#ignore how crappy it is i used my fingers to draw

[crapimgay]

I drew this for @chiotri-loves-davekat

They don't know about it yet bc they're sleeping

Inspired by this post by @michaelnotholden

[imbadatwrighting]

ARTISTS ARE ATTRACTIVE

SUMMARY: Tim Drake was never know for being the most attractive brother, but you always found a way to make him think he was…even if you did it in a unusual way with your weird staring problem.

WARNINGS: Artists are attractive troupe, hinted that reader can be mean to others, hinted autistic reader, Tim Drake in love, gn!reader, masc! Reader, reader being called “boyfriend”, blunt!reader, crappy writing bc I wrote this half asleep, reader wearing a tie, ooc Tim, short

PAIRINGS: Tim Drake/Reader

Tim Drake had a lot of things: brothers, computers, coffee. But he only had one boyfriend. A mean yet sweet boyfriend who apparently was having a major staring problem.

It wasn’t hard for Tim to realize you were staring him down from across the couch while he was trying to finish long past due work.

Your eyes seemed to be roaming all over his body as if you were trying to memorize his figure’s pose.

Tim let out an almost inaudible sigh, turning his body to face you. "Can I help you?"

"No,” you breathed out, not removing your gaze from your boyfriend.

"Ok then," Tim whispered, moving his body to fully face his Mac book once again. Sure, he was used to you staring at him almost all day while he talked to his brother or was working, but you never made it this obvious. He was used to you looking away when you suspected that he would turn to look at you. He always found it a cute little quirk of yours, but it just felt different this time. In a good way of course, but still.

Tim took in a deep breath, looking at you from the corner of his eye. He could see the way your finger tapped along the table next to you in a rhythm only known to you and how your hair was slowly falling into your eyes. It didn’t falter your staring problem however.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

You hummed, “looking at you.”

Tim let out another sigh, closing his Mac knowing that he won’t be able to concentrate on it for much longer. He would get back to it later when your asleep or fixating on something else. “I get that.”

“Then why’d you ask?” you questioned.

Your boyfriend made a sound unfamiliar to you. “I meant why are you staring at me?”

“Because I want to remember you.” A look of confusion washed over Tim’s face.

“I have a feeling you won’t be forgetting me soon, unless you know something I don’t.”

“No.”

“No?” he repeated. Usually by now you’d be getting to your point, leaving nothing in the dark. It was like your T.M.I button was disabled. Not like Tim cared, he loved to hear you ramble on about something while he’s doing work, it brings him a peace of mind.

“You look good.”

There it was.

Blush started to form on Tim’s checks along with a small grin. “Do I?” Tim smiled. He noticed the look of pure adoration on your face, it always made him feel good about himself.

“Yes, you look very attractive. I'm trying to enshrine this into my mind to draw later,” you stated like it was nothing. To you isn’t wasn’t, you were just being honest, but to Tim it made him feel butterflies all over again.

He wasn’t used to it. His family never said things like that to him, barely praising anything he did. You didn’t either, not in a bad way, you showed your love in a different way.

“What got you thinking on that?” He assumed it had something to do with his brothers that you talked to earlier this day.

“Your brothers,” you told. Of course it was his brothers. “Damian said that you were a bad muse but I don’t think so. You’re plenty attractive, making you a perfect muse.”

Tim felt like his face was turning into a tomato because of you. Trying his best to ignore it, he looked down at his dirty shoes. They were covered in coffee stains at least a couple weeks old.

“Do you think that the artists are attractive too? Because I think the artist right next to me is very attractive.”

Tim noticed that your fingers stopped tapping on his stained coffee table and you turned yourself to be facing Tim.

His face moved in your direction, blush even more distinguishable.

Your eyes looked almost doe-like when looking at your boyfriend and your lips were pursed in a straight line.

“What? You have anything to say?” Tim asked. His nerves were getting to him. He knew perfectly well he had no reason to feel this but his brain was fighting against it.

“I wouldn’t say all artists are attractive, like Van Gogh! He was labeled as ugly, ungracious, impolite—” you rambled getting cut off by your boyfriend pulling you into a quiet kiss, his warm lips on yours.

Slowly pulling apart, Tim stared at your glistening eyes. “I wasn’t talking about him, I was talking about you.”

“Oh.” Not wanting to mess with whether you get another kiss, you ignored the confused thoughts in your head, leaning back into Tim.

He smiled at the expression on your face. Anyone else would be dead before they saw it, but he wasn’t anyone else. He was the one that could break down your walls like you did to him.

Tim inched away, his hand still gripping onto your tie. It seemed like every time you leaned in, he leaned further away.

“Let me kiss you,” you whined. A bigger grin appeared on your lover’s face.

“I have work to do,” he hummed, fully pulling away from you. You grabbed onto his arm dragging yourself closer to him.

“I’ll make you coffee. The good kind too,” you grinned. Tim faked thinking it through, pushing you gently off the couch.

“Fine, but be quick.”

You laughed, dragging Tim up and to the kitchen while he let out complaints about how he shouldn’t be the one getting up to go to the kitchen.

You pushed him into the counter, lips chasing after his. “You know, the deal was meant for you to make me coffee then we kiss,” he said in between breaks for air.

“That’s stupid. I have stuff to do.”

“Oh yeah that drawing is super important,” he laughed, his tone lost in your ears.

“Exactly,” you huffed, continuing to pepper kisses along Tim’s face and neck. His hands trailed down you arms, enjoying the break your giving him from work.

His artist always knew how to make him feel good.

[theoats99]

New Girl at Bayview

Summary- Being in a new school is always stressful, more so when you've been there for a month and haven't made a single friend. What you do learn is that a boy in school is hated, Simon Kelleher. When you agree to become his partner for a class project what will happen?

No warnings for this story, just fluff and friendly bickering. I also post on AO3! Link on my page if your interested.

Most people thought Simon Kelleher was scum, a loser. And I choose to believe them, being a new student here beginning my junior year. I did though have a class with him, we shared English class, and he fascinated me. I just couldn’t fathom how it could all be true, he didn't look dangerous, the complete opposite actually.

It’s October by the time I talk to him for the first time. Our English teacher gives us a project, find a partner, and pick a book from the list presented to us and then by the end of semester we present a project together. I’m watching everyone form into pairs, that's the crappy thing about being new, no one knows you yet, so no one picks you.

But a tap on my desk alerts me to him, it’s Simon. And for a second I don’t know what to say, so I dumbly stare a second too long.

“Hi.” Is what I muster out. 

“Hi, I don’t think we've properly met yet, my name is Simon. You're new here right?” He’s smiling at me, and for a moment I can’t imagine how someone so pretty could be so hated.

“Yeah, I just moved here in July, my name is Y/N” He’s still smiling when he puts his hand out for a shake, and I extend mine to meet him. His hand is warm, and his shake is firm.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Y/N, so would you happen to want to be my partner for this? I think we might just be the only two people who don’t have one.” A look around the room confirms it, everyone else is already at their desks and tables chatting away.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” I say back to him, but really what choice do I have now? 

“Perfect.” He sits down next to me, and brings his chair a little closer. “So, what book do you think we should cover?” He’s close, so much so I can clearly see how blue his eyes are. So I look away and back at the sheet in front of us.

“Well, I’ve read some of these already. What about you, if we can pinpoint what we both have and haven’t read that could help us find one.” He reads the sheet over again.

“I haven’t read even half of these, not much of a reader. Are you?” I look back at him and nod.

“Yeah I am, I like reading. It’s a good escape, you said you haven’t read half of these. Well which ones have you?” 

“Uh, Catcher in the Rye and Frankenstein. That’s it.” He looks a little sheepish about this confession, I smile at him.

“That’s okay, if you ask me we should do The Scarlet Letter. It’s a timeless book, and I’ve always wanted to read it, so this is the perfect chance.” He nods along and we take the sheet, write both our names on it, the book we picked, and he goes to take it to the teachers desk. I watch the teacher take it and look at it, before looking right back at him with a raised brow.

I pay it little mind, and he’s back sitting next to me in seconds.I notice for the first time his hands, more like the rings that adorn his fingers, as he taps his fingers on the table. 

“What lunch do you have?” He asks, and it draws me away from my thoughts of his fingers.

“Uh, I have lunch fifth period, why?” He just nods.

“No reason, that’s when I have lunch too. I just don’t think I’ve seen you in the cafeteria.” I flush a little.

“Yeah, it’s kinda embarrassing. I sit all the way in the corner, the worst thing about new schools is not having any friends right away.” He nods.

“If you want you could sit with me and my friend.” I can’t help the little smile that forms.

“That would be lovely, thank you Simon.” He smiles at me, and I feel the fluttering feeling in my stomach, and promptly ignore it. The bell rings and I wave bye to him and head towards my next class.

Fourth period feels like it takes hours, when finally free of math class I bound towards the cafeteria. And while waiting in line it strikes me, Simon never told me where he sat. Was he playing some trick on me? With my tray in hand I scan the room and cannot see him, so I make my way to my usual lonely seat, away from everyone else. 

That’s when I see a girl sitting there, and I freeze in my tracks. She’s blonde, with some colored streaks. I take a deep breath and decided to sit, maybe she won’t be that bad? She looks up from her phone when she hears my tray on the table.

“Hi.” I say, and immediately feel stupid. I avert my eyes to my tray.

“Hi, I’m Janae.” Her voice is kind, when I look back up she's smiling. 

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.” 

“Oh, your Simon’s partner.” She says and points at me. 

“Yeah, in English class. You know him?” She laughs.

“Yeah, I’m his best friend. He was telling me about you last period. Anyway, how are you liking Bayview.?” I don’t know how to answer when she drops something like that. Simon had been talking about me? So I just shrug, as I go to open my mouth to answer her question Simon himself comes and sits down next to me, giving me a jump.

“I know I’m late, but I ran into someone I had to talk to.” He’s grinning at Janae and she just rolls her eyes at him shaking her head. He looks at me “So, what have I missed?” 

“I was just asking our new friend how she's liking our school.” This time he laughs, and then both of them are looking at me.

“I don’t know, it’s been okay, It’s only been a month.” I shrug again, and neither of them seem satisfied with my answer. “I mean, I don’t have any friends. And classes are okay, this school is definitely grander than my last one.”

“Yeah it’s because of all the higher class parents dumping money into sports. It keeps all of our athletes very well taken care of.” Janae practically spits out. I nod, it makes sense, from what I’ve seen the school absolutely cherishes their football team. I’ve seen one of them, a blonde boy with dimples, always smiling and laughing with others all around him.

“Don’t all schools though? I mean cmon this is America, football is practically the new religion, in my old school they doted on the hockey team more.” They both chuckle.

“So where are you from then?” It’s Simon this time asking.

“Wisconsin, hence why hockey was the hot thing. We deal with winter so damn long we make the best out of the ice.” They nod. 

“You're a long way from home then here, why such a big move?” Janae asks “Or if you don’t wanna say that's cool, no pressure.”

“No,it’s all good. My brother works out here, and over the summer he proposed to me living with him here. And I agreed, so yeah.” I feel awkward now, it’s only a fraction of the reason why I’m with my brother here. But they don’t need to know all that, right now at least. “Can I ask you guys something?”

They both look at me and nod. “I’m trying to wrap my head around why everyone I guess dislikes you Simon. I mean, it just doesn’t seem to make sense to me.” Simon just laughs.

“They don’t dislike me, they hate me. And you can say that, but they hate me because I expose people. All the fake, popular, nice kids and secretly horrid. And I let the world know that.” He looks proud of himself, and I feel conflicted. “I’m doing a service, really.”

I stare into his eyes for a second, they're so pretty, and I’m reminded of nature. How things so beautiful in nature are the most dangerous. 

“Okay.” Is all I say back to him, and the rest of lunch goes smoothly. I watch Janae and Simon jest with each other, It goes by way too quickly and when the bell rings I feel dread. I finally made friends and my time with them is cut short.

Janae waves to us as she goes to her next class, Simon stops me as I go towards mine. 

“What are you doing after school?” He almost seems nervous.

“Nothing, I’m gonna go home and do my homework. It’ll be so riveting.” He laughs.

“Do you want to go get the book instead? We can start reading it now, and then be ahead on the project.” I smile at him and agree.

“Yeah, that sounds great. I’ll meet you in the library then?” He shakes his head.

“No, I was thinking we could get new copies. So if that’s okay we can meet in the cafeteria after school?” I nod again, then I’m off scurrying to my class just in time. 

The entire rest of the day I’m thinking about Simon, mostly how I’ll be alone with him. I feel worried at the thought, what if he was a secret creep? I have pepper spray, and while I’ve never used it, my brother also taught me how to and how to defend myself.

So I find myself in the cafeteria waiting for him, ten minutes after school let out I saw him walking in, and with a wave I got up and met him by the doors. I follow him to the parking lot, and his car is nice, a blue bug. 

“Have you lived here your whole life?” I’m trying to make conversation, anything to break the tension.

“Yeah, my mom is the Mayor actually. She’s been in the politics of this place since before I was born.” It makes some sense now, the nice car, how his clothes were always nice, always new looking. 

“What’s that like? Like I mean my brother is a cop, and that’s already weird. His hours are so weird, I’m practically living by myself.” I laugh, and he looks over at me once were at a stoplight.

“It’s whatever, she's always busy. Always some dinner or party she needs to attend, always trying to make everything perfect.” He shrugs and we're moving again.

“I can’t imagine that, perfect all the time, literally no one is perfect.” I scoff it out, and he laughs this time.

“I would have to agree.” We're at a bookstore now, I’d seen it every now and again while driving in town. “Well, here we are.” He announces.

“Here we are.” I say back with a grin, in the store we both try to locate the book. Simon finds it first, and comes over to me with two copies.

“Found them, the last two they had.” 

“Great!” I grab the one copy and turn it over, I look at the price and decide I should have enough on me for the purchase. I dig into my bag looking for the cash my brother had given me while waiting in line with Simon.

“Everything okay?” He’s attempting to look over my shoulder, to possibly see what I’m rummaging for.

“Uh, yeah, just looking for my cash.”

“You don’t need to pay for yours.” My face must convey my pure confusion, because he chuckles at me. “Trust me, two books isn’t a big deal, I’ve got you on this, partner.” 

His teasing tone gives me a flush I can feel resting on my cheeks. I reluctantly hand him the book back and watch him pay for them both.

“I can pay you back, it’s really not a problem Simon.” I feel guilty about it, he doesn’t seem at all bothered by it.

“It’s seriously not a problem. Trust me.” He pats me on the shoulder as walks out the door as I follow.

“Only if you're certain, okay? Cause I'll pay you back.” He laughs again as we reach his car, he leans his elbows on the car's hood and looks at me. “What?” I huff out.

“You worry too much, that’s all.” Then he’s getting into the car, I feel a little defensive as I get into the passenger seat.

“I don’t worry that much” I bawk at him, he raises his brows at me with the same little smile “Really, it’s not that I’m worrying, it's just rude. To like have someone buy something for you, and I literally just formally met you today.”

“Sure, if you say so.” He says back as he starts the car. “So what now then? I can drop you off at your place, unless you're gonna worry about that too.” He’s laying the teasing on thick, and I can’t help the laugh that comes out.

“Yeah, I’m gonna totally agonize over your gas mileage tonight in bed. It’ll have me up all night.” I turn my head to him, and he’s just looking at me. I can’t read the look on his face, he looks like he’s trying to make a decision.

“I think we’ll be fast friends Y/N.” He starts driving then, after of course I give him my address. The drive home is lighter than the drive to the bookstore, they chat about some things here and there. I find out he enjoys playing online games, and that the site he runs with Janae is called About That. I tell him some things in return, some of my favorite books, how me and my brother live with our two cats, and also that neither me or my brother talk to our parents. He seems intrigued by the last one.

“You don’t talk to them at all?” His voice is lighter when he asks.

“No, we don’t. It’s kinda personal, ya know. It’s our choice.” I smile back at him, I notice we're getting close to my apartment and in minutes he’s parked the car outside the front door of the building.

“Home sweet home.” He says to me, I laugh. 

“Okay, well. Thanks for the book, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow in class.” I unbuckle my seat belt, but he takes my copy of the book from my hands. “What?” I ask, worried maybe he’d changed his mind.

“Just wanna do something quick.” I watch him open the book, grab a pen from his bag and scribble something down on the book's first page. Once he’s done he hands it back to me. “It’s my number, and since we’re partners we should communicate about the project.”

“Yeah, we probably should.” I agree, and then I’m out of the car in the building. My whole body feels light as I enter the apartment. I pull my phone out after feeding the cats and type his number in and shoot him a text. He replies in a couple minutes.

‘I hope you know I’m putting you in my phone as ‘worrisome girl.’ I laugh at it.

‘Uh huh, what should I put you in as then?’ 

‘I’ll leave that entirely up to you.’ I just smile down at my phone and decided to start reading.

[aspiring-writer-hidden-voice]

🦻

“And don’t even get me started on—” You pulled the phone away when you heard the front door open, smiling widely as his familiar footsteps approach. “Gotta go, he just got home. Talk soon!” The call ends with a press of your finger before you place it on the counter and begin to knead the dough you’ve been working on.

His footsteps approach once he sheds the heavy boots he always wore, entering the main living room as he huffs beneath his breath and removing the outer layer of his costume’s top half to drape it over the back of a chair before sitting in it.

“Hey, I’m making pizza. What toppings do you want?” One of your brows rises when no answer comes from the man currently focusing upon some paperwork mere feet from you at the nearby dining table.

Not even a twitch.

Well that’s odd…

“Green and red peppers with extra sauce okay?

Nothing. The man simply continues to work. As if he didn’t have a care in the world.

A confused expression fills your face as you pause from meal prep and rest open palms upon the counter.

“Hello?”

One of his hands reaches up and runs through his hair but he doesn’t even look at you.

Your tone grows a little harsher. “Hey. Don’t ignore me.”

A grunt sounds from him, making you think he had finally responded, but then your brow twitched when he instead checks his phone. It had vibrated which had initially caught his attention, not you. Seriously…what the hell?

“Hey!”

Again no indicator came from the man who was making some changes to the papers in front of him.

“HEY, YOU WITH THE FACE!”

The palm of one of his hands rise to cover his mouth as he yawns.

“You son of a—” You seethe when a tilt of his head tilts just right so his red gaze meets yours for a fleeting second, earning his confused expression.

Without another word you march over and carefully press the tip of your finger against the hearing aids within his ears, earning a grunt from him, and then you inhaled.

“WOULD YOU LIKE SOME PIZZA?!”

“AAAAHHHH! MY EARS! WHAT THE FUCK?!” His hands instantly rise to cover his ears as he practically growls and hisses at you while the little machines in his ears whine in a high pitch. “WHAT YHE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?!”

“My problem is when my idiot husband doesn’t use the hearing aids like the doctor told him to and I end up screaming myself hoarse trying to have a conversation with him.” A sigh slips from between your frowning lips as you adjust the volume on the hearing aides. “I thought you were mad at me for something or you got tired of me all of a sudden…”

A huff sounds from him as he draws you to sit within his lap, arms wrapping tightly around your wait as he draws you closer so that his head rests upon your chest. “Sorry, it wasn’t your fault. Just a crappy day and didn’t want to hear anything for a while.”

“You had a sensory overload, huh? You can take breaks you know.”

“…yeah…”

“Do you want to turn them back off?”

“…no…”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“…no…”

Your arms wrap around his head as you rest your cheek upon his hair. Gently you rock him side to side before whispering softly into his closest ear. “You want some pizza?”

“…yeah…”

“Gimme a kiss?” A soft giggle sounds from you when he presses his lips to your cheek without hesitation.

“Love you.”

“Love you too. Now let’s go make that pizza, you deaf dog.”

He chortles then howls with laughter as you stand from his embrace, not resisting when you lead him into the kitchen by a hand. “How long have you been wanting to do that reference?”

“A whole month!”

“You cheeky little—”

“JIMMY~ WOULD YOU LIKE SOME PIZZA—” The rest of your sentence is lost on the shriek and laughter that spills from you when he flicks a puff of flour into your face.*

Inspiration 👇

Inspiration 👆

[hotxcheeto]

Hi!

I was wondering if you could write something with Ellie x fem reader where reader is like an actress/film director who's passionate about just filmmaking and acting in general, maybe her and Ellie met because they're jobs crossed over or maybe Ellie was a fan of reader or something.

━ 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, fluff, mention of crappy dating??,

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope/a lil

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - so sorry this took months, I'm so behind but I was going through some shit lmao, thank you for the rq!! <3 ALSO making these banners here and there cause I'm running out of good gifs and got a lot of good screen shots and photos.. :)

REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED AND NOTICED!

"Don't you understand, she was my daughter too.."

You muttered your lines to yourself as the artist did your makeup, brushing over your eyes as she captured an old timey look. Using so many reference photos that the entire table was filled when you walked in, giving you both something to talk about at first.

That was until a comfortable silence filled over, Mia having become a close friend of yours on set. You felt excited every morning to come and get done up for whatever scene you had as the duchess you played. Knowing she'd capture every dated detail on your skin.

But today your mind was filled with other thoughts than just the make-up. Stressed to all hell for the next few days, knowing you and the director needed to perfect both your acting and the shots that would make your performance come together.

And that was just it, you needed to be perfect.

"Nervous?" Mia asked with a smile, taking a hint from your shaky, silent nature, backing up to grab a different brush.

"Extremely." You responded with a light laugh, looking at yourself in the mirror. "You got this, you're being nominated for, not one, but multiple of the most prestigious awards in media. If anyone can pull off such an important scene, it's you. Especially with how pretty I'm making you everyday."

You nodded with a small smile, but still felt like you could pass out at any moment in time. Clutching onto the papers like they'd disappear while letting out a shaky sigh.

"I know, but-" "But you still act like you've never been in front of the camera every time they're ready for a big shellshock to be filmed. Mind you, the scenes start filming tomorrow, not today."

You winced at the very clear truth to her words.

"Too loud Mia." She laughed, continuing on with your makeup, ignoring the door opening to reveal your favorite stage manager, smiling too brightly for the fact that it was six in the morning.

"The painter is ready when you are, ready to be photographed Y/n?" You sighed in response, looking at the clock as Mia applied an old looking lip color to your mouth. "I'm ready to look like a renaissance portrait, that's for sure."

"She said she might need you for the sketch too, just to make sure she's got the best outline of you that matches, but other than that, you should be done quick and have some free time before shooting starts."

The stage manager spoke, looking down at the tablet in her hand while speaking. Mia pulling away to look at your face, turning your head lightly with her fingers.

"What's her name?" "Don't remember, all I know is that she's good and the directors favorite prop guy really likes her." Mia took the cover off your costume, allowing you to stand up in your long, olden style dress.

"Ready to be renaissanced?" You nodded, leaving the makeup trailer and telling Mia you'd see her later. Walking off towards one of the nearby buildings labeled for set creation and prop design.

The place was decked out too, even more so since the last time you'd come inside. Pieces from every time period hanging about complimented by posters on every wall. Familiar drawings and items from some scenes of your favorite shows displayed out to remind everyone that these people had made them.

They liked showing off their stuff where they could, most of the workspaces and offices a bit more boring depending on who you were talking to. But other than that, the entire building was the best on set.

"Miss Y/l/n?" An assistance appeared behind you, wearing pajama-like clothing making you wish you were them just because of how early it was. "That's me." "Right in here." They led you to an office room, though there was only a desk covered in papers and the walls lined with movie and TV art and décor.

The rest of the room had easels and different sized canvases against the walls and laid on the ground, tarps on the floor with paint covering every corner. Jars of different colors and paint brushes laid about on different carts and shelves.

"She had to leave but she should be back in a moment. She said though, you can sit there while you wait."

The person pointed at a stood that was set up across from an empty easel, a very dim light pointed at the stool.

"Alright, thank you." They nodded and left, closing the door behind them leaving you alone in the silence to admire the painters area.

Spaceships hung from the ceilings in one of the corners, little figurines and action figures on the walls and done up to look cool instead of just sitting there. But some were still in boxes making you wonder if she collected them or would eventually sell them. Judging by the room though, collector for sure.

You sat down with a racing mind, messing with your fingers while you waited. You liked the warmth the office brought, it was like a child's daydream and it made you smile.

This person definitely had an eye for the arts.

"Shit, I'm so sorry." A girl then stumbled in through the door, her black tank top covered in colors that were probably not there when she bought it, as well as her blue jeans and shoes.

Her grown out mullet pushed back from her face that only showed stress. Arms lined with paint and markings, some of it even looked like dry clay making you wonder what kind of things she'd made besides paintings.

"Fuck, I shouldn't cuss. Sorry." You laughed, finally catching her attention but not her eyes.

"I don't mind, everything alright?" "You know, it's early, people are tired, you might accidentally drop something. But a perfectly good fucking vase someone spent hours making should not be one of them."

You clenched your teeth, feeling familiar with her frustration while watching her grab a few things from her desk drawers.

"Yeah, I agree. But I've also broken bones this early in the morning, so, I should not be talking." The girl laughed, rummaging for something and then grabbing an expensive looking camera and opening the bottom of it.

"How long you been doing this?" "Uh, couple years now. Fresh out of college." She stood up turning around but not looking up. "Something that I liked besides playing video games." You giggled. "Same. But with acting and you know, the other stuff."

Finally she looked up, meeting your eyes and then seeing your smile. The morning sunrise reflecting off your irises and skin, making you glow more than you already were before the window had assisted you.

She found herself at a loss for words as you continued to talk.

"I'm Y/n, by the way, but I mean by slight chance you don't already know that. I do hate saying that though, makes me seem like I've got a big head."

The girl didn't respond for a moment, suddenly nodding and humming.

"Yeah, no, I know you. Dina- my friend- loves you. Big 'Walking Dead' fan." Ellie felt stupid in the moment, thinking you probably thought she was an idiot especially when you chuckled, covering your mouth lightly with your hand.

"Aw, that's sweet. Tell her I love her too." You winked, Ellie still struggling to speak. "Yeah, for sure. I'm Ellie by the way! Probably should've said that when I walked in."

Ellie whispered a few curses under her breath while switching the settings on the light, trying to avoid your stare that was still on her.

"Heard you were one of the best at creating stuff like this." "Really?" She choked, making you laugh with a shake of your head. "Yep. Inclined to agree, you seem cool and cool people are talented. Even if they don't know it."

"Thanks, just doing my job."

Face palm, Ellie, c'mon get it together.

"So, anything you need me to do?" Ellie stood back, hanging the camera strap around her neck while stepping in front of you.

"Just, turn this way." Her hands brushed your shoulders while you positioned yourself, noticing how close she was when she knelt down. Adjusting your limbs to look as perfect as possible.

"Chin up, like this." Her finger went under your chin making butterflies erupt in your stomach. You weren't going to lie to yourself, she was attractive, very attractive. Somewhere inside your head hoping to all that would listen that this wouldn't be your last time seeing her.

"Just like that." She muttered, making the nervousness you felt in the tense room even worse than it already was. "Better?" "Yeah, perfect."

Ellie then adjusted your outfit and look, backing up to make sure it was perfect.

To her, with the lighting, you already looked like a portrait.

"How do I look?" You questioned, eye flickering up to meet her green ones. "Good.. good, yeah." "I mean in terms of beauty on this Monday morning, c'mon. Am I just, 'good'?" Ellie froze up, grabbing her camera to distract herself.

"I guess you're pretty."

"Wow, I'm so getting your ass fired."

You both laughed, Ellie getting down to the level she wanted for the picture while aiming the camera at you.

"Just stay still." You heard the camera click a few times, wondering to yourself if she ever got sick of looking at some ones face for hours on end. She then stood up, looking down at the photos.

"Perfect, stay like that though, just wanna make sure I get the-"

"Outline?" "Yeah."

"Ever get sick of staring at the same picture?"

"Not if it's you."

It just slipped out, Ellie panicking as soon as it happened. Her face burning red while she grabbed the canvas she had set aside for your portrait. Swallowing hard when you breathed a laugh.

"I knew you thought I was more than just 'good'. Was that an attempt at a flirt? Because if so, it definitely landed."

"Good to know I've still got it." She picked up her pencil, smirking at you when you giggled, trying your best to keep your pose.

"What's it like being you?" Ellie then asked, beginning to draw the shape of your head. "Eh, not all it's chalked up to be. Scary sometimes. Awesome most times. Lonely.."

"All the time?" You shook your head slightly making your earrings move. "No. Dating fucking sucks though."

Ellie snorted, quickly following up with a quiet 'sorry' making you grin.

"Especially when you like girls, it's an even smaller pool of fish, maybe like a puddle." "Puddle o' fish?" "My favorite dating app."

You could hear the pencil against the white surface, going both quickly and precisely, her eyes moving to you and back to the work in progress.

You shifted just barely, eyes scanning over her desk once again, admiring her green rolling chair. It looked kind of like yours at home, the color just different, but the design all the same.

"I get it though, sometimes I even wonder if the light is too bright." You laughed to yourself, Ellie even chuckling at your words.

"I just don't like paparazzi because I know I look like shit on camera." Ellie then said, making you snort and barely cover your mouth before returning to your pose.

"I beg to differ." "Trust me, you wouldn't differ if you seen some of the photos my friends have." You giggled again, hearing her pencil moving slower now against the the sketch.

"They're idiots though." "Just like mine, my dorks are a hivemind of morons." Ellie nodded in agreeance, smiling. "What's it like being you?" You questioned, Ellie erasing something from the sketch.

"Eh, probably a slower life compared to yours. I get a lot of freedom. Get to do shit on my own time. I like making stuff, art." Looking around the room you realized a lot of the décor was her own, by her hand.

"I wish I could do that." "You do, in a different way." "How poetic, Ellie."

She wished she could hear her name pass your lips again and again. Something about the way you said it, like a sickeningly sweet hum.

Your eyes danced to the clock, noticing the time was becoming less and less, the sinking feeling of your departure creeping up your back.

"You gotta go?" Ellie asked, noticing your stare on the two hands pointing at their respective digits. "Not right this minute, but soon." "Might need you again."

No she wouldn't, not actually. But seeing you again was definitely on her bucket list.

"If I'm not on set, I'm available. Usually. For you though, I'll make time." You joked, copying her flirtatious nature from before. "Fuck me." She whispered with reddened cheeks, unheard by you, or at least she hoped.

"Yeah, I'll make sure to hunt you down." "Is that a promise?" Ellie felt like a school girl talking to her first crush, hoping the canvas hid her face well enough. "You bet it is."

You glanced at the time again, more minutes having passed.

"Times up Michelangelo. The camera needs me." Ellie felt a pang of disappointment, finishing up the near perfect outline of your upper half. "Alright, alright. I'm done with you, for now."

"Make me look pretty, 'kay?" "Can't fix what's not broken."

You picked up the bottom of your dress with a grin, standing up from the stool. Dusting off the long skirt as if anything had gotten on it.

"See you later?" You practically asked, walking towards the door with little happiness. "Door's always open."

"I'll take that as a yes, I'll be back to check on the painting."

"I'm counting on it." "Better be."

A/n: Argh ( in pirate )

[rosieuv]

I have just realised that it's new year's eve.

Well, staying up past midnight is easy for me as my sleep scedule's a bit of a wreck. I don't have anything that I'm really thrilled about for 2024 (apart from deltarune chapter 3 and 4 possibly coming out that year) and I'm ending on a really lame year art wise as I still don't have my computer and I don't want to have to reinstall drivers and stuff. At least I have the excuse to make the 2024 drawings folder on my backup USB.

I like having things in chronological order.

Anyway, here's the first and last drawings from each year because why not.

2019:

This one only dates back to the 20th July as this was before I took art seriously as a hobby. I drew this in MS paint for a roblox game I was making.

This dates back to the 25th December and I drew this in ibis paint x on my dad's old phone that me and my brothers shared. To play music in the background, I would have youtube as a window at the top and listen to the same 5 songs on loop. This took a considerable amount of time for some reason.

2020:

This dates back to the 18th January and I drew this on my phone as I just got it at this point (the same phone that I still have currently). I had no idea what I was doing and it shows.

This dates back to the 29th December and it seems like I've discovered undertale. This was when I started using my crappy laptop again and I drew this with the touchscreen it had (it was one of those hybrid laptop-tablet things) with my finger and autodesk sketchbook.

2021:

The first one is technically the first of 2021 as it dates back to the 16th of January, but I've posted that one a lot whenever I redraw it every year so here's the drawing I drew the day after. It was for an animation meme but I saved it into the folder anyway for some reason.

I was trying to model in blender for the first time towards the end of 2021 so the last picture is a boring sketch of anatomy from the 31st December to be used as refrence. The last actual artwork was a day before and at this point I had a little drawing tablet and was posting art on Newgrounds. I also started using medibang paint pro as autodesk sketchbook stopped working.

2022:

The first drawing I have in my 2022 folder was technically from 10:30 PM on the 31st as I got impatient, but I put it here anyway. It's a gif but I made it into a png so I can put it on a tumblr post. Technically the first one was this drawing I made about 12 hours later on the 1st January. On newgrounds it's regarded as being in 2021 as it's in EST and my time zone is a couple hours ahead.

The last drawing I have dates back to the 27th December where I was experimenting with art styles as I had just gotten a new idea for a game (what is now known as Roboska LV).

2023:

Both of these date back to the 1st January however the seccond one was exported 40 minuites later according to the meta data. The first one is another redraw while the seccond one is a character profile and I just realised there's no shading on the hoodie.

This dates back to the 9th December and I haven't been able to draw anything digitally since my computer's botched surgery on the 16th. I have drawn some stuff in my notebook though, so here's the "final" drawings of 2023 (basically anything in my notebook since the 9th). The dates are in the bottom corners. I didn't bother with fixing the lighting.

I drew that picture of Kokichi Oma in the dark with only the light of my phone torch as I drew it while a film was playing in my school sports hall with dominos pizza. The last 2 I drew on the last day of school while completly ignoring everyone partying in the form room.

I got a book on how to draw in a manga art style so this is me trying to figure out how to adapt the tips into my artstyle to make it not suck.

This is technically the last drawing of 2023. I drew it on the 26th. It also featured in the post about my personal best pencil drawings of 2023 too: https://pearlhikara.tumblr.com/post/737810429204643840/best-drawings-of-2023-notebook-12-and-13

Looking back, I don't think my change in art style from 2023 is as stark as the other years. I don't like how my art keeps changing and I want to just keep it at a consistent "very very good" and leave it at that as the little changes annoy me as I like consistency.

In terms of actual new year stuff, I'll probably just rewatch "who framed roger rabbit?" and go downstairs when it's near midnight to watch the fireworks on TV.

[acciofanfics]

An Arrangement (Regulus Black x Reader

(Part One)

Summary: Y/N is also from a pureblood, well-respected Slytherin family, whose mother is quite close with Walburga Black. She hears wedding bells, whether or whether not she wants to hear them, well that’s a different story entirely.

Pairing: Regulus Black x Fem Reader

Warnings: Potential OOC, perhaps slight deviation from the -now- prologue. Crappy writing since it’s been a hot minute since I’ve done it 😬

—————————————————————————

The air felt thick and heavy, and (Y/N) found it difficult to even draw a breath with so many expectant eyes just staring at her. It was stifling really, and the only reprieve she could really allow herself was to just stare down at her shoes and ignore the other pairs around her.

“Poor girl looks terrified.” Mrs. Black smiled, but if one were to listen closely, a tinge of annoyance might’ve been laced in her tone. Regulus had been well prepped for the day’s ceremony, if he hadn’t been thrilled than he’d at least accepted it, was it too much to ask that (Y/N) had received the same treatment? Plus, the girl should be so lucky that Walburga had chosen her for her perfect son. Only great things were expected from him.

She wasn’t exactly ‘new’ to being around the Black family. While she’s never been as close to any of them as her parents had, she was certainly civil and she definitely was able to pick up on their mannerisms. She had been able to catch the tone immediately and not wanting to offend the woman, (Y/N) spoke up quickly, “I’m sorry… I was just wondering if it hurt…” A relieved chuckle escaped both of the older women in the room. It seemed entirely reasonable to be nervous at the prospect of sealing her fate at such a young age (to a man she was not in love with). Though, it was hard to ignore her mother’s words of caution: Times were changing ‘for the better, Regulus was a handsome young man from a good, wealthy family. How could (Y/N) really possibly hope to find anyone else that made such a perfect match? Honestly, if it hadn’t been for how much it meant to her parents she might’ve been more honest about her apprehension.

“No more than a sting.” Walburga explained with a comforting grin.

(Y/N)’s eyes flitted up to Regulus, who didn’t seem to be too bothered at all, just as calm as he’d seemed in the parlor earlier. Before (Y/N) used to consider herself a dutiful daughter, even now as she stood there in front of Regulus she was there though she’d first thought she should run away. But now, looking at her future partner who seemed completely content as he was told to take her hand… well she had to second guess her devotion.

She laced her fingers with his, and tried to be comforted by the smiling faces around her. Regulus’ hand felt much warmer than she imagined, but it didn’t do much to ease the chilling nerves coursing through her. Every fiber of her being was begging her fight or flight response to just kick in, but she remained frozen as Walburga readied her wand, focused on the hands that were intertwined. “Okay, Regulus, just like I told you okay?”

“(Y/N), do you vow to become my wife after our studies are complete with the intention of starting a family and to love no other? In return I shall do the same.” Regulus hoped that his mother wouldn’t mind the little extra he had added at the end, but judging by the small smile threatening to grave her lips, she must’ve thought it was sweet.

She took a large breath, “Yes, provided you do the same.”

“Of course.”

She felt a little sick while Walburga mumbled the spell under her breath and three streams of light flew from the tip of her wand and wrapped around their arms and hands. It happened to be quite warm, but the sting didn’t linger too long. In fact there didn’t seem to be any lasting indication left behind of their permanent bond… other than a nagging feeling of dread.

[the-iceni-bitch]

Just Put Your Sweet Lips on My Lips

Pairing: fisherman!Frank Adler x Siren!Reader

Words: ~1.3k

Summary: This storm was dangerous for a much different reason.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, kinda anonymous sex), definitely at least dub con due to use of siren powers, some angsty vibes if you really think about it, alcohol consumption, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: My official entry for my sweet friend, @slothspaghettiwrites’ Marvelous Monster Mayhem challenge!! I really do love breaking angsty men with some general creepy vibes, so I really enjoyed this one. Love you sloth!!

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!!

Frank shook the rain from his shoulders as he walked into the bar, frowning slightly at the haze of smoke and smell of stale beer as he moved to find a table.

He’d been hoping to make it back to the mainland, but the storm had caught him off guard, forcing him to dock in the tiny island community he typically avoided when was bringing in a haul. Not that he had one now, it seemed like all the fish had fled ahead of the monstrous waves that were rolling out in the bay, the peals of thunder and occasional flash of lightning making an already dangerous journey even more treacherous.

The waitress who came to take his order was giving him a shy smile that he willfully ignored, acknowledging her with nothing but a noncommittal grunt when she came back with his flat beer. Hopefully there was a landline somewhere on this godforsaken spit of land, the storm had knocked out the spotty cell service, and he wanted to make sure he called Roberta to let her know what was happening in case he couldn’t make it back tonight to take Mary off her hands.

He was still thinking about getting home to his niece when he heard the buzz of a microphone coming to life and rolled his eyes. Dealing with some sad wannabe singer do crappy acoustic covers was not how he wanted to spend his evening stuck in this dive, even if the performer was as pretty as you.

“Hi there, folks.” The sound of your voice sent a sudden wave of warmth washing over him, the urge to stop brooding and devote all his attention to you hitting him suddenly and making him shift uncomfortably in his seat as he fought against it. “Hope you don’t mind a little something to keep your minds off the storm. Always love seeing your pretty faces.”

Frank swallowed his beer thickly when you shot him a wink, a disturbing feeling of unbalance taking over him as you worked at tuning your guitar. He couldn’t figure out what was so unnerving about you, trying not to dwell on it too much and just focus on his beer. Maybe he’d flag down the waitress and find out about the phone situation so he could at least say goodnight to the kiddo.

Then you let out a soft, hummed note and suddenly he couldn’t even remember Mary’s name, his head snapping to where you were seated on a stool. His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the table painfully when you started singing, your eyes meeting his and drawing him in until all he could think about was crawling to the stage and kneeling at your feet.

He could have listened to you sing for hours, maybe he did, words flowing over your lips like the sweetest honey that he wanted to drink until he was drowning in it. You were the only thing in his world right now, his body feeling like it was floating in warmth as you sang right to him with a small smile on your face. The storm died down while he gazed at you with unbridled need, the bar slowly emptying until it was just you and him sitting there staring at each other, Frank’s breath sawing in his chest when you finally set your guitar aside and stood to prowl towards him.

“Hi there, honey.” You purred when you reached him, trailing your fingers over his arm as he let out a deep sigh. “You’re new. Did you get caught in the storm?”

“Yes.” His voice sounded foreign to his own ears, low and husky with desire as he leaned into your touch when you cupped his cheek.

“Mmm, if I’d known I’d draw in something as pretty as you, might’ve brought one up sooner.” You let your fingers trace the curve of his mouth as he let out a pathetic whine. “Stand up, honey.”

He did as you asked immediately, groaning when you stepped close and ran your nose over his throat. The scent of you was only adding to his feeling of intoxication, his fingers reaching out to clutch at your waist as you stepped even closer to him.

“God, look at those sweet lips of yours.” You tilted your head back and gave him a wicked smile, cooing as you watched him fight the urge to duck closer and kiss you. “You wanna put them on mine, honey?”

You purred when he pressed his lips to yours with a sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair and drinking in his needy sounds as you slid your tongue into his mouth. Every single thought and memory flowed out of his head as he drank you in, the only thing in his mind being how he would do anything to please you from now on.

“What do you want?” He gulped down air when you finally let him breathe, resting his head against yours and gazing into your eyes while he pressed his body into you. “I’ll do anything.”

“I know, honey.” You drew him after you as you started walking out of the bar, smiling softly at him over your shoulder as the slowly falling rain washed over the two of you. “Gonna take you home with me.”

Frank was in a haze as he followed after you, not taking in the surroundings at all while he ducked to bury his face in your hair and did his best not to trip over his own feet. He had no idea how long you’d been walking for by the time you reached the small, isolated cottage on the beach, winding his arms around you as you unlocked the door and pulled him inside.

You had him naked and sprawled across your bed in no time at all, your soft thighs pressing against his hips as you rode him slowly while he tossed his head back and whined. His hips drove up into you suddenly when you clenched hard around him, his fingers skirting up your sides with desperation as you cooed soft words of encouragement at him.

“That’s so good honey, c’mere.” You murmured softly as you gripped his hair and dragged his face up to yours, running your tongue over the seam of his lips as he blinked at you stupidly and dug his fingers into your waist. “Give me all of it.”

“Yes.” He moaned when you dug your nails into his shoulders, his pelvis snapping up into yours as you rolled your body against him. “Whatever you want.”

“Good boy.” You shoved your tongue down his throat when he started vibrating beneath you, his hips losing their rhythm as his cock twitched inside you.

Just a few more rocks of his hips and he was lost, crying softly into your neck as your warm cunt milked him for everything he could give you. He felt tears staining his cheeks as he collapsed back against the bed, severe exhaustion like he’d never felt seeping deep into his bones as you curled your body around his and put your lips on his again.

“Just sleep, honey.” You pressed kisses all over his face as he whined softly, fighting the pull of sleep and the suffocating warmth of your presence as his eyes drifted closed. “Gonna need your energy, lover.”

Frank hummed softly when your smooth honeyed voice flowed over him as you started singing softly, drowning out the sound of his phone vibrating in his discarded jeans. You’d make sure to this it into the sea once he was asleep, not like he was going to need it anymore.

[hotwings0203]

Based on a conversation I was having with @anima197

Imagine husband Dabi, scumbag as usual adapting as a newlywed to you

It’s been around a month of you two moving in a small but nice house that his parents bought for you. He’s always been an asshole by personality, but one day he goes too far.

Maybe it’s something he said in a cruel jest to see you rise to the bait, or maybe he touched you in a way that was more than offensive or hurtful. Either way, you finally snap- except, you don’t combust and break down quietly, you turn cold as stone.

You set your jaw, keep your eyes cool and indifferent as you skirt around him when he walks by. He doesn’t know that he’s upset you because you usually brush his tactics off with an eye roll or a pout. He’s never seen you like this, completely ignoring him and barely acknowledging his existence while he tries to get you bothered.

He tries pushing you against a wall to make you flustered, but it doesn’t work. You will your body to become limp and unresponsive as he snarls into your neck and litters it with hickies, desperately trying to pull some sort of sound of either pleasure or pain from you. It doesn’t matter how his hands dance around your tits and between your legs, you just stare ahead past him, your mouth set in a straight line.

He draws back uncertainly at your lack of response, and his heart drops to his stomach when he doesn’t even see tears in your eyes from overstimulation, like you usually do when he attacks you like this.

Before he can even open his mouth you’re already gently pushing past him, and it’s the fact that you’re not even angry or shoving him that makes panic settle on his heart.

This…this indifference, this feeling as if he doesn’t mean anything to you breaks his cocky attitude .

At first he tries to refute the feeling, he merely trails behind you from room to room picking up random objects and pretending that he’s actually doing something apart from eyeing you and assessing your demeanor.

You don’t pay any attention to him. You open your laptop and absentmindedly hum as you begin working on whatever class or job you have. He stands at the entrance, fiddling with a vase and looking at you from the corner of your eye.

“Did you eat yet?” He says in his hoarse voice, almost embarrassed to talk to you after his earlier libido was met with no reaction at all.

Silence.

He sighs frustratedly and runs a hand through his ivory hair. Turning on his heel, he storms out of the room and mindlessly goes to the kitchen, making as big as a racket as possible in hopes of luring you out of your catatonic state to yell at him for being too loud.

He eats alone, in silence.

He doesn’t finish his crappy sandwich, fuming at the bland bread that substitutes for the plentiful food you always make for him.

It’s almost evening now, and you haven’t come out of your room yet to even use the restroom. He’s getting worried now, you’ve never been so quiet before. You’ve at least been fed in the face, a finger pointed at his chest as you yell at him for how he fucked up. So why can’t you do that now? At least he’ll know what to apologize for, dammit! Why does he have to wring it out of you?

He decides a different tactic now.

Hed bully your emotions out of you, one way or another.

You’re about to change your clothes when he walks in for the umpteenth time. You don’t lift your head when he slams the door open and closes it behind him, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Why are you being such a bitch today?”

After a few beats of silence, he barrels towards you while you shrug on your nightie. He grabs your face towards him and knocks on your forehead harshly.

“Hello? Anyone in there?” He shakes your head lightly.

You look at his collarbones and then gently pull your face away, heading off to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

Dabi stares at you in shock, his ha da still suspended in midair. Did he really mess up that badly?

The panic in his heart has risen to his throat, and he feels like he can’t breathe.

He’s 13 years old again

His father is ignoring him

He messed up, he didn’t train well enough today

In the process of trying to be better than everyone else he had effectively isolated himself again

He’s practically invisible because he fucked up so bad

He stumbles back out of the room and falls onto the couch, clutching his hair and panting with wide eyes into a pillow. It takes him a couple of minutes to tone down his impending panic attack

By the time he has enough nerve to get into bed with you, the lights are already off and you’re seemingly fast asleep.

Dabi quietly trudges over to the side of the bed and stands over your sleeping figure.

You look so peaceful right now without any part of him to bother you. He wonders if you’re better off without him.

He slowly crawls under the sheets with you and faces your back. He knows you need space but he can’t help it when his arms move around you to hold you tight against him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did to make you this upset, but I know I fucked up. Please just-“

His voice catches in his throat, and at this you crack an eye open, making sure to keep your breathing deep and level.

“Just tell me what I did. Or at least just forgive me for whatever I did…I miss you.” He whispers this last part and buried his head in your hair, taking deep breaths and inhaling your scent. It makes his aching heart beat a little slower.

You don’t say anything, but after a full minute of silence you slowly turn to face him. He unconsciously grips your body harder against him as if he were afraid you’re going to push him away again.

But instead to his amazement, you have both eyes open and trained on him. He knows to keep his mouth shut when you prop your head up on one hand and frown slightly at him.

“You’ve been on my nerves for the past week now. Every time I try to talk you either cut me off or just shut me up with sex. You never clean up after yourself and laugh it off when I actually ask you to do something.”

He swallows hard and waits with bated breath for you to finish.

“You literally hounded me down for almost years to get married, and only a month after we actually get together you start acting out.”

You stare at him and he knows he can talk now.

“I’m…sorry. I’ll try to be, uh, better.” He finished lamely, and he cringes when he realized how pathetic his apology was.

But much to his surprise, a small little smile forms at your lips. Compared to how he never even acknowledged how big of an ass he usually is, this was a huge step in your relationship with him.

“Yeah, we’ll see. You better be on your best behavior for a while now.” And with that, you turn over and flop down into the plushy comforter.

Dabi let’s put a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the weight on his chest being lifted.

“So, uh…can I still like, touch..you?” He trails off, and you’re glad he can’t see the 50k watt smile on your face when he shifts uncomfortably.

“If you make it up to me, maybe.”

Dabi grins too.

“I don’t think you’ll ever have a problem with that.”

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

I Can’t Say Anything to Your Face

Summary: Lunchtime is Spencer Reid’s favorite time of day and not because of the crappy endless coffee, dry sandwiches, or the occasional chocolate donut. Spencer’s favorite time of day comes in the shape of a little post it notes and fits perfectly into his heart.

Pairing: Spencer x Female Reader

Content: Fluff (1 use of a$$)

Author’s Note: The idea of for this came from @shemarmooresfedora for giving Spencer compliment cards

Word Count: 2.6 K

I Can't Say Anything To Your Face

When Spencer checks his watch for the twelfth time that day, he can practically feel Derek’s eyes roll. He tries to cover up his action by picking at his sleeve, but that just seems to draw attention to the situation. Derek raises his eyebrows at Spencer, as if to tell him, I saw that.

When it comes to teasing Spencer, Derek doesn’t miss a beat.

The team, minus Derek and Spencer, continue to work diligently. JJ walks back and forth from her office to Hotch’s, constantly shuffling through piles and piles of paperwork. Emily seems to keep herself busy with the 33 tabs that she has open on her screen. Y/N, who’s tongue slips out of her teeth in concentration, doesn’t look up from her mound of case files. Spencer likes studying how each of the members of his team works, but he particularly likes to watch Y/N. She always sticks her tongue out when she’s deep in thought. Sometimes she’ll close her eyes and rub the butt of her palm against them. Other times she’ll push her glasses up on top of her head and her hair frames her face perfectly. Spencer couldn’t care less what she looked like or how she wore her hair, but watching her was his favorite part of the day.

In a totally platonic, non-creepy way.

A beep distracts Spencer from being distracted by Y/N. It’s an IM from Derek, telling him something to the effect of asking Y/N out. Instead of responding, Spencer decides to send Derek a more direct message. He shuts off his computer, which isn’t really used, besides for Y/N to send Spencer requests for online scrabble.

Spencer, ignoring Derek’s gloating, walks from the bullpen into the team’s lunch room. It’s a small kitchenette with a couple tables, a very old coffee machine, and an even older refrigerator. Peeking into the refrigerator, Spencer takes out two lunch boxes. One is light green with patterned purple and orange dinosaurs all over and the other is a light blue with green plants. Like clockwork, Y/N rounds the corner with a smile plastered to her face.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Spencer asks, placing his lunch box down across from Y/N’s seat.

“It’s just my favorite time of day,” Y/N responds, unzipping her bag and taking out her banana, water bottle, granola, and turkey sandwich.

Spencer tries to hold back his smile at Y/N saying that lunch is her favorite time of day. He likes to believe that it’s because of him and not because of the top tier kitchen facility the government provides for them. But who’s he kidding, there’s no way that lunch is Y/N favorite part of the day because of Spencer when he’s up against a crappy coffee maker.

“Did you know that sandwiches were only called sandwiches because the Earl of Sandwich ate his meals with bread, meat and cheese like modern day sandwiches? However, there’s much debate if sandwiches existed prior to this. Researchers actually believe that sandwiches were simply referred to as bread and meat or bread cheese, depending on the ingredients. There’s hundreds of works of literature that help to determine this,” Spencer says, as he unwraps his leftovers from dinner the previous night.

Y/N, who takes a bite of her turkey sandwich, listens intently to Spencer’s oral history of sandwiches. She starts to respond to Spencer, but before she can even get the chance, Derek interjects into the conversation.

“Hold your horses, there Reid,” Derek says, his voice tainted with sarcasm and Spencer braces himself for a clipping comment, “you don’t want to scare away the newbie,”

Y/N, ever quick witted, rolls her eyes dramatically at Derek. She gets up and moves her seat closer to Spencer who’s heart rate, at the thought of her sitting even closer to him, speeds up. He knows that it's just an effort to tease Derek. That she'd rather suffer next to Spencer, than to have to entertain the idea of sitting next to Derek. But still, Spencer is a dreamer; he'd like to think she'd sit next to him even without the added bonus at avoiding Derek's playful teasing.

“Derek, leave Spencer alone, I happen to adore his facts. You know, I’ve seen I’ve been here I’ve been a Jeopardy beast. And when are you going to realize that I’m not a newbie, I’ve been here for what 2 years-”

“2 years, 4 months, and 4 days,” Spencer says, cursing himself silently for interrupting Y/N.

Derek grabs his lunch from the refrigerator, and sits down across from Spencer and Y/N.

“You remember the day I started?” Y/N asks, turning her attention from Derek to Spencer, whose face is twisted in what he can only assume is an extremely unattractive deer-in-head-lights look. He shrugs off Y/N’s comment, as if to say it’s just normal for him.

"Of course I do, I remember how long each of us has been here,"

"Oh, right. Eidetic Memory," Y/N mumbles, almost like she's slightly disappointed in something.

Suddenly Spencer’s mouth is quite dry; he reaches into his lunch bag to grab his water bottle, but his fingers brush across a small card taped to the outside. Forgetting that showing the card to Morgan would give him enough ammunition for the rest of day, Spencer quickly scans the card. It’s a small piece of paper, but it suddenly has become Spencer’s most treasured object. More than the set of Chaucer tales that his mother gave him, or Gideon’s watch, or his first microscope that his biology teacher in high school gave him at his graduation.

The one side of the card is decorated in small hearts and there’s a sketch of a dinosaur on the other side. In careful handwriting, the giver of the card wrote “Are you made of Nickel, Cerium, Arsenic, and Sulfur? Because you got a NiCe AsS!”

Spencer’s eyes grow a couple sizes once his brain registers the meaning of the card. Handling it less than gracefully, he chokes on his water, which catches Derek and Y/N’s attention.

“You okay there, Spence?’ Derek asks, questioning what sent Spencer coughing and choking on water like that.

Spencer, not wanting Y/N or Derek, especially Derek, to read the card, attempts to put it in the front pocket of his lunch box. Unfortunately, Derek catches sight of the card and snatches it out of Spencer’s hand.

“Derek!” Spencer whines.

He can feel his embarrassment deepen as Morgan’s smile grows. Spencer seriously thinks that this is how he’s going to die. His death, being in his line of work, is something that plagues his thoughts from time to time, but any gory hero’s death pales in comparison to Derek Morgan reading Spencer’s love notes about his ass.

“Nice ass? I’m not too sure about this, Reid, but looks like your secret lover likes your ass just as much as your brains,” Derek teases, handing back Spencer his card.

“Those are private,” Spencer says, grateful that Derek’s going to leave him alone, places the card back in it’s temporary resting spot near his driver’s license and photographs of him and Y/N at the arcade.

“Hey man, I was just going to put in that shoe box you have tucked under your desk, you must have hundreds of them by now,” Derek says, taking a bite of his ham and cheese wrap. His eyes dash between Spencer and Y/N, like the pair of them is the most entertaining reality show he could think of.

“I have 645, now,” Spencer says, unable to help himself much to Derek’s amusement. Spencer hears the chair next to him screech and Y/N rushes to pack up her half eaten lunch.

“I completely forgot, Anderson needs me to uh, help him with something,” Y/N says, stuffing her water bottle into her lunch box in a flustered state. Spencer watches as she rushes, her need to leave the kitchenette quite evident. Spencer is left wondering why she has to go see Anderson, of all people.

“Anderson? What does he want with you? I don’t remember Hotch saying anything about that,” Spencer says, his voice comes off a little more bitter than he indented.

“Maybe Anderson has some extracurriculars that he needs Y/N’s help with Spencer,” Derek says with a wink. Spencer’s brow tightens and his blush deepens as if he’s trying to decipher the way that Derek’s voice is laced with suggestion. The only logical conclusion is that Y/N is flustered because she’s sneaking off to see Anderson, because she likes him.

Y/N likes Anderson? Something about that doesn’t taste right in Spencer’s mouth.

Like the wind, Y/N is gone and all that remains is Derek’s sly chuckle.

“What!” Spencer says, much too loud for him to continue the coy and unassuming demeanor he usually produces when Y/N gets hit on at the bar or on case by local cops.

“Nothing, Reid. You're just clueless. Just think about how many of those little compliment cards you’ve gotten,” Derek says. He reaches into Spencer’s lunch box and takes his brownie. Usually, Spencer would have protested, but Derek’s words sent him into a confused spiral.

“645,” Spencer responds.

“Okay,” Derek continues, “645 days you’ve gotten those cute little cards in your lunch box or taped to your hotel room door on cases. Now, Reid think. How many years, months, and days, is 645 days”

“That’s 2 years, 4 months, and 3 days,” Spencer starts, “now given if it’s a Leap Year that could change it a little bit bit-”

“Think about it Reid,” Derek says, talking slowly to get the words sink in and hoping that he doesn’t have to spell it out for him.

“Y/N?” Spencer asks, kind of like he can’t believe it, but desperately wants to believe it at the same time.

“Y/N,” Derek repeats, “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long, Reid. She’s been making eyes at you the day she’s gotten here. It’s almost sickening to watch you to dance around each other,”

“Y/N,” Spencer says, it’s like he’s saying her name for the first time. It’s the most beautiful string of syllables to ever come from his lips.

Spencer pushes back the chair and swings the door open. As he walks to Y/N’s desk he gets distracted by the little brown shoe box that sticks out slightly from under his desk. He crouches down and picks it up, hoping that it can be helpful. He approaches Y/N’s desk, but JJ stops him before he can go closer.

“Stairwell,” Is all she says before she brushes past with an armful of case files. Spencer, heading JJ’s advice, practically runs to the stairwell. As he approaches he can hear quiet sobs, which he can only imagine are Y/N’s.

Spencer opens the door and Y/N, startled, stands up and tries to mop the tears away from her face.

“Spencer, oh god, I didn’t know you were here, I’m okay, it’s just me being a little silly,” she says, trying to laugh through what she can only assume is going to be rejection.

“I really hope you don’t think these are silly, well some are kind of silly, but others were very poetic,” Spencer says, taking a step forward and gesturing with the shoe box to make it obvious to Y/N that he’s talking about the compliment cards.

“What are you talking about, Spencer?” Y/N says, feigning ignorance.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You're much too smart to play dumb,” Spencer says, moving closer to Y/N so he can wipe her tear-stricken face with the sleeve of his soft cardigan. He tries not to focus on the way that Y/N seems to melt into his touch. He knows that if he can get another touch of that, he’ll never want to touch another person ever again.

“I’m not playing dumb, Spence. I just never planned for you to find out,” Y/N mumbles. Spencer’s face resembles a mix between shock and confusion.

“Why would you not tell me, I don’t think I made it anything but obvious that I’m crazy about you,” Spencer says, deeply wondering why Y/N would ever hide something like this from him.

“God Spencer, have you ever looked in a mirror?” Y/N asks him, sitting down on the third step, “you’re so gorgeous, Spencer, I can’t say anything to your face. So the next best thing was to write down everything that I wanted to say to you,” Y/N finishes, a little embarrassed. She tries to hide that embarrassment by not making eye contact with Spencer, who sits down next to her.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Spencer asks, not entirely sure that he heard her correctly.

Y/N peaks at him with teary eyes and a runny nose. Spencer thanks science and the universe for his Eidetic Memory. He knows that there won’t be a single day of his life that he won’t want to think back to this day and remember the way that Y/N looked when she first told him that she thinks he’s gorgeous.

“I think you’re the most beautiful person that I’ve ever seen,” Y/N says breathily, her voice laced with restraint. She’s terrified of rejection, terrified that Spencer will turn her down still.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that,” Spencer says, equally as quiet and equally as terrified. He notices that Y/N’s hand creeps closer to his. Spencer is itching to intertwine it to his and never let go.

“You deserve to hear it more often, hence the cards,” Y/N explains, moving her hand even more closer to Spencer’s. He has no choice but to wrap his much larger one in Y/N’s smaller one.

“You meant it, right?” Spencer asks, bravely putting her heart out there on the line, “because if you did Y/N, that I’d really like to kiss you right now. But if you didn’t then that’s-”

Spencer tries to finish the sentence, to give Y/N an out, but somehow she doesn’t take it. Somehow she decides to kiss him.

Spencer has kissed a total of three people in his entire life, but none of them ever mattered again the second he feels Y/N’s lips against his and her hands in his hair. Spencer doesn’t complain when Y/N starts to set the pace. Her lips roam across his face. They venture across his jaw, up closer to his nose and then back down to his lips. Spencer had no clue Y/N can kiss like this. It's a little passionate for a first kiss, but maybe it's just the pent up tension and frustration 2 years in the making finally being let out. He's dreamt of the way that Y/N's pillowy lips would feel when they were finally pressed up against his. Spencer, from the fibers that make him up to the hormones that surge throughout his body, tries to be brave. He places his hands so they rest on Y/N’s neck. He’s not passive, but he’s happy to sit back and let Y/N have her way as she continues her feverish assault on his lips.

Her ministrations are interrupted, however, when the box of cards falls from Spencer’s lap. It seems to remind both of them that they are in the stairwell of the FBI making out like over zealous teenagers for the first time. Y/N lets out a small giggle. Spencer wishes he can write down the feeling it gives him and tuck it away safely in a shoe box.

“I hope you know that those compliments aren’t platonic, Spencer. I really do think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” Y/N says, her fingers gravitating to the brown curls behind Spencer’s ears. He has the softest, silkiest hair she’s ever felt.

“That’s a good thing, Y/N, because you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,”

Standing up, Y/N winks and pecks Spencer on the cheek, “I hate to break it to you, darling, but I think I win when it comes compliments,”

--Thank you for reading--

Taglist (Comment & I'll Happily Add You)

@shemarmooresfedora

@april-14-blog

@willowrose99

@calm-and-doctor

@spideygenius

@measure-in-pain

@nomajdetective

[dreamyjoons]

Our ‘Get Along’ Shirt - pjm

⇢ another day, another endless round of you and Jimin bickering. It’s never ending, all-consuming, and your friends have had enough. Namjoon decides to end it once and for all - with help from a shirt for squabbling toddlers.

Genre/warnings: smut, 18+! ‘enemies’-to-lovers, swearing, semi-public smut, mutual masturbation, fingering, honestly at this point a sweat kink, multiple orgasms, light choking, some spitting, unprotected sex, creampie.

Words: 14.2k lol

A/N: well hello! I’m back baby, and to celebrate i had to exorcise some Jimin demons. Did i talk about him sweating a lot? Yes. Did i use my favourite pic of him for the header? Also yes. Don’t @ me, i already know. I hope you enjoy!!!

"You're so wrong about this, it's actually kind of embarrassing."

"No you're wrong, only an idiot would think the way you do."

"Guys, no one - and I really mean this - no one cares about what kind of cups you need for beer pong. You've been arguing this for like twenty minutes now." Hoseok huffs, sitting back into the couch.

"Eighteen minutes." Namjoon sighs, tipping back his cup and gulping down its contents.

"But solo cups are far superior-"

"Jimin, they aren't!" You snap, dragging your glare away from his rolling eyes, deciding you never wanna look at him ever again.

"Please stop." Jungkook sighs, slipping off the chair beside Hoseok. His eyes flick between you before scanning the rest of the people in the room, slowly moving to the thump of the music. "Gonna find Yoongi and Tae." He mumbles before disappearing through the mass of bodies.

You'd been at the house party for less than three minutes before you and Jimin found a reason to have an argument. At first, it was how late you were - even though you found out he only got there five minutes before you. Then when you commented on the music choices to Yoongi, he found a way to disagree - despite you both knowing he loved the artist. On and on it went. Now here you were; Namjoon and Hoseok on the couch watching you both with bored expressions, Jin tuned out and typing rapidly on his phone beside them. Jimin stood to your left, and you made sure to keep him totally out of your sight.

But it was getting harder to hear him, thankfully. And he was losing steam. The house was crowded and loud, lively dancers everywhere and the smell of alcohol rich in the air. It was already way too hot out, but being stuffed inside at this party was causing everyone to sweat. You could see condensation forming on the walls.

The house was huge and expensively decorated, belonging to some producer friend of Namjoon. Marbled floors met white walls, a rug carpet covering the floor that made you wince when you thought about the price. It was sprawling and full of a ridiculous number rooms. Yet still, people had to squeeze between the spaces, excuses and polite taps lost in the fury of heat and confinement.

You held your can to your forehead to cool yourself down but it had grown warm waiting for you and Jimin to finish your current spout. You grimace but take a sip anyway - at least if you get a buzz you can ignore him for a little. You felt a pit of guilt at making Jungkook leave. But you were riled up, and you couldn't back down. Not to Jimin.

You saw Jimin tip his head back to drink out of the corner of your eye, but you daren't look at him. He was as insufferable as he was hot as hell, and not just in temperature.

However, you had managed to take a better look at him earlier in the night. His beige silk shirt was already sticking to his skin, tucked into tight jeans blacker than you had ever seen. Who wears silk to a house party? The necklace that he always wore sat just below his collarbones, and you're reminded of all the times you've wanted to throttle him with that damn chain. He'd been pushing his dark hair back all night - you could tell by how it fell about his face, silky strands falling into his eyes. Was he wearing some kind of lipgloss too? You grumble into your drink. He was too pretty for his own good.

At first the sparring was fun. There was an attraction there, on your part at least. It was spicy, something hot and fast, a way to see how compatible you were. Maybe you had some feelings for him. Possibly, potentially.

But over time it devolved. It felt like he'd say things just to get a rise out of you, to draw your attention into a battle with him. And now here you were, bitterly avoiding the man's existence.

"God, why is it so hot here?" Jin gasps, blotting his face with his sleeve.

"Probably haven't got the air con on." Jimin shrugs, taking a swig from his glass.

"It's on-" You start, eyes flicking to where you thought you could see a vent in the ceiling. It was open, so you assumed it would be on - it had to be.

"I highly doubt that."

Jimin gives you the look he always does - where he tilts his head back and stares into your soul. His plump lips part, tongue pressed behind his teeth, goading you into his trap. He gets his way every time.

"Why would they not have it on? It's burning hot even without a house full of people."

"Then it's clearly a crappy unit." He shrugs, but his words are quick and his eyes are still intensely focused on you.

"Jimin have you seen the rest of this house? Don't be dumb-"

"Shut up!"

You and Jimin spin to your friends who had all shouted in unison. The ones who could still stand to be around you both arguing, anyway. Several of the dancers that were nearby stopped to look at the exclamation but slowly drifted back into the music - albeit before taking a step further away from your group.

"Enough. I'm gonna put an end to this once and for all." Namjoon gets to his feet and strides away with purpose, standing a head above nearly everyone in the crowd.

You shiftily look at Jimin before silently waiting for Namjoon to return, confusion thick in your brain. You awkwardly chewed on your lip as the seconds ticked by, before finally he stalks back, his bag under his arm.

He throws himself back into his seat, flips open the top of his bag and rifles through.

Finally he pulls out a heap of bright yellow material, and with a small noise, he dumps his bag beside him before bolting up. He unravels the material and holds it up to you, grin growing on his face.

It takes you a few seconds to focus on what he is holding out to you and Jimin - but when you realise, you gasp.

"'Our get along shirt'? Namjoon you've gotta be joking." you splutter, scanning the shirt.

It was a sickly yellow, 'our get along shirt' printed on it in what appeared to be black glitter. It could probably fit both you and Jimin in it, maybe Yoongi could slip in too. It looked somewhat roomy, but that was not the point.

"What?" Jimin asks, lips parted as he stares into the glitter.

"You're both gonna wear it and get over whatever bullshit is going on here." Namjoon says so casually, as if he was asking the time or giving directions. But you saw the seriousness in the minute movements of his face. The clench on his jaw, the hardiness of his eyes.

"We're adults Namjoon, you can't expect us to wear that." Jimin's face had gone into a full blush, but his frown was deep as he stared at Namjoon.

"You are both gonna wear it."

"No-" You shout, but Namjoon pointedly huffs at you, and you take the hint.

"Put the shirt on. By the end of the night, either one of you will have killed the other or you have this sorted out. Because if not, you'll end up pushing us all away. For good." Namjoon finishes with a sigh, the depth of his gaze so severe it confirms that he isn’t playing with you.

You look behind him at Jin and Hoseok, and the direction in which Jungkook had walked away. Jin and Hoseok looked deadly serious, no hint of a smile or a cackle of laughter like you'd expect.

He had a point. You knew it. But it was so hard - Jimin couldn't let things lie, and you couldn't back away from a fight when it was him you were fighting. But to see others dropping out from around you...

"Hand over the shirt."

You spin to stare at Jimin. His face was tight, jaw set and eyebrows drawn. It had dawned on him too, just how far this had gone. But he obviously didn't like the idea of it, and neither did you.

"Fine but if I do kill him I’m taking you all down with me as accessories." You sigh, reaching forward and taking the shirt from Namjoon.

“How long have you had this, Joon?” Jimin asks, fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

“Long enough.”

You turn it in your hands and with a deep breath, you pull the shirt over your head, sticking your arm through the sleeve and head through the collar. Your left arm hangs loosely in the shirt, and you begin to fret about what you should do with it. Maybe you should just stick it in your pocket? You don't wanna brush anything-

Before you could follow that train of thought, Jimin tugs you and the shirt towards him. You follow, gulping thickly. He casts one last look at Namjoon before putting his head under the bottom of the shirt. within seconds his head is through the collar, his shoulder bumping yours as he tries to get comfortable.

The air is thick around you, the extra warmth of him being so close to you making the heat rise on your face. You were strongly aware of every microscopic move he makes, your senses keenly aware of his proximity. He lets out a harsh sigh, and you feel the breath ripple over the collar and down the shirt. A pout settles on his lips, glossy and wholly enticing - and entirely too close.

His face was inches from yours, shoulders stuck rigidly together as you subtly wrestle for space. The shirt was obviously made for kids, and much smaller than you had originally anticipated. Two kids would be able to almost comfortably stand side by side. You and Jimin had barely enough excess shirt, but the collar was far too small. His hand grazes mercilessly across your thigh, the hardness of his rings pressing into the material of your jeans.

You hear a click of a camera, and your attention snaps up to see Hoseok taking a photo of you both on his phone. With both you and Jimin glaring at him, he snaps another and giggles.

"One for Jungkook." He grins, before flipping his phone to you.

Instinctively you step forward to look, but the lack of space drags Jimin along with you. He crashes into your back, a steadying hand reaching out for your hip, a strangled grunt by your ear. You choke on your breath, and weakly tug at the collar as if it was the cause of your shock.

His hand is warm, the heat pulsating from his palm across your hip. If you weren't sweating before, you definitely were now. You shuffle back a little, easing the tension in the shirt that tugged tightly against you. Jimin brings up a hand and anxiously pushes his hair back from his face, his jaw set so sharply you could cut your finger on it.

"Well, there's bound to be a few teething problems but I'm sure you'll both work it out." Namjoon smiles, eyes bright and full of mischief. "Come on boys, let's give them some space."

You give Namjoon the fiercest glare you could muster before he walks away, but all he does is chuckle at you. Hoseok waves brightly whilst Jin merely winks - until soon all that remained was you and Jimin, hot, flustered and already tired of it all.

"Okay, now that they're gone-" Jimin mutters, twisting in the shirt so that his back was against you. You shuffle back as not to touch him, your mind a hazy hot mess.

Your hand dances threateningly close to his ass so you snatch it up to your chest, staring at the ceiling and holding back an agonised groan.

He brings his hands up and after a few seconds you hear a loud rip.

You snap your head to him to see that he'd ripped the collar almost to the end of the shoulder, giving you more space. You let out a breath and you both adapted to the space, but his shoulder was still brushing you. At least his face was at a less dangerous distance from yours now.

"Do... you wanna sit?" He asks quietly, A faint pinky blush crossing his cheeks. You forced your eyes away, determined not to be distracted.

"Jimin, Namjoon's gonna flip about the shirt."

"No he won't-"

"Yes, he will-"

"Ah, can we just sit?."

You huff, weighing his words before silently nodding, moving forward slowly to give him time to get his brain in gear. He stepped behind you and you shuffled around so that you wouldn't be sat under him.

"Okay sit." You order, and to your surprise he followed your words. You both crash back into the couch, his arms pressing back against you, his legs spread and pressed against yours.

You sit, the silence stretching. You finally get the smell of his cologne, the silk of his shirt sleeve brushing against your arm. It was filling your senses, and though it had only been seconds, this was stretching for an eternity.

And there were all those emotions you felt towards him, rushing to the surface, bubbling beneath your skin.

"Okay this is dumb, why are we doing this?" You grumble, slamming your head back against the cushions, desperate to be away from his heady scent.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes, so you pointedly avoid meeting his gaze.

"Because we don't want to lose our friends." His voice is low, the cogs turning in his head.

"Yes I know that, but why do we have to 'sort our problems' from inside the same damn t-shirt?" You snap.

"I... don't know. But I'm not gonna lose friends. Them or you - so get used to being stuck in this shirt with me."He purses his lips in thought, but you’re struck by his words.

"Well it's you who's stuck in here with me." You snark, unable to stop yourself before you say it.

He huffs out a laugh through his nose, and you can’t help but smile. You finally meet his eyes, and like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t, he snaps his eyes away.

“So we have to like… work on our problems?”

“Apparently.” He murmurs, throwing himself back into the seat.  

The temperature feels ten times hotter than when you weren’t sharing clothing. Your hair sticks to your skin and you shift uncomfortably. Everywhere you touched him felt like it was on fire, every sensor in your body and edge and firing. You force yourself to breathe, in and out. Park Jimin was not going to get the better of you.

But he seemed affected too.

His swallows are thick, adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp. You could see his ringed finger tapping in his leg whilst his other hand was pushing back his hair a little more aggressively than usual.

“So uh…” He starts, but tapers off when you look at him.

“Yeah?”

The seconds tick on, the gap between you non-existent. You avert your eyes and try to focus on the crowd that swirls around you.

You couldn’t help but notice the fact that things were going well. No issues were being resolved per se, but you hadn’t fought properly for a few minutes. And for you both, that was progress. Even if every word that comes to your mind flights away, leaving the silence to stretch.

“Maybe-”

“How about-”

You both blurt words at the same time, letting out an embarrassed laugh as you squarely avoid looking at each other. The music seems louder, making it harder to think about anything that wasn’t directly in your senses. Essentially you were stuck in a Jimin lockdown.

“You go.”

“Oh, I was just going to say I’m gonna need a drink or two for this.” you confess, heat burning across your face.

“That’s… Not a bad idea actually. Let’s go to the kitchen.” Jimin rushes, a little too enthusiastically. It seems like he’s a little on edge too.

Without thinking he tries to stand up, causing you to get ruffled inside the shirt as he staggers to his feet. You’re ripped through the collar of the shirt, your face getting knocked into his hip. Your eyes widen and your breath catches in your throat as he’s slingshotted back into the chair beside you. Your head reemerges through the hole, leaving your hair vigorously disheveled.

“I-, I’m sorry!” He grits, a reddish blush bursting across his cheeks.

You bring up your hand inside the shirt to touch it to your face whilst the other tries to right whatever mess your hair had become.

“It’s fine, just, we gotta move as one.” You mumble, flicking your gaze at him.

“Agh, this isn’t gonna be easy.” He sighs, shuffling to the edge of the chair.

You take a deep breath and follow his lead. You put a tentative hand on the couch to shuffle yourself to the edge, but jimin had the same idea. He puts his hands on top of yours, but instantly snatches it back. He mumbles to himself before turning and giving you a nod. With a steadying breath you both move, almost effortlessly getting off the couch together. It takes you by surprise at how straightforward that was, until the clatter of a noise reaches your ears over the din of the music.

Following the rattle of the noise you look down, only to watch your phone skittering across the floor.

“Oh, shit.” You murmur, watching it stop out of reach. “Jimin, my phone!”

He follows your gaze to where it lays on the floor, narrowly avoiding being stepped on by dancers. Your heart flutters as people step around it, totally unaware.

“Go, go!” He mutters, placing the palm of his hand at the bottom of your back, steering you towards it.

You flush as you’re pushed through, stopping just above it. You’re both jostled by the people around you as you stand guard above your phone. People were dancing dangerously close to it,and all it would take is one drunken fool to stamp on it or you for this to end in disaster.

“Okay let’s drop, carefully this time!” you order, but Jimin scoffs at you.

“I’m trying to be careful!”

“Just don't thrash me about again, that would be nice-”

“I’m not doing it on purpose! I can if you want me to-”

“Oh my god, stop, just bend over and help me!”

“That sounds dirt-”

He starts, but before you let him manifest that in your mind you start to crouch, the force pulling him down to bump his chest into your back. The heat of him crashing into you is instant, an insatiable warmth that spreads in contact. He puts a stabilising hand on your hips as his breath rolls across the back of your neck. A shiver trickles down your body despite trying to hold it back.

“What did you do that for?” He grunts, his mouth closer to your ear as he tries to rebalance himself.

“Y- you’re taking too long trying to argue!”

He presses himself off your back and shuffles down beside you. You finally get crouched on the floor, tentative hands placed on the sticky surface to stop you from toppling over. Jimin crouches next to you, his body facing yours with his leg behind you, tight against your back. It was hard to stay focused with him pressed against you like that, but you know he was just trying to stay stable. So why were you blushing so hard?

Carefully you reach out, your fingers just brushing the edge of the phone. You’re just able to get your fingers over the edge when you’re slammed from the side. Your phone is knocked out of your reach once more as you’re thrown onto Jimin, both of you landing in a tangled heap.

You let out a yelp as you’re falling, the impact to the side of you bristling with shock. His back hits the floor and you land awkwardly, right on top of him.

“Watch what you’re doing, you moron!” Jimin snaps after your head slaps onto his shoulder.

Your heart slams erratically against your chest, his words stinging. You’d come to blows many more times than you can imagine, but he’d never spoken to you in that way, not ever.

“God, I’m sorry.” you murmur, pressing yourself up off his chest, your face practically aflame.

“What? Oh, no no, not you! Whichever idiot smacked into you. Are you alright?“ He asks, his fingers gently gripping your chin and turning you gently in his hands.

Your eyes are wide as he stares at you, your fingers twitching on the silk covering his chest. Once he’s satisfied that you’re okay, he softly releases you. You bring your gaze back to his, beads of sweat rolling down your face.

Jimin looks down to his hand and back up to you after realising what he had just done, before he clenches his fist closed and puts it down to his side. His forehead is creased, his face burning bright.

“We should… ah, should get your phone.” His voice is low, barely audible above the music. But you hear him all the same, stealing your hand back from his chest.

You swallow thickly, stabilizing yourself as you crouched back on your own two feet. Your phone isn’t too far out of reach, but just beyond the touch of your fingertips. You strain, tugging Jimin along behind you. His throat is pulled against your shoulder, but it was no good, you still needed the stretch.

“Hold on.” You mumble, slipping your head out from underneath the collar.

You keep your arm inside the shirt sleeve for plausible deniability - you’d never be able to lie to Namjoon if he asks if you stayed in. But you pull your head out from the bottom of the shirt and reach out, gripping your phone and snatching it up. You shove it in your deepest pocket of your jeans and pat it, relieved.

You crawl back to Jimin and try to climb back into the shirt. He throws the bottom over your head and you push it through - only to slam your head into his arm.

“Ah, sorry!” You yelp, trying to push yourself past him.

He tries to guide your head back up through the collar but manages to get his rings caught in your hair. You yelp at the tug, your hands flying up to untangle him.

“Sorry, sorry!” He shouts, bringing his other hands up to slide his rings off altogether.

Once they’re off his fingers it’s easier to free your hair. With the rings tucked safely in his pocket and with gentle easing, Jimin moves your head up to the collar of the shirt. You rapidly brush your hair out of your face and look at him out of the corner of your eye.

He’s flustered, roughly pushing the hair that sticks to his sweaty forehead back. His lips are parted and his eyes are fixed away from you.

Briefly, the thought of just running away from him crossed your mind. There’d be no more issues if you never saw his face again. No more embarrassment! Of course it was a silly idea, but it would be better than getting the opportunity to make yourself look like an idiot again.

You huff out a breath, blotting your damp forehead with the back of your hand. Your brush with the floor had left your clothes feeling sticky, and your brush against Jimin had set everything else on fire. You needed some fresh ai-

“It’s too hot for this, I need some air.” Jimin shifts in his spot, gesturing to the backdoor that was through the kitchen and blocked by a thick group of party goers. You follow the direction he points and nod enthusiastically.

“I wanna grab some water too.” You murmur. Ignoring his presence.

The people that stood between the cloying heat that you and Jimin were trapped in and the cooler climate outside were dense. You’d have to fight through, but the reward of fresher air to clear your head of Jimin was too tantalising.

With a look at Jimin, he motions with his hand for you to proceed. You roll your eyes at the gesture but you take a cautious step forward, slow and deliberate.

You started pushing your way through, bodies warm and fluid as you tried to champion the way. Jimin got ganged much closer to you, practically pressing into your back as you moved. You focus on finding a path ahead, ignoring the beads of sweat that form in your hairline.

Something had changed between you. This is the closest you had been together, the most you had touched, the longest you had been alone. And you wanted to hate it. You certainly hated how messy he must think you are. But you didn’t. A trickle of something different slides down your body, all your attention focused on his hand on you.

The music changes to something even louder and riles the crowd up. With a swell of movements in the dancers you’re sent flying, knocked by some erratic dancer’s elbow. With the force of the shirt Jimin is dragged with you, crashing into your back and pinballing you against another person.

Subconsciously you turn back to him - but as soon as you’re pressed together, you realise how big a mistake that was.

Stomach to stomach, his face is barely an inch or two from yours. His fingers wrap around your wrist, chest rising and falling as you stare at him.

The sweat that had rolled down his face had reached his throat, dropping down the column and hovering at his apple. The minutest of smirks pulls at his lips, and you realise you’ve been caught.  

He swallows, purposely. The bead rolls the rest of the way down his throat, dropping below his necklace before disappearing down the neckline of his shirt. The silk was clinging to his skin in the heat, and it took every ounce of dignity you had not to look down. You could see in your periphery, and that was more than enough. The man was hot, in every sense.

Your eyes flick back up, a different kind of heat burning up your face. You anxiously lick your lips, eyes finally meeting his. He has an eyebrow propped, a smugness radiating that let your blood boil. But his gaze drops to your mouth, watching your tongue gloss across your lip before looking back up. You can feel his breath hit your chest as his cheeks flushed more than they ever had. Now you were the one to have an audience.

Maybe this was it - the answer. You just needed a moment for everything to click, you could reach an understanding! It had nothing to do with how his stare left you feeling like you could burst in every way possible. Or that his pupils seemed to be blown wide, big enough for you to swim in. His fingers were hot against your wrist, and it felt almost as if his pinky was tracing the tiniest circles into your skin-

“I need the bathroom.”

The words are blurted loudly in your face, and for a moment you forget what reality is.

“I- what?”

“Bathroom. Gotta go. Bathroom stuff.” Jimin splutters.

Before you can respond - not that you knew how to -  he turns from you. His hand still holds your wrist as he pulls you through the crowd, uncaring as to who he pushes aside. All you can do is stare at the back of his hair and be lead.

“Jimin what the hell?!” You yell, ignoring the glares of the nosy partiers.

Your voice is lost, muffled by loud music and Jimin's deaf focus. You finally break free from the throng of people but your journey doesn't end. You're being whipped past busy rooms until you hit the staircase. The odd person watches you in fascination, some even snickering at what was written so plainly in glitter on the shirt. you felt your face burn, and make a silent note to fight Namjoon at the soonest opportunity.

He begins scurrying up the staircase, and with your wrist still firmly in his iron grip, you're soon flying up behind him. He casts a shifty look behind him to check you were still attached, his face flushed but his eyes focused. You have to remember to regulate your breathing.

"God, careful!" You snap, almost stumbling on the top step.

He doesn't acknowledge that he hears you, but then he slows for a second before darting down the winding corridor. He rushes into one of the rooms, a sprawling guest bedroom, before finally letting your wrist drop from his grip. It was almost bigger than your entire place, with an ensuite and even a door leading out to a balcony.

You close the door behind you before Jimin drags you towards the ensuite. Once he's at the open door he pulls his arms through the sleeve and slips out from the shirt. You know you're in the privacy of a bedroom but you suddenly get nervous, eyes turning to the bedroom door.

"We're gonna get in trouble." You murmur. Namjoon is a mind reader, you’d stake your life on it - he'll know you're separated and find you.

"You gotta relax. We're not gonna be spotted through floors and walls. Unless you wanna come in here with me?" He asks, that trademark smirk pulling at his lips. Your stomach flutters, but it is a relief to have a flash of the jimin who pushes your buttons back.

"I -wha- no! Just hurry up, god." You splutter, turning your back to him.

"I won't be long."

With that he saunters back, his cheeks blown out as he sighs, and finally closes the door for some sweet separation. You step back and move to the balcony - the door was unlocked so you push it open and finally breathe.

The air is still warm, but instant relief from being cooped up inside with Jimin washes over you. You close your eyes and soak up the moment of peace, the shirt hanging off your solitary frame.

Your brain was barely processing the situation you were both in. It was enough being stuck in the same item of clothing as someone, but with Jimin? It was hard.

But then again, it was also easy. It was too easy to get wrapped up in him, to be so close, to let yourself be taken with him. It was a place you had hoped to be before, and somewhere you couldn’t go.

You and Jimin were tumultuous. You weren’t sure why it had to be that way. It’s not like either of you were toxic or nasty people - so why did you have to make a stand on everything? Why does every time you stand off with him make the hairs on your neck stand up, make your heart beat so fast in your chest you swear he could hear it?

Maybe it was because you did, after all this time, like him.  

You're snapped out of your thoughts by an erratic knocking at the door. You dart your eyes to it as if you could see through the solid wood, your heart in your throat.

"Y/N? Jimin? You there?" Namjoon calls through the door, and you swear under your breath.

"One second!" You cry, scrambling back from the door and scurry to the ensuite.

"Jimin! Open up!" You whisper at him, your voice a hurried rasp.

"What?"

"I'm coming in!" You wait a few seconds just in case, and then finally throw the door open.

"Y?N!" Jimin yells, scrambling back against the basin.

He was standing with his silk shirt in his hands, His lips parted in shock as he stares at you. His chest was heaving, the faintest glimmer of abs visible behind the thin fabric. Your face was burning almost as much as his, your jaw dropping. His hair was tousled, strands covering his wide eyes as he stared at you.

"Wh... Why are you topless?" Your breath is barely above a whisper as you fight to keep your eyes on his face.

"It's so hot!”

“I’m hot! Do you see me taking my clothes off?” You rush, using every ounce of restraint in your body to not lick your lips.

The thought of you and Jimin taking your clothes off together flashed through your mind and you internally screamed at yourself. This was not the time to unpack that, though you’d be lying if you said the thought hadn’t crossed your mind before.

“Wah- uh, you... I was trying to cool dow- why are you barging in here?!" He rushes, taking a hasty step towards you. To have to sort through your frazzled thoughts before you remember why you were there in the first place.

"Namjoon! He's at the door!" As if to accentuate your point, Namjoon raps on the door again, calling out to you both.

"Agh!" Jimin cries, rushing forward and grabbing the hem of the shirt you still wore.

He begins to get into it as he pushes you towards the door. You could feel the horror fill your veins as the heat of his body slips in beside you, his hand at the small of your back as he guides you. Your arm brushes against his bare hip, the skin hot and smooth. You snatch your arm up and hold it against your chest as if burned and ignore the rapid change in your breathing.

"Why haven't you put your shirt on?!" You whisper, but he just huffs.

"To save time, Now show me your pretty smile and let's get rid of him so I can get dressed." Jimin's hand is on the door, and all you can do is stare at him, eyes wild.

"My wha-"

The door flies open, but you're still staring at Jimin. Pretty...?

"Well hello." Namjoon is leant against the doorframe, arms crossed as he gives you both a crooked grin. His eyes flicker to the room behind you, his eyes landing on the bed just beyond you both.

"Just needed the bathroom." Jimin rushes, hand once again settling in his hair.

"I didn't ask." His voice is light, but his eyes are fierce as he scans you both thoroughly.

"You were thinking about it, though." Jimin mutters. He tries to cross his arms at Namjoon, but with one arm under the shirt and one over he soon drops it. Your gaze was still stuck on him though. Pretty?

"How's the shirt working out, you both talking?" Namjoon asks, and you finally snap your attention to him. He's already watching you and raises an eyebrow. You scramble to stamp down your emotions, despite every nerve in your body sizzling.

"Oh yeah, we’re the best of friends now, right JimJam?" Your voice is bubblegum sweet, giving Jimin the goofiest smile you could muster.

"Totally! We've been braiding our hair and sharing juicy stories. We're basically besties."

Jimin beams at Namjoon, before stepping close and wrapping an arm around your waist to hug you. It was all part of the charade, of course. But as you're pulled back against his chest, you swear your heart could explode. His hand sits lightly on your hip, his every breath rolling down your neck. It didn’t matter that the move was practically hidden under the shirt.

"Yeah..." you laugh, but it's more of a choke as you pat his hand over the shirt and avoid meeting Namjoon's probing gaze.

Jimin clears his throat awkwardly behind you, his finger twitching on your hip. The heat between you swealters, every inch of your skin electric against his body.

Namjoon's eyes flick between you. You could see his thoughts brewing but they never pass his lips. Instead you and Jimin wait, his hands singeing your skin where they rested, his bare chest like fire against you.

"Well, I can see you're obviously working on something. But until you're actually convincing, you can stay in that shirt." He shrugs, grin widening across his face. With a final flick of his eyes, he pushes off the door frame and heads back towards the stairs.

"This is ridiculous Namjoon!" You yell at his back, crossing your arms across your stomach.

"Maybe - but you're both still wearing it." He smirks back over his shoulder.

You yell incoherent words at his back before huffing out a breath. Your fingers twitch in anger, putting a stubborn hand on your hip, the skin hot under your touch.

Faintly you realise the contact isn’t registering on your hip, and it isn’t until Jimin loosens his grip on you that you realise your hand had been resting on his. His hands fall from your body as he shuffles away, swallowing a throaty gulp.

You couldn’t look at him. It was all fun and games to begin with- oh, who were you kidding? This had been sucky, but something had shifted. You needed air, a chance to breathe, to not be tethered to the man that seems to haunt you.

“Need air.” Your voice a rasp as you step back into the room.

Jimin barely shuts the bedroom door before you’re marching to the balcony, not caring about whether you drag him along or not. Once you’re outside you heave in a breath, letting the air fill your lungs.

“That was too close.” You murmur, fiddling with the hem of the shirt.

“How was I supposed to know Namjoon would be keeping tabs?”

“I’m not blaming you Jimin! Why are you making this into an argument too?” You snap, your eyes fixed on the treeline on the edge of the property.

You feel him wriggling aggressively next to you, only to look back and see him climbing out of the shirt. You watch in horror as he slips out from under the sickly yellow material, keeping his bare back to you.

“What are you doing?” You yelp, scanning over the edge of the balcony for any sight of your friends. They couldn’t see you apart, they would never trust either of you again.

“What are we doing?”

“We’re meant to be working this out from inside the same ugly shirt-”

“No not right now. I mean, kind of. I just… Why did we let it get this far?”

You let his words hang in the air, your thoughts scattered. The thump of the music below drifts up to you, the mass of partygoers that stood out in the gardens laughing and chatting loudly. It seemed a world away from the tension that fills the air between you and Jimin.

He turns back to you with a look on his face so intense you can’t place it. But you could tell he was tightly wound - his shoulders were squared and his jaw was tight. He avoids making eye contact with you for as long as he can. But when he finally does, it was too easy to get lost in what you see there.

“We just argue, I guess.” you shrug, averting your eyes from his chest and stomach. This wasn’t the time to be fawning over him. It was hard - he was beautiful, there was no escape from that. It’s one of a million reasons you had liked him in the first place.

“You can't tell me you’re happy with that explanation.” He huffs, crossing his arms.

“Of course I’m not but what do you want me to say? You don’t like me, you’ve made that plain enough. Not everyone gets along.”

You bite your lip, admitting the words you’d been too scared to think out loud. But when you hear a faint gasp, your eyes shoot up to his face. His lips are parted, a look of abject shock written on his delicate features.

I d- I do like you.” His voice is so quiet you can barely hear him. But you do, and the words strike deep.

You can’t open yourself up to this right now. Namjoon will find a way to know that you’re both separated, and the rest of the guys will drift away. You want to be civil with Jimin, not have your entire soul bared open to him. You couldn’t survive that.

“Can you please put your shirt back on?” You mumble, your eyes laser-focused imploringly on his face, but he doesn't hear you, barrelling on.

“It’s not like I enjoy arguing with you!”

“Then why are you making it so difficult?” Your voice cracks, the hurt of your never ending battles threatening to surface.

“Do you know how hard it is to get your attention-“ he starts, his fast flow of words immediately cut off as he gawks at you, delicate fingers slamming over his lips.

“What?” You blurt, processing his words.

“No no, nothing! Forget it.” he shakes his hands at you, eyes wide and face blushing a deep pink.

“Jimin! What do you mean, get my attention?”

“I… yeah. We’re always with the guys, I guess I didn’t know how else to get you to focus on me.”

“Why?” Your voice is faint, a million thoughts crashing in your head.

“No, forget it!”

“Jimin!”

“Ah, I like you, okay?”

The air around you thickens, the distance between you a thousand miles yet still too close. Your heart thumps rapidly in your chest, your eyes wide as saucers and your skin prickled with goosebumps.

“You- huh?”

“I… like you. A lot. It happened pretty quickly.” He sighs, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Why have you never told me?"

"Because it's humiliating as hell?" He laughs bitterly, his eyes darting to anywhere but you.

"Jimin..."

"No seriously. If I had told you, you'd reject me because why wouldn't you? All we do is argue."

"You think I'd reject you?" You ask, voice quiet as you step closer to him. His gaze finally snaps back to you at your movement.

"I mean, I... yeah?"

He runs a hand roughly over his face, turning his back to you. He looks so flawless in the moonlight. But he always looked flawless to you. Watching him fret like this was something so alien to you, but so human, so Jimin. You couldn’t let him suffer these feelings alone.

"Well, I wouldn't have." You mumble.

“You- what?”

Your brain scrambles, your heart hammering in your throat. He stares at you, wide eyes and chest heaving as if he was winded. Swallowing thickly you press on, despite the fear that churns in your gut.

“I wouldn’t reject you, Jimin. I… uh. I like you too.” You fiddle awkwardly with the hem of the stupid shirt.

The whole scenario had you feeling like a girl going through a childhood crush again. Though last time you had a crush on a boy who was fighting with you, you punched him in the nose. It was doubtful that would work this time around-

“Jimin?” You ask, watching as he shrinks back on himself.

You watch as he breathes, his chest rising and falling, the rapidly cooling night air raising goosebumps across his skin. It was hard to keep your brain on track.

After a moment he meets your gaze with a softness so potent it was enough to choke you.

In two steps he was on you, his lips crashing against yours. Your entire body threatens to shut down, the shock rippling through you. Before you even had a second to comprehend how good his lips felt against yours he pulls back, fear in his eyes as he worries.

You know then what you want. Who you want. You wondered why you wasted so long arguing to get it.

With your blood thrashing violently in your veins you reach your hands out to his face, caressing the smooth skin of his cheek before you surge forwards. The feel of the gloss on his lips smudges as you let yourself be consumed, the slightest hint of cherry seeping in.

Kissing Park Jimin. You. You’re kissing him. Your eyes slam shut as you sink into him, electricity crackling on your skin.

With no doubt in his mind at all Jimin slides his hands to your hips, fingers curling into the shirt as he moves you back, pushing you into the wall. You moan into his kiss, and he smirks against your lips. To trip him up you press the kiss deeper, letting the tip of your tongue dance at his pretty lips, wanting to taste him.

He does you one better, turning the tides and pressing the kiss back to you, tongue flicking to you.

Just like normal, you weren’t one to back down from Jimin.

Letting a hand move into his silken hair, you brush it back the way you’d seen him do a thousand times. But instead of letting your hands fall out of the soft locks, you let the strands wind around your fingers and give it a tug.

Jimin lets out a low groan, breaking the kiss to pant against your lips. Pride flows through you, but so did a sense of admiration - it was something you wanted to hear from that pretty mouth over and over.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Y/N.” He whispers, tugging sharply on the shirt so that your body was flat against his.

You try to not let the gasp from you come out too loud, the lines of his body startlingly apparent as you’re pressed together.

“You think that scares me?”

At your words he smiles. It spreads slowly, but soon his whole face is alight, brightness shining out of him. With his fingers at the hem of the massive shirt, he gives you a filthy giggle before kneeling and slipping himself inside of the material.

“What are you doing?” You yelp, feeling the familiar sensation of being stuck in the stupid shirt with him again. But it was different too, it wasn’t suffocating like before.

His head popped back up through the ripped collar, grin still annoyingly plastered across his face.

“Shouldn’t you be trying to get me out of this shirt, Park Jimin?” You whisper, breathless as he presses you back against the wall.

“I can’t deny that you have too many clothes on.” He smirks, delicate fingers sliding up your shirt to rest on your hot skin. “But there’s something… ah, satisfying about having you in this shirt.”

“Seriously?”

“What’s the matter Y/N, don’t think you can handle it?” His fingers circle agonisingly slow on your hips, a mischievous glint catching in his eye. He knows you so well.

“You’re gonna be the one who can’t handle it.”

“Prove it.”

You almost growl at him as he presses your buttons, but the burning in you meets the heat in your stomach. You need him more than ever.

You pull him back against you by the hair, crushing your lips together once more. He moans into you, nails pressing into your hips as your lips collide. You roll your hips against him, the fire in your veins white hot as he stutters against you. He breaks your kiss to gasp needily, eyes shut tight as your stomach brushes against the bulge in his tight jeans.

His eyes finally open, unfocused and swimming. But after a second he fixes his gaze on you, determined. A flicker of anticipation fills you, awaiting retribution.

His fingers move from your skin to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up until you have to help him. The shirt you were sharing was making it difficult, and you start to regret ever letting him get his way. But as soon as you are free he presses back into you, his hot skin flush against yours, his fingers idly tracing the straps of your bra.

Just with the gentle brush of his fingertips he nudges the straps down your arms, goosebumps rising along his trail. He presses his lips to your cheek, pecking slow, soft kisses across your cheekbone as he moves towards your ear. You sigh as his mouth moves lower, plump lips pressing dainty kisses down your neck. With you swept up, his hands move behind you and unclip your bra.

A gasp passes your lips while his own are still planted at your neck, sucking on a soft spot there. Your bra slides off your body, landing with a quiet thud on the floor of the balcony.

His fingers find their way back to your hips, slowly caressing their way up. An excited shiver catches you, and you feel him laugh against your skin. His warm hands find your breasts, thumbs rubbing over the soft skin before finding your nipples.

You suck in a breath as he kisses back up your neck. He pauses to capture your lips again, lulling you into him as his thumbs brush out across your nipples.

With your staccato breathing he smirks once more into your skin. Not one to ever be outmanoeuvred by Jimin, you decide it’s time to flip the switch.

You purposefully run your fingers down his stomach, featherlight and teasing. He hitches his breath, mouth detaching from your neck as he waits, anticipating your every move. His hot breath rolls down your neck, rippling off your chest. You hide a smirk in his hair and focus on your goal.

Letting your fingers rest on his belt buckle - no doubt something obnoxiously expensive - you begin to undo him as slow as you possibly could. You slide it off, inching it so little that you could feel him get restless against you.

“You’re a nightmare.” He whispers, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

“I’m just savouring the moment.” You offer softly, the soft clinks of the buckle resting against his thigh.

“You’ll pay if you tease me like this.” His voice is high, airy. The voice of a man in complete control - though you knew that was far from the truth.

“Mm, sure Jimin.” You smirk, bringing a hand up between you to his face.

You angle him back up to kiss you, which he does with ferocity. You smile into him, the power to provoke him rich in your veins.

Your hand sinks back to his belt, and with him distracted you pull it off him fast, dumping it somewhere on the floor and popping the button of his jeans. He gasps into your kiss, fingers automatically flexing across your breasts. You hold your reaction to yourself, intent on giving nothing away until you are ready.

You tug down his zipper, pressing it back onto him so he feels the teeth unclipping against his boxers. You knew they were gonna be some annoyingly expensive brand too, but the thought of getting him to ruin them for you was intoxicating. He leans his forehead against yours, the desperation rising his face palpable.

With a sharp tug you drop his jeans to his mid-thigh before moving your fingers back to him, running teasingly around his waistband. You didn’t have to look under the shirt to know his boxers were tented, his erection straining against the fabric. You dip a finger just below his waistband, tracing along the lines of his hips. He lets out a choked breath, hips subconsciously bucking into you.

“Y/N…”

“What?” You ask sweetly, moving your fingers to brush along his pubic bone. Your knuckles barely graze the base of his shaft, but he lets out a murmur of swear words as his eyes flicker.

Not one to be overshadowed for long, Jimin lets his hands drop to your hips and immediately flies to your zipper. He presses his crotch into you, and you feel just how hard he is for you. With a flapping mouth you watch him, challenging eyebrow raised.

Everything was a game. One that you were intent on winning.

Plucking at your courage, you slide a hand back down, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock. His hips stutter in your hand, a gush of air forcing out of his lungs.

He felt good in your hand - really good. Firm skin, warm and pulsing in your hand. You experimentally ran a finger along his underside, tracing the vein all the way to his tip. He lets himself go then, head thrown back, eyes tightly clasped. A low groan rumbles from his throat, his fingers stilling on your zip.

“Feel good?” You whisper, pressing your lips to his.

“Ah, mm…” Is all he can manage as his head falls back.

He’s totally lost in your touch, and you’d barely started. A ripple of excitement darts through you, the sight of having Park Jimin needy and in your hands was too powerful to overlook.

A small giggle falls from your lips, the tiniest of noises. But it’s enough to spur him back to reality with his dark eyes finally refocusing on you.

He takes a breath to center himself before pulling down your jeans slowly. You feel the material slide over your hips and sit above your knees. Your panties quickly follow, thrust down faster than you can blink.

He lets a hand drag back up your thigh, running across to where you want his hand the most. Your touch on him falters as anticipation runs through your body. Ever so slowly he lets a finger stroke across your slit, barely grazing your skin. You wrap your free arm over his shoulder, taking a grip of his soft hair.

He smiles at you, and you let your eyes drag across his face. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth at your scrutiny. You can’t help but admire him: the way his lipgloss is smudged up across his cupid’s bow, the sweat that seemed to be dribbling so aesthetically down his sharp jaw, the blown out pupils of his deep eyes. Your breath catches in your throat as you soak him in - and that’s when he decides to strike.

He slips his fingers between your folds, feeling how wet you are for him, before sliding his fingers up to your clit. He applies only the slightest bit of pressure but it’s enough to have you gasping at his touch. He lets out a soft moan as he feels you, letting his fingers move in the tiniest circles.

You slowly rock your hips on his fingers, knotting your own in his hair. You instinctively flex your hand only to have his hips instinctively thrust his cock into your hand.

Deciding to move things on just a little, you move back just enough to see his cock in your hand. His eyes flutter open at your movements, only to blow wide when he sees a trail of spit drop from your lips onto his tip. You catch it with your thumb and rub it into his tip, rolling it down his length.

A low moan leaves him, his free hand coming up to wipe your bottom lip ever so delicately. You meet his eyes, a fire burning there just for you. He drags you into a kiss, his hand scrunching in your hair.

His hand start to move again, circling you and getting into a slow rhythm on your clit. You moan into his kiss, starting your movements too until both of you were breathless messes.

The kisses became scattered and sloppier as you both let your hands work. The delicate touch of his fingers was enough to blur your vision, and your firm grip that was growing in speed on his length rendered him weak in your hands.

His own hand moves deftly, nimble fingers moving between circling your needy clit to running through your wetness. His jaw slackens each time he feels how wet you are for him, pride drifting somewhere in his lust-blown eyes.

Jimin is slick under your grasp, rock hard as you twist up and down his length. Staggered gasps fall from his lips, getting more and more careless as you drag him higher.

His circling gets a little more pressure, and it’s enough to send your head lulling back, barely able to focus on the task literally in hand. You returned his zeal, putting an extra squeeze on his length. The choke that passes his lips sends pride through your already thrashing veins. His face twitches; his forehead creases, pretty lips part slightly further, eyebrows jolt. You know he’s close, and you have the power in your hands.

But he has you, too. The pressure pulsing from your core builds, your eyes slamming shut as you're barely able to form words. You can feel it rising, teetering on the edge of something good-

-until he jerks his fingers from you. You whimper at the loss of his fingers, orgasms skittering disappointingly away from you. Your eyes open as you snap your bereft gaze to him.

“Fuck, Y/N, too quick-“ he murmurs, grabbing hold of your wrist and gently pulling your hand of his throbbing cock.

“Jimin?”

He’s fully flushed, strands of silken hair stuck to his forehead. His chest rises and falls rapidly with his chest, eyes wild.

“I don’t wanna cum just yet.”

“What if I wanted you to-“

“Don’t argue with me on this,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your lips. But then his voice drops low, lips pulled into a deadly smirk. “I have to make you cum first.”

You barely have a second to swallow down a gasp before you’re pulled from the wall to crash against his lips.

You hold him against you with the collar of the shirt you were still trapped in, matching his energy as he kisses you desperately. Your hands are held tight against his chest, his cock resting teasingly against your stomach.

His hands let go of you to grab your hips, steering your towards the edge of the balcony.

Once you're spun he pushes you gently, bending you over to lean against the railing. Forgetting that you’re stuck in the same damn shirt, he gets yanked down with you, body flush against your back. He lets out a tiny giggle into the back of your neck and it’s as if your heart could stop from the sound.

The cool of the metal railing presses into your chest, hands bracing it through the shirt. You look to the party happening below, guests hovering out in the garden to escape the heat of the sweaty party. You were pretty well out of sight - as long as nobody looked up.

“There’s quite a few people down there.” Jimin’s lips are by your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand on end.

“Don’t think you can make me loud enough? That’s a shame.” You smirk, unable to stop teasing him.

“You’re gonna regret those words baby.”

The pet name strikes deep within you. It’s perfect coming from Jimin, warmth radiating across your body. And you couldn’t blame that one on the heat.

Jimin presses his body onto your back, thick erection settling just above your cheeks. You feel the heat of his hand smooth from your thigh round to the front of you. He takes a few swipes across your clit to make you jerk beneath him before his fingers drift further back.

He swirls a finger around your waiting hole, agonizingly slow. You gasp at him, pushing your hips back into him. His shaft brushes against your cheeks and you can hear him suck in a desperate breath. Spurred on by his own need, he dips his finger gradually inside.

It’s slow, pushing past his knuckle until his finger sits inside you. You feel your walls pulse around him, desperate for more. His hand stills, taking his time to pepper kisses behind your ear. He nips playfully at your lobe, taking his sweet time with each movement.

You know he’s doing it to make you suffer. And god were you suffering, using every ounce of restraint to not whine for him.

Slowly he turns his finger so it sits better inside of you. The graze of his knuckle causes you to moan, and you feel him smirk into your skin.

“That’s what I was waiting for.”

He slowly begins to pump into you. It’s instantly better than his stationary finger, but still agonizingly slow. You needed him, harder and faster.

“Jimin…” you whine, pushing your rear back into him. He tuts into your ear, stilling his fingers.

“You need to let go, Y/N. I’ve got you.” He punctuates his point by kissing a trail along your shoulder.

You bite your lip, his words hitting a little deeper than just him getting you off. You always had to be in control of yourself around Jimin - you had to win, had to be alert. You couldn’t let your emotions get hold of you.

But it was all out in the open now. He knew how you felt - and he feels the same too. Maybe you can let go, just a little. It didn’t mean you had to start losing arguments any time soon, though.

You nod, turning your head to where he was pressing kisses into your skin. He beams at you, eyes scrunching as he surges up to catch your lips.

His movements cause his thumb to brush across your clit, and you moan wantonly into him. He pulls away to peer over the balcony, the loud noise escaping you both. You follow his gaze, but you’d drawn no attention. Not yet anyway-

He looks back at you and winks, the move cheeky and completely Jimin but he silences by pulling his finger almost completely out of you. Your jaw drops at the sensation, but just as quickly he pushes it back inside you, as far as he can go.

You bite the collar of the shirt to muffle your noise. His skin was still hot against yours, a sheen of sweat building on your forehead as you focused on him.

Mercifully he begins to fuck his finger in you, curling inside you. You inhale sharply through your nose, eyes shut tight as you let yourself go.

He carries on for a few more pups before he lets a second finger coat in your wetness. On the next thrust into you, he gently presses in a second finger, and you feel yourself clamp down at the stretch. Jimin keeps pressing kisses against your skin, but he gets breathless, his own erection pressing tauntingly at your back.

He sits his fingers for just a few seconds, letting you get used to him before he works them back out of you. In and out, in and out. He’s slow again, teasing you to the point of madness. You groan in frustration, but it was just what he was waiting for.

He thrusts his fingers deep into you, fucking you fast. Your hips roll to meet his pumps, the drag of him inside you delicious.

He brings up two fingers to your lips, and instinctively you take them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digits. You make sure to meet his eye as you run your tip up the crack between his fingers, eliciting a groan from him and a buck of his hips against you.

He pulls them from your mouth and moves them between your legs. His fingers find your clit, and to match the rhythm that he was fingering into you, he begins to circle your needy bud.

It pushes you over the edge, almost literally. You cling onto the balcony as you’re thrust into it, Jimin sucking marks into your neck. You groan, the contact all over your body making you weak. The wet noises that surround you are pure sin, making you bite down on your lip. Jimin groans into your skin, teeth sinking softly into your shoulder as his fingers work fast.

“Fuck!” You yelp as his fingers brush your soft spot inside.

You slap a hand over your mouth as you stare down into the garden below, fear icy in your veins as you hope you’re not spotted.

Jimin doesn’t stop though. He hides his head in your neck, thrusting his fingers faster now that he knows your weak spot.

A few people below scan around them for the source of the swearing, but thankfully none of them think to look up. You bite your lip, eyes closing as you let yourself fall back into Jimin.

“That was a close one, huh?” He whispers, a lilt of a giggle in his voice.

“Shut up.” You murmur, voice cracking as he circles your clit so well you almost see stars.

“That’s no way to talk to the man who’s got two fingers deep in your-“

“Fuck, Jimin please!” You gasp, his next words dancing at the front of your mind.

The circles on your clit get defter, pressure hitting you just right as your hips start to roll uncontrollably. You grip tightly at the railing, unable to stop the flow of moans that echo from you. Being spotted from below is less important as you can feel your orgasm rising, your legs feeling weak underneath you.

Your skin prickles from the heat generating between your bodies, Jimin’s hot breath rolling across your neck as you flush harder.

“I’m gonna...” you whimper, your words lost to pleasure.

“Cum baby, all over my fingers.” His whisper sends shivers through you, a welcome change to the heat that dribbles down your temples.

He curls his fingers on every thrust to bring you closer to the precipice. You push back against him furiously, riding his fingers and your knuckles turn white on the railings. You feel it coil in your stomach, and you know you’re so close.

“Let go Y/N.” He whispers, breath ragged from exertion, but still peppering your marked skin with tiny kisses. You screw your eyes shut as you embody his words, letting yourself give in to the feeling.

“Jimin!”

Your orgasm crashes around you, a litany of swear words moan from your lips. Your walls clench down on Jimin’s fingers, twitching under his fingertips. You slam your hand over your mouth as your moans subside, wide eyes scanning the crowd below.

Heads turn in your direction, and before you can begin to scramble Jimin pulls you back from the balcony to stand flush against him. Your heart pounds in your chest, but the thrill that runs through your veins is undeniable.

He finally pulls his fingers out of you, the gush of wetness and noise make your face heat up. He wraps that arm across your chest and holds you against him, a wide grin wrinkling his eyes. You kiss him, soft and delicate, plump lips locking with yours.

Once you pull back he grins again, before moving the fingers that were in you towards his lips. your mouth parts as you watch him slip the digits inside, taking his time to suck off the taste of you. A light whimper leaves you as you watch him finally slide them out from between your lips with a pop, devilish glint in his eye.

Witha shiver you turn in his grip, pushing him firmly back against the wall.

He hisses lightly as his back hits it, and hisses louder as you're bungied in the shirt against him. He lets out a laugh and you do the same as you right yourself. But you can't keep yourself away from him as your lips are on his again. You flick your tongue at his, the taste of you on him.

“Wanna be inside you...” he whispers between kisses, his hot fingers idling their way up and down your sides. You groan at his words, nodding dreamily at him.

“God, yes please.” you sigh, feeling his lips trace kisses along your jaw.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He smiles against your skin, grabbing you by the hips and spinning you both.

He pushes you back against the wall, the bite of the wood pressing into your skin.

“I’ve never heard you so passive.” He laughs, thumb and finger coming up to gently grip your chin. You grin at him, a flutter in your stomach.

“Don’t get used to it Park Jimin.”

He tips his head back to laugh, a pinky flush hot on his cheeks. All you can do is watch in awe, soak him in as he glows in the moonlight. But then he looks back down at you with the stars in his eyes and you realise that, yes - this is what you had wanted all along.

You bring his lips crashing back down to yours, letting your fingers knot in his dark hair and you touch him, drink him in. The silken strands flit through your fingers, and you idly think to yourself about him running his own hands through it. You can see why he does it now.

His thumb strokes across your chin, gently pulling your face from his. You open your eyes to look at him, the flush on his face even brighter.

“Ready?”

“Give it your best shot.” you smile, peppering his jaw with kisses.

You’re stopped in your tracks when he hoists one of your legs over his hip, a teasing eyebrow raised at you. Not to be bested, you hook your leg over his ass and pull him against you. You feel his erection sit against your stomach, hard and leaking onto your skin.

He takes hold of himself and strokes across your wet slit, coating himself. A withered sigh escapes your lips as you watch his frown deepen. His face contorts as he concentrates, teasing himself just as much as he was you. You lean forward to let a trail of spit fall from your lips and drip down onto him, coating his cock even more. You don’t know what possessed you to do it again, but the way he stuttered in a gasp made it well worth it.

Then with an agonisingly slow pace, he begins to press himself just inside you. Your mind clears, all that you can see and feel is Jimin. You had waited long enough.

A wimpery sigh strangles from you, Jimin pressing against your walls until he is fully seated in you. He was so warm, stretching you in all the right places, as close to you as he could physically be.

You give him an encouraging squeeze with your leg. He takes the hint and slowly starts to pull out of you, hair flopping in front of his eyes as he looks down to watch himself pull out of you. The drag of him is good, too good, as you let a warble of noises fall out of your mouth. He doesn't seem to mind though, his focus transfixed elsewhere.

"Jimin..." you whisper, fingers digging into his skin as he slowly begins to reach a rhythm.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, any mischievous glint in him gone. He was a man on a mission now, aiming to make you feel as good as possible. You could feel that in every stroke, the way he let you feel the length of him drag almost fully out before he pushes back inside you.

You start to roll your hips back at him, determined to not let him have all the fun. The tentative thrust of your hips had his head snap up to you, a fresh sheen of sweat glowing on his skin. You try to play it off coolly - another attempt to throw him off his game - but he squeezes your ass cheeks and holds himself deep in you, and your resolve melts away.

"Don't start something you can't finish." He smirks, and despite the need to fight him bubbling in you, you tip your head back and laugh.

"I guess that applies to both of us." You smile, pressing forward to kiss his lips softly. "Now fuck me Park Jimin, or we're really gonna have a fight on our hands."

He laughs against your lips, a gentle bubble that rises from his chest. But he takes on your words, pressing you hardest against the wall and hiking your leg higher.

He only goes slow for a few thrusts, getting a feel for you before he decides to ramp it up further. 'Typical Jimin' seems to float through your head, but you just grip him tighter, moving to meet his thrusts. You wanted to savour how full he made you feel for as long as possible.

His speed picks up, a hand moving to the underside of your raised legs and digs in deep. You let your own hands slide to his hair, keeping hold of the soft locks as he starts to hit harder inside you.

The sound of your skin making contact seems to echo loudly, and you barely spare a thought to people below working out what the noise was. You didn't care if they heard any more.

It was so hot inside the shirt together, and you could feel beads of sweat rolling down your chin and down your neck. This definitely wasn't helping the heat problem at all, but there was nothing on earth that would make you stop.  The edges of Jimin's hair were getting damper, and with every tug of his hair he let his head fall back into your touch. His throat was bared to you, salty beads dribbling down his hot skin.

You murmur a series of curses as you watched him, the thrum of him being underneath you almost unbelievable.

But then he pulls out a power move.

With fast thrusts he rolls his hips, his cock dragging almost perfectly across your soft spot inside, and all your senses seem to leave you. He repeatedly manages to hit your spot and you are sure he is planning to end you, it was the only way to explain it. Death by good dick, you could see it now.

"Fuck fuck fuck." you repeat like a mantra, The wet slaps that echoes just adding to the sensation.

"Wanna turn you." He mutters breathlessly, and a part of you is glad he's also feeling so affected.

You can't seem to vocalise an answer so you nod emphatically, unhitching your leg from its vice-like grip around him. He pulls out of you and you almost complain, but then his hands are on your hips.

He spins you and presses you against the wall, lifting your leg up and lining himself back inside you again. You're practically dripping for him, so it doesn't take much for him to push back inside. You push your ass back into his thrusts making his movements stutter, and with a playful squeeze he whines behind you.

A small smirk picks up on your lips as you roll your hips back at him, starting him out of his stupor and back to where you need him.

He pounds his hips into you and you have to steady yourself against the wall. The shirt bunches awkwardly, caught in your grip as the rough wood of the wall digs into your skin. Jimin presses his front against your back, the hotness of his skin pricking against your own.

An arm slides around your waist, guiding you, holding you steady as he ferociously fucks into you. His other arm settles across your chest, his fingers clenching across your collarbone. His mouth is by your ear, ragged breaths blowing across the taut collar of the shirt and hitting the warmth of your body.

“Y/N.” Jimin groans, the lilt in his voice uneven as his hips crash into yours.

Your entire body was tingling, the pleasure from your core and the bite of the wall against your bare skin a fight for your senses. You could feel perspiration form on your forehead making your hair stick to you awkwardly but it didn't matter.

Jimin filled you in every way. The hot touch from his fingertips on your waist and across your chest, the heat of his stomach at the base of your back, the soft moans that he sings by your ears.

"That's it, baby." He groans, his fingers curling onto your skin.

The hand that he has sat on your waist slinks across your stomach to reach between your legs, letting his fingers circle your throbbing clit. The pressure makes your eyes slam shut, letting your head fall back onto Jimin's shoulder behind you.

A small single laugh falls from his lips, but your inevitable clench off your walls around him cuts it short. He thrusts a little harder, rocking you against the wall. You have to brace yourself as he fills you repeatedly, his athletic hips working overtime.

The hand that has been pressed to your chest finds its way to your throat, holding just below your jaw. You let out a moan as you cover his hand with yours, pressing his fingers into your throat.

"Shit..." He gasps, his hips stuttering.

"I bet you've been wanting to strangle me for ages." You rush, voice cracking as he circles your clit a little harder.

"Only when I've thought about fucking you."

The moan that leaves you is barely human. In fact, you were barely human any more. you were turning to putty on his cock and under his fingers. It wasn't going to be long until you reached your peak.

His fingers press into your throat under your guidance, the delicious bite making your vision slowly pool. You gasp, shivers tingling down your body. He lets up his grip a little to let your blood flow one more, your body practically vibrating from stimulation.

"Close, Jimin..." you whine, rocking your ass back into him.

"Let loose for me, Y/N." He whispers, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear.

He lets out one last surge of energy, fucking into you and rubbing your clit with a renewed vigour. you throw yourself back at him without care, chasing the high he was leading to you.

With a few more pumps and circles on your clit, you come undone.

Your body pulses on him, clenching down hard as your orgasm crashes through you. Your fingernails dig into his hand and the wall, a strangled cry of his name bursting from you. You cum hard on him, helping him finally reach his peak too - you could tell by the way his hips stuttered, the way he throbbed inside you.

"Cum, Jimin." you whimper, rocking your throbbing core on him.

He doesn't hold back, pumping a few stuttery thrusts into you as he cums. He fills you, gasping against your ear as your walls milk him dry. He thrusts until he can’t anymore, slowing his hips as the fullness inside of you trickles out past his length.

Both of your movements slowly lull to a stop. Jimin holds your body close against him, ragged breath hot against your ear. Your skin is prickled from the heat but you nestle into him anyway.

He finally pulls his softening length from inside you, a small dribble of your combined juices trickle down causing shivers to cover your body.

Turning your head you smile at him, slightly out of breath and dewy. The sight of him is godly: Messy hair sticking to his damp forehead, a pretty red blush spreading across his cheeks, plushy lips parted and sucking in breaths. He smirks back, a lazy grin growing. He moves closer and kisses you, gentle brushes of his lips against yours.

His hand that sat on your throat moved to stroke your cheek, and you let your hands thread in his hair as your kiss trails off into small pecks.

The air is different around you. It’s still hot, swirling close and untempered. But there’s something else too - a coolness, an understanding. A person behind the battle lines. Someone you could lean on, and someone who could keep up with you in an argument.

You pull back from him and look at him, his eyes slightly starry and his lips swollen from all they had been doing. With a soft smile you rub your thumb across his cupid’s bow, wiping off the last of his lipgloss.

“We should probably go downstairs, right? We don’t want Namjoon sticking that long neck of his out here.” Jimin whispers, his eyes finally focusing on you.

You nod, but not before pressing one last soft kiss to his lips. Now you’ve started, there was nothing in the world that could stop you from peppering him.

“Yeah.” You sigh, voice cracking slightly.

But neither of you move, both unwilling to be the first to break apart.

“I don’t want to leave here either.” He smirks, but it’s softer. Not the smirk he throws out to purposely disarm you, though it still has that effect on you.

“Where do we go from here though?”

“I guess we’ll have to work that out. Maybe we can discuss it if you let me take you out tomorrow?” He asks, eyes darting over your face for an answer.

Excitement crackles through you, electricity rippling through your head to the end of your fingertips. A smile rises on your face, and you can see the relief flow through Jimin.

“I’d love to.”

“Perfect. Now, let’s go and rub in the guy’s faces how well we’re getting on.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling.

He kisses you one last time, hard and fast, satiated for now. With that you finally separate, Pulling your clothes back on before facing each other again.

The shirt felt big now. Too big.

You couldn’t get close enough to him. You both head for the door when you feel Jimin’s fingers interlock with yours. Your entire body flushes as you open the door to the bedroom, the wall of heat from the house hitting you both.

You’re both undeterred though, determined to find your friends. You pull him down the stairs, not caring at who stares at you both in the sickly shirt. The house felt hotter, a visible mist descending over the sea of people.

You find them where they last left you, congregating around the couch. When you stop in front of them with Jimin in tow, they all take it upon themselves to scrutinise you. It was quiet for a long while, and you could feel your resolve buckling. You didn’t want them to see through you, see what happened. But you wanted them to know that things would be okay. For all of you.

You can only imagine how you looked. Out of breath and flustered, both of your hair messy and fully damp. They couldn’t see your hands knotted together inside the shirt, but they didn’t need to. The demeanor change between you both must have been glaringly obvious.

“How’s it going?” Namjoon asks, glaring between you.

“Good, we, uh. We’re getting on. Yeah.” you smile awkwardly, completely lost on why you were being so suspicious. You had more guts than that!

“That was smooth.” Jimin grins. He was worlds away from you, utterly content and calm.

“Oh my god, shut up.” You roll your eyes, but give his hands an extra squeeze under the shirt.

“Where have you guys been? I haven’t seen you all night.” Jungkook asks with wide innocent eyes, and for a moment you feel like if he knew what had just been happening he would have been tainted.

“Oh, just… exploring.” Jimin smirks, and you fight the urge to pinch him. Who knew this would go to his head?

Well, you knew. You shouldn’t be surprised at all.

“About time.” Jin sighs, eyes still glued to his phone. The others laugh and throw in their agreements.

“What?” you and Jimin both yell, eyes scanning your ‘friends’ suspiciously.

“We knew you both liked each other. It got a bit weird towards the end there but we knew you’d work it out - or Namjoon would.” Hoseok shrugs, but his face is bright as he grins at you both.

“The shirt was a bit of a, well… drastic option.” Namjoon's smile was crooked, but his eyes were bright as he grinned at you.

“Oh… I don’t know what to say.” You murmur, heat creeping across your face again.

Jimin, however, throws his head back and laughs, slapping a hand on his chest for good measure. You stare up at him in shock, but you can’t help the smile that grows on your face. He was infectious. And your friends understood. You feel a tightness unfurl in your stomach.

“Well, it worked out. It worked out really well. I mean just so so good-”

“Jimin, shut up!”  You gasp, eyes wide as he winks at Namjoon.

Well, it’s good to know that the fire is still there between you. He was still impossibly infuriating and unendingly Jimin - but it was all for you. And it was only the start.

“Sorry baby.” He whispers as he lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist pulling you into his side. You flush at the move in front of the others, but easily melt into his side. You had been waiting for this, after all.

“I’m glad.” smiles Namjoon, warm eyes flicking over you both in the stained and rumpled ugly item of clothing. “Maybe we should burn the shirt, though. Just for hygienic reasons.”

[sombreboy]

Descend | demon!knj

⇣18+ nsfw ⇣pairing: demon knj x female Y/N ⇣genre: pwp smut, supernatural ⇣word count: 2.6k ⇣warnings: smut, profanity, dubcon esque themes, degrading dirty talk, mouthfucking, knj fucks y/n against a bookshelf lmao, demon creampie, he’s got a forked tongue idk if that’s a warning but at this point I’m too afraid to ask. 

A/N: Request by anon who wanted demon knj smut. I hope you love it! Please praise me I spent all night on this xoxo

‘’I’d say you are wasting my time, but that was before I saw you..’’ he tugged her face closer to his crotch, the bulge underneath the fabrics visibly twitching from having her attention. ‘’You will make it worth my while.’’

‘’What the fuck…’’

Out of all things she could say, that was the one and only thing that she could muster. Her eyes were wide in disbelief, ogling up at the man standing in front of her. 

Y/N was on her knees. A large, worn out book placed in front of her with several lit candles surrounding it. She didn’t think much, having no intentions in mind when she had found the crappy old book in the shelves of the grand library other than to see if it worked.. Of course it wouldn’t work. Curiosity always got her, for better or for worse.

She wasn’t sure which side of the spectrum this would become.

‘’What the fuck, it worked…’’ She repeated, this time a little louder. It wasn’t until the tall man crouched in front of her that she could get a proper closeup of his flawless visuals. 

Handsome, plush lips. His eyes were intense, the dark irises swirling like red wine, the shape of them comparable to that of a dragon.

She wasn’t sure whether he was actually a demon, how could he be? He’s beautiful.

An angel would suit him better.. Well, disregarding the fact that his eyes are glowing red.

‘’Such a filthy mouth.’’ The man tsk’d as his hand reached out to cup her jaw in his large hand, moving her face from side to side. He inched in closer, as if inspecting her features.

‘’Too pretty to use such language.’’

He didn’t seem to even question why she’d summoned him in the first place, as if it was already a given on his end. And it was, he knew exactly what he wanted to do, and the shit eating smirk on his face was the proof of it.

Y/N shoved his hand away, to which his response was to immediately stand up on his feet in front of her, kicking the book away. He growled lowly, the candles suddenly bursting into larger flames, as if his annoyance fueled the fire. He stepped closer, now towering over her smaller frame on her knees. Bending forward slightly, he tugged the hair at the back of her head, pulling back to force her to look up at his wicked smile.

‘’You’re a daring girl,’’ he snickered menacingly, ‘’Do you even know who I am?’’

‘’No.’’ Y/N swallowed tightly, wincing when the grip in her hair tightened. Her eyes quickly moved down when she noticed that his hand was slowly undoing his pants, each tooth of his zipper coming undone as his eyes remained hyper fixated on her face.

‘’I’m Kim Namjoon. The demon overlord.’’ His voice dropped, the baritone rumbling in his chest.

‘’You have summoned me, for what reason?’’

He didn’t care for the answer.

‘’I don’t.. know…I didn’t think it would work.’’ Y/N muttered meekly, unable to rip her eyes off of his long fingers taking way too long to pull that damn zipper down.

Why was it so mesmerizing?

‘’Ah, too bad…’’ Namjoon chuckled, small dimples appearing on his cheeks as he smiled.

‘’I’d say you are wasting my time, but that was before I saw you..’’ he tugged her face closer to his crotch, the bulge underneath the fabrics visibly twitching from having her attention.

‘’You will make it worth my while.’’

‘’What are yo-mmph!” She was unable to finish her sentence when the grasp around her jaw tightened, forcing her mouth open only to shove his thumb inside, smoothing the pad of it against the surface of her tongue.

‘’Silence.’’ Namjoon’s command echoed in the grand room. The very second those words left his mouth, it was as if her throat tightened, unable to squeak out anything but a whimper.

Y/N’s eyebrows were drawn together in annoyance, the bratty attitude not faltering even whilst knowing he’s supposedly a demon lord. She huffed through her nose, instinctively biting down on his thumb as hard as she could. She winced, his skin was soft-- but impenetrable. He definitely wasn’t human, or he would’ve been bleeding.

And the sound erupting from his throat was not that of pain, but a dark snicker.

“Cute.’’ he roughly let go of her jaw to shove two fingers inside of her mouth, deep enough to prod the back of her throat, causing it to constrict around his digits. Tears formed in her eyes, the restricted airflow making her squirm and fall backwards on her behind to get away. She coughs, covering her mouth as she stared up at the smirking demon.

‘’Hm?’’ Namjoon cooed mockingly, however not moving from his spot as he brought his wet fingers to his mouth, licking her spit off of them while maintaining his piercing gaze on her.

‘’Playful, aren’t you?’’ he played with the waistband of his pants, tugging at them as he cocked an eyebrow at her, slowly sauntering forward to her sitting form. Once again, he stood above her, completely disregarding the fact that she initially had attempted to back off. However, he grew impatient. And she was wasting his time.

‘’Get back on your knees, angel.’’ Namjoon put emphasis on the pet name, as if it had a degrading nature coming from him. Y/N’s body moved like it had a mind of its own, quickly getting back into her original position on her knees, hands neatly placed in her lap.

Her body was no longer controlled by her, every command rolling off his tongue springing her body into action as if he was pulling her strings like a puppeteer.

Namjoon’s tongue poked out to wet his lips at the sight below him, finally peeling the caging fabrics down his thighs. It was a slow, tortuous few seconds that felt like an eternity for the two of them.

Y/N’s doe eyes widened, her face flushed red when she saw his length as it sprung free, tip already glazed with precum. He craned his neck to stare down at her, the fire in his irises swirling with desire.

‘’Show me your tongue.’’

Y/N obliged, doe eyes mirroring the fiery gaze he brought upon her as she opened her mouth wide, sticking her tongue out. Saliva dripped down the tip of her fleshy muscle, Namjoon’s eyes quivered at the sight.

‘’My fallen angel.’’ He smiles, hand now stroking himself with intent. His free grasp reaches for her hair once again, bringing her mouth closer, rubbing the swollen head of his cock against her warm tongue. He bit back a low groan, immediately driving his hips forward to sink his length down her throat. He relished in the way her insides constricted around him as a reflex, ignoring any sign of her body rejecting his girth. 

‘’So pretty with your mouth stuffed. Don’t you dare try to bite, though….’’ He smirked. ‘’Not that it’d do anything, except bring punishment upon yourself.’’

He started to thrust into her mouth, the slick sounds of his cock gliding against her tongue was heavenly, ‘’But perhaps that is what you desire, angel.’’

Y/N’s only response was the way she swallowed his cock, drool dribbling down her chin to pool at the floor below. The skin of his cock was like velvet, smoothly brushing against her tongue with every stroke that gradually grew rougher, deeper, and faster.

‘’Fuck yeah, you’re such a well behaved, pretty little angel.’’ Namjoon praised, and it made her feel...  excited. Never did he think his words would make her want to please, but with every second spent with him; his aura, his voice, his taste-- it drew her in like a sailor towards a siren’s song. He was addictive.

Namjoon continued to fuck her throat as he pleased, low grunts and curses slipping through his teeth, eyes focused on the way his cock disappeared into her mouth with every forward thrust. It was mesmerizing to him, watching her take it so well, muscles relaxed. He could feel her desires grow, smell.. Fuck, even taste her arousal on his tongue. It had him greedy for more.

‘’Enough.’’ He growled as he pulled her back by her hair, drawing a whine from her sweet, swollen lips. He felt something stir in his body, and whether it was his cock, or his chest-- he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t important at the moment. All he knew was that he craved her fleshy insides wrapped around his cock. Y/N wiped her chin with the back of her hand, yelping when Namjoon pulled her up by her upper arm like she weighed nothing, dragging her along with him only to push her back up towards the bookshelf. She gasped, the hard surface pressing against her back wasn’t comfortable. However, she quickly forgot about the discomfort the moment the demon’s lips suddenly crashed against hers in a hungry, devouring kiss. His tongue was longer than she expected, slipping through her lips to find her own, a low guttural moan vibrating in their mouths as he tasted her. She was so, so sweet, and he found himself just as addicted to her, as she was to him.

‘’You’re making it very well worth my time, angel.’’ Namjoon’s praises became more frequent the more he got to feel, taste, and smell her. His hands roamed down the curve of her ass before roughly ripping the fabrics off her body. He hated them, more than anything at this moment; daring to cover the thing he’d decided by now, to claim as his own.

Y/N belonged to him.

‘’Speak.’’ He suddenly said, his rumbling voice loud and powerful yet again when it was an order. Y/N felt the sudden wall that had previously blocked her ability to talk to crumble down.

‘’I-I…’’ She wasn’t sure what to say, only a moan replacing her attempt to speak when Namjoon lifted her up to firmly push her against the shelf, locking her legs around his waist. His body was strong, oozing intimidation and dominance.

‘’I want to fuck you.’’ Namjoon bluntly stated, tilting his head to the side as those endearing dimples reappeared. He inched closer, his fiery breath hot, the scent laced with something comparable to burnt wood. ‘’Tell me, do you want my fat cock? I will give it all to you, pump you full of my cum.’’

He huffed against her lips as he rubbed the bulbous, slick head of his cock back and forth between her soppy folds, teasing her hole by prodding it lightly, gathering the wetness before resuming to rub her clit with his tip. ‘’I said, speak!’’

‘’Please, I want---fuck..’’ Y/N buried her face in the crook of his neck, body already trembling. His cock was scorching hot against her cunt, teasing her swollen clit until she felt her arousal trickle and drip to the floor. ‘’Please fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…’’ She repeated as if in trance, completely enchanted by the demon’s spell.

Funny thing is, he wasn’t using any spell on her all along. She wanted this just as bad as he did.

‘’Angel…’’ Namjoon groaned as he didn’t waste time in pushing himself into her cunt, buried as deep as physically possible. It was the sweetest, most delicious sensation he’s ever experienced.

‘’Holy, fuck, such a sweet little hole. Hear that?’’ He chuckles eerily as he immediately pulls back, only to roughly thrust back inside, the wet sounds of her juices like music to his ears.

‘’Hear how needy your body is for me?’’ He asks again, hissing out more curses every time he thrusts back into her, drawing louder and louder moans and cries.

‘’Yes, oh my god..’’ Y/N whines, wrapping her arms around his neck, digging her nose into his skin. Her sweet canary voice was something he wishes he could hear for all of eternity, and by now he already knew...  He was going to make her his own little plaything.

‘’God?’’ Namjoon laughs as he speeds up, pounding her squelching cunt harder and harder at the mention of ‘god’. It was hilarious, how she could mention such a name at a time like this. ‘’No, my angel. The only name you should utter is Namjoon.’’ He snarled, digging his nails into the flesh of her hips, every thrust earning a sweet cry from her mouth. Skin to skin, harshly smacking together, the way her body bounced sinfully against his own. It was nothing but extraordinary.

‘’N-namjoon! Namjoon, oh fuck, please,’’ Her words were choked by her moans, shaky from the powerful momentum of his rocking hips. She felt the heat build in her lower stomach, his scorching cock rubbing and prodding her insides, not leaving a single inch of her untouched. ‘’Gonna cum!’’

‘’A filthy, fallen angel,’’ Namjoon moaned, pistoning his hips into her, the bookshelf rocking harshly every single time he crashed her body against it, books falling off to pile at the floor.

‘’You’re gonna cum for a demon, you’re gonna cum because of the cock of a creature of hell. You’re such a whore, my whore-- for eternity. That’s what you want to be, isn’t it?’’ He felt his own climax building gradually, kissing and biting at her collarbone.

‘’Beg to be my whore in hell, and I will bring you with me.’’

Y/N didn’t think it through. She didn’t have to. At this point, she had already given her entire being over to him, he wanted nothing else than to remain by his side for eternity-- even if it meant hell.

‘’I want to be yours, forever.. Use me everyday, me only, nobody else!’’ Y/N yells into his neck, placing kisses and possessive bites on his hot skin, ‘’Fill me up, claim me as your whore. Take me with you, Namjoon.’’

‘’Fuck, ohh fuck..!’’ Namjoon thrived in hearing her say exactly what he wished for, the verbal confirmation enough for him to drive his hips into her at an animalistic speed, forcing her own orgasm to erupt around his length. A silent cry that didn’t leave her throat, choked on a sob as she bit down on his shoulder as hard as she could muster, cunt spasming around his slick cock.

‘’My perfect little angel, my oh--’’ Namjoon’s words choked intro a strained moan, guttural and inhuman as his hips stuttered. He wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezing her body tightly against his own while his cock throbbed desperately inside, ropes of cum gushing out to fill her up to the brim until some of it was forced to drip out and pool at the floor beneath.

His cum was hot-- too hot, it burned like the fires of hell itself inside of her womb. He’d claimed her as his personal cocksleeve, and her body would no longer know any other man than Namjoon, the demon lord.

Namjoon remained still as he allowed his cock to rest inside of her for a long moment, the scorching sensation no longer painful-- but welcomed. He dropped down to his knees with a thud, Y/N still in his lap as he pulled back to look at her fucked out, blissed expression. She had nothing but awe in her eyes, and saw nobody but the demon in front of her.

‘’Y/N.’’ He said softly, brushing her  hair away from her face. ‘’Come with me.’’

‘’Yes.’’ Y/N didn’t hesitate in her reply, nodding once. Her body trembled in his embrace, to which he simply smiled. Those damned, beautiful dimples once again pressing on his cheeks.

‘’I’m yours.’’

Namjoon’s smile grew wider, this time genuine. He almost didn’t look like he was a demon, but instead.. An angel.

But the swirling fire of red in his eyes reminded you that he was anything but holy.

He cupped your face in his heated hands, drawing you in for a deep kiss, his long forked tongue brushing and tasting every corner of your mouth.

A kiss to seal the deal.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not edit, repost or translate.

[mossharpy]

Do u know any TOH fics where it focuses on human culture/Luz being different? I can't find any :(

i've got two! but then this prompt took me by the hands and i ended up writing my own little drabble.

from ao3:

crossing paths by Vikingfangirl23 | 2991 Words | One-Shot | Summary: Luz deals with bullies, Owlbert's been following her longer than she realizes.

It's Just Hair by foolish_snail | 1889 Words | One-Shot | Summary: Luz is tired of getting bullied for her hair. May as well do something about it.

from me (under read more):

Willow and Gus were avoiding her. It was frustrating; all day they’d been skirting around her questions and attempts to confront them about their unusually skittish behavior. They told each other everything—why was this time different? Luz had briefly worried she’d done something to upset Willow, who tended to still be sore about how much time she was spending with Amity.

Luz understood where the witch was coming from, she’d be upset if her best friend started dating her ex-bully too. But, if that was the case, why was Gus avoiding her? Gus was brutally honest about his feelings; he wore his heart on his sleeve. Willow was more closed off, but Gus was always willing to play middleman if a miscommunication occurred. Even worse, when she’d asked them about wanting to sit together at lunch, the two came up with some on-the-spot excuse about having detention. Luz loved her friends, but they were terrible liars.

But she didn’t push. Luz let them go.

The human poked her PB&J, sighing. She didn’t like being ignored.

Fridays were usually her favorite day of the week. She loved Hexside—don’t get her wrong—more than she’d ever loved school, but on Fridays, as soon as school let out, Willow and Gus would follow her back to the Owl House. There, they’d begin their usual ritual of eating far too much junk food and watching crappy Boiling Isles reality TV. It was fun, it was their chance to put aside all their worries, about school, about magic, about getting home, and let loose.

Their distance made Luz think her friends weren’t willing to hang out that night.

A plastic tray gently found a place next to her, and Luz let her eyes wander upward to land on the face of her girlfriend. She smiled, worries abandoned, and focus turned toward Amity, who nervously pulled a string of lavender hair from her face, a pale blush creeping over her nose and tinging her face.

“Are Willow and Gus joining us?” She spoke formally, a trait the witch often defaulted to when trying to hide how flustered she was.

The question made Luz frown, and she let her head fall against the lunch table. “They’ve got better things to do.”

Amity nodded, taking Luz’s hand under the table, and hesitantly letting their fingers intertwine. “I guess they would be busy, what, with the party, they’re planning and all.”

“…Party?”

The purple-haired witch made a small face, “You didn’t know? Gus has been talking my ear off all day about it.” She conjured her scroll to show her girlfriend, gesturing to the dozens of unread penstagram messages she’d likely chosen to ignore.

“The two of them have been insufferable today, how am I supposed to know the difference between Pep Ph.D. and Dr Fizz? And what in Titan’s name is a clown.” She threw up her hands, irritated, before resigning to letting them sit crossed over her chest.

Luz shrugged, still staring at the number of messages, “Pep tastes kinda like barbecue sauce if it was carbonated, Dr Fizz is sweeter, bubblier, and by far the better soda. And clowns are a staple of every good party.”

Amity looked slightly baffled, like she wasn’t expecting Luz to have an opinion either, then gently took her scroll back to rapidly text a message to Gus.

“…What’s the party for?” The words came out muffled, and slightly anxious. She wanted to help, she was a great party planner—Willow knew that, Gus knew that, why were they leaving her out?

“Oh,” Amity was stilly texting, “I think Gus’s birthday is coming up.”

“WHAT?” Luz slammed her hands on the cafeteria table, startling Amity and bringing the attention of the rest of the lunchroom to both of them, various Hexside students glaring or staring, judgingly.

Amity gently brought her hands to Luz’s shoulders, pulling the human back into her seat and nervously laughing. Said human leaned in, close, raising a hand to her mouth to whisper.

“What do you mean Gus’s birthday is coming up?” She was his friend; she should be an expert in these kinds of things! No wonder he and Willow had been avoiding her, they probably didn’t want to break the news to her that she had forgotten one of her best friends’ birthday.

“The party is this weekend,” Amity supplied, mimicking her girlfriend’s hushed tone. “They’ve been sending out invitations on penstagram all day.”

She turned her scroll toward Luz again, this time, a fun-looking, brightly colored invitation with a doodle drawing of Gus throwing confetti, sprawled across her penstagram dashboard. The specific details were cut out, but she could see that Amity was right—the party was this Saturday.

A small knot formed in Luz’s stomach. She couldn’t get a scroll—they were too intertwined with witch magic, and without a bile sack, it was hard to get one. Normally, if she really wanted to see what was going on, she’d ask Eda to borrow hers, but she didn’t have one of her own. Gus knew that, so did Willow. Did they not want her there? Why wouldn’t they give out invitations in person? Why were they hiding this from her?

She slumped onto the table, burying her face in her arms.

“I guess, well—” Amity faltered, catching up on her girlfriend’s sudden deflation, “It is his thirteenth birthday.”

Luz cringed.

“No, no,” Her girlfriend continued, “It’s his thirteenth birthday, Luz.”

She stared, blankly. “I don’t get what you mean. Why are you saying ‘thirteenth’ like that?”

“Oh shoot,” Amity face-palmed, a pointed ear twitching, “Of course you wouldn’t have the thirteenth, I forget how fragile humans are.”

“Hey,” Luz dragged out the word, scowling, “We’re not fragile, we’re just not meant to digest fairies or survive boiling water.”

Her girlfriend snickered, “Like I said, fragile. Anyways, when a witch turns thirteen, you have to go through some… trials.”

“I like trials,” Luz mumbled.

Amity smiled, fondly, then grimaced, “They’re not fun trials, Luz. A witch’s thirteenth birthday is said to be cursed; you have to spend the day with bad luck, and if you manage to survive, at the end of the day you can throw a party, celebrating your ability to wield magic and become a real witch. It’s a rite of passage.”

She ‘oohed’, “That sounds cool. Why wouldn’t Gus tell me about it?”

The purple-haired girl made a face, “I’m not sure. You’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, even if you are… squishy. I’m confident in your ability to survive the death threats of a thirteenth.”

Resting her chin in the palm of her hand, Luz grumbled. “Thank you.”

She moped the rest of the school day.

When her final class came, and the last bell screamed, Luz sulked, taking her time to put away her spell books and potions, slowly zipping her bag and slowly tucking away her pencils. She wasn’t looking forward to walking home alone.

Her feet felt heavy, footsteps echoing down the bustling hallway as other students excitedly talked about their weekend plans. She tried to ignore every whisper of ‘party’, flipping her cowl up to hide her face. Normally, Luz didn’t mind people staring. At home, she got enough of it already, but in the Boiling Isles being the only human made her feel… important.

She didn’t feel important right now.

Her hand gently pushed the front door of the school open, light momentarily blinding her as her eyes got adjusted to the outdoors.

“Luz!” An excited voice called her name, forcing her head to instinctively turn toward the offending noise.

Suddenly, two bodies were tackling her, and Luz found herself toppling to the ground.

“Ohmigosh, are you okay?” A very frantic Gus clambered from their pile of entangled limbs, pushing himself and Willow off of Luz.

“Wha—Gus? Willow? What are you guys doing here?” She blinked a few times, rubbing at the arm she had stupidly hit on the stone ground. Dumb human arms, always getting injured. “I thought you would’ve been getting ready for the party.”

They both cringed.

“Oh… you found out about that?” Willow fiddled with the hem of her skirt, looking away from the human’s face.

Luz felt her face get hot. She was not going to cry about this. Absolutely not. “Of course, I found out! What I wanna know is why my two best friends decided I’m not cool enough to go to their really scary thirteenth birthday party? I know Gus has to go through dangerous trials, and like, prove himself and whatever, but I’m tough! I can take it.”

Gus looked between her and Willow, as if debating whether he should say something. A beat of silence passed.

“Of course, I want you at my party,” the younger witch finally spoke, “actually, that’s what we were coming to talk to you about—”

He scratched the back of his neck, pausing briefly.

“Eda told us that humans don’t have bad luck rituals on their thirteenth birthday, so we—well—we may have—”

“It’s a double party!” Willow interrupted, face quickly turning bright pink. “Sorry, sorry! I’ve been dying of anticipation all day.”

She pulled a rolled-up parchment from her bag, unfurling it to show Luz an edited version of Gus’s party invitation. This one included a small doodle of Luz as well as Gus, both donning matching party hats and throwing confetti. At the bottom, the date and time were clearly listed.

Saturday, 9:00pm, The Owl House.

Luz’s eyes widened, a large grin forming on her face.

“You guys!” She d’awwed, pulling them into a group hug.

“We didn’t want you to miss out, and Eda said you’d be able to handle all the bad luck just fine, and King’s okay with it as long as we bubble-wrap you, and we didn’t want to miss your birthday in case you had to go home before we can celebrate—” Gus cut his own rambling off, taking a breath.

“We got a clown!” Willow laughed, excitedly clapping.

Gus nodded enthusiastically, repeating her, “We got a clown!”

“Is this why you were texting Amity all those weird questions?”

Her friends both gasped, Gus especially offended, “I wanted to be as accurate as possible, the party is human-themed after all. Amity wasn’t supposed to tell you about it! That’s the point of a surprise party.”

“Eda was setting up pre-birthday decorations at the Owl House for tonight’s sleepover.” Willow added.

“Sleepover?” Luz repeated, awestruck. “Oh, my Azura, you guys are the best.”

The three kids hugged again, laughing about their birthday schemes. Human or not, Luz should’ve known better than to think her best friends would exclude her like that.

This was going to be the best Friday ever.

[s-fellows-art]

Simplified tips on how to improve your art.

.putting under cut because its long but thats cause i explain these and not just list stuff. 

1)  Flip/mirror  your canvas when working. - it allows you see anatomy and other errors you may overlook. 

2) before uploading look at the image on a different screen or the next day. - this give you time away from it, and as tempting as it is to upload as soon as your done, if you wait  you will see stuff you can improve on and be able to look at it with “ fresh” eyes. 

3) Stop shading with black or grey scale colors- shading with inly these colors make the imAge look muddy, if you shade with a color that is a darker hue of the same color your adding shading to it one in the same tempters ( warm= R Y O cool = B G I V  on the Rainbow ) you get more vibrant art and you don’t muddy what your working on. 

4) Learn to grey scale BEFORE coloring as a draft p2- learning how to shade in black and white can help you identify lighting points and details. When digital painting simplifying something out to a grey scale can help you keep track of what your doing. 

5) Use the tools you have access too- References to learn anatomy , taking time to learn amniotomy will help you a lot in the long term, but doing everything off the top of your head your bond to get something wrong early on, or even later on in art.  Use the sharpen tool around highlights if your program offers it. It saves time. Also play with your filters and line art colors. These will ad detail to your work and takes less time. If you mess around with the brushes in your program and stuff before starting it will help you later on. Its not cheating professionals use it all the time. 

6) practice drawing random stuff- it teaches you the shapes and trains your hand ti make the strokes/motions needed for basically everything. Art studies can be very helpful. Even if it feels stupid drawing 500 eyes on a note pad, it helps. 

7) Simple is good, complex is chaos- over complex art is hard to look at because your not sure what to focus on so the areas you want the eye to go to is where you should focus your details rather then make every single little thing detailed. Another way to do this is to brighten the colors where you want the eye to go at first glance in an image, but make the other areas muted in color, or blurred slightly.  

8) Don’t be afraid to look up tutorials and take breaks if you get stuck - I personally only learned how to shade faces from watching makeup tutorials. And there is nothing shameful in not knowing how to do something and needing to look it up or ask, its how you learn you can just power you way through it all the time, and somethings your wasting your time if you do for something not worth it in the end run. Also the act if stepping back and away to go do something else is sometimes all you need, sometimes looking at the same file over and over again can be mentally exhausting. Take a break. Drink some water. Stretch your wrists. Look away from it for a while then come back. 

9) Stretch your wrists before working- save your self years if pain trust me. I regret not doing this. Also draw from your shoulder not your wrist unless detailing, less stress on your arm and more precision. 

10) Use different line thicknesses - i find using thicker lines for areas that touch the outer parts of your drawing or more important areas, and using thinner for detailing adds a bit of detail and quality to your work even if the line art isn’t clean. Inner face  parts (other then the top bracket of the eyes), lines between fingers, lines marking clothing folds, and things like that should be done in thinner lines then eyebrows and what not. 

Next two some will role your eyes at but honestly makes a huge difference, even if you got to force it at first. Its hard to break a bad habit.

11) don’t look for flaws in your work, look for what you like about it,- if your constantly pointing out what is wring with what you are doing your not gonna go any where, bare minimum go “ okay im not too happy about this, lets see how we can improve it” instead if “ this looks like garbage I hate it”. If you stay in the mentality of I don’t like this , your never gonna be happy with what your making or improve because subconsciously your telling you self you can’t. This slight change in mind set of trying to find at least one thing you like will make a big difference in the long run because slowly you will be moving towards finding a style your comfortable with and going from there, you will be finding things you

12) don’t compare you self to other artist- its one thing to want to take influence in your fave artist, its another to constantly out yourself down because your not like them. Everyone art started as shit. Everyone. We all were that crappy 1 year old can barely hold a pen person at one point. like learning how to read and write or ride a bike....  No one starts as a perfect artists, its something you learn, so comparing your self to people around you is not gonna help you improve and putting yourself down just because your not perfect yet. Even if its something as little as “im happy I finally finished this” is better then “I wish i was like _”. You are slowly moving towards a goal, some people just move quicker then others because they learn different techniques, instead if putting energy into hating everything you do why not try to learn how the people you like the art of got there by learning some techniques your self? 

13) Ignore the notes enjoy the journey-  Regardless , you making art is amazing in itself . Its something only you have made. There may be other things like it but its not like how you did. Your unique and honestly ignore the notes, if your constantly pushing yourself based off of numbers, your gonna burn your self out and give your self impossible expectations to try to complete. Everyone has different tasted and are not always gonna like what you do the same way, if at all, there is nothing wrong with what you made you simply just can’ please everyone and its not your job to. The notes are a bonus, not a goal, you don’t have to try to compete for them the only person you have to create for for is you. Do what ever the hell you want and if people like it, great, if they don’, then they like a different cup of tea then yours, don’s make it bad tea.  Edit 1 as i thought of more : also the reason your sketch looks better then your line art is because your line art is too neet. If you use difrent thicknesses in lines (thicker for outter areas and important areas) and thinner for areas with more movment (bottom crese of eyes or outline of area around puple inner part of mouth clothing inner parts or what ever u feelis needed) it will look better because it will show your brush strokes which is what makes your sketch look good. -You can also add a 3d effect woth the red and blue outlines on areas that are not the central focus of the peice. Blurring has the same sort of effect to where it forces the eye onto the clearer area if the photo and makes it more visually intresting. Having this effect everywhere however can make stuff hard to focus on and diffcult to look at so only keep it on non focus points (most common focus point is the face so wouldnt put it there) .

Idk how helpful these will be but they made a big diff in my progress over the past year. The last bunch made a significant difference for me, though it was really hard to force myself into that mentality. And i still skip doing some of these in occasion ill admit but i hope this helps none the less. 

[jlalafics]

Could you please reblog your lesbian!Peeta story for me

Sure! I hope this is the one you’re thinking of!

_______

“You can shut off the lights now.”

Delly Cartwright, Peeta’s friend and business manager, looked to her and gave a sympathetic smile.

“You did well for a new business owner, Peeta,” she continued. Gathering some of the go-backs, Delly started to head over to the racks. “You opened a record shop. It wasn’t exactly going to be busy every day, but from a business standpoint, you did well for your first week.”

Peeta gathered her golden locks into a ponytail and took the broom next to her to sweep up.

“I guess you’re right,” Peeta replied.

She had fair sales for her opening week; it had always been her dream to open a shop of her own and her love for vinyl clinched her decision to open a record store. There was hope of expanding to a used bookstore, but it seemed that it would be awhile before that would happen.

“Don’t you have a husband to get home to?” Peeta asked her friend. “Thom must be annoyed that you’re spending all your time with me.”

“Thom wouldn’t have a full-service coffee bar if it weren’t for his wife’s business savvy,” Delly retorted. She pushed herself onto the wood counter. “He can sacrifice time so I can help out one of my best friends.”

“Really though.” Returning the broom to its place, Peeta met her friend’s light eyes. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Suddenly, Delly’s mouth formed into a smirk. “I mean it wouldn’t hurt if you had a partner to support and help you out. I met this great girl at Thom’s bar—”

“You know what—” Peeta lifted her petite friend off the counter easily, placing her by the front door. “—I think you should go home. You’re obviously exhausted.”

“You win this round, Mellark,” Delly declared with a chuckle. “We’ll see you for Sunday brunch at our place.”

Stepping out, Peeta watched her friend get into her car and drive off before walking back into the store.

Sighing, she let herself admit that she was lonely.

It had been two years since her last relationship and about six months since her last date. Her brothers were both in long-term relationships; Dean, her eldest brother, married to Olivia, his college girlfriend, with two kids and one on the way while Rye, the middle child, engaged to Johanna, one of Peeta’s closest friends and her former roommate.

While she, the youngest and only girl, was still single.

Peeta wasn’t looking for just anyone.

Whoever she was had to be more.

So, for the time being, she would just have to focus on getting the store up and running.

++++++

Locking up the store, Peeta buttoned her rust peacoat and headed towards her bus stop. Her place was fifteen minutes away—just a few blocks—but the fall season had caused the city to go dark once it hit six in the evening.

“Hey girl!”

The group of guys from the bar across the street called out. There were a few catcalls and she ignored it, speeding up her pace towards the bus stop at the end of the block. Her heart stuttered in nervousness as she heard the footfalls heading towards her.

Suddenly, one of the guys was standing in front of her. “Where you heading, sweetheart?”

Peeta didn’t reply, only taking in a description of the guy…mid-twenties, dark beard, medium height, sharp dark eyes wearing a grey hoodie, black tank, and dark jeans.

So, basically any random guy.

Dean was a cop and he had always taught her what to do if she was in a situation like this. However, it didn’t seem to be helping as she found herself surrounded by the rest of the group.

So, Peeta went for Rye’s method and fully rushed at the guy in front of her, trying to knee him in the groin.

He pushed her and Peeta was knocked down, the back of her head hitting the concrete.

There was the pain of impact…and then darkness.

++++++

“Miss Mellark…can you open your eyes?” Peeta blinked, her vision blurred and the white light causing her eyes to close again. “Take your time.”

She followed the kind voice, allowing herself to adjust before opening her eyes once more.

“There you go,” the voice said gently. “You gave us a scare when you came in.”

Her vision cleared and the warmest set of eyes greeted her. Almond-shaped and dove grey, the eyes were set in a heart-shaped face along with a pert nose and rose lips, her skin was a soft olive and her raven hair was tied back in a neat braid.

“Where am I?” she asked as the bed was slowly elevated.

“You are in the hospital,” the woman in the blue scrubs informed her. “My name is Katniss and I’m your nurse. You were mugged; the perp got your credit cards but left the rest of your wallet since there wasn’t any money. Can you tell me your name?”

“Peeta. Peeta Mellark.”

Katniss looked at her in confusion. “Your ID says Pieta Mellark.”

“When I was born, my parents tried to teach my brother Rye how to say me name properly, Pee-et-ta, but he couldn’t get it and kept pronouncing my name as Pee-ta. So, it kind of stuck.”

The nurse chuckled. “I like both your names.” Katniss looked over her chart and then to her. “We’re just making sure that you’re CT scan comes out clean and then we can release you. Do you have anyone that we can call? Your family?”

“I don’t want to worry my parents and they’re an hour away, and my brothers have families,” she explained. “Once I’m released, I’ll just head on home.”

“Your name fits you,” Katniss remarked. “Pieta means compassion. A lot of people would milk themselves getting injured, but not you. You’re more concerned about everyone else around you.”

“Give me a day or two and I’ll be at home, feeling sorry for myself,” Peeta replied. “Your name is a plant.”

The nurse grinned. “How did you know?”

“When we were all kids, my parents took us camping,” she explained. “And my Dad told me that if for some reason, I got lost in the woods then I just needed to find you to survive.”

Katniss blushed, her cheeks flooding with color, and Peeta found herself breathless in the prettiness of it all.

“I suppose that could also apply to non-camping situations,” Katniss responded. “Get some rest, Peeta, and I’ll check up on your results.”

++++++

“I’m really alright, Haymitch,” Peeta assured her business partner on the phone. “They kept me overnight for observation, but they didn’t see anything in the CT scan.”

“We should install cameras in the front,” the man insisted. “You could’ve been killed or assaulted!”

“Well, they checked if there was any trauma down there and everything seemed right as rain,” she assured him. “My vagina is perfectly intact.”

There was a cough and she turned to see Katniss standing before, a black bomber jacket over her scrubs and her hair down in long waves.

“I really didn’t need to hear that,” the man muttered. “Just call me when you get home, okay? Also, get an Uber and put it on our business credit card.”

“Ah…you should probably call about that,” Peeta replied. “Some of my credit cards are missing.”

“I’m right on it,” Haymitch responded. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll open the store tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” Hanging up, Peeta stuffed her phone into her jean pocket before turning to the woman. “Getting off?”

Katniss looked to her in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Work. You off from your shift?”

The blush invaded her lovely face and she nodded quickly. “Oh yeah! Just heading out. How about you?”

“Yeah, just needed to check in with Haymitch, my partner,” Peeta explained.

“Oh.” Katniss’ expression dropped. “Why wouldn’t your boyfriend pick you up?”

Peeta snorted at the idea.

“Haymitch is my business partner.” She looked to the woman beside her. “You heading home to your boyfriend?”

The woman shook her head. “I’ve got some leftover pasta and A Walk to Remember on Netflix, but that’s about it.”

“Would you want to join me for a cup of coffee?” Peeta found herself asking. “Thom, my best friend’s husband owns a coffee shop a few blocks down. It will be on me—or on Delly, my best friend—your coffee, I mean…”

Shit, Peeta was going about this all wrong. She didn’t even know if Katniss was into girls.

“Sure.”

Her head snapped up at Katniss’ response and Peeta smiled. “Okay.”

They headed onto the sidewalk in front of the hospital. It was a beautiful morning, chilled but brimming with potential to be a gorgeous day of clear skies and temperate weather.

“How long have you been a nurse?” Peeta asked as they headed down towards Thom’s coffee bar.

“About three years,” Katniss said. “Got this job right out of school. My mom was head nurse at the hospital before retiring a few years ago and I guess nepotism worked in my favor. I might actually be a really crappy nurse.”

“No, you definitely aren’t,” Peeta argued. “You have a natural empathy.”

“How so?”

“When I woke up, I was scared as hell,” she told the woman next to her. They stopped at the crosswalk and Peeta met Katniss’ gaze. “But, when I heard your voice, I knew that I would be okay. You made me feel safe.”

“That’s a lot to put on a girl,” Katniss said quietly. “But I’m glad that I could help.”

Their eyes met and it was like a magnetic force that Peeta found her hand tucking back a tendril of Katniss’ hair behind her ear. Her fingers lingered, feeling the softness of her dark waves and Katniss’ breath caught at the gesture.

Her hand covered Peeta’s and the sensation drew a sharp gasp from Peeta’s mouth.

It had been a long time since she had felt like this.

Stepping towards Katniss, she waited to see if the woman would retreat.

However, Katniss remained still, her mouth parted and her eyelids going half-lidded as Peeta close the space between.

The kiss was careful, her mouth slanting over Katniss’ gently. The feeling of her soft lips caused a groan to draw up from the pit of Peeta’s stomach and escape between their mouths.

It was scary but exhilarating all at once and Peeta never wanted to let her go.

However, Katniss hummed against her lips and reluctantly she pulled away.

“I probably wasn’t supposed to do that,” Peeta told her.

Katniss looked disappointed. “Oh, okay.”

“I mean not without taking you out on a date first.”

Katniss let out a relieved laugh. “Well, we just cut out the needless tension of the first kiss, didn’t we?”

“I guess so,” Peeta replied, taking her hand. “So…”

‘…would like to stay indefinitely?’

“Would you like to have coffee first and then dinner later?”

“And, between then?” Katniss asked, her thumb caressing the top of Peeta’s hand.

“Whatever we want, I have all day.”

I have forever for you.

“Okay.” Katniss beamed. “Let’s start with the coffee.”

[patchofsunlight]

Backyard Boy | Sokka x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Mordern!AU | Sokka goes out on a date with his best friend, and it goes as perfectly as he longed it to.

REQUEST (by anon): “In my Sokka feels so I thought I’d request! Could be modern or not but the reader would be in the gang and is best friends with Sokka (who has a fat crush on her). One day he asks her to go on a picnic, just the 2 of them, she doesn’t know if it’s a date or not so she asks her gal pals for help getting ready. She and Sokka have fun (piggyback rides, eating food, making eachother laugh) at the end of their date they cuddle, look into eachothers eyes and kiss. Their friends called it! Thank you!💕”

WORD COUNT: 2.6k this is the first thing I’ve ever posted here with less than 5k I’m proud

WARNINGS: yes I made Jin from Ba Sing Se Y/N’s friend. I think there’s one swear word near the end? also just teeth-rotting fluff. a bit of angst if you squint but like just a little. bad editing as usual. kinda rushed? idk

PLAYLIST (songs that help set the ~vibe + songs that inspired me): Backyard Boy by Claire Rosinkranz ; Electric Love by BØRNS, I Do Adore by Mindy Gledhill ; Lucky by Jason Mraz feat. Colbie Caillat.

Hey! I had a lot of fun and smiled a lot while writing this, so I hope you guys like it too! It’s not perfect, but I tried my best. Feedback is always appreciated! Thank you for reading!

(not my gif)

“You know what? Maybe this was a bad idea, Jin. Maybe I got it all wrong. I should just cancel.”

“Absolutely not. If you cancel, I’ll be forced to punch you in the face, and no one wants that.”

“You don’t even have the guts to punch me in the face.”

“True. Well, I’ll just get someone else to do it.”

Y/N smiled nervously at her friend’s words, fidgeting.

Sokka and she had been best friends for a long while. They had met years ago and clicked instantly, falling in pace with each other so easily that “impressive” was a big understatement — friendship at first sight, he called it. And yet Y/N yearned for more, trying miserably to conceal her dazed smiles and flushed cheeks whenever he as much as looked her way. Her feelings were obvious, but she was too afraid to act on them: it was easier to just leave it alone, pretend the pounding of her heart when around him was ignorable, and maintain her dear relationship with pretty boy Sokka secure. Y/N would choose never having her feelings returned over losing him any day of the week, and it was probably for the best. 

She couldn’t lose him, she refused to — he was more important than whatever love she gathered in her chest, than letting go of the suffocating confession always lingering on the tip of her tongue, and she simply wouldn’t let herself lose him.

Y/N was finally settling for the friendship and painful longing when the Water Tribe boy came to her during one of the Gaang’s movie nights, scratching his neck shyly and avoiding her stare.

“Hey, Y/N,” his voice was slightly high-pitched and he cleared his throat, blushing lightly, talking quietly so as to not disturb the others around them, “I—I was thinking—maybe we could, I don’t know, hang out? Tomorrow?”

“That sounds great, Sokka. Didn’t Toph want to try that new restaurant that opened near the Jasmine Dragon?” she replied almost absentmindedly, eyes trained on the scene playing on the television.

“No, Y/N, I—I thought—Well, what if it was just the two of us?”

Now that had caught her attention, “oh.”

“Yeah. It’s okay if you don’t want to, I—”

“I’d love to, Sokka.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she smiled softly, cheeks reddening, and Sokka wondered if she could hear his heart skip a beat inside his chest.

“That’s great. I—” he couldn’t stop his own face from blazing pink, a grin taking over his lips, “I was thinking of a picnic?”

Cue to the present moment, in which Y/N freaked out about misunderstanding Sokka’s words because he had never really called it a date and she had gotten all excited about it as if that’s what it was but what if it wasn’t?

“I don’t know, Jin,” she peeked at her own reflection, noticing how pretty she looked and how flawlessly Jin had styled her hair. Spirits, Y/N had overdone it, hadn’t she? “Maybe he just wanted to spend some time with his best friend and I just projected what I wanted onto that and—”

“Y/N, stop,” the Ba Sing Se girl held her forearms to intercept the frantic movements, “I’m pretty sure he sees you as much more than a friend, okay? You guys have been dancing around each other’s feelings for years now, everyone sees it,” she widened her eyes to emphasize her words, “so stop being crazy and just go meet him! Even if we’re all wrong and he wants nothing to do with you romantically, you can still go and have a good time, right?”

“Right,” Y/N muttered in response, breathing deeply, “right, you’re right. I’m just—I’m just gonna go.”

“Yes! Good luck! It’s gonna be great, I’m sure of it!”

-----

Food, drinks, flowers, extra sweatshirt, the comfy blankets he had stolen from Katara’s apartment, all the courage he could muster, her favorite candy, the blue shirt she had said looked good on him. Yeah, it seemed like he had it all pretty much covered.

Sokka was nervous, yet confident. She had accepted to go on a date with him and he had done the best he could to make sure it would be a lovely afternoon Y/N would absolutely adore. Everything would go as planned and, if he was lucky, he would leave Y/N’s favorite park with a girlfriend.

However, nothing could have prepared him for finally seeing her. She looked as beautiful as always, but there was something about her shy smile and sparkling eyes that made his heart jump around so quickly Sokka thought it might just break through his chest and run towards her.

His best friend walked to him with hands behind her back, endearingly bashful in that old manner that had slowly creeped its way into Sokka’s thoughts and heart. He beamed at her when she reached him, and moved for a hug she gladly returned.

“Hey,” her voice was quiet and shy and it made the Water Tribe boy melt on the spot, “did I make you wait for too long?”

“No, of course not,” Y/N took a step back from the hug and he immediately missed her warmth. Spirits, he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “Do you want to sit down? Katara helped me make those sandwiches you like.”

Her eyes widened in excitement, quickly remembering how easy it was to be around her best friend and how pointless it was to be shy with him, “yes! Sure!”

Their banter was lighthearted while they ate their sandwiches and sipped on some orange juice, laying on Katara’s soft blanket. He couldn’t help but admire her figure, her smile, her eyes, her voice, tuning out from her anecdote momentarily and simply appreciating her presence. He liked her so much.

Y/N paused when she noticed Sokka’s stare, gaze filled with affection sending chills down her spine. She stared back at him, feeling her face blush, “I feel like I should have brought something,” she complained, touching the candy bar the boy had taken off his backpack and smiling — it was her favorite one. “You put so much thought into this, didn’t you?”

He scratched his neck, embarrassed, “is it too much?”

“No, no!” she was quick to deny, lifting a hand up to touch his upper arm in reassurance. “It’s—it’s kinda charming, really.”

Sokka smirked teasingly, “oh, you think I’m charming?”

“You know I do, dumbass.”

Their eyes met and the Water Tribe boy could feel his whole body tense for being the subject of her attention, heart beating so loud he could hear it by his ear, unable to not ask himself if maybe she could hear it too. She smiled — her hand was still on his upper arm, but she moved it carefully until their fingers brushed. He smiled too, his thumb drawing gentle circles on her palm. As best friends, they had always been very touchy and loving with each other, yet both knew this was different. It was not like their friendly touches and hugs: it was softer, more hesitant, new. And they loved it.

“I’m glad you came,” he declared, finally letting his fingers fall in between hers, “I… I like to be around you.”

Y/N grinned, squeezing his hand lovingly, “I like to be around you too.”

Their small staring contest ended when she took the last bite of the sandwich and got her phone from her purse, turning on some music and positioning the object next to them in the blanket. Sokka grinned at her, aware of how much she just loved to listen to music while doing everyday things — he loved to be included in that little habit, loved to know she felt comfortable enough to let him be a part of it. It was a small gesture, but Y/N had once told him she avoided listening to music around others so as not to be a bother. He loved the fact she didn’t worry about that when next to him.

Spirits, he loved her. He had known it for a while now, yet being with her like this served to set it in stone: Sokka was in love with his best friend, and there were absolutely no doubts about it.

They talked softly over the nice melody, occasionally falling into laughter with crappy jokes and inside references that always got them cackling, fingers unconsciously playing with each other by their sides, finding comfort in the simple but intimate touch.

“Sokka! Listen!” she lit up suddenly, making him shake his head in confusion. Y/N stood up, pulling his hand with her until he did the same. Her eyes shone with agitation while she dragged him until they were standing on the grass, off the blanket.

“What?” his voice was as incredulous as he felt. “What happened?”

“I love this song,” she smiled brightly and his heart skipped a beat at the beautiful sight. The girl slowly but surely positioned his hands on her waist before circling his neck with her arms. “Dance with me, pretty boy.”

Sokka was entirely sure that wasn’t exactly a song you could slow dance to, with the funky rhythm and all, yet he didn’t have it in him to disagree. She swayed from one side to the other in a way that would give Zuko, who was trained in dancing, an attack of sorts, but he still loved it, letting her lead him wherever she wanted to. They danced in silence — Sokka kept admiring her features, watching as she hummed the song’s tune and gazed at the sky behind him. Sunset was nearing closer and the shades of blue were slowly being exchanged for oranges and yellows that she loved almost as much as she loved the boy in front of her. With that thought, she turned her eyes back to him.

“This is nice,” she muttered, content, and he smiled, planting an affectionate kiss on her forehead that killed every coherent idea in her mind, “really nice.”

Sokka snickered, “I agree, pretty girl.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and stepped backwards, crossing her arms defensively, cheeks reddening immediately, “don’t call me that.”

“Why not, pretty girl?”

“Because it makes me blush! Stop it”

“But you look so cute when you blush, pretty girl.”

“Stop.”

“Oh, come on, pretty girl.”

“I’m gonna punch you.”

“You could never, pretty girl.”

“You better run. One…”

He laughed out loud and she did her best to ignore both the pinkness to her face and the smile fighting to reach her lips.

“Two…”

Sokka couldn’t stop laughing while he took off, running away from her as fast as possible. His laughter was light and cheerful and her chest fluttered at the sound, extasiated by the fact she was actually responsible for it. Y/N ran after him with a big grin on her face, intent on catching her best friend. Laughing made it harder for him to take deep breaths so it didn’t take long for her to be able to jump on his back, creating an impromptu piggyback ride between the two lovers. Sokka was still wheezing when running with the girl on his back, making her scream in excitement.

He made sure the blanket was right underneath before throwing himself to the ground, bringing her along. She giggled as he turned around so she was laying on his chest, not on his back. He held her tightly in a hug and she rested her head on his shoulder after kissing his neck so softly Sokka was certain his soul momentarily left his body, pulse so accelerated he truly feared a heart attack. They waited for their frantic breaths to calm down, holding each other dearly, entangling their legs together. He could hear her sigh happily next to his ear.

They stayed in that position for long  minutes, too stubborn to let go just yet, to give up on the indescribable feeling this type of touch caused them. Never before had Y/N felt this safe, her best friend’s erratic heart beating against her chest, his warm hands keeping her in place so firmly and still so gently — she always knew she had feelings for this boy, but now she couldn’t help but think of how she wouldn’t mind staying by his side forever. She wouldn’t mind listening to his stupid voice forever, wouldn’t mind being next to him forever. That realization was enough to stir her from her spot atop him, moving under his reluctant arms until her forearms supported her upper body and she could lift herself to look at him.

He was so beautiful, and, Spirits, she loved him so much.

Y/N ran her hands through his messy hair, making him hum in delight. She smiled.

“I love you, Sokka. So much.”

He smiled back, heartbeat picking up under her skin, “I love you too, pretty girl. More than I could ever put in words.”

They leaned in at the same time, lips molding together tenderly. She tasted like candy and he revelled in every second of it, bringing a hand to hold her neck as he deepened the kiss — nothing had ever felt so right.

Sokka followed her lips blindly when Y/N distanced herself and she chuckled, pressing an endearing kiss to the tip of his nose before blurting, absolutely embarrassed, “you know, before I came I was freaking out because I thought maybe you asked me out as a friend.”

He laughed and she loved the way his chest rumbled underneath her, “you’re unbelievable! Are you kidding?”

“I’m not! Ask Jin, she wanted to kick my ass because of it.”

“You’re an idiot. I have been in love with you for so long, I thought it was obvious!”

“It probably was, but we both know I’m bad at taking hints.”

“Not just bad, you’re the worst at taking hints.”

“Okay, now you’re overdoing it.”

“Shut up and kiss me again, Y/N.”

“Well, if you insist…”

“I do.”

The girl giggled and smashed her lips to his again, feeling her heart full with happiness and love. She questioned herself why she had been so nervous about this in the first place — Y/N should have known there was no way something could go wrong if she was accompanied by her favorite boy in the whole world.

-----

The phone rang twice before Jin’s voice came on, “hello?”

“Hey, I just got home.”

“How was it? Did you have fun?”

“Well…”

“Oh, no,” she was immediately worried out of her mind, afraid of any bad news her friend could possibly deliver after what was supposed to be a great date with the guy she was in love with, “did something happen?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Y/N bit her lip to hold back a snort, heart not entirely calm yet, excitedly remembering all the sensations Sokka made her feel.

“What, baby? Talk to me.”

“I got a boyfriend.”

One second of silence.

“OH, I FUCKING CALLED IT! I TOLD YOU HE WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU! I TOLD YOU!”

“That’s true.”

“I TOLD YOU IT WAS A DATE!”

“You surely did,” Y/N had a large smile on her face, skin still tingling with the reminder of his touch against it, lips itching to be pressed to his again.

“I love being right,” she could hear the grin in Jin’s words and it made her smile grow ever larger, “now you know to never doubt me, stupid ass.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

that was it!! I hope you liked it!!

ATLA taglist: @bottledcostcowater​ @lammello​ @coldlilheart​ @azucanela​ @samsmultifandomblogs​ @officiallydarkgeek​ @20coldhearts​

all taglist: @stfukie​ 

thank you for reading and see you soon!!