“Oh. Sorry.” Felix frowned. 

Minho rolled his eyes, suddenly becoming exasperated over his new friend’s dramatic reaction. 

“It was something that I’m assigned to read for one of my classes. It’s about economics or something like that. I’m kind of just skimming; reading because I have to....” He took a sip of his coffee. “Y/n should be reading the same book considering that we are in the same class...but I haven’t even seen you with it yet.” 

You prodded at your plate of half eaten waffles. “About that...” 

“If you think that I’m gonna give you the SparkNotes you are sorely mistaken.” 

You writhed in your seat a bit like an upset toddler. “Come onnnnn, Minho, you know that I don’t have time for that, working at the library and such...”  

“--More like stealing my roommate from me. I hardly see him at our apartment anymore.” Minho made his remark with a type of snark, but knowing him, he was still just as sarcastic. 

“Yeah,” Felix piped up. “The three of us haven’t hung out in a while either!” 

“...Sorry, I’ve just been getting...caught up in things.” 

Minho cleared his throat. “I’m not saying that its a bad thing. It’s just something that I’ve noticed.” 

Felix nodded, “Me too! I’m really happy for you!! So is Chan, don’t get me wrong. We haven’t seen you so happy and like, not serious in such a long time. Really, I’m so so glad that you have someone like him for a boyfriend.” 

Your fork scratched your plate. “--Boyfriend?” 

“Yeah!” Felix beamed. “Isn’t that what he is?” 

Minho too held an expectant gaze. 

“I-I don’t think...we hadn’t really talked about what it is that we’re doing...or are.” 

“So you’re saying that he’s not your boyfriend?” Minho cocked his head in his confusion. “Well, you ask him and he’ll think that it’s a different story.” 

“H-he talks about me?” You sat up straighter. 

“Well, he hasn’t explicitly said anything, but the way that he never shuts the fuck up...” Minho suddenly became much more interested in his coffee. 

“What? You don’t want him to be your boyfriend?” Felix looked just as confused. 

In your hands, you crinkled up the napkin that you had resting on your lap. You hadn’t in fact, ever thought of such. Merely, you had thought that you loved him, and that you enjoyed being around him and that he had made you happy. Was it odd that the thought had never crossed your mind? 

“And he hasn’t said anything about it either?” Felix leaned in. To his side, Minho nudged his arm in the most non-obvious way possible. 

“...No?” 

Your heartbeat quickened in pace. 

“Af...after everything that happened back then? Didn’t you say that he like, confessed or something and you did the same? You’ve only been hanging out with eachother for weeks?” Felix pushed his cocoa away from himself to lay his hands flat on the table. 

“I...don’t think that we should press the issue.” Minho patted down the boy sitting next to him. 

It was the feeling that you had been avoiding for weeks: that kind of uncertainty and fear that you had pushed down so far after the night that it all came together, but you didn’t expect it to manifest like this. In your chest a knot tied itself together tightly and in a way that you couldn’t explain. 

“I...just like what's happening right now between us, I didn’t think that he would want--” 

Felix nudged Minho by the hip, motioning for him to let him out of his side of the booth. Minho rolled his eyes, but did so muttering, “I said we shouldn’t press the issue but here you go...” 

Felix slid over to your side of the booth, nearly shoving you up close to the wall with how near he scooched to you. Carefully, he removed the napkin that you had scrunched up into your palm. 

“Relax okay? You’re doing it again. Just calm down.” While his tone was sweet, you couldn’t help but find some condescending edge--real or not. 

“Doing what? I don’t think that I’m doing anything wrong??” 

Felix let you squeeze his hand tight, as patient as ever. 

“Do you not want him to be your boyfriend?” He repeated. “But he treats you so nicely? There’s nothing to worry about.” 

At first you were angry at yourself, angry at yourself for feeling the hot tears well up in your eyes in public, 

I’m so fucking pathetic. 

Secondly, you were furious at yourself for feeling anything less than the happiness that had made up your whole world for the past few weeks. You had worked so hard just to make something that made sense, and he made sense. Why did it have to be much more complicated than that? 

“Y/n?” Felix bowed his head down with his softening gaze. 

“F-Felix, I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“I’m just trying to understand so I can help you out with this. Clearly there’s something that’s upsetting you about, I don’t know, putting a label on it? If that’s the right word--” 

Minho sucked at his teeth, “He’s too nice to say that you’re self sabotaging again. Listen, you don’t have to have the answers right now, we’re just saying you’re getting in your own way at having something that could be really great.” 

Felix shot daggers in Minho’s direction. 

“I wasn’t gonna say this, but Bin’s been going through shit right now with his family that I’m sure he isn’t telling you about. Someone tipped them off about what he’s been doing and they’re furious. He’s been telling them that no one knows that he’s tied to them when he raps but they aren’t listening. Literally when he goes to see you it’s like, what’s helping him forget all that shit. He cares about you a fuck ton, and I’ve heard about it all. He wants you to be his girlfriend. Believe me. Don’t know why he hasn’t brought it up yet, but...” 

Felix took in a shaky breath, then turned his attention back to you. “Besides all that, I think that you should at least talk to him about this all. I had no idea that you felt this way. I’m sorry for making assumptions. At least, if you and him talk about it, you can figure something out right?” 

You took at the papery and crinkled napkin and dabbed it harshly on your eyes to dry your tears before they had a chance to run further down your face. 

“Why the fuck doesn’t he tell me anything?” Your voice wavered. 

Minho folded his hands on the table. “Knowing him, he probably thinks that it would be burdening to you. Selfless dick. He thinks that putting that shit on you somehow makes him seem like a handful or some shit.” 

“B-but I don’t feel that way?” 

“Then tell him!!” Felix’s volume rose. “When you talk to him, tell him that.” 

“What the fuck is this, a drama?” Minho laughed a little. “These communication skills are god-awful.” 

“Oh fuck off Minho,” Felix rubbed your back to soothe you. “This is real life, and we’re here to help out Y/n.” 

“That’s fuck off Minho-hyung to you.” The older boy stuck out his tongue. 

You wiped your nose against your hand, then Minho threw another napkin from the holder in your direction. 

“I promise that things will get better when you talk to him.” Felix nodded. “Talking always helps.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Thursday afternoon came, and the forecast had called for snow, but none had come. Rather, the atmosphere had turned to be dreary and grey the whole day long, and the temperature dropped so low that some local schools had to cancel classes for the day. Your university had decided to do the same. While you had been thankful and decided to spend the day working on your various projects, you couldn’t bring your hand to the canvas. 

All day long you had spent figuring out what it really was that you wanted to say to Changbin, and you still hadn’t figured it out yet. Even you didn’t know what it was entirely that scared you deeply. But, you knew that somewhere you did. 

Why her? 

You could do better. 

Isn’t she...boring? 

You hugged your legs to yourself as you waited on your couch. The memories seeped into your brain like some kind of poison diffusing its way. 

No, no. You’re wrong. You tried your best to banish them. 

You’re all mine. No one else’s. Don’t you ever forget that. Tell me. Who’s baby are you? 

You squeezed your eyes shut, and dug your nails into the fleshy part of your knees where you held them. 

You don’t own me. You don’t have the fucking power. 

Three knocks clicked at your door, and you knew that it was Changbin. Your chest shook with a type of anxiety that felt like prickling thorns. You rose to open the door. 

“Fuck. It’s so freezing out there.” Was the first thing that he said. “I wouldn’t mind not having to go back out there if you are?” He slung his coat over one of chairs to your two person dining table. As soon as he was undressed, you were overcome with the desire to be as close as possible as you could get to him. It had been your safe place. 

Changbin let out a little surprised noise when you launched your body at him, but he just as quickly held you back firmly. 

“Is everything okay?” 

For a moment you let his rosemary and cedarwood cast aside all the ideas and words that ate away at you. 

“Can we talk?” You mumbled. 

“Yeah, of course. Can we sit down? Get a blanket maybe?” You nodded and let him do the work of going back to your room to get back your knit blanket that he knew you liked best. He threw it over his shoulders them beckoned you to join him in his arms. You snuggled right up into his chest where he had tucked himself into the corner of the couch. “Want to talk about it now?” 

With glistening eyes you tried your best to look up at him. His cheeks were still bitten pink from the cold. 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about your parents? Or about what’s going on right now?” 

Changbin sighed and bit at his lower lip in his discontent. “Minho said something didn’t he?” 

“You can tell me, you know?” 

Changbin shook his head. “It’s not your problem to worry about, so I don’t want you do.” 

“But you’re my problem to worry about. Don’t you get that?” 

He sighed once more, then rested his head atop of yours. Where he held you around your arms, he rubbed gently.  

“And if...being with me helps you...I’ll come around anytime alright? You don’t just have to come here.” 

He laughed a little. “My place isn’t as private as yours is.” 

You toyed with the fraying fabric of the blanket. “You know that I can be quiet if I need to be. Or if you just want me to sleep over, I can do that too.” 

“I don’t want you going out of your way--” 

“--I don’t mind.” You nuzzled a little deeper. “So, your parents are giving you a hard time?” 

He tsked. “Yeah. It’s just...stupid is all. They care so much about what I do and don’t do when I left so it wouldn’t bother them. They’re trying hand out some kind of threats to me like they have the right to do so....they don’t.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

Changbin helped you up a bit higher up his body so your head could rest on his shoulder. “Nothing. Keep doing what I’ve always been. No one knows except the people I have closest to me. They’re worrying over nothing.” 

You formed a “oh” with your lips. 

“But, it’s nothing to worry about. I promise.” 

Already, you had forgotten what you really had decided to talk to him about. It had slipped from your mind just as quickly as you had let it arise. The two of you grew quiet, and you let yourself become overcome with the feeling and warmth that his body and the blanket gave to you. You wondered if he would’ve gotten mad if you had fallen asleep just then. It didn’t seem like the worst idea.

“As long as we’re talking about things, do you mind if I ask you something?” Changbin asked after planting a small kiss on your forehead. 

“What’s that?” You said with a sleepy and cracking voice. 

“You...don’t have to have the answer right now, but I just thought it would be worth it to ask, since we’ve been doing you know, this, for a few weeks now. You already know how I feel about you, I think that I’ve made it pretty damn clear, but, I was thinking that we could make things exclusive between us? Like, it just becomes me and you?” 

Drip by drip, the drowsiness that had swept over your eyes dissipated. 

“Would you be up for that? I just, it seems a bit odd to me that we haven’t talked about it yet considering...well, I think that it would be easier if we knew what we were so then we could, I don’t know, plan or something like that? It’s kind of a commitment, I know, but I want you to know that I’m willing--” 

“Bin...” You pulled yourself up from his chest. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? Did-did I say something wrong?” 

Who’s baby are you? 

“You want me to...be yours?” 

“Well, not exactly, you know what I’ve said before, but, I would like you to be my girlfriend--” 

A sob clogged your throat. Now that he had finally said it, the realizations came flooding over you like the deathly winter chill. 

“Angel, are you scared again? I told you that you don’t have to with me, I swear that I don’t ever want to hurt you or anything like what happ--” 

“--Like happened what? Back when I was so fucking stupid to get myself locked up in something that I thought would be good for me? Why is it that you want me to be your girlfriend, huh? I-is it because I-I fall over for you? I can’t run away from you? Am-am I just a good fuck for you? What is it?” 

“What the fuck? Where is this coming from? Y/n, you know that I love you, I fucking love you like crazy and I don’t think any of those things!! I’m not trying to restrain you our use you or anything like that, I don’t know why the hell you would think that!” 

“B-because you might not now, but what about later down the line...when I get boring or you figure out that I’m not as exciting like I used to be or--” 

“--What?! No! That’s not gonna happen!” Changbin reached out to pull you back into his arms, but you shook him off. 

Salty tears filled the corners of your mouth. “The last time that I-I did something like this, I--” 

“--Well this isn’t last time, this is this time, okay? It’s different! I swear to God that I’m not that fucking asshole. I get that you’re scared, okay, that’s totally understandable, but I’m asking you to trust me alright? Can you trust me?” 

Part of you wanted to trust him. In fact, a much larger part of yourself wanted to trust him so bad, it hurt. But, a smaller part of you, a much smaller part of you still screamed into the abyss that he was the last person in the world that you could trust; and that voice, was much louder. 

“I want you to be my girlfriend, and I want to give you everything that I have. All my fucking time, my attention, hell, just minutes ago you said that I was your problem, can’t you be mine? Is that not allowed? I’m just...I DON’T get you!!!” Changbin growled out the tail end of his sentence and only after he had said it he realized it was much louder than he intended. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...please. I’m not mad at you.” 

Your body had weakened, so when he had reached out for you, you let yourself fall into his arms. 

“Angel, can’t you see that what I’m trying to do is the complete opposite of what you think I am? Yeah I mean, it would be nice to call you my girlfriend, but not because I’m trying to control you or anything, but because...fuck, you make me happier, made me feel like I’m less lonely in this fucking crazy-ass world. I want to be that for you and you only.” 

Poisonous thoughts. Why were they even more alluring than the antidote that you had right in front of your face? 

Your limp body mustered up the strength of push yourself off his chest. Looking into his eyes you felt numb. With all the care that he held for you, you felt as if you didn’t deserve one single ounce of it. 

Why her?  

You figured that in some parallel earth, you would’ve been able to have said yes. In that parallel earth, nothing bad would’ve ever happened, and you wouldn’t have been crouched in that alley with snow melting into your dress. You would’ve lived a normal life without pain and doubt. Maybe you would’ve met him there too, and you would’ve been able to say yes. 

“You...don’t have to have the answer right now, but can you please consider it...for me? I meant everything that I said, but I...I also can’t wait forever.” You heard his voice grow thick. “I know that if...you can’t do it, or iff you don’t know, then I can’t just make it happen. There’s not a lot else that I can do. But at least I want to try.” 

You could do better. 

“I-I think that I need to be alone...right now--tonight.” Two more hot tears fell down your cheeks with a sting like a papercut. 

“Right now?” 

“Yeah, just--there’s things that I need to think about, I don’t..I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

“No. I understand.” Changbin sniffled. 

Slowly, your two bodies seperated, and the heat from his body faded. You thought to yourself, it wasn’t yours to keep in the first place. 

You lead him quietly to the door where you watched him lace up his shoes and throw on his coat. His eyes had become puffy, as much as you figured you had looked as well. His grey eyes looked tired, just like the dreary day that you had spent all day hiding from. Still, he smiled. 

“Y/n. I know that you think that you’re hard to love. But you’re not. If you take away anything from this, I hope you know that your past doesn’t define you, and that you can have happiness after it all. I want to be that for you. If you’ll let me. Only if you’ll let me.” 

Your clogged nose made a horrible stuffed sound and you nodded. You had listened to his words, but had you heard? 

He sighed with finality, then bent down to kiss at the salty taste on your lips. 

“Call me, okay?” 

You closed the door after him, then collapsed down the door. Your pent up sobs flew out of your chest with loud and ugly sounding sobs. Each one hurt more than the last to get out. You crumbled against the wood door, and didn’t even mind the cool draft from under the crack. Your world became a blur in front of your watery eyes and your hands shook as they took your phone from your pocket. 

Words of self loathing filled your ears as you searched up the name, but it was the only one that you could think of in your blind emptiness. 

If only things could go back to the way that they were. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

The walk to his apartment was cold, freezing even. You had worn the shoes that you had been scolded for, and the coat that provided you with barely any warmth. You knew the way to his apartment well--it was almost muscle memory by now. Streetlights passed you overhead, and finally the snow that was promised started to drift from the heavens and before you. 

Your hands cracked with the cold when you pushed the button to his intercom, and he buzzed you in without saying a word. You showed yourself up the staircase with empty sounding footsteps echoing against the walls. Your eyes had welled with tears once you reached his floor, but you blinked them away harshly. It was a futile attempt considering that he would see how red your eyes had become. 

His door was cracked with old paint, and the number had been scratched off with age. You knocked one time, no more than that. Somewhere a tiny voice had hoped that he wouldn’t hear the knock at all, and figure that you hadn’t even come up, and that you could quietly slip back away. 

But he didn’t. He must’ve been waiting. 

He too looked to be a mess: his cheeks and eyes had puffed up and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. He wore minimal clothing that hung loosely on his frame. 

“--Jisung--” 

Before you could say any more, he had leapt into you, and wrapped his arms around you so tightly that he could’ve rid you of all your breath. 

“Baby, thank you so much for coming. Thank you so much. I’m sorry how I acted at the concert. I just missed you so much....I missed you so much.” 

[buddyfromearth]

Object of Affection

For @gothamsworst​ because your entire penguin tag has put into me a great fire to write a sheepish significant other for him.  Mind you, I haven’t written fanfiction since high school so forgive me if I get something wrong (I’m still getting into DC and my parents think it’s embarrassing because I had a lobo phase out of high school.)

Notes: confessions of love; sfw (some slight implications at the end but it cuts off because that’s not going on this blog here); aw, gee, he brought a bouquet of flowers; hey who ordered flirting because here’s some; several headcanons in one go let’s go people; I can write pretty words I just mostly refuse to in favor of making it all comics instead; idea of flirting is just walking up with a bouquet and going “marry me”; I don’t know what I’m doing I’ve never written this guy before.

EDIT: fixed some things.

 Stuck between yearning for love and the fear of rejection was a difficult place to be. It was at least easier to know rejection than it was to have yearning for love going totally unanswered.  Oh, what pain it was. 

   Oswald Cobblepot, that troublesome Penguin known about Gotham as one hell of a man to cross, was madly in love.  Yes, an unfortunate feeling to have.  But he couldn’t help it.  Not this time, at least. 

   It was someone he’d seen around the lounge, lurking nearby where he’d watch the penguins. When he saw them around and was able to not make it awkward, he couldn’t help but stare at those eyes all green and deep like some dark thicket.  And those venomous eyes did plenty of staring back: he could feel their gaze fixated on him whenever he was working at the lounge. 

   Really, though, what did he know about this crush that had taken his entire heart by a single blow?  Well, he knew enough.  His eyes about Gotham told him that they weren’t much of anything besides a total hermit: mostly stayed home at a ground-floor apartment in a low-rent yet slightly decent part of town (as decent as the city could be, anyway), and had everything that was needed for living delivered to their door.  No car: only ever ventured out on a trike with a headlight on the front and a trunk on the back.  He wasn’t even sure what they did for a living. 

   At the very least Oswald knew he could find them lurking around the lounge.  So, that’s exactly where he went. 

   Of course, such an event was not something to go into completely unprepared.  He pulled out a nice suit, as usual, with all the fine accoutrements he was well-known for.  An umbrella in one hand and a large bouquet of bloody red roses in the other.  Even went out of the way to pick out cologne, albeit he preferred not to.  He wanted to make the best impression he could. 

   It was just that odd hour before the post-work rush.  Oswald hoped he’d not come in on a wrong night.  Trying not to draw too much attention, he made a long sort of awkward path over to where they usually were. 

   There they were, right at that surprisingly bare table he got used to passing by.  There was a pencil case pushed to one side, and it sat next to a tall glass of what he thought might be soda (of course, he wasn’t about to just try it: that would be a bit too much).  They were hunched over something in front of them, and their hands moved quickly with a pencil and a brush. 

   “Excuse me, my dear,” started Oswald, with a soft tone so as to not scare this beloved mystery away, “but is this table taking guests?” 

   They jumped.  Oswald feared he’d gone too fast.  Oh, wonderful, now he’d scared them off! 

   They looked up and met his eyes.  What was once a terrified look behind thick glasses quickly melted into something tender and rather curious.  “Oh.”  Their voice had an astoundingly flat affect, hinting at an origin out in midland farming country with the slight tint to it.  They cleared their throat, and moved their bag to the other side.  “S-sure thing, sir, sure.  Wasn’t expecting anyone to be over here tonight.  Normally people only ever come over to ask for free work from me.”  Their voice was soft and quiet as they spoke: an absolutely adorable sound that hit just right in his ears.  He could listen to it talk forever. 

   “Excellent.”  Oswald sat down directly next to them, putting the umbrella to rest on the seat beside him. 

   Their face quickly changed colors.  It went from a sickly pale in the lowlight to being absolutely taken over with blush.  “R-right, s-sure.  Please, forgive me for asking, but haven’t I seen you around here before?” 

   “Of course you would have seen me here before,” said Oswald, rolling his eyes slightly.  “I own this lounge, after all.” 

   “Oh, I…” They stopped for a moment, and their mouth was slightly agape as they appeared to slowly mentally register the weight of the situation.  Then their eyes shot wide open and they gave up a nervous smile with chattering teeth. “M-Mr. Cobblepot, sir.  I-I-I didn’t think I was something you’d… well, y’know, actually come over to see?” 

   “Quite the contrary,” said Oswald, moving in closer and putting an arm around their shoulder.  “You’ve captured my attention with how much you care about my darlings.  I see you in here and I can’t help but wonder if you’re some kindred soul.”  He gestured just slightly over at the centerpiece of the lounge, the namesake iceberg with a whole group of penguins he often spent hours watching on his days off.

   They looked over to where he gestured, and then they nodded quickly.  The nervousness quickly got itself out of that smile, and their entire posture melted into one of repose.  “Your penguins, right.  Right, the penguins!  Of course! They’re so cute: little communal flipper birds that just waddle around and honk and preen all day.”  They sighed and smiled, leaning forward and putting their head to rest in their hand.   “What I wouldn’t give for a life so carefree.”

   Oswald immediately had a few ideas come to mind.  Oh, he could take care of that: he could just bring them into his life and get them out of that awful apartment, pamper them with anything and everything they could ever want.  Ask them to move in with you.  Ask them for a date.  Ask them to share a drink.  No, no, no, that’s all too fast!  Play it slowly: perhaps they’ll melt into your arms if you go ahead just right.  

   “How often are you around here, hm?”  Oswald looked over from behind his monocle at this mystery figure that had caught his attention and proceeded to hold it in a vice-like grip, taking a moment to look at what he was dealing with.  Their figure was mostly obscured by big, bulky articles of clothing, but what could be made out was all thick and rolled together like some haphazard cake stacked up far too high for its own good.  It was very easy to look at.  “You seem to know enough about my precious little birds.”  “Perhaps a bit too much” was a phrase he wanted to add, but he wasn’t about to murder this feeling. 

   “I don’t really drink alcohol.  I only really come here to draw the iceberg and all the penguins,” said the mystery crush. “They’re so fun to smush together with their little shapes.  Their little flippers are so cute.  And their little feet are surprisingly complex once you get past all the flub and feathers.” 

   Oh, one of those artist types.  Wait, artist type.  Artist. Oh, this could be good: this could actually be really good for several different reasons!  Not just the romantic pursuit reason, either: perhaps their passion for the arts would include, somewhere in there, a passion for him. 

   “I see.” Oswald reached for the pad of paper they were so vigilantly guarding and said, “I can’t help but have a look at someone’s work regarding my darlings.” 

   A sickly pale hand with chewed-down nails shot over and clamped in on Oswald’s wrist. “Just a second there, Mr. Cobblepot. You have to promise me something first.”

   “Anything, my sweet, anything.” 

   “Don’t tell anyone what you see in this book.  It’s a lot of… well, it’s… bad.” 

   “Oh, I will most certainly be the judge of that.”  Oswald picked up the book, and then handed them the bouquet in return.  “Here, something for you to hold in the meantime.”

   Noting their shocked expression as they carefully took the bouquet in their arms, Oswald began to slowly browse through the contents of the book. 

   What they had said was indeed true: there were a lot of penguins in there.  They were doing all sorts of things: preening their coats, honking, spread out on their stomachs staring at each other, ambling across the ice.  They were all partway realistic, but there was some sort of fantastical flair to them. It was cute: just like them. 

   While flipping through the pages, though, he couldn’t help but notice other pieces. Things like the name of the lounge written out in poster type pieces with his penguins and their little iceberg on it.  There was, undeniably, a unique work of a penguin in a suit like his.  Curious, he turned the page. 

   And what he saw there surprised him greatly. 

   It was not only drawings of patrons with little notes about time scrawled around them that occupied the pages, but there were drawings of him as well.  Little notes here and there about the things he’d wear, the way he’d talk, and the way he moved.  Around one particular piece underlaid with purple markings was a portrait of him smiling: the note around this piece said “Handsome guy but who?”  It was surrounded by little scribbled hearts. 

   Oswald, in his stroke of peacock vanity that got to him every now and again, turned his head slightly as he was gently urged by these things.  “I see that you draw more than birds.” 

   The mystery crush looked over.  They caught a look of what pages he’d come to and they grimaced before sighing and hiding their face in their hands.  “Sorry about that.  I-I draw people a lot, just to stay aware of how to do it.” 

   “It seems you’ve become quite taken with me in these intimate studies,” said Oswald, casting a rather tempered gaze and a matching grin over at the object of his affections as he handed back the book.  “I must admit, I came here tonight thinking you wouldn’t reciprocate the feelings that brought me to you in the first place.” 

   “Oh, wow, feelings?”  The mystery crush smiled and chuckled ever so softly, rubbing their hand along the back of their neck as they took the book and put it back on the table.  “Goodness gracious, Mr. Cobblepot, I didn’t expect a gentlemanly type like yourself to be the romantic type.” 

   “Oh, but isn’t a gentleman always the romantic type?”  Oswald, emboldened by such a soft response, couldn’t help but to pull them in closer.  When they began to blush again, he grinned and pressed a gloved finger to their nose. “I can’t exactly help it.  And please, just call me Oswald.” He then picked up one of their hands and pressed a single, fervent kiss to it.

   “Ah, uh, I guess so,” said the mystery crush, “mister… oh, right, Oswald.  Right, first name basis now.”  Their face was getting hotter by the minute, and they began to stammer over all their words as they put the bouquet on the table.  “I, uh… would, would you be offended if I asked you something kinda personal?” 

   Oswald could already picture several personal questions and perfect little answers to go along with them.  He nodded and held their hands in his.  “Oh, but of course, my dear: anything you ask for, you’ll get it from me.” 

   “Oh.” The mystery crush nodded, their glasses falling down their face in the meantime.  When Oswald reached up and pushed them back to their previous position, they cleared their throat and quickly stammered out, “If you feel so strongly about me, would you mind if I moved in?  I, uh… they hiked the rent on my place again and I have to find a new one before the end of the month.  Don’t make enough.” 

   “Would I mind?  Of course not, dearest bird, of course not.  I have far too many places that need a colorful touch like yours.  You can come with me tonight, if it pleases you, my dear.”

   “You don’t have to be so heavy-handed with all the compliments.” 

   “Oh, but I believe you deserve every last one of them.” 

   “You’re far too kind.”  The mystery crush sighed.  “I hate to tell you this now, after all those compliments and affectionate talk, but I’m kind of a handful, I’m… look, I’m trans and if you’re not into a guy like me, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m- I’m sorry.  We can just go away from this table and never speak about this again.  It… it’ll be fine if we do that.” 

   “Oh, now you just listen to me.”  Oswald put his hands to the mystery crush’s face and leaned it over so they were looking at him. “I don’t rightly care about whether you’re trans or not, and I’ll fund that for you so you can be happy.  You’re just far too pretty of a kindred spirit to be left so alone in such a big city.” 

  “I…” The mystery crush looked baffled. They froze for a moment or two, and Oswald wondered if he had said too much.  After a long silence, they sighed and smiled so big and soft that it couldn’t help but bring him to smile as well.  “Wow.  Thanks.” 

   “Oh, you’re ever so welcome, my dear.”  Oswald pressed his face up to theirs and quickly asked, “May I?” 

   “May you… oh, right.  Right! Yes, you may, Oswald.  You most certainly may!” 

   With that, Oswald couldn’t help but press a kiss to their lips.  Their lips were slightly chapped, and he couldn’t help but nuzzle his face just slightly against theirs in some affectionate attempt to bring intimacy to such a moment.  This move, while unexpected at first, was quickly reciprocated as their hands took hold of his shoulders. 

   Oswald pulled away with a troublesome little grin spread across his lips, and the object of all those affections smiled like this sort of intimacy was brand new to them. “I can’t help but wonder what your name is.” 

   “Look, my name is…”  They stopped for a moment, but then they smiled and just said, “Call me Lou for now. I can’t think of a name that belongs to me.” 

   “Then let’s find that out together.”  Oswald took his umbrella up and moved to stand, offering his hand to Lou.  “Come, I can have a crew bring your things to our home tomorrow.  Tonight, we shall simply be enamored little lovebirds.” 

   Lou laughed.  Their laugh sounded like the call of a bird, with its dragged-out syllables and its pitch. They snorted just slightly as they packed up their things.  “You’re very honest, Oswald.  I like that.  I like that a lot.” 

   “What’s a little honesty between significant others?”  Oswald smiled and shrugged his shoulders. 

   Lou put their bag back on their shoulders and put their hand in Oswald’s as they stood up.  They weren’t much taller than him, and those assumptions he had made about their figure were correct.  “It’s a lot. Let’s go.” 

   Oswald only put his arm around them as the two gently went hand-in-hand to where his driver waited. 

   “What are the plans for this evening, Oswald?” 

   “Oh, I do believe I have a few ideas beginning to come to be.  Just you be patient, my sweet, I’ll tell you when we’re alone.” 

[eggtoasties]

Chapter One: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

Counter point: Good counterpoint requires two qualities: (1) a meaningful or harmonious relationship between the lines (a “vertical” consideration—i.e., dealing with harmony) and (2) some degree of independence or individuality within the lines themselves (a “horizontal” consideration, dealing with melody).

It was illogical really, Kuroo thought to himself, having to take a mandatory arts class. He was an athlete. He would probably major in STEM or business the next year if he didn’t go pro. But here he was, staring at the course catalogue, deciding between different bands, choirs, art classes, and orchestra. Irritatingly, Kenma had finished his arts requirement last year, taking a video editing class which Kuroo thought was definitely cheating since he figured Kenma already knew the basics. Plus, he not-so-secretly believed that Kenma would benefit from another non-electronic hobby.

Sighing, he assessed each class. He knew he was tone deaf and did not want others listening to him sing. Plus, he’s seen the red cummerbunds and bow ties the choir had to wear for concerts and refused to give his teammates the blackmail fodder even if Yaku thought it looked “refined.”

To be honest, Kuroo didn’t know much about the arts. He only had the vaguest understanding of the differences between Watercolor 101, Figure drawing 101, and Oil Painting 101. While he thought of himself in the studio, palette in hand with an apron tied around him, working intently at the easel on the next generational masterpiece, he remembered when Kenma threw his pencil-drawn mockups of promotional posters in the trash and told him not to show the rest of the team.

While maybe he could try digital media, he couldn’t help but imagine himself against the romanticized backdrop of more traditional arts.

He had to choose between the several band electives and orchestra. He couldn’t do marching band—he wouldn’t be caught dead in those uniforms, wind ensemble had auditions he surely wouldn’t pass, jazz band had mandatory solos, but symphonic band was for rookies. ‘Beginners welcome,’ was typed out with an asterisk under the listing. But, so did orchestra. Doing a quick search to figure out the difference between band and orchestra, Kuroo weighed his options.

He took piano lessons from ages four through ten before finally convincing his parents to let him quit—wearing them down by crying every week and throwing a mini tantrum at daily practice—not that he intentionally did it as an elementary school student. But, even from an early age, he knew volleyball was it for him.

While he wasn’t well acquainted with classical music, he had grown up with it from his parents. Well, when they were irritated with the bickering matches between him and his older sister, their parents would crank up the car radio, drowning their yelling. His mom would tell him she used to play Mozart for him when he was a baby which is why he grew so tall—which he would always say makes no sense—and occasionally, a film score would make the hairs on his arms rise even when he was trying to focus on the scene.

So he decided. He’d enroll in orchestra for the year, make himself unnoticeable in the back, and fulfill his arts requirement so he could graduate high school and maybe apply to university. Plus, he figured, as he ticked the box next to orchestra, he’d finally be able to wear his suit his parents bought him, saying that he’d need it eventually.

Folding the course registration paper and sliding it into an envelope to be sent to Nekoma High, he stood up from his seat at the low dining room table and decided to go to Kenma’s, figuring they could squeeze some volleyball practice before summer vacation ended.

.

The first day of his third year was unextraordinary. He woke up tired, coaxed his bed head into something manageable, and started his commute to school, picking Kenma up on the way. Double and triple checking his course schedule on his phone and reminding his teammates that they all had to help out in advertising the volleyball club—well, maybe except Yaku—he tapped his toes with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

His classes were nothing special, most of them a continuation of the year before or courses he carefully picked with the advice of his seniors. But, walking towards the orchestra room at the far side of the building where all the music classes were, he felt a familiar rush of nervous adrenaline spike—not unlike the nerves before a big match. But this time, he couldn’t be confident in his own skills or rely on a team to back him up. Counting the room numbers until it matched the one on his registration, he found the room with its double doors propped open.

Striding in, the large open space was in various states of organized chaos. Other students were already moving chairs in uniform columns, two to a row, and were pulling instruments out of cases. Unsure of what to do, he immediately found the teacher.

“Hi Jouda-sensei, I’m Kuroo Tetsuro,” he introduced. “I’m new—where should I sit?”

“Hi Tetsuro-kun, it’s nice to meet you,” she said warmly. “Ah, yes I see you enrolled as a beginner.” Flipping through the pages on her clipboard she hummed, “Is there a particular instrument you’d like to play?” sweeping a hand across the room. “We could always use more violas, we have enough cellos, weirdly too many basses, but we could also stick you with the second violins?”

Kuroo didn’t quite know the difference between violas and violins but figured ‘second’ violins implied that there was also a ‘first’ violins group and that he’d be more likely to be able to hide in the back in a bigger group.

“Yeah,” he drawled out confidently, “I actually wanted to learn violin.”

“Okay, perfect. Here—” she motioned another student over. “Tetsuro-kun, meet Daisuke-kun.” Daisuke greeted Kuroo with a shallow bow and Kuroo responded with a head nod, mentally rolling his eyes at Daisuke’s subtle disapproval.

“He’s first chair of the second violins,” Jouda-sensei continued, “he’ll get you set up. Daisuke-kun, have him take one of the rentals and teach him the ropes. Today’s mostly getting people set up if they don’t have their own instruments and playing through potential setlists,” she explained while twirling her pen in her right hand. “Testsuro-kun, you’re our only new violin which means everyone can help you learn—take today to be comfortable with an instrument in your hands and observe your classmates!” she finished, walking away.

“I’m Sato Daisuke, a second year,” Daisuke reintroduced, emphasizing his year.

“Kuroo Tetsuro, third year,” he said smugly.

“Ah—okay,” Daisuke said standing straighter, “Kuroo-san, follow me,” turning towards the back of the room.

Chuckling Kuroo said, “Just Kuroo’s fine—you’re technically my senior here since I’ve never played violin before.”

Stuttering a bit and covering it with a cough, Daisuke nodded once. He stood in front of a wall of neatly labelled cubbies and pulling a black rectangular case out, he handed it to Kuroo. Explaining the rules of the rental and making him sign a form, Daisuke taught Kuroo how to properly tighten the bow, use rosin, clean the instrument, and taught him simple exercises to practice posture.

Fiddling a bit with the shoulder rest as Daisuke excused himself for a second, Kuroo ran through the exercises to get himself acquainted with the feel of the violin under his chin and a bow in his right hand. It was uncomfortable, he noted. His left shoulder wanted to scrunch up towards his face, his left wrist wanted to press towards the neck of the violin, and he couldn’t comfortably hold his bow. For the first time in a while, Kuroo felt out of his element—he felt as though his body couldn’t do what he wanted it to do. He felt awkward and unsure and the back of his neck prickled as he caught other students look his way.

Finally, Daisuke came back. Holding a thin blue book in his hand he explained, “This’ll teach you the basics of reading music. The thickest string on the left is G, followed by D, A, and E. Notes go in order of A through G and it just repeats.” Making sure Kuroo was following along, he continued. “So, If we start on the G string and put a finger down,” he moved over to place Kuroo’s index finger on the first tape, “what note is this?”

“A?”

“Yup, great. Follow the tapes for where you should put your fingers, I taught you how to tune and you need to study and practice every night so you’ll be able to partially follow along in class.”

Head a little dizzy with the new information but also proud to have understood some of the basics, Kuroo nodded. Daisuke took Kuroo to the back of the group, explained to a student who Kuroo was, then took his place towards the front.

Kuroo’s stand partner was a first year—Hayato. He’d been doing orchestra since middle school, didn’t take private lessons like many of the other students, but enjoyed orchestra enough to continue in high school as a hobby. Although a little awkward, Hayato was patient when giving Kuroo a more detailed explanation of reading music, since six years of piano lessons had completely left him, and set him up with basic exercises.

“You need to make sure your left wrist is down and relaxed,” Hayato said, tapping a pencil to Kuroo’s inner wrist. “Also, your bow grip is atrocious, but that’s one of the hardest things for a beginner.” He showed Kuroo how the bow was supposed to be held, stressing how it should look relaxed and curved.

Making small adjustments while Kuroo shakily moved the bow across the strings, Hayato said, “Sensei will probably have you come during study hall to practice, but you need to practice at home too or Sato-san and the concertmaster will probably chew you out.”

Bow stuttering crookedly across the strings, making Sato tut at him, Kuroo paused. “The concertmaster,” he asked disbelievingly. “What is that?” imagining some despotic conductor in long tuxedo trails and a clipboard.

Laughing at his confusion, Hayato explained. “The concertmaster is the first chair violinist. In orchestra they’re like the leader of the group. They tune the group, come out second to last before the conductor during concerts, make decisions on bowings, and everyone kinda follows their lead.”

Nodding to himself Kuroo said, “Okay, so he’s like,” he trailed off, “the captain of the team?”

“Exactly. Except she’s a third year like you and pretty well known in the music scene in our area, y’know.”

Frowning at his assumption he admitted, “Ah, okay so,” he trailed off, “concertmistress? I play volleyball, I don’t really know music.”

Hayato laughed and Kuroo raised a brow. “I mean obviously—you don’t really look like a violinist.”

Affronted Kuroo said, “Oi, what does that mean?”

“Kuroo-san, you’re like, huge,” Hayato squeaked out.

Trying not to preen, Kuroo waved his hand and turned his head towards the front of the class.

Jouda-sensei stood on her podium and tapped her baton on the raised stand in front of her. “Hi everyone, good to see all of you again. We have a few new faces so make sure to welcome them and help them out. I’m super excited for our potential set list this year, but before I pass out the folders, let’s a hear a few words from our concertmistress!”

With scattered applause and stomping, a girl rose to the podium as Jouda-sensei stepped off. Holding her violin and bow in her left hand she beamed at the class. Briefly introducing herself and sharing her excitement for the year to make music with everyone, Jouda-sensei interrupted her return to her seat.

“For the first rehearsal, how about you formally tune us?” Jouda-sensei offered.

“Aw, no it’s okay—some people are beginners and all the section leaders already took care of it right?”

Next to her, her stand partner threw an eraser at the podium making her scowl. “Just do it, her stand partner complained,” drawing laughter from the class.

Giving her partner the finger, hidden from their sensei’s view, she laughed good naturedly and straightened her shoulders.

All of a sudden, Kuroo noted, the atmosphere in the room changed. Students were no longer whispering to each other, playing random tunes, or shuffling in their seats. Everyone’s eyes were on her at the podium. She offered an open palm and nodded towards the back of the room. A single note penetrated the silence.

She swept her hand towards the back and Kuroo was suddenly flooded with the sound of the deep and rich brass section. After a few seconds, she repeated the process and the woodwind instruments close to Kuroo in the back began to tune.

Hayato leaned towards Kuroo. “Before concerts and rehearsals everyone should’ve tuned beforehand. This more for last minute checks and also a show for the audience. The order and how many sections tune at once is usually decided between the concertmaster and the conductor—Kuroo-san, we’ll tune last.”

Nodding in appreciation, Kuroo turned his attention back to the podium. The woodwinds trailed off and after a beat of silence, she nodded once again for the tuning note to be played and she waved her hand towards the cellos and basses at her right. The gravelly resonance of the strings filled Kuroo with a strange sense of full contentment and marveled at the size of the basses, whose strings seemed to be quadruple the thickness of his own.

Finally, the concertmaster gave one last nod and tucked her violin under her chin. Hearing the drone of the pitch, everyone around Kuroo began to tune. Unsure of what to do, he stumbled to mimic Hayato who was adjusting his tuners. Since Sato Daisuke already tuned his instrument, Kuroo just played open strings and waited for the rest of his section to stop. Glancing to his left at Kuroo’s right hand, Hayato whispered sharply, “Keep your pinky curved!”

.

After tuning, folders were passed out to each student, filed with sheet music. Hayato organized the sheets on their stand.

“Since you’re on the inside—the left hand side of the stand—your job is to turn my pages,” he explained. “It’ll be good practice to see if you can follow along even if you can’t read, but no worries if you want to spend today just watching and listening.”

Thanking Hayato and teasing when he fumbled in embarrassment, Kuroo spent the rest of class in awe. Although the group was seeing the pieces for the first time, he couldn’t help the goosebumps on his arms as the orchestra came together. Even when he heard Hayato miss a note, noticed when the conductor would glare at a section, or when they had to stop and regroup, listening to individual instruments try come together as one left Kuroo wanting to be a part of it. From the inside, he watched as bows moved in unison and fingers slid up and down the necks of stringed instruments. He was hyper aware of the instruments behind him providing support to the main melody, and leaned towards them to catch their individual parts.

He set his gaze towards the front of the room and watched the concertmaster. Powerful yet graceful, her bow made sure movements across the strings, fingers moving quickly and accurately. Her body swayed with the music and her face, unlike Hayato’s, was not one of extreme concentration. She seemed focused as she watched the conductor and indicated entrances to her section through her body, but despite the multi-tasking, it was clear to Kuroo that she was having fun.

She trusted her section to follow along, for her stand partner to flip the pages at the right times, and for the rest of the orchestra to do their parts. When Jouda-sensei made the class begin again, she would lean towards her stand partner and share whispered giggles and Kuroo caught the glint of shiny pink polish and traced the way her hair fell across her shoulders.

He knew what being a captain was like—he had been captain since he was voted in at the end of his second year and he wondered how long she’d been playing for, how much she practices, and how she encourages her section. He wondered what the differences and similarities were between leading a team and an orchestra were—the differences and similarities between them, even.

At the end of class Kuroo promised to himself to practice a little every day to be able to play with the group and hold his own. For the rest of the school day, he idly hummed the melodies they had played in class and replayed images of bows and hands moving in unison.

.

In the club room before practice, Kuroo came in with his violin case. Greeting his teammates, he started to change.

Loosening his tie and pulling his sweater over his head, Kuroo heard Lev ask about his case. Swapping his school top for his practice one, Kenma responded.

“Kuroo’s taking orchestra for his arts credit.”

“Why would you take a band credit, you should’ve taken sculpture like I did,” Yamamoto exclaimed proudly.

“Your sculptures were ugly,” Kenma said evenly, over the sounds of his video game.

Before Yamamoto could respond, Fukunaga menacingly shook his water bottle at the two of them causing Kenma to turn his back and hunch defensively over his game.

Narrowing his eyes at Kenma, Yamamoto turned his attention back to Kuroo who was idly flipping through the practice book Daisuke had given him.

“Yeah Kuroo, band classes are so much work when you’ve gotta learn the instrument, why’d you enroll?”

Before Kuroo could respond Yaku jumped to Yamamoto’s side and jabbed him. “Band and orchestra are two different things you uncultured swine!”

Doubled over and grasping his stomach, Yamamoto glared tearfully at his senior, then directed his glare towards Lev who was slapping his knee in laughter.

“Kuroo-san,” Lev shouted, “can you play us something?” he asked excitedly.

Gaining the interest of the rest of the team, everyone crowded around Kuroo, nodding in unison. He rubbed the back of his head in uncertainty.

“I’ve literally just learned how to play. I don’t know if you’d really want me to.”

“We really want you to!” Lev said, encouraging him to open his case.

Begrudgingly, Kuroo went to his violin and briefly explained how to setup and tune, to the amazement of some of his teammates. Even Kenma peered curiously over his video game in the corner. He tucked the instrument under his chin, carefully held his bow and placed the hair on the A string and played. Kuroo focused intently on ensuring that his bow grip was loose, but secure, that his pinky and thumb were curved and that his bow was making straight lines across the string.

As Kuroo looked over to his teammates, he noticed Yaku’s shoulders starting to shake while he pointed a finger at him.

“I-Is that the best you can do?” Yaku nearly screamed, howling in laughter. “You’re not even moving your f-fingers!”

To Kuroo’s embarrassment, the rest of the team tried desperately to hold in their laughter and Lev deadpanned, “That kinda sucked, senpai.”

Stuttering out an indignant scoff, Kuroo’s brow furrowed, “I told you I just learned this today! A-and posture is important you heathens!” shaking his bow at Lev and Yaku.