#instead of just drawing engagement rings? maybe...

[084392]

i just know that gti cinccino proposed to rampardos. i just know she gave him a cute little gift box, with two radically different sized rings inside, to open as a marriage proposal. i just know it.

[kateksmallcuteowl]

June 24: Role Reversal/The Shire Falls Instead

(An amazing challenge from @bagginshieldweek24

Still trying to play around with different styles. Hope you like it!

I decided to significantly extend the "alternativeness" of the universe, so we need to start with the Rings of Power. We all know that hobbits do not have rings in canon, but the dwarven rings gave their owners the ability to gain more treasures and become better craftsmen. So, in this AU, seven rings are given to the Hobbits, the creations of Yavanna, to bring the world flourishing agriculture, food, and protection to humans and elves who cannot always engage in farming. Agriculture is a profitable business in general, so over time, immense wealth begins to accumulate in the Shire, which, along with the power of seven rings, attracts the dragon. Bilbo, the thane of the Shire in exile, gathers a team of loyal hobbits (Frodo, his nephew and heir, don't forget, Bilbo is a convinced bachelor, at least until he meets Thorin, Sam and Hamfast Gamgee, Merry and Pippin, as hobbits whose families settled in Rohan and Gondor after the fall of the Shire, and therefore they know how to fight, and maybe some unnamed Tooks). However, they need a warrior who can handle mechanisms and iron, which the hobbits, though having become more "down-to-earth" from the hardships and adversities of exile, do not know how to do.

And a few short headcanons that partially influenced the appearance of the characters in the drawing:

- Bilbo here is more gloomy and serious, he has endured the hardships of life in exile and the death of loved ones (instead of Thror, the old Took was beheaded), he is responsible for the entire operation and needs it the most. Therefore, here he has less curly hair to show a heavier and more stubborn character. He also has a very small ahoge (the tuft of hair sticking up on the top of his head) that mostly just hangs, not expressing much emotion, or stands straight, expressing anxiety and irritation.

- This should have been first, but I think ahoge perfectly suits hobbits as an idea and all hobbits have it, just more or less.

- Thorin here is the prince under the mountain, but since in Middle-earth the social role of hobbits is among the dwarves, he simply lives for his pleasure, working in the forge, creating what he likes. He also has fewer wrinkles and wavier hair here.

- If in the culture of the dwarves everything came from stones, then in hobbits it came from nature, so instead of fur, Bilbo wears a cloak with leaves. They also retain a love for warm bright colors, as in the canon.

- It hurts Gandalf to see the hobbits, whom he loves so much, suffering from the dragon and the hardships of life.

[hailsatanacab]

I'll ask after that secret number 8!

I only remembered secret number 8 because I saw your wip here! I'd started this one based on the same prompt, then lost said prompt and stopped working on it 😅

Instead of a snippet, I'm just dropping it all here - maybe that way I'll feel inspired to finish it?

———

It’s a full house for dinner tonight and, really, that should have tipped him off.

Bruce sits at the head of the table, smiling softly as he watches over everyone’s antics. Damian is regaling Dick with everything they saw at the zoo that day (Danny had been so happy to see Delilah the purpleback gorilla again, and her new little additions to the troupe, too!) and how well they are implementing the grant the Wayne Foundation had gifted them. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke are all engaged in a thumb-war tournament which Danny has no interest in participating in. It just wouldn’t be fair on them.

Danny loves that look. The one where Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he thinks none of the kids can see him. It oozes love and it makes Danny’s heart, his core, ache. 

It’s been a little over a year since Alfred found him on the street and managed to wrangle him back to the manor to stay—even after the whole biting thing when he realised how rich they were. 

A little over a year here and Danny’s starting to feel like family.

Starting to feel like he might, just maybe, like to make it official.

“Danny,” Bruce says, drawing everyone’s attention. Danny starts at his name, but Bruce’s voice is warm and calm, and his shoulders lose their tension almost immediately. “Danny, I have something I would like to tell you.”

“Uhhh…” is all Danny can croak out, eyes flicking back and forth between Bruce and the rest of them. Smooth. Looking good, Danny.

Except… they’re all happy. All smiles, all relaxed body language, all radiating calm and love and acceptance. Well, not Damian—his face is as thunderous as it always is—which at least means it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.

“Danny, first of all, I just want to impress upon you that this is in no way something you have to do. You are under no obligation to join us and, no matter what, you shall always be welcome with us in the manor.”

Wait, what? Danny squints at Bruce, trying to parse exactly what he’s saying… Is he—is this them asking to adopt him? Do they want to make it official, too? 

It’s been a little over a year and of course Danny has imagined calling Bruce ‘Dad’. Of course he’s imagined being part of the family, of course he wants to make it official!

He can’t help the beaming grin or the bright and bubbling “Yes!” already waiting on his lips. All Bruce has to do is ask, all Danny needs to hear is—

“I’m Batman.”

The smile freezes on Danny’s face.

His lungs stop working, his heart stops working, he stops working, he just—

“And I’m Nightwing,” Dick smiles, breaking the awkward silence. 

Danny’s eyes snap to him, and then down to Tim when he admits to being Red Robin. Duke is Signal, Steph is Spoiler. Damian begrudgingly tells him he’s Robin, but Danny can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“I’m Black Bat.” Cass cocks her head, almost looking concerned. It always felt like she understood him the most. Whenever he was feeling low, too in his memories, or stewing after a nightmare, she was always there, ready to card her fingers through his hair and never mention his tears. It makes his heart ache to think of it now. “It’s okay, Danny.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but how—how can it be okay? How? 

Danny’s spent a little over a year with them. A little over a year with Batman. 

Batman, who works with the Justice League, who works with…

A little over a year. 

Just under 16 months since he escaped.

“Danny? Are you alright?” Bruce asks

Finally, his lungs kickstart and suck in a shuddering breath, only for everyone to drop their smiles.

Didn’t take them long, did it? Now that their ruse is up, there’s no kindness in their eyes, they’re just… cold, calculating. Evaluating. 

“Why?” Danny gasps, his fingers tingling, his heart in his throat.

Just under 16 months since he—has he escaped? Or was this just another one of their experiments?

"I... I trusted you, why—" Danny chokes back a sob, gritting his teeth as his shoulders shake. Why? Why would they do this? "I was happy here, with you. I thought... Weren't you happy?"

"Danny..." Bruce is looking at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, in some cruel facsimile of confused concern and all Danny can think is how much of an actor he is. How well he can play the part of a doting father. How much he made him want that.

"I don't understand, why..." 

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, I can imagine that it comes as a shock. We shouldn't have lied to you, Danny, but—"

"Stop it!" Danny slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up on wobbly legs. Even standing, he feels so small. Smaller than Bruce, than all of his adopted siblings. They crowd above him when they all stand, too. "Just stop it! Why are you doing this, why are you still pretending? Stop it!"

It was easier, with Danny's biological parents. The knowledge that they'd do anything to get him on a lab table, to open him up and see what makes him tick, to rip him apart molecule by molecule, had always been there. He knew they hated ghosts. He knew they hated Phantom. He knew they hated him. It was easier because it was something he'd known all his life. When he died, when he became a ghost, he knew what to expect from them. It hurt, of course it did.

But it was easier than this.

"Danny, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath. You're having a panic attack and you need to breathe."

"Breathe?" Danny laughs, the sound harsh and choking, too high pitched in his hysteria. "You're joking, right? Or is this just more of the—the experiment?"

"Danny, please, we don't know what you're talking about, you—"

"You don't know? You're Batman! You work with the Justice League, you work with—" His words choke off as his stomach churns, bile rising in his throat. His whole body itches, screaming at him to leave, he can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't!

Bruce takes a hesitant step forward and Danny scrambles back, his feet catching on the chair behind him and sending him careening to the floor. Where are the agents? Why aren't they swarming in, ready to apprehend him, strap him back on the table, carve him from the inside out.

"Please, Danny, calm down. We don't—"

Danny stops listening. His back hits the wall and he pulls his knees into his chest, his shoulders dipping down as he begins to sob. His heart throbs inside his throat, too painful to swallow around. Tears fall hot and heavy on his face.

Sure, he could run. He could phase out through the wall and he could be out of Gotham in a couple of hours. He's escaped the GIW once, he can do it again.

But that was before Batman knew who he was. Before he had the World's Greatest Detective on his tail.

Before he... 

He really thought this would be different, you know?

He wanted to make it official.

"Why did... Why were you so nice to me? Why did you make me like you? I really—I really liked you. I-I thought we could be a family."

"Danny, we are a—"

"Don't lie to me!" Danny snaps, but the force of his anger leeches all the fight from him, and suddenly all that's left is a bone-weary tiredness. There’s a lump in his throat that hurts. There’s a line down his chest that burns. "I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't. Just... don't make me go back there. Please." 

Is it futile? He thought he knew how the GIW operated by now, the depths that they would go to achieve their results, but this... this was a whole new level of pain that Danny thought he had left behind him in Amity.

"We're not going to make you go anywhere, Danny, you're safe here, I promise."

"Safe? Safe? You must have—" he takes a deep breath, tries to stop the quivering of his voice. It’s all starting to make sense, now.  "The reason you're telling me who you are is because you must have told them everything already. I know the Justice League—I know you're working with them, which means the ex-experiment is over now, and they're coming to take me back. And I can't go back."

"Danny—"

"I can’t!” Danny glares at Bruce with all the rage he can, fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not going back!"

"That's right, you're not going back, Danny. I won't let that happen." Bruce crouches down in front of Danny, his hands open and raised as if he's trying to say he's not a threat. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I'm sorry about that, but I can promise you that you’re not going back there. We will keep you safe."

Danny pulls himself closer, tucks himself further into the wall, eyes flickering all across the room waiting for that tell-tale flash of white as the agents start to swarm.

He should take his chances now and run, he should go, he needs to go!

The rest of them, his brothers and sisters of a little over a year, are spread out, giving him and Bruce some space. The same concern colours all of their faces. Why are they still pretending?

Steph is chewing on her thumb. 

Danny liked Steph and her brash confidence, her jokes. She's been promising to paint his nails for months now, they've just never found the time. He was going to go for green and black, or maybe a galaxy theme, depending on what she felt comfortable doing.

He likes them all.

"You were supposed to be my family." His mouth turns down at the corners and his voice shakes like a child. "You were supposed to—why? Why would you—I don't understand why you would make me like you..."

"This isn't an experiment, Danny," Bruce's voice is steady, soothing. "I promise."

"But you work with them and—"

"Who do I work with?"

"The Justice League."

"Yes, I do, but we—"

"And the Justice League works with them. The GIW." Danny trembles with the name, clutching tightly onto his hoodie. "I'm not going back there, Bruce."

Danny doesn't miss Bruce's look over his shoulder, nor Tim's nod in return. Tim turns slightly to the side to hide his movements, but Danny bets he has his phone in his hand, probably letting them know they can take him now. Guess this is it, then. They'll be here soon, and he'll be gone.

"Kill me."

"Danny? What do—"

"If you ever had any kindness for me, if you ever cared, kill me. Please, Bruce. I can't do it again."

"Danny..."

"End me now. Take my core out and break it, please, before they get here."

[bad268]

Ending (Lando Norris X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Bonus Day of Writing Inktober prompts instead of drawing! (Off topic, but how would we feel if I started taking MotoGP requests?)

Warnings: none technically, based on Ending by Isak Danielson

POV: Third Person...? idk actually

W.C. 509

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

Writing Inktober 2024 Materlist

~~(^Pinterest)

Lando was on cloud nine after winning the championship. He was officially a World Champion in Formula 1. His entire career has led up to this point, and now, he couldn’t wait to share this time with you, his longtime significant other. Maybe an engagement was in order since the relationship had hit five years, and Lando was ready to make the jump. He had the ring, and everything all thought out.

He returned to his Monaco apartment after Abu Dhabi, opting to hold the celebrations until he could see you again and, hopefully, celebrate getting engaged, too.

He shouted your name a few times, hearing it echo through the seemingly empty apartment. He walked into the kitchen where you usually were baking something for him to come home to. There was a plate of cookies and a note. Upon opening it, Lando’s heart dropped. 

Dear Lando,  We’re at the end of the line. I don’t know what’s happened to you recently, but it feels like you have been pushing me further and further away this year. The beginning of the year was the happiest I had ever been with you. Now when I think of it I…it’s time to let go. There was a time when you were the only one for me, and maybe I could have been your only prize. I could have seen myself building a symphony with you, and I was willing to learn anything to stay with you. Even when I’m falling back, you’d still believe I tried. But life’s never like that. I knew relationships came with a bit of argument and compromise, but this is far too one-sided than I am comfortable with. Always reaching out and never receiving a single text, always dropping everything to support in a different country, and trying to maintain the picture-perfect relationship image you created is exhausting. I have no support from you, but I have done everything to support you. You have become so clouded by the championship, and your priorities have shifted. What happened to the grounded, humble cutie I first started dating in 2019? Why has he been replaced by this greedy, cocky bastard? If you try to blame it on the championship, forget it. That’s not an excuse.  The Lando I know would have never let it get this far. The Lando I know would have never let a few race weekends cloud his judgment this much. The Lando I know would have never allowed his fans to say I just ride the wave of your success or don’t support you. This isn’t you, Lando. Maybe one day, we can try again when you’ve found yourself again, when you’ve realized that you are just pushing everyone away. I’ll be here. I can’t rebuild a relationship if you don’t want the same. I still love you, Lando. I just hope you can see that I tried. I hope this isn’t our ending. I know you’ve said goodbyes are sad, so I’ll just leave you with see you later. With love, Y/n

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

For full headcanons: What do you think a lazy day with the M6 would look like? Say that somehow MC and their love interest have a free day all to themselves to just relax.

The Arcana HCs: Lazy Days with M6

Julian

He's been looking forward to this. Did he tell you that he would try to sleep in? Maybe. Does he succeed? Unfortunately not

However, not needing to head straight out the door to the clinic means that you get to sleep in and wake up to the sight of your relaxed doctor leisurely sipping some coffee in bed next to you

As much as Julian savors the delights of domestic life, he's quick to get a little stir crazy. How about an outing together?

For a dramatically roguish nerd like him, an "outing" could mean getting dragged to a leech convention, watching a play, doing something legally not-so-recommended, or visiting a library

Either way, since the point of the day is to be lazy, he's more likely to want to head home come evening rather than stay out

Does he enjoy social time? Sure, but even more than that, he cherishes you. He can meet you for dinner at the tavern any day, but he doesn't get every evening completely free like this

Dinner is peaceful, intimate, and slower than usual because he insists on eating by candlelight which means not being able to see your plate very well

The way his eyes feast on you instead of the meal makes up for it

Asra

Nobody can match this magician when it comes to lazy days

They. Are. Sleeping. In. They aren't even going to think about getting up until the sun is high enough to fill the room with golden light and the street outside your window is bustling with activity

Even then, the tranquility stays. There's no part of the day when the pace picks up. He'll move with you slowly from the bed to the kitchen with a sleepy smile, prioritizing snuggles over cooking

And that's how the day goes - lazing from the cushions to the kitchen for more tea and snacks, trading silly stories and engaging in the occasional tickle/pillow fight between books

Asra will start at least one experimental craft, only to put it down halfway finished because focusing on you is way more enjoyable

Right around sunset, they'll need a change of scenery. That will most likely take the form of taking you by the hand and pulling you into their oasis for some prolonged snuggles and whimsy time

However, being predictably unpredictable, there is the 25% chance that he'll decide he doesn't want to keep a lazy pace all day after all, and pull you out into the darkening streets for an adventure

Either way, it ends back in bed, gazing out the window at the stars

Nadia

Oh, she needs this and she's been planning for it for weeks

Everything is set up ahead of time. All pressing matters have been dealt with, and she's delegated responsibilities so that unless the world starts to end, someone else will have to handle it

She is going to indulge in every relaxing moment she's been putting off and she's going to do it without lifting a finger and you are going to join her for every blissful moment

She rarely has time to sleep in and hold you, so she is taking her fill

Breakfast appears at the door to her chambers when she rings her bell, and after sitting you in her lap and taking turns feeding each other, she's drawing you into her private bath all set up for spa day

With her mind carefully blocked off of work, she'll turn her attentions to you. How have you been doing? What's been on your mind? Tell her something about you she hasn't heard yet ~

Since you can't spend all day in the spa, she does take a couple hours in the afternoon to herself in her tower. Your company is delightful and refreshing, but even she needs a moment alone

Dinner happens on the veranda, just the two of you in a nook hidden from view, lounging on cushions and savoring a slow night

Muriel

Lazy days ... kind of happen whenever one of you needs them to happen. Living self-sustainably in the woods has its perks

At the same time, there's some daily duties that just can't be skipped - feeding the chickens, drawing water, etc

Lazy days are what happens when one of you looks at the other of you and you both know you need a break. A day without all the added routine tasks, a day to just breathe for a little bit

Lazy days start by spending the day before getting ready to rest

Waking up is one quick trip to throw a bucket of feed at the chickens before darting back inside to warm up next to the veritable furnace that Muriel becomes under a blanket

Breakfast happens late, sitting by the fire instead of at the table, slicing the loaf of bread between you as you want more and toasting it idly while Inanna steals the crumbs

If it's a chilly, rainy day, you spend it adding logs to the fire from the pile you built up yesterday and curling up with each other under the furs. On sunny days, you might lie down outside

Maybe you talk, maybe you sleep, maybe you work on a craft - but it passes in peace and quiet and grounded, steadfast love

Portia

Does Portia need a lazy day? YES. Is Portia good at lazy days? Not. At. All.

Sometimes existing in Portia's presence means idly wondering if she subconsciously found the secret to perpetual motion and she's very busy trying not to forget it. She just never stops going!

Lazy days happen when you and the Countess gang up and make sure she has 24 hours of a clear schedule when she's on the verge of burning out and is in desperate need of a reset

The day starts by dragging her back into bed and telling her she's not allowed to make breakfast until she's slept as long as possible

Breakfast itself consists of trying to help her snap out of "work work work must get the next task done" mode while you brew some tea. The most effective way to do so is to put Pepi in her lap

After that, the day is delightful. Spending the rest of the morning and early afternoon lying on a picnic blanket in the garden, reading books and eating snacks and watching Pepi chase butterflies

The evening always involves visiting Mazelinka for family time. (It's also the best way to make sure Portia doesn't have to cook)

And nighttime - nighttime is for fireflies and pillow forts and kisses

Lucio

Lucio likes suggesting lazy days every day

Which means that, when the time does come to have one, the first word out of his mouth is "FINALLY."

He's been ready to take a slow day for weeks!! He needs this!!

Sleeping in is essential. If you try to get him out of bed before noon when there isn't a reason to he will start a riot

Went out the night before and maxed out his budget buying all the pastries on sale at the end of the day. Breakfast consists of him wolfing down sugary flaky dough at 1 PM, without leaving bed

He got them for you too - which is how you're presented with the sight of him beaming, shirtless, sitting in a ray of afternoon light with the sheets rumpled around him as he holds out a bite for you

The sugar high is enough to make him antsy. Yes, this is a lazy day, but lazy days are supposed to be enjoyable, and is a day even enjoyable if you haven't gone out to enjoy yourself?

Luxuriates in taking twice as much time to do his eyeliner

Saunters around the square of wherever you're visiting with your hand in his, pointedly ignoring the board of job requests

Stays up super late to savor every last moment of the day off

[ms-snape]

Hey, can I request a young sirius x reader where he have a crush on her but he' mostly used to flirt with the girls and have he watts but the reader isn't like that and she keeps rejecting him....it' okay if you don't...I Just love your writing��

Title: Not like others

Warning: flirt sirius

Word Count: 2500+

Masterlist

---

The sun hung low over Hogwarts, casting a golden hue across the grounds, illuminating the ancient stone and sprawling greenery. The Great Lake shimmered under the afternoon light, rippling gently with the whispers of the breeze. Laughter echoed from the Gryffindor common room, where the Marauders had congregated, their typical banter filling the air.

Sirius Black lounged comfortably on the plush armchair, his signature smirk in place as he flirted effortlessly with a group of girls who hung on his every word. He thrived in the attention, relishing the playful banter and the easy confidence that came from being the center of attraction. Yet, amidst the laughter and lighthearted jests, his thoughts drifted. They wandered to her—Y/n, the girl who had somehow breached the fortress of his heart.

Y/n sat nearby, engaged in conversation with Lily and James, her laughter ringing like a melody that captivated him. She was stunning, her features a blend of innocence and strength, but what truly drew him in were her eyes—deep and expressive, reflecting a world of thoughts and emotions. Yet, despite his heart racing at her presence, Sirius struggled with the way he felt about her.

He had always been a flirt, weaving through relationships like a butterfly, leaving behind a trail of admirers and broken hearts. But with Y/n, it was different. She wasn’t just another girl; she had become a secret treasure, something worth cherishing, yet he couldn’t find the words to convey his feelings. Instead, he resorted to his old ways, flirtation pouring from his lips like honey, masking the deeper emotions brewing within him.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he drawled, leaning back with that familiar, devil-may-care attitude as he aimed his attention at Y/n. She glanced up, momentarily meeting his gaze, and the light in her eyes dimmed slightly. It was a subtle shift, barely noticeable, yet it cut through him like a knife.

“Do you need help with your Charms essay?” she asked, a faint smile touching her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Only if you promise to help me pass,” he teased, casting her a roguish grin. His heart sank as he noticed her forced smile.

Y/n turned her attention back to Lily, dismissing him without another glance. It stung more than he anticipated. The fleeting moments where they would steal glances at each other were now replaced with a growing distance. Confusion gnawed at him; he could see the hurt in her expression, but he didn't know how to bridge the gap he had unintentionally created.

As days passed, the pattern continued. Sirius would flirt and charm, drawing laughter from those around him, but Y/n remained distant. She spent time with Lily, her laughter still ringing, but it was tinged with an undertone of sadness that tugged at Sirius’s heartstrings.

It was during a quiet evening in the common room that Remus noticed the shift in atmosphere. Sirius sat across from him, a frown creasing his forehead as he stared into the flickering flames of the fireplace.

“Mate, what’s up with you?” Remus asked, concern lacing his voice.

Sirius sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. “It’s Y/n. I can’t seem to reach her. Every time I flirt with her, it’s like I’m pushing her away.”

“Have you considered that maybe she sees you as just another fling?” Remus mused, his brow furrowing in thought. “You’re known for your charm, Sirius. She might think you want her for all the wrong reasons.”

“I don’t!” Sirius exclaimed, frustration leaking through his tone. “I like her, Remus. I genuinely like her. But every time I try to show it, I just end up making things worse.”

Remus leaned back, crossing his arms as he regarded his friend. “Maybe you need to try something different. Show her you care without the flirtation. Get her flowers or something.”

“Flowers?” Sirius echoed, incredulous. “I’m not some lovesick puppy!”

“Right, but if you want her to believe that you’re serious about your feelings, you have to show her. She’s not going to believe it if you keep playing the same game,” Remus replied, his voice calm but firm.

Sirius mulled over Remus’s words. It felt utterly foreign to him—this idea of soft gestures and vulnerability. But if it meant winning Y/n’s heart, he was willing to try. He just had to learn how to break through the walls he’d unintentionally built around her heart.

The next morning, Sirius made a plan. He found himself wandering through the Hogwarts grounds, heading towards the greenhouses. The vibrant flowers swayed in the gentle breeze, each petal whispering promises of beauty. He approached a cluster of blooming daisies and picked a small bouquet, the innocent blooms representing the simplicity of his growing affection for Y/n.

Clutching the flowers tightly, he made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. His heart raced with uncertainty, thoughts swirling in his mind. Would this be enough to prove to Y/n that he was different? That he wanted more than just a fleeting moment?

When he entered the common room, Y/n was sitting by the window, her gaze lost in the distance. The sunlight caught her hair, making it glow, and for a moment, Sirius simply stood there, captivated. Taking a deep breath, he approached her, forcing down the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him.

“Y/n?” he said softly, and she turned to him, surprise flickering in her eyes.

“What’s this?” she asked, glancing at the flowers in his hand.

“Um, they’re for you,” he stammered, the words tumbling out awkwardly.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “For me?”

“Yeah. I thought… I thought maybe you’d like them,” he said, extending the bouquet toward her.

She hesitated, her gaze shifting from the flowers to his face, searching for something deeper. “Why, Sirius?”

“Because I like you,” he replied, his heart pounding. “Not just as a flirtation or a game. I care about you, Y/n.”

Her expression remained guarded, doubt clouding her features. “You say that now, but you’ve always been a flirt. How am I supposed to believe you?”

The sting of her words hit hard. “Because I wouldn’t do this for anyone else. I’m not trying to play you, I promise.”

Y/n reached out, tentatively accepting the flowers, but the uncertainty in her eyes lingered. “I just… I don’t want to be another one of your flings, Sirius. I’m not like the others.”

“I don’t want that either,” he insisted, his voice earnest. “I’m trying to show you that I’m serious about us. I want to be more than just a passing moment.”

For a brief moment, hope flickered in her eyes before it dimmed again. “It’s hard to believe that when you’ve built your reputation on charm.”

Sirius felt a wave of frustration wash over him, but he held it back, knowing it wouldn’t help his case. Instead, he thought of Remus and his advice. “Give me a chance to prove it. Let me show you how I feel.”

As the days rolled by, Sirius embraced the challenge. With Remus’s guidance, he began to shower Y/n with small, thoughtful gestures. He’d leave her little notes hidden in her books, the words carefully chosen to reflect his growing feelings. He surprised her with her favorite sweets from Honeydukes, savoring the way her eyes lit up with joy each time.

“Honestly, Sirius,” she said one evening, glancing at the assortment of chocolates he’d brought her. “You’re being way too nice.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he replied, a teasing lilt in his voice, but his heart raced with nervous energy. “I just want to show you I’m serious about this.”

Y/n took a deep breath, her defenses slowly crumbling as she began to see the sincerity in his actions. “You’re really trying, aren’t you?”

“Every day,” he admitted, the weight of his feelings resting heavily in the air between them. “I just want you to see that I’m different. That I care about you, not just as a flirt but as someone I want in my life.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her expression softening. “It’s hard to let go of my doubts, Sirius. I’ve seen how you are with other girls. It’s difficult to reconcile that with how you are with me.”

Sirius nodded, understanding her struggle. “I know I have a reputation, but I promise you—what I feel for you is real. It scares me, to be honest, but it’s the truth.”

Their conversations continued, each interaction building a bridge between them, and slowly, the walls Y/n had erected began to crumble. She’d catch glimpses of his true self—the gentle side that cared deeply, and with every small act, he felt himself falling further into the depths of his feelings.

One evening, as the Marauders gathered in their usual spot in the common room, Sirius couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/n. She was sitting with Lily, sharing a laugh over some inside joke, the sound of her happiness wrapping around him like a warm blanket. It was a comforting sight, yet a pang of longing tightened in his chest.

“Alright, Padfoot,” James said, nudging him. “You’re practically drooling over there. Just go talk to her!”

“Yeah, before she gets snatched up by someone else,” Remus chimed in, a teasing smile gracing his lips.

“I’m trying!” Sirius retorted, but a nervous energy buzzed within him. “I just… want to make sure I don’t mess this up.”

“Just be honest,” James advised, his tone turning serious. “You’ve been making progress. Show her that you’re genuine.”

With that, Sirius rose, his heart pounding as he crossed the room. Y/n looked up as he approached, her expression shifting from surprise to curiosity.

“Hey, can I borrow you for a minute?” he asked, a hint of nervousness coloring his voice.

“Sure,” she replied, her smile encouraging.

He led her to a quieter corner of the common room, the soft glow of the fire casting gentle shadows around them. “I just wanted to talk to you… away from everyone else,” he said, his throat tightening.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, her voice gentle.

“I know I’ve messed up in the past,” he began, his heart racing. “And I know it’s hard for you to see me as anything more than a flirt. But the truth is, you mean more to me than I can put into words. I’m falling for you, Y/n, and I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

Her eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. “You’re serious?”

“Yes,” he affirmed, stepping closer, his gaze unwavering. “I know it’s scary and uncertain, but I want to give us a chance. You’re not just another girl to me. You’re special.”

Y/n’s expression softened, a mix of vulnerability and hope reflecting in her eyes. “I want to believe you, Sirius, but it’s hard.”

“I understand,” he replied, reaching out to gently take her hand. “But I promise, I’ll show you. Just give me a chance.”

Tension hung in the air as they stood together, hearts racing in sync. For a brief moment, it felt like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of them amidst the crackling warmth of the fire.

As days turned into weeks, Sirius continued to prove himself, each gesture a step closer to Y/n’s heart. They studied together, shared secrets, and laughed late into the night, the connection between them growing deeper. Y/n began to let her guard down, her laughter becoming more genuine, the warmth of their interactions melting away her reservations.

One evening, while sitting under the stars on the castle grounds, Y/n turned to Sirius, her expression thoughtful. “You’ve really changed, you know. I’ve never seen this side of you before.”

Sirius chuckled softly, a warm smile playing on his lips. “It’s all your fault, really. You make me want to be better.”

Y/n laughed, the sound light and free, and it filled him with joy. “I’m glad. I really am.”

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his tone shifting as he searched for the right words. “About how I feel. I mean, it’s not just about flirting anymore. I want to be with you, for real.”

Y/n’s breath caught, surprise dancing in her eyes. “Sirius… do you mean it?”

“Every word,” he declared, leaning in closer, vulnerability evident in his gaze. “I want you in my life, not just as a fleeting moment but as something lasting.”

A smile broke across her face, illuminating the shadows of doubt that had lingered for so long. “I believe you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft rustle of leaves.

Sirius felt a warmth spread through him at her words, a sense of relief washing over him. “Really?”

“Yeah, I do,” she replied, her eyes shining with sincerity. “I think I’m starting to see the real you beneath all that charm.”

Their gazes locked, and in that moment, everything shifted. The air crackled with unspoken feelings, and Sirius leaned in, his heart pounding with anticipation. The distance between them vanished as their lips met in a tender kiss, a sweet culmination of everything they had built together.

As the weeks continued to unfold, the Marauders witnessed the transformation in their friend. Sirius was no longer the carefree flirt, but rather a young man in love, navigating the complexities of his newfound feelings. Y/n brought out the best in him, and he reveled in the joy of being with her.

One day, as they sat in the common room surrounded by their friends, Y/n leaned into Sirius, her head resting on his shoulder. “You know, I never thought I’d find someone like you,” she murmured softly.

Sirius smiled, wrapping his arm around her, pulling her closer. “And I never thought I’d want someone so much,” he admitted, a hint of awe in his voice.

Their friends watched the exchange with knowing smiles, the atmosphere in the room warm and filled with laughter. The Marauders shared their own banter, but the love blossoming between Sirius and Y/n was undeniable, a testament to the power of genuine affection.

With every passing day, Sirius found himself more entrenched in his feelings, each moment shared with Y/n reinforcing his belief that love could exist beyond mere flirtation. And as they continued to grow together, he realized that beneath the charm and bravado lay a heart yearning for connection—one that had finally found its match.

Their journey was just beginning, but the road ahead shimmered with promise, illuminated by the light of their love—a bond forged through laughter, understanding, and the unbreakable connection that comes from truly knowing one another.

In the depths of his heart, Sirius Black understood that this was no longer just a game; it was real, and he was ready to embrace it fully.

As the stars twinkled above them, Sirius squeezed Y/n's hand, feeling her warmth beside him. Together, they stepped into a future that held countless adventures, where their love would grow, unfurling like the flowers he had once brought her—delicate yet resilient, a beautiful testament to their journey together.

[choccy-milky]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT CHOCCY SEB GIVES CLORA A SNAKE RING?!?!

Soooooo rereading the fic and I’m back to chapter 33, and it totally popped into my head that they are IN THE VICTORIAN ERA and do ya know what was super popular after the engagement ring that Queen Victoria was given by Prince Albert? A SNAKE RING

AND IF THAT AINT SEB TREATING CLORA LIKE THE QUEEN SHE IS THEN I DONT KNOW WHAT IS 😭💙💚✨

Thank you for coming to my ted talk 🫣😂

LMFAOO YESS TRUST ME, IVE SEEN THIS AFTER DOING MY OWN RESEARCH ABOUT VICTORIAN RINGS, ITS SO PERFECT!! AND THE FACT THAT ITS GREEN TOO LMAO, prince albert was a possessive slytherin confirmed!!🤪 but yea ill DEFS be incorporating a snake into the final design of cloras ring HAHA. i basically HAVE to...yknow, for period accuracy 🥰

WOO YAY im glad i could inspire you to start writing!!!🙏and i get it, writing fanfic is defs self indulgent and for ourselves first and foremost, but obvs nobody wants to release their work into the void😩 as for how my own fic got popular, one of the main things is defs timing. i published the first chap basically within the first week of the game being out (it came out on the 10th and my chap was on the 18th) so it was there right at the peak/start of the fandom. but i also dont wanna attribute it all to timing BAHHA cuz i think im a pretty good writer and that helps....my fic also didnt get popular right away, but i was consistently posting every single week + eventually started adding art every single week, and was just really dedicated to not only writing but also drawing art for it (which is also obvs another huge factor/probs the biggest factor). ive had so many ppl tell me they started reading my fic bc they saw my art on pinterest or something LOL, and some ppl have even read it fandom-blind bc they were into the seb/clora dynamic??? which is another point actually. i always joke about how i love my cliches and good girl+bad boy dynamics, and that im unashamed about loving them LOL, but also...they're cliches for a reason!!! lots of us eat that shit up!!!😤so i think thats defs another factor, vs if my fic was a bit more niche and avant garde LOL the fandom is also (understandably) a lot slower than it was at the beginning of the year so itll be harder in general, but maybe you could commission art to go with your fanfic? ive seen a lot of other HL fanfic writers do it, and i think it defs helps to draw attention! GOOD LUCK and i hope you keep writing!!!🫡💖💖💖🙌

huh??? go with the tide pods instead, THAT shit looks bussin😩😩

AWW TYY😭😭I LOVE THAT HAHAH AND IM GLAD U THINK SO💖💖 my friend also asked me this question after seeing my recent ask, and i STILL have no idea what i would have named it instead LMAOO, thats how bad i am at naming things. even a year later im like bruh idk!!! clora and sebs bizarre adventures??? i guess id probs make it something light/dark themed in retrospect, or something more specific to the ancient magic, but i still have no idea what LOL

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 20.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M (Mature)

Word Count: 13.5k

Warnings: Slight angst. Alcohol.

Tag List: @his-mochi-cheeks

Links: Can I Stay: Masterlist

You looked like a jewel.

You’d been to the salon for hair and makeup; had been to the spa for a waxing and skin treatment. You’d had everything that could be plucked and everything that could be massaged, filed, shaped and painted and the moment you pulled up the sparkly flesh colored, curve hugging, mini dress up over you hips, slipped the nude colored straps over your shoulders and reached just behind you to zip up the hidden zipper and turned to look over your own surprising reflection in your floor length mirror you gave yourself a tiny spin in place.

The dress sparkled like facets of a diamond even in your sparsely lit bedroom. The slight sparkling fringe moved when you moved and where the delicate pattern of the sparkles stopped, the dress gave the illusion of showing a lot more skin than it did; thanks to the fact that it seemed to blend in with your skin tone perfectly. There were some places in which the illusion broke; such as the high slit that crept up so high on your smooth bare thigh or on either side of your breasts where whatever bits of covering fabric simply stopped existing and the slightest glimpse of skin outlined the curves of your body.

The dress was sexy. It looked good on you and you felt beautiful, desirable, and powerful in it.

You bought it a few months ago. You’d happened upon this particular number in a boutique and hadn’t ever planned on spending this much on a dress at the time but when you’d held the dress up to yourself; shrugged and thought what’s the worst that could happen if you just tried it on, well…

Turns out, the worst that could happen was if it you as if it were made exclusively for you and you fell absolutely in love with every sparkly bit that curved over your hips, and hugged tightly around your waist; despite the fact that it was actually much more money than you’d ever wanted to spend on a single garment for one night; and was actually much sexier of a look than you thought you had a right to pull off at the time. What with being single and alone and undesired and the last thing you wanted was the purely animalistic looks you’d recognize in many of the men’s eyes; muted only by the scrutiny of the women around you who leaned toward bitchy and jealous when presented with a woman who wore such a sexy look with confidence and power around them.

You were beyond giving a damn anymore. At least when it comes to anyone who might have anything negative to say about you.

You left your neck bare; the dress was distracting and the cut away sides that gave just enough side boob with the way it landed below your arms and the delicately low cut neckline, you didn’t think you needed to draw any more attention below your neck. Instead you opted only to wear some delicate dangly earrings that might occasionally distract the occasional wandering eyes should they find themselves so inclined to look.

One item though; one very distracting and obvious item had you second guessing.

The diamond engagement ring.

Should you wear it? Something so obvious in its meaning in a place filled with so many people who both had no business knowing the truth and who really shouldn’t know at this point in the game.

You vacillated. Putting it on and taking it off at least three times before you let out the longest sigh and simply moved the ring to your right hand. Maybe you’d get the nerve to move it back when you saw him tonight. Maybe you’d change your mind when his eyes fell down to the empty ring finger of your left hand, then slipped over to catch the sparks that flew and caught his eyes from your right hand and looked back up into your own with whatever flash of disappointment in his eyes hidden so quickly you would question whether you’d seen anything at all.

He would understand. This was work. This was your career. These were your coworkers and this was your professional reputation. Sure, the truth would have to come out eventually, but you were desperate to put a little bit of distance between you being his direct supervisor and him being your soon to be husband.

The ring felt foreign and wrong on your right hand.

You did your best to push the feeling deep down inside of your belly where you could safely ignore it for now.

You hoped for a few things tonight.

That you wouldn’t collapse into a heap of love-sickness when you saw him.

That you could manage to keep yourself from drinking too much alcohol in some weak plan to keep yourself from collapsing into a heap of love-sickness when you saw him.

That Baekhyun would … that he might perhaps, by-chance, maybe you kind of, sort of, you hoped that Baekhyun would fall into a heap of love-sickness when he saw you.

You slinked closer to your front door; making the briefest stop at the entryway table that you kept at the door for one final touch. Something you knew he would very well struggle against when he leaned in close for a harmless and chaste touch of his soft cheek against yours; a hand that might linger on your waist when he came in close for a greeting he would smell the fragrance you sprayed against your neck. He would smell it here when he leaned close to whisper into your ear to ask you something harmless like ‘Would you like another drink, Miss Manager? This is already your second one, will you be okay?’, ‘Did you order the chicken or the fish, Miss Manager?’ or ‘Would you like to dance with me, Miss Manager?’

You felt giddy with anticipation.

All of your team members would be mingling with the other department team members; all of whom had worked tirelessly on this project from the very start. There would even be speeches and acknowledgments of a job well done. Another successful project completed. High ratings would be teased at. The liquor and the beer would flow in a grateful celebration as the wallets of the biggest, fattest cats got bigger and fatter.

Upper level producers, directors, and project executives would likely be on their second or third drinks by now and would start to set their wandering eyes on some of the younger, fresher girls as the alcohol gave them just enough of a push for a flirtatious compliment. Tucked away somewhere within the grand ballroom, one might even catch a glimpse of blond hair adoring a handsome face atop of a pair or strong, broad shoulders that would fill out a designer suit in a way that would surely take anyone’s breath away.

The taxi driver took a turn and you lifted a hand to grab a hold of the grip above the window and your nose caught the scent of your perfume. You were always careful not to overdo it. He might not even notice it until his face came in close to you. Maybe while you were both dancing. Maybe while he sat beside you at the table and leaned down to pick up your napkin that had slipped to the floor by your feet; reaching down at the same moment that you did, your heads nearly colliding.

You had to watch yourself tonight. Maybe three drinks maximum. Maybe three dances maximum. Any more than that was simply too dangerous.

Of course deep down inside you hoped his secret whispered questions wouldn’t all be so very appropriate. In your mind, his questions shifted as you sat in the backseat of the taxi to the hotel where the party was surely well underway by now. You didn’t mind being a bit late to these things. You’d spent the entirety of the year being obsessively dependable and chronically punctual but this was the end. This was the celebration. You could afford to relax now.

The first few times you’d attended, the idea of letting go on a weekday evening felt somewhat forbidden. But this was how they usually scheduled them for the sake of stretching out whatever was left of the budget. The rates were better on a week-night party and you knew the studio could even splurge on an open bar if they planned it well enough. You’d been to enough of these parties to know how they worked. Glitz and glamor, plenty of alcohol, lots of dancing, even more schmoozing. You giggled to yourself recalling the wild rumors and gossip that quickly spread through the last wrap party. It seems that a pair of particularly drunk party goers were caught making out in a darkened corner. It seemed that something scandalous had taken place in a hidden stairwell. Some drunken debauchery led to another pair waking up in the same bed together and at least two walk-of-shames had allegedly been witnessed by some particularly gossip loving members of the group chat that blew up your phone the next morning.

You really, really needed to watch yourself tonight. Absolutely no more than four drinks. A firm and immovable limit you would under no circumstances bend under. Four drinks and spread out thin. Maybe five if they seemed particularly watered down, but that was it. The most, the absolute most dances you would allow with him would be five. And the majority would be fast songs; not all of them slow dances. Not all of them touching each other lightly and carefully as not to sink fingertips too deep into any flesh; in the dimly lit crowded space that felt much more intimate than it had any right to. At least you should keep from staring for too long into the dark brown irises of his eyes. Two, or three, slow dances, max. You would not lose yourself in the embrace of his arms. You would not lean your head over his shoulder as his arms wrapped around your waist and the lyrics grew more romantic over the top of your heads. You would not hold your breath as you strained to listen to the sound of his heart beating inside of his chest over the sound of the music up ahead.

Your imagination quickly ran away from you and you ignored the fact that none of your math seemed to be making any sense right now.

‘Oh really? Was she, Miss Manager? I didn’t notice.’

‘Honestly, I can’t seem to see anyone else but you tonight, Miss Manager.’

‘Miss Manager … I heard that some of the staff just book a room after these parties so they don't have to drive.’

‘Do you think any of them are seeing each other?’

‘Do you think any of them are obsessed with each other?’

‘Do you think any of them are desperate for each other?’

‘Do you think any of them are like us?’

‘Miss Manager …’

‘Noona …’

‘Baby…

‘Should we just go up and get a room?’

You were giggling all alone in the back seat of this taxi. You’d forgotten yourself for long enough for a genuine snort of giggles to escape and you quickly laid a palm over your mouth to somehow catch them and put them back in.

Instinctively your eyes looked toward the cab driver and you caught a split second of eye contact with the man in the rear view mirror before he looked away with an amused grin on his face.

The hotel lobby was opulent and fancy. This was a good one. You dared to guess it was nicer than the last one, but this had been a bigger project with a bigger price tag. You were certain you’d spot an occasional cast member mingling amongst the production staff tonight; doing their due diligence; securing their next big role.

It was a grand event. You could hear the exciting sounds of the crowd inside the moment you stepped up to the foyer doors that would lead to the grand ballroom.

You were so late that it seemed the first episode had already aired. You’d missed the grand unveiling and the credits rolling. You were sure the congratulatory speeches and awards had already been passed out. There were never any such accolades for any one in your field so you didn’t really feel too bad about missing that part. You had entered the open space where larger crowds lingered. Hotel staff passed by with trays of drinks and small bites or held doors for you as you passed through doorways from spaces where people dressed to the nines just as you were, mingled; drank; laughed loudly and freely.

The stress and incredible effort of the past few months was finally let go. Smiles all around were genuine. It felt as if the culmination of a career’s worth of effort had finally amounted to something quite tangible here. The project, like countless you’d worked on in the past, had been a success. Well received by critics, audiences, and sold well to streaming services. Whispers of the next season filtered to your ears and you smiled widely to person after person; all familiar and all just as relieved by the good news as you felt.

They were all familiar in a once or twice introduced or professional acquaintance sort of way. You had yet to come across the members of your team and with as cliquey as things tended to grow after suffering together for so long, you were sure you’d find them in close proximity to each other.

You were sure you’d find another sort of familiar face amongst them. You couldn’t help the drift of your eyes over the heads of the crowds as you searched for that familiar shade of blond hair.

There were a few false alarms. That one was too tall, this one wasn’t even a man.

You heard a gasp that called your focus to your right and you’d at last found some of your team.

“Miss Manager, you look incredible!” Marci covered her open mouth with a palm and her wide eyes drifted over the length of you, her startled reaction pulled your lips into an amused grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.” She had a drink in her hands and her eyes had an excited glassiness to them. Already. You giggled when she gripped you tightly around the hand and shook it lightly and you were opening your mouth to refute her claims.

“Nah ~ I always dress up for these events.”

“Like a goddess!” She shouted over the music that had picked up in volume. She was joined by a few other team members and their eyes looked you up and down with the same sort of excited wonder.

“Sandi,” Marci shouted out over your shoulder and you turned your head toward the direction she was looking, “look at how pretty she looks tonight!” Sandi looked upon you with a quiet smile and a knowing expression behind her eyes and before long, Sandi and Marci were soon joined by some of the other girls in your team and you were quickly surrounded by a chorus of oohs and aahs. It seemed you had been just a bit later than you had expected because it was becoming evident that the drinking had been going on for quite some time already. Someone pushed a drink into your hand declaring that you needed to catch up. You were quickly caught up in the excitement and to quiet their noisy cries you raised what you knew was some sort of shot of alcohol and quickly downed it. It burned and tasted bad and someone else shoved a quarter of a lime between your lips. Tequila.

You needed to be more careful. Of all of the liquors that took your rational mind and tossed it quickly out the window, tequila was one of the most dangerous ones.

It was useless though. Everyone was too worked up and much too excited to listen to your polite declinations. This is a party, they all shouted. You’d had another shot of something else; influenced by the excitement that buzzed through them like a flu, spreading from them to you; you were too caught up. Two. You could still keep your wits about you with just two drinks.

Let’s go dance together, someone else urged. You grinned and you pushed your hands forward, promising them that you would join them as soon as you were able to. Just as soon as you made your rounds and said your greetings to your superiors. They gave small groans of disappointment that was quickly forgotten as soon as the next songs began playing in the speakers over their heads. It was a fun and popular pop song and the small group jumped up and down excitedly, abandoning you and your self proclaimed very important managerial duties that still called your name.

And you certainly would greet whoever you happened to run into. Producers and managers from other teams. You nodded politely, shook their hands and gave your sweetest smiles to some of your favorites.

Sophie Choi grabbed you tightly around the shoulders and pulled you in for a warm hug and over her shoulders your eyes scanned the room for any shades of hair that were anything other than black. You’d begun to feel just a little bit desperate the longer you looked and came up empty.

As your eyes searched they met with a pair of eyes that were indeed familiar. You pushed a smile on your lips, making absolutely certain that your expression showed not even a hint of the disappointment you were beginning to feel the longer you searched through in this place and did not find the person you were really looking for.

Ben from the marketing department gave you an almost undetectable double take and his eyes drifted over the length of you before the ultra polite professional smile quickly took over whatever look you might have imagined seeing in his eyes. Perhaps his team had pressured him into having a few more drinks that he had intended to as well. Perhaps that was the reason for the way his focus seemed to linger in places other than your shrewd, business-like eyes and co-worker-appropriate placid smile.

Ben leaned into you with his greeting, a warm hand landing just over your back as he did it. His words spoke into the space where he leaned near your ear. The music was loud, of course, he had to speak up a bit. Despite the unusually close proximity between the two of you and the warm palm that still sat quite high up on your bare shoulder, a part of you marveled at just how little thought you actually gave to anything other than the words coming from his mouth.

He was talking about work. Asking you about this new co-worker who you had sent him. This mystery man who would soon be joining his Marketing Communication team as his newest Marcom Specialist; an impressive sounding title for sure. You gave yourself the smallest internal pat on the back for pulling the necessary strings to sell Ben on such a move for your former assistant. Although it wasn’t as if Baekhyun was any stranger to blatant favoritism in this company, you still felt pretty green when it came to nepotism. Not that it was even needed. The second Ben found out who Baekhyun was, he would have agreed straight away. This man was basically guaranteed to be everyone’s boss one day.

Still, urged by your own guilt, you’d made the deal with plenty of back-end promises to owe Ben big time for this, and knowing the man, he would cash in on those favors as soon as he was met with even the slightest bit of resistance from some of the other managers. After this quick chat with Ben, you felt good about this change.

Ben was now giggling and asking about special treatment the President's son might require; his eyes not even trying to conceal the apprehension that broke through the nervous laughter that he was obviously feeling for agreeing to play host to such a high profile guest. You were quick to refute any such ideas. Your former assistant would be a valuable addition and an asset to his team. At no point in your working with Baekhyun had he ever given any sort of impression that he was even capable of using his birth as a professional advantage. Ben was lucky to have such a talented person working at his side and this was not a decision he would regret.

“I’ll admit I’m still a little bit suspicious of my new charge. But I’ll trust you for now,” he smiled genuinely with his eyes, sated for now.

Ben had always been kind. He had been great in the few instances as you’d had to work with him and he was not unattractive. Although the deeper parts of your brain tended to describe his good looks in rather clinical terms. He looked clean. He looked symmetrical. Conventionally attractive. A safe bet. Perhaps even a little boringly so. The kind of attractive looks that one might have with the occasional medical and orthodontic intervention courtesy of a pair of well-off parents who were probably still securely married to this day.

You couldn’t help the way your mind wandered. You also did very little to stop it. It was probably the alcohol's fault. You had somehow finished another drink. Looking into Ben’s harmless and clean smile you heard a judgemental whisper deep within your subconscious. Comparing this man to the other man who had a death grip on your heart and your soul and your lady parts for good measure. Ben was nice but also felt extremely sterile. Curious judgements of the man slipped in. A man like this, and you’d known a few through the years, but, a man like Ben in the bedroom would not always be a disappointment. But he would not be a triumph either.

With a man like this, a woman might even be satisfied and perhaps thirty percent of the time she might even orgasm. As long as she managed that before fifteen minutes were up of course. A man like this definitely had a time limit.

This was definitely the alcohol speaking.

“Sophie!” A familiar voice interrupted your mind's silly wandering and brought a dark shadow along with it.

You heard his loud abrasive laugh. It sounded fake and forced. The owner of that familiar voice calling for Sophia Choi was lingering close by. It was Sophie’s 1st. The very same man you’d promised your boyfriend you wouldn’t allow yourself an opportunity to spend time alone with. The man who looked you up and down with an unfiltered, animalistic look in his drunken eyes and wagged perfectly manicured eyebrows up and down as his lips pulled into something in between a sneer and a delighted grin.

Chet.

Your eyes rolled and you exhaled a slow breath.

You weren’t too much of a drinker. Occasionally and only in social settings; you rarely let loose too often outside of that. Alcohol wasn’t your first medicine of choice and in situations when others might want to drown their sorrows in something to make the mind far far away from reality; you usually made other self detrimental choices like not eating for a week until you got so dizzy you had to force down a bowl of oatmeal, or on the opposite spectrum downing a quart of ice cream until you felt so full and bloated you had no choice but to wallow in your own self curated misery.

“Chet.” Ben nodded his head, and a single eyebrow danced above his eye, “enjoying the party, I see.” Something in Ben’s tone told you that he didn’t have a very high opinion of the man either.

Chet pulled his eyes up from his blatant and obvious examination of your chest and gave Ben a two second glance with a curt nod before his focus was back on you; thankfully on your face now instead of wherever his lustful eyes had been looking.

“Miss Manager,” you heard Chet tack your name onto the end of your title and the sounds of his words had the sort of inflection that told you he had very much intended to keep talking. “That’s quite a dress. You look … very pretty tonight.”

“Doesn’t she look so pretty, Ben? Like a pretty little princess.” Chet’s words were on the surface directed at Ben but his eyes did not leave you. Although they had drifted from your face again.

“So… I was wondering, Miss Princess—” Chet’s eyes moved slowly back up into your face and the excessive way he drew out the S sounds made his words slither like a snake up the back of your spine.

Ben’s body language had changed with the off-putting new nickname and weirdly confrontational tone Chet somehow felt was appropriate to use with you.

“Whoa. Hey—” Ben had noticeably stiffened and his face pulled into a frown as he lifted a hand, palm facing outward about chest level, calling the other man out audibly for the disrespect.

“Maybe you should slow down on the drinks tonight, Man.” Like any rational person might, Ben attributed Chet’s bad behavior to an alcohol induced slip up. It was an easier conclusion to accept than the realization that maybe Chet was just an asshole who didn’t see women as real people and only showed them basic human decency when delusioned by the chance to fuck them.

Once you’d taken that off the table, Chet no longer had any reason to fake it. This was the real Chet.

His intentions toward you had taken on more transparent and obvious meaning. Had you been completely in your right mind, you might have even sensed a little danger in the darkness you saw in those eyes of his.

But as you stood now, you cared too little about this person. He was insignificant in your life. Let him throw his fit. You were simply not interested in whatever it was he felt he had to say to you and so you allowed your eyes to drift away from both of these men, giving almost no acknowledgement at all to Chet or to his greeting or to whatever the hell he was wondering about. You didn’t even give him the satisfaction of acting offended.

You could blame the loud music for not hearing him. You could blame the alcohol for giving you the nerve to turn your back and walk away from him the way you did. He could blame you for being a cold bitch for all you cared. You’d been clear with him in the past when you told him he wasn’t to speak to you unless absolutely necessary and only for work.

It wasn’t that you liked to hold grudges. It was just that you had seen his true colors already and you simply could not unsee them now.

As you left the two men behind you heard Ben’s attempts at being a rational adult. Their bickering voices quickly faded though when the crowds moved and you saw the familiar shape of a man in a deep blue suit. A man with broad shoulders so significant that you felt a warmth surge deep within your belly when your eyes landed on his back. The effect was instantaneous. It was the sudden blast of a warm shower after being caught in the cold rain. It was the warmth of the summer sunshine hitting your face as the dark clouds parted and heat penetrated every layer of your skin. He was life and happiness and joy and love and the sudden shift within your body nearly gave you whiplash with how complete and instant this transformation that happened inside of you was.

It was him. It was Baekhyun. You knew him in an instant. You’d found him.

He was standing next to your team. You saw Marci, Sandi, Ju Won, Sera, and even Sunny — your newest Assistant. He was laughing with a hand over his mouth; you heard his genuine delight and loud guffaws pierce through the crowds. His back was to you and you dropped your hand that held your empty glass hanging it down by your thigh and you simply took in the sight of him. For just a moment you allowed those feelings to fill you completely. You knew you had to be staring. You knew if someone was paying any attention to you right now they’d know without a doubt how very in love you were with this man.

The suit was fitted. Cinched at the waist and it looked designer, of course and very expensive. He filled it out very well. You could make out the strength in his back, the biceps in his arms. The plushness of his thighs below where the jacket ended. The knowledge that this man was yours bubbled up inside of your chest and you had to lift your fingertips to lightly touch over the heat you felt in your face, begging some of the flushness you felt to dissipate.

Earlier as you wandered around this busy place, greeting people you knew on a surface level it all felt very performative. You would push up your smile wide and believable. You would use your kindest and sweetest voice to speak out many compliments and it felt like work.

This though — standing here and looking at this man. The smile you felt was real. I took no effort. It took more effort to blank out your face and pretend like you weren’t looking at your person; the one that felt like home to you.

Only something was very different. The hair. His hair. No wonder you couldn’t find him earlier; you’d been searching for blond hair. He had done something new.

His hair was brown now. It looked like rich honey or dark caramel in this lighting. It was coiffed and styled up by an expert’s hand and when he turned you caught the sight of his profile. The contrast between the dark hair and his light skin, the slight pink of his cheeks and his pouty lips as he spoke; the dark eyebrows and pretty black of his eyelashes and the specks of the tiny moles on his lovely face — all of it; all of him — you were reeling. You felt frozen. You hadn't been prepared for such a drastic change. He should have told you first. He should have sent you a picture so you could get your reaction ready.

He hadn’t told you that he was going to change his hair color. Although he seemed to change it so often you really should have prepared yourself for the possibility of such a thing but everything about this felt so different.

Still the suddenness of this; the impact of how shockingly beautiful he looked with this particular up-style in this particular shade of caramel; your mind was spinning and you were having a moment in the middle of this crowded party too stunned to take another step.

You caught the moment when Sandi noticed you and she reached out a hand to touch lightly on Baekhyun’s forearm; catching his attention easily, her eyes bounced pointedly to where you stood like a statue glued to the floor behind him.

Baekhyun followed. First with his eyes and then he turned his head before he spun halfway around and he looked into your face; his eyes landing first into your own stunned ones.

The smile he had from the lively chat sank, flattened and vanished when he saw you. His eyes had a drift to them. Those deep brown irises took you in. It was an achingly slow journey from your face where his brown eyes had first sunk in with a splash. But their flighty focus slid down to the bare skin of your neck and your chest. They took their time at the deep plunge of the neckline and the peek of cleavage this dress displayed; no doubt triggering flashes of memories of his mouth and the bite marks he’d left all over your breasts that the sheer swirls of this fabric concealed. The drift of him moved again; lower and lower until you felt thoroughly consumed and had by him. He absorbed you — all of you. He did it slowly and he savored it.

This look from him, this reaction left you dumbfounded; even more so than seeing him standing there looking exactly as he should on your wedding day complete with the hair, the slight eye makeup his stylist had put on him that accentuated his beauty, the expertly fit suit in the exact shade of navy blue satin that complimented him so well and made him stand out like a goddamned god amongst mortals. That he could so affect you in absolute silence; without a word, without a single touch, with only the look in his eyes, was a wonder.

In addition to the new and sudden warmth that built up under the surface of your skin you also felt a rush of power. You very much enjoyed this feeling. This dress in all of its sparkly, curve hugging and teasingly enticing glory from the beginning to where it abruptly ended, so high up on your thighs, it just might have been worth the hefty price tag afterall. Just for this reaction from him.

You wondered at that moment if he’d dressed up for you just as you had done for him.

His eyes had made it down. His gaze was faltering and he was pushing through it. Halfway through the journey back up to once again meet your waiting eyes and now, victorious smile, his parted lips tensed and he snapped his jaw up tight with a visible clench of the muscles on his face and his chest rose with the sudden intake of air through his nose. Then he bit down on his bottom lip, furrowed his eyebrows and he pushed his eyes forcefully away from you; he looked off somewhere else; anywhere else; eyes completely devoid of any focus as he exhaled a purposefully stunted and restrained breath through his parted lips.

You knew you had to do the same. You had to blank out your expression and get rid of the lustful look in your eyes. You had to put on the falsely confident, bright as sunshine smile that did not betray any of your true feelings.

It took some doing. It took a deep breath, quite similar to the one he’d drawn into his lungs just now and you also had to look at something that was not him.

You chose the floor right in front of your feet. You shook your head a tiny bit to rid yourself of whatever leftover bits of haze might still be floating around inside of there and you forced your feet to move.

It was only two or three steps to join the group and you slipped into an empty space between Sunny and Baekhyun, looking at the other friendly faces first before you dared to look head-on into his face from this close.

There were greetings of course. Your eyes danced around the small circle quite quickly and by the time you had taken as many deep and steadying breaths of air you were going to get, you looked up into his face with an absolutely passive and non-sexually charged smile on your face.

“Assistant Byun,” you said with a tick of your face in his direction. He hadn’t been looking at you either. When you spoke his name, you saw him lick his lips, close his eyes tightly once and quickly replace the tension in his jaw with a small smile before he turned his attention to you. Your words were light and you let the surprise out of your voice as casually as you could, “you changed your hair?”

“Or I guess it’s Specialist Byun now, isn’t it?” A single eyebrow danced over one of your eyes and you ticked your head a tiny bit. His focus shifted down and as he caught the movement a look of alarm flew across his face. Those pink pouty lips parted. You watched from up close, the tiny gasp he took the moment you lifted a hand and rolled several strands of this new hair of his between your fingertips and your thumb; resisting the urge to sink your hand in deep and run your fingers through his hair; scraping the warmth of his scalp lightly with your fingernails; eliciting that low throaty moan that you knew would escape from deep within his chest when you did it.

Instead you just smiled wider, dropped your hand without even letting the pads of your fingers run down the smooth warmth of his pretty face, you just dropped your hand down, gripping the stem of this empty wine glass instead of touching any other part of his body.

“I love it like this,” you said softly with affection written all over your voice, “looks so good on you—” you added with a sudden halt at the end of your words as you realized you’d just said all of that with honey dripping off of your tongue, directing genuine compliments toward the man in the presence of at least half of your entire team. The effects of your sudden, easy, and completely out-of-character declarations left him as shell-shocked as you felt on the inside.

“Miss Manager … I’ve never seen you like this. You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?” Sandi interjected loudly from the other side of where Baekhyun stood frozen; an amused smile on her face and her eyes wide with a purposeful look that went deeper than others could catch on to.

“I also went to the salon, don’t you love my hair too?” Her lips pulled into a dramatic pout and you smiled wider, understanding that she was saving your ass right now. You leaned into it. Feeling every bit of the warmth of those alcohol shots coursing through your veins you closed the distance between you and this wonderful woman as you gripped both sides of her head with your hands and leaned in closely with a wide smile. You leaned your forehead into hers, unspoken messages of thanks written all over your eyes.

“You look so beautiful. I love it! It’s absolutely stunning!” You declared and the delighted giggles left your chest mingled and mixed with the cadence of the rest of the group's laughter. “And I am, maybe, a tiny bit drunk right now.”

“Oh she has been drinking,” you heard several relieved voices justifying your odd behavior just now. “Well — yeah, it is a party.”

“I thought he was going to faint just now.”

“I know, right. She doesn’t know the power she has over him. Poor guy didn't know what to do.” Their words were whispered in hushed asides between casual members of this small group, but you still caught them. Perhaps Baekhyun’s crush on you had only ever been a secret to you. You must have been the blindest, dimmest, worst work-aholic ever.

Marci was your next target. She was already laughing when you poked an index finger into her cheek, calling her cute as a button. Your hand was off of Sandi and you wrapped one around each of the girls shoulders and declared them both to be the most beautiful women in the room as you urged them both to join you on the dance floor. The music had picked up and more and more people had ventured out to get lost in the crowds and move their bodies to the beat of the music.

You danced and danced. Song after song played and you found yourself completely lost in this unfiltered joy; with so many of your favorite people cheering and laughing and dancing along with you. There was more alcohol that simply appeared and try as you might, you were no match for this kind of pressure.

You’d lost count.

Oh no.

You’d lost count of them.

Still, somehow you could always feel the warm arm of your Sandi by your side. She was strong, but you’d found your way to the edge of the dance floor, peering out toward the tables where a handsome man in a navy blue suit was giggling and laughing with some other men. That same handsome man was throwing back a shot of something, he was making a face and pulling a green lime out from in between his teeth and licking his lips and oh, his eyes, his eyes were darting from the faces of his friends into your own eyes again and again. He was pulling you into him.

“I’m going to dance with him,” you said abruptly to the group of women beside you. Several faces leaned in, unable to hear you over the loud music and you repeated with an evident slur in your voice, “Him. I want to dance with him. Bring him to me. I want him.” You pointed a finger toward Baekhyun and the women were all giggling. One of them was off, rushing toward where he leaned against his table resting his hands joined together over his thighs and she was leaning in close, her hand shielding her mouth as she whispered something into his ear.

His smile was wide and breathtaking. He was grinning. You’d never experienced Baekhyun in any state of intoxication before but his cheeks were pink and he was giggling as he stood up straight, pulled his suit jacket down and smoothed it over with the palms of his hands and allowed himself to be dragged by the sleeve for several feet until he was standing before you within touching distance.

You felt the palm of his hand land over your waist and you smelled the deliciousness of his cologne before you felt the heat of his cheek land over yours. He whispered into your ear.

“I heard — —- —?” A particularly loud song started. This took more than a whisper. You reached a hand up and gripped around the back of his neck, pulling his head down so you could speak loudly into his ear.

“What?” Was all you said. Less than classy and less than romantic. It had him laughing and he closed his eyes tighter as he did it. A small head shake from him preceded the tightening of his arm’s grip around your waist and he gave a rough tug. You stumbled into him and with his other hand, he reached for your face.

You felt unprepared for this. His touch. His touch here, in this place. All of these people. The stiffness you felt all over his body and the way he smelled. How much could you get away with blaming on the alcohol? That hand that touched your face reached for you, slipping around to the back of your neck, he dipped into you. With the entire length of your bodies touching you felt the hot breath from his mouth fan out over your ear and you heard the low rumble from his throat as he growled out the words for you to hear.

“You. Want. Me.”

What was he saying?

What was he doing to you in front of all of these people by saying such a thing to you in the way that he said it?

“To dance,” you shouted over the music, quite loudly, not just for him but for anyone else who might have been watching you.

Baekhyun was laughing again. Loudly. It shook his entire body and you along with it.

“That’s what I meant, silly girl.” He was pushing you deeper into the dance floor with his hands still around your waist, he simply walked forward and you were forced to step back; stumbling a few times without knowing where you were going until the tightness with which he held you around the waist grew stronger and stiffer and his body heat built as his muscles flexed. You were no longer relying on your own feet. You were being carried by these strong arms. He lifted you as he moved. The room was spinning and oh no, what if someone saw?

What if someone noticed the obvious ease and intimate familiarity with which this man handled your body?

You were deposited. The song had changed again. It was, thankfully, another lively quick tempoed pop song; one you liked quite a lot. You found the rhythm easily with his arms around you. He led you around, his eyes boring deep within yours, pushing you out with strong arms and pulling you back.

You followed where he sent you and you found yourself finally giving in. Giggling and squealing when you were spun around in a dizzying circle before you were once again caught in those arms and then, much to your absolute terror, dipped down, frighteningly fast, you were looking straight up into the strings of lights that decorated the ceiling and clawing into the fabric over his strong shoulders; holding on for dear life. Before you were dropped flat on your back in an embarrassing heap, you found the gravity had changed very suddenly and you were back on your feet with this man biting down very hard on his own lip to keep from doing something stupid like leaning in to kiss the red hot embarrassment from the surface of your cheeks.

Baekhyun was a good dancer. He made your dancing seem that much better by comparison, but really, you were simply being dragged around by someone who seemed to know exactly what he was doing. You weren’t awful. You had the basics down and easily found your footing; moving easily to the beat again and again whenever he relinquished a little bit of control over to you. You were lost in this. You never, ever wanted this to end. Devastatingly though, it did.

You were genuinely surprised and even pouting quite visibly when the song ended. It was too quick. If dancing with him was your excuse to touch him and to be held by him tonight then you wanted to dance with him for the rest of the evening.

The song had ended and you stood with both of his arms wrapped around your waist and the rhythm of his heavy breathing matched yours perfectly. You found yourself staring at his parted lips, watching the movement in them as he breathed; glimpsing the tip of his tongue that lightly touched the underside of his front teeth.

“I told you —” you heard the softest whisper from him. The words from him, desperate and careful, piled up slowly one by one inside of your head, “I might not behave myself if you looked too pretty—”

He squeezed his eyes shut and you recognized that the tightness in his arms did not let up.

“How dare you show up in this dress — how dare you — ohh, I’ve been drinking…what do — what do I do?”

His jaw snapped shut and his eyes stayed closed.

“I want to kiss you. You fit so perfectly in my arms.”

His grip was still so tight and the music had changed. The song was slow and lovely and romantic with a soft and delicate melody. Around you, the crowds began to thin as friendly coworkers who had no intention of turning into lovers began to drift away from the dance floor; back to their tables for another drink, or over to the bathrooms, or over to mingle and chat in one of the lounge areas.

“Push me away — please.” His words came as a plea through clenched teeth, “unless you want me to kiss you in front of all of these people, please push me and go. Leave me here.” He was serious. He had enough of his mind still intact to ask for help.

His words and the shift in the air had brought you out of the spell and one glance around had you making eye contact with the occasional curious observer. People were slow with it, but every now and then you would catch someone’s eyes. Why were the two of you still in such a tight embrace? What are they doing? They aren’t even moving anymore. The song ended, shouldn’t they go back to the table?

So you lifted a hand to place over his chest, giving a very light tap atop of his beating heart.

You left your hand to rest there and noticed he didn’t move. It took a slightly firmer hand, you tapped again and pushed, also taking a step back away from him.

The arms loosened and his eyes were opening. You stepped out of his embrace. He was not looking at you, but down at the empty space between his hands where you’d once occupied.

“I’ll go to the bathroom,” you offered, hanging your head slightly as you stepped quickly off the dance floor. You resisted the urge to look back until you were safely at the hallways that led to the restrooms. When you finally did turn and look back, he was nowhere to be found.

The bathrooms were impeccably clean and well lit. You spared yourself a quick glance in the mirror just to be sure that nothing was out of place and you were pleasantly surprised by what you saw. While the reflection staring back at you did take a few moments to stop looking blurry and dizzy, your professional salon makeup job hadn’t seemed to budge and your hair and dress still looked perfect. Furthermore, the soft pink glow in your cheeks and sparkle you saw shining back in your eyes seemed to make you look even better. It was the alcohol, of course.

This was it. You wouldn’t drink any more alcohol tonight. You had plenty to still feel good and you could still reasonably think well enough to avoid making any disastrous mistakes.

When you were satisfied that the danger for such mistakes had passed, you left the sanctity of that private calm space for the darkened hallway just outside. The contrast between the well lit bathrooms and the darkened hallway on the other side of the door had you struggling for your eyes to focus and with the second step you felt the telltale bump of your shoulder against a warm body.

You were quick to step aside and drop your face, uttering a quiet apology for bumping into someone but there was no response that came immediately. It only took a half a second more for you to recognize who this person was.

You smelled it first. It was kind of an acrid alcohol scent and a distinct fragrance from one of those drugstore deodorant sprays, the kinds that prepubescent teen boys spray way too much of as they wander through their high school hallways. You’d always smelled it when he demanded his greeting hugs and you smelled it now.

The realization made you exhale a low breath of irritation and you turned to leave this place and walk away from this conversation before it began.

“Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”

Chet’s words slurred even more than that had earlier in the evening.

You already felt exhausted by this. “Chet, you are drunk. We are not having this conversation.”

“You avoid me now. You blocked me.” His words were filled with vitriol and his big body moved to block you off from the exit. All you cared about at this point was removing yourself from this darkened hallway and getting back into the spaces where more people congregated. “You used to be cool but now, now you’re just like … this—”

“If you have any actual, substantial complaints about working with me,” you cut him off. You didn’t want him to say something he was going to regret when he sobered up, “please feel free to contact HR in the morning and we will follow the proper channels to get this resolved. I don’t want you to speak to me outside of work — not alone.”

“Do you know how many times I bought you lunch? Only for you to blow me off like this?”

Was he serious? Was he really saying you owed him more than what you had initially thought was friendship; what you later learned was what he hoped would be something physical just because he used the company card to pay for your lunches sometimes?

His arguments were so stupid you had a physical reaction. You had been trying your best not to react to any of the idiotic things he said but this simply had you overcome. You rolled your eyes hard, crossed your arms over your chest and scoffed out loud.

“Please. Please send me a bill for your itty bitty sandwiches, Chet. I would gladly pay anything to be done with you.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm. You had perhaps gone a bit far. You should have known a man like him had plenty to be insecure about. It was too late. You were already mad and the alcohol didn’t help you hold your tongue at all.

“We are done here.”

You’d had all you could stand. How dare this big oaf of a man try and ruin your fun night out. You caught a small gap between him and the wall and you ducked through the space, moving fast so he wouldn’t have a chance to react.

You'd made it four steps before you felt the sting of a strong hand grabbing hard around your wrist and yanking you backward in a fluid motion.

All of your forward momentum shifted in one instant and you spun around, yelping out loud from the sudden shock of being pulled back and also from the genuine pain you felt around your wrist. His hold didn’t let go when your motion stopped; instead he squeezed harder and the stinging pain turned into an ache as the bones in your wrist seemed to flex under the strength of his hold. You wondered how much they could take. You could hear the racing of your own heartbeat echoing loudly inside your ears and the frantic thumping made your already fuzzy mind begin to feel dizzy and unstable. The darkness in this hallway felt suffocating as the fear surged through you; taking your breath and making it shallow and ineffective and you cried out from the terror of this.

“Chet. You’re hurting me.” Your voice sounded so small to your own ears. It sounded helpless and like pleading. It scared you to hear yourself sound this way.

There was a new sound. A shuffling and a grunting sound and your eyes caught a swift blur of motion; someone else was here now. Someone was here.

Someone in blue; someone familiar. You felt a new set of hands on you, around your wrist there was a shove and Chet let go from the surprise of being interrupted. You grabbed at your own wrist and held it up to your chest watching the commotion unfold before you. If you hadn’t known him so well you might not even have known who this was. You could smell him. You could hear the cadence of his breathing and you could make out that specific shade of blue that he wore tonight.

Baekhyun moved quickly, reaching behind the man in one swift motion he grabbed for Chet’s suit jacket and pulled it up over the man’s face, blocking out whatever light he might have been able to see and disorienting him completely. Chet grunted and hollered like a stuck pig. If you hadn’t been so surprised by this you might have even laughed. You saw Baekhyun shoving hard at the man’s back as Chet tried to untangle himself from beneath the coat as he struggled to breathe, struggled to identify his attacker, struggled to free himself of his own coat, it soon became clear why your boyfriend chose this route to come to your rescue.

Chet had no way of knowing who was doing this. Baekhyun didn’t say a single word despite what you knew had to be a deep ache inside of himself to tell this rat bastard to get his filthy hands off his woman and possible go fuck himself while he was at it.

Instead he merely gave one very hard final shove at the man’s back and sent him flying through the doorway of the ladies bathroom. As the door parted you briefly got a glimpse of the chaos that ensued inside that room. A drunken tangle of a man toppled to the floor surrounded by surprised and screeching women who lifted hand bags and swatted at the unwelcome intruder as they all screamed for help. A pervert, one of them cried. The moment he broke free from the coat long enough to open his eyes into the blinding brightly lit room of the ladies bathroom he was swiftly greeted by a rough smack of a heavy purse to the face.

Gravity pulled the door closed and the shouts and shrieks grew muffled behind that door.

You felt too stunned to move. Your hands hung limply by your side and you flinched hard when you felt his warm hands reach out to grab one of them. He held you tightly by the wrist, the same one that was still sore.

“He’s done.” Baekhyun growled. “You’ll never see him or hear from him again. He is blacklisted here and everywhere else. He can shovel shit in Kabul for all I care, that’s the choice he made by putting his fucking hands on you.”

There was a grave seriousness to his voice that you had never, ever heard from him before; in your entire history of knowing him you’ve never witnessed this kind of a reaction from him.

“Baek, I,” you lightly pulled back against his arm. He was walking faster to exit the darkened hallway and put some distance between you and what had just happened back there.

“I told you. I begged you not to be alone with him. Don’t you think I know men? I know a fucking piece of shit when I see one.”

He was worked up. He was angry and cursing and he didn’t seem to hear you call his name or feel you pull against the hold he had on your arm. From the left turn he took it seemed like he was headed for one of the far off lounges where the loud music from the grand ballroom was a distant thumping echo and someone might be able to sit and talk in peace for a while in a somewhat private space.

“Baek,” you called him again a little louder. You were still being dragged and you pulled back again; a little bit harder against him. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful for him being there and intervening when he did. It wasn’t even that he was here dragging you around this place, where anyone who might not yet be drunk enough to pay attention, might see. It wasn’t even that he had a firm grip around the very same wrist that had been wrangled by Chet and it was honestly feeling just a little too sore from all the rough handling, but the part that you really began to feel was unfair, the part that had you stop your legs in their tracks and pull your hand roughly out of his hands, an action so unexpected from him that he turned around to look at you with wide surprised eyes, halfway through, and standing right in the middle of lounge that he’d brought you to; that part, that was what did it to you and made you move. Unfair. This was unfair.

You held your wrist up to your chest and covered it lightly with the other hand, took your eyes away from his questioning ones and looked around the room. There were some people. In the far left corner in the dark a couple sat with their drinks in their hands and their heads close enough for quiet whispers. On the other end, a woman sat with her cell phone in her hands as she frantically typed away on the screen.

You weren’t alone with him here.

Your wrist hurt.

Your feelings hurt.

The alcohol was making everything dizzy and fuzzy and your mood was quickly plummeting.

You didn’t like the wild anger you’d heard coming from him, and while, yes, it was justified — Chet had acted like an asshole and had definitely crossed a line, something in Baekhyun’s words had irked you. Something in the way he turned the situation around and seemed to imply that the responsibility for what happened was on you.

I told you.

I told you not to be alone with him.

I told you so.

He was right and you were… wrong?

What had you done wrong?

You felt it. It was in the burning inside of your eyes. A hot tingling that made you inhale a sharp breath and avert your eyes quickly from him.

“Do you believe that I did something wrong?” Your words came out as a barely inaudible whisper. You caught the motion of Baekhyun’s feet, you saw him take a step into you and you felt the light touch of his fingertips on your forearm.

There was a sharp intake of breath from him. You could heard it even with you looking down at the floor like this. You could hear the breath he took and the way it stuttered and shook. You heard the exhale that came after that and the small groan that came from deep inside him.

You couldn't do this here. There were people here. The last thing you needed was a breakdown. You had to close your eyes to stop it. Stupid alcohol. You knew it was making these bad feelings so much worse.

“No, no.” You heard him whisper under his breath. His fingertips were touching your skin, “shit — I didn’t —”

“I wasn’t … looking for him … I just came out of the bathroom and he was there.” Your bottom lip felt heavy. It trembled under its own weight. You pulled it in between your teeth and bit down, willing yourself to behave, willing your emotions to calm down.

“No. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry I said that.”

You were on the edge right now. Every single bit of your weak and vulnerable humanity had bubbled up right to the very rim and was threatening to crest. You were being tested and the careful control you always maintained, always begged and pleaded to keep under wraps was at its limit. You could feel it abating. You could feel yourself beginning to get on top of it the longer you stood here with your eyes closed; not saying anything to anybody and not touching anything but yourself. Not being touched by anything but the very very tips of his fingers, you could hardly even stand that much.

“I know it wasn’t anything you did.”

He needed to just wait.

“You didn’t do anything. It was him. I’m just…I’m just mad at him.”

This would pass if you just waited it out, it would pass. You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't break down here, at this party filled to the absolute brim with nearly every single person you know in your professional career.

“I’m sorry, baby. I made a mistake. I didn’t mean it about you. I don't think that about you. I don't believe that. I’m so sorry.”

You lifted a single finger and you held it suspended, begging for him to stop speaking for the sake of your own careful control. Your closed eyes were trembling and they were fighting to open; to look into his pretty face and to see the softness in those eyes that you know you heard in his voice.

Your hands were fighting too. You longed to feel the warmth of his chest against your own. You longed to slip inside his suit jacket and wrap yourself around him. But you knew, you knew you weren’t alone with him here. You knew such a thing would be too much; would push you over the edge; would destroy whatever carefully crafted self-soothing emotional control you’d been just on the verge of.

You lost the feeling of his fingertips. The shift pulled your eyes open and you looked down at his feet that hadn’t moved at all. He didn’t leave but he’d taken his touch off of you.

He was too quiet. You had to look.

You started slowly, pulling your stinging eyes up to look at his face. You could see his lips, silently waiting and closed. Motionless. Not demanding; not accusing; not judging.

You looked up into his brown eyes and he was watching your face so closely. His body stood as physically close as he thought you might allow right now and within his eyes sat a deep seated worry. The moment you looked at him, looked into his face and looked into his eyes he inhaled a breath through his nose and you caught the slight motion in his throat as he swallowed.

“Can I touch your shoulder? I won’t grab your wrist, I’m sorry — I wasn’t thinking. I’m just — we can go somewhere private — if you want me to come.” His words were so stifled and unsure you felt a fresh wave of emotions bubbling up inside of your chest. The surge must have been visible in your face somehow because he took the smallest step back and he leaned away from you, changing his plan with one sentence, “or you can just follow me,” he said in a single breath, with a tick of his face and a lift of his eyebrows.

On his mouth, in his lips, manifested the saddest nervous smile you’d ever witnessed.

You were filled with regrets for having seen it.

“Baek,” you whispered and you let your lips frown dramatically.

This was a terrible feeling. This was awful. You wanted to hold him. You wanted him to hold you.

Instead you lifted a hand, palm up and motioned vaguely beyond where he stood; sighing in defeat and lifting your eyebrows with a small shake of your head.

He silently turned around and walked further into the lounge, through a doorway that led to what looked like a sliding glass door. The wall here was lined with curtains and you figured this had to be some outside patio. You wondered how this might possibly be a private space with as many guests of this party just wandering around this area non-stop, but you kept your mouth shut when he reached inside his coat pocket, pulled out his wallet and peered inside. You saw his fingertips leafing through several business card shaped items and after a few false alarms he pulled out a small flat white card; which he held up to a spot above the door.

It beeped and the door clicked as a lock disengaged and he turned the handle and pushed the door open.

Outside was exactly as you had thought. A tiny guest patio with a single two person sized lounge chair.

You stood out here with your arms hung at your side watching him busy himself with dusting off the cushion of the seat and after he was sure it was clean enough he stood up straight and looked at you, one hand still holding the white card and the other hand motioning toward the seat; instructing you to sit down.

“What’s that?” You asked without moving your hands.

“A key,” he said flatly.

“Why does it open that door?”

“Master key.”

“Baek,” your head dipped and you blinked in his direction. He wasn’t giving you whole answers. Instead of speaking though, he opened his jaw and bit down on his bottom lip, breathing in a deep breath with a deep squint forming on his eyes as he looked off in the distance. After a few seconds he slowly exhaled the breath and he gave up on standing; lowering himself onto the seat.

“My key,” he said softly with his jaw hung upon after the final syllable. He inhaled again, “my hotel.”

You watched his face for signs of truth. You did not think it was possible for him to continue to surprise you with these bombshells again and again, but here he was sitting before you, a genuine member of some royal family you hadn’t even realized existed. It was too much. Just like the mansion and the staff that followed his every order, it was entirely too much.

You closed your eyes up and felt the remnants of wetness drip down your face. From the upset feeling from earlier, apparently.

You wiped the stray wetness with your fingertips and looked back down for any signs of the color black, or maybe evidence that all of your makeup had been ruined by these unsanctioned tears.

When you looked at him again he was watching you; holding his tongue well as you sniffled whatever bits of the emotions away and blotted at your face again with the back of your hand.

“Do I look like a mess?” You asked through the sniffles.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said without even giving your question a chance to settle. He answered without thinking about the questions or considering the answer, he answered on instinct and the rapid fire response brought out the smallest chuckle from deep inside your lungs. He couldn't even see your face. It was dark out here.

“I spent four hours at the salon. Hair and makeup and waxing and plucking — and I’m crying now. It’s all ruined.” Your low-down mood had lifted some with the sudden compliment. You knew he couldn't even really see you and yet, hearing him say it still had such a strong effect on you.

“Nothing is ruined. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

”I just wanted to look pretty,” you added with a slight whine in your voice now. It was the alcohol for sure. It was the fact that you hadn’t seen him all day and when you did, you had been surrounded by people who shouldn’t ever know this true side of you. It was the way he was looking at you with the smallest smile building on his lips, looking like the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen in his suit and tie, with his super shiny shoes on his feet and the hair, my God, the hair.

“You do look very pretty.”

You gripped at the bottom of your sparkly dress, looking down at it and marveling at how even with the limited lighting out here, it managed to grab a hold of a few far off distant lights from the city skyline and shoot them back at you when you moved just right.

“Did you see my dress? Isn’t my dress pretty too?”

You were playing now. He knew it too. It seems that the crisis had passed and getting this alone time with him had been the best medicine for your rotten mood from earlier. After you asked this final question he looked at you with another tiny smile playing on his lips. He didn’t speak right away and just blinked his eyes at you as you swayed just a little so the sparks in the dress could catch his eye the right way.

“I feel like you didn’t really see it,” you said softly mostly to yourself and you lifted a hand to showcase the many beautiful features of it for him.

His smile was growing.

“See,” you pointed with a fingertip to the high slit that showcased your upper thigh; then you spun halfway and lifted an arm, pointing to the spot on the side of your ribs just below your breast where just a bit of side boob was visible.

His jaw parted and you saw the tip of his tongue brush over the surface of his bottom teeth and his eyes rolled with the wider smile that broke through on his face. He looked away, across the empty view and seemed to focus on the other floors of the building next door.

“Oh and this,” you motioned with both hands behind yourself, just above your ass where the small of your back was visible thanks to the low cut of the back of the dress.

“You’re right, I didn’t really get to see it up close.” He was still seated on the chair, possibly for survival. His hands were fisted tightly together in his own lap and he didn’t reach for you or even try and touch the fabric of the dress.

You could feel it though, the way he gave into you; humored you. The way he let you play this little game you were playing. You smiled and took the three steps needed to reach him and he leaned back casually in his seat with a finger lifted to his face as his eyes took you in from up close.

“Look,” you went through the motions again. Starting up high on your thigh, running your fingertip up the entire inside length of the slit, and even making a few strands of jewels sparkle as you did it.

“Mhmm,” he said with his fingers still covering his mouth in deep consideration. His self control even while a little bit drunk was admirable.

“And here,” you spun, showing off the cut-out in the side. His head was nodding and his blinking slowed down a little. He pursed his lips out and he did a good impression of someone who looked thoroughly impressed by your little show.

“I..” he leaned forward just a little, cleared his throat before he continued — “ahh…I don't umm… don’t think I see a bra strap.”

You clapped your hands in excitement.

“Actually!” He flinched.

While on the surface this was an excellent observation from a man who was probably fishing for a sneak peak of your undergarments or lack thereof, but you were wearing something new and you were quite excited about it.

You leaned to the side, and slipped the dress open just a tiny bit. Baekhyun’s eyes widened and he peered his head to see around the side of the fabric.

“I have these little … stickers,” you said it with pride, “for my nipples,” as if you’d accomplished something fantastic tonight with the pasties that covered your nipples so that nobody got a glimpse of anything too noteworthy from this dress tonight.

His eyes were wide and his lips were open. It took him a minute to move. He leaned back again and ran his open palm down the length of his face as his eyes pulled off of you and all of your sparkles and your bare thighs and your nipple stickers and he stared across at the building next door again.

You followed his eyes and the longer you looked the more you focused on each individual window; each space; each tiny world.

You could see the occasional room that was lit up. These were homes. You could clearly see a few of the residents watching tv; sitting at a kitchen table, reading books. You could see details. You could see plenty.

A sudden realization dawned and you gasped lightly.

“Those apartments are all full of people.”

Baekhyun hummed a response and he nodded his head, closing his eyes through the nod. “Yep,” he said. There was a sense of misery you could pick up in the delivery of that single word.

“I can see them.”

”Mhmm,” he hummed. “And they can see us.” He added with a sharp inhale after speaking.

You suddenly understood his standoff-ish reaction to you giving him the grand tour of this dress and your body below it. You understood how he could possibly keep his hands from touching any bit of you.

“We need to go back to the party. We’ve been gone for too long.” You said the words so easily but you didn’t actually move one bit. You stood still, looking down at the man who was fighting his own internal battle; sitting with his hands secured firmly in his own lap and staring blankly ahead of himself into the black of the night.

He blinked but did not respond to you. You kicked your feet just a little, reaching a sparkly high-heeled foot forward you lightly kicked at the sole of his dress shoe.

“I’m leaving now,” you threatened.

Baekhyun closed his eyes.

“You’re just going to let me go, huh?”

You counted inside of your head; completely fine with the idea of blaming this behavior on the alcohol. Even though you knew this was unfair to him. He was your only savior tonight, again and again. The voice of reason in spite of yourself.

You spun on your heels, ready to go and you’d taken the first step away from him when you felt the warmth of his hand wrap securely around your wrist and he pulled you down hard.

You stumbled and you fell and you landed with a yelp and a huff securely on top of his lap, rather clumsy and side-saddle for sure, but definitely within touching and kissing distance.

You turned your face to look at him, not quite expecting the darkness that sat deep inside his eyes to hit you straight in the chest with as much force as it did, but hit you it did. You had to open your lips to breathe through it; you had to reach out a hand to touch his lips lightly and you had to blame the alcohol, you had to. There was no other excuse you could cling to; no other reason for your leaning in and capturing his lips in between your own and touching his cheek with your wandering hands. You had no excuses you could find for why you shifted your weight on top of his lap and straddled his thighs, throwing your head back when his lips moved to bite down hard on the bare skin of your neck and lower.

He moved lower. His mouth sucked and bit and he pushed fabric aside to pull lightly at those damn stickers that covered your nipples with his teeth. You felt the sting as the glue pulled at your skin. They didn't budge much. You were suddenly even more impressed by them.

“Not my stickers,” you whispered “I only have the two,” and you wanted to blame the alcohol for the snort of laughter that escaped your chest to hear yourself utter such an absurd thing in the middle of this kind of a moment but the stifled shaking giggles you heard from the man who sat below you only made your own laughter that much worse.

”Not my precious stickers,” he whispered through the giggles that were barely audible through the fabric he was buried beneath.

When he came up for air the smile you saw on his face was breathtakingly real and when you leaned down to kiss him again you bumped against his teeth when you were taken by the giggles again, mid-kiss.

It took a while for you to recover and after the laughter finally settled you leaned down for one more sweet kiss on his pretty lips.

“I feel like I can make it back to the party now,” you said. His wide smile slowly but completely flattened out in front of your eyes. You pushed up against him, leaving behind the full effect you’d had on him right there for him to come to terms with and he stared at you with a look of utter shock.

“We can’t do that here, Baek,” you pointed toward the rows of homes across the way and his wide eyes looked where you pointed without seeing anything at all.

“You—,” he began, a full tone of attitude on his voice that he quickly interrupted by cutting off his own words.

“You.” He repeated again. You could see it happening. Dreams being crushed. Egos being put to bed. Justice not being served and revenge being planned. He shook his head and threw himself back into that chair with a force and crossed his arms squarely over his chest.

You were already at the door, pulling it open after straightening your dress back out and smoothing your hair.

“I’m getting those stickers later!” He shouted behind your back and you laughed once and threw your hand up into the air before the door closed shut behind you.

[To be continued]

Links: Can I Stay?: Masterlist

[strawberryblueberrypies]

Hi! Welcome to my blog!

My name's what's on the tin, but you can call me SBP!

My blog is primarily Sonic related. Dedicated to my OC's but I really wanted to find other cool OC's hence I'm here!

Expect to see: Sonic, digital art, style mimicking (it's fun!), fondness of less beloved Sonic titles, strong girls and birbs!

I won't engage in negativity, be it towards me, others or the franchise. My focus is on being positive and having fun.

MINORS DNI! I do not want to interact with anyone underage! You will be blocked if you follow me!

I also have a Transformers OC blog! Check it out if you're interested!

Here's a short introduction on my 5 Sonic OCs! Please bear in mind it's a work in progress as I slowly replay the games and learn more! Also yes I was trying to copy Yuji Uekawa's/2000's Sonic artwork.

Name: Heat the Mynah

Species: Babylonian

Related games: Sonic Riders, Sonic Riders: Zero Gravity, Sonic and the Secret Rings (AU because I want excuses to draw Erazor Djinn, Shahra, Erazor again, oh and Erazor)

Extreme Gear: Type-H (Speed type)

Rivals: Amy

Personality: Heat is fun loving and impulsive. She might look like an airhead but she has a cunning manipulative side. She's aware she's cute and often uses her charms to get others to do her bidding. She doesn't use her "powers" for evil but she sure has had Storm bring her stuff at 3AM. Heat also has collectionist tendencies, often keeping stolen treasure for herself instead of selling like the others. Though she loves danger and doesn't seem to have fears, two things make her shake in her boots: certain death and existencial/cosmic threats!

Fun fact: Heat's favorite places to race are Metal City, 90's Boulevard and the Gigan Rocks! Mobius Strip gives her bad memories though.

Name: Mist the Tiger

Species: Indochinese tiger

Home: Sol Dimension

Relevant games: Sonic Rush, Sonic Rush Adventure, Sonic 06 (Maybe?)

Friends: Blaze (Ex-rival), Silver, Cream, Knuckles (Rivals?), Heat (Sorry, Riders is too fun of a concept)

Powers: Water control (Unstable; turns into mist/fog without the Sol Emeralds), Super strength

Personality: Mist is hot-headed and very excited to fight others. She values strength very much and wants to fight anything that moves! Before being defeated, she was very aggressive and selfish but after befriending Blaze she became friendship oriented and affectionate, even if she remains imposing. Mist isn't the sharpest tool in the shed and is very impulsive and restless. In fact she's too much of a meathead to really feel fear.

Fun fact: Her blue gem is a heirloom and is what helps her channel water. It changes color in her super form due to it becoming saturated. It acts like training wheels until she fully gains control over time.

Name: Elegy the Cosmos

Occupation/Species: Goddess of Space

Powers: Teleportation, Psychic communication (she doesn't speak, you can only hear her in your thoughts if she's within speaking range), Dark matter control.

Backstory: Elegy is the Goddess of Space and went to visit Sonic's dimension to stop population overgrowth in his universe eons ago. She spent a lot longer in the dimension than intended, staying away from her Home and gradually becoming weaker as a result. After creating The End she expended all her remaining energy, leaving her trapped. She ventured the universe for millenias trying to regain enough power to go back Home but with so much time passing, she grew to resent the dimension she's trapped in and convinced herself that she has to destroy it.

Personality: Elegy is cold and factual, not caring for lies or manipulation. She focuses on the greater picture, seeing mortals as mere puppets in a greater cosmic theater she's in charge of. She often doesn't understand people and her resentment causes her to seem uninterested in learning about them, but deep down she's still just as curious about their little insignificant antics as she was way back when.

Fun fact: Despite seeming emotionless, Elegy can and does feel emotions. In fact, the white tips of her ears and tail change color depending on what she's feeling at the time.

Name: Poise the Viper

Occupation: L.A.N.C.E. Freelancer

Relevant Games: Sonic Adventure 2, Sonic 06 (Kinda)

Rivals: Rouge the Bat

Powers: High flexibility and speed, Hypnotic smoke

Backstory: Poise is the heir to a rich family with high political power, but due to her irresponsible spending she found herself in massive amounts of debt. With her family unwilling to pay her bills, she had to find a high paying gig. Through her fascination with the Space Colony Ark and Project Shadow, she stumbled upon Lovers Against Nefarious Corporations and Entities, or L.A.N.C.E., a once small and peaceful protest group turned independant organization that's heavily against G.U.N. due to the events 50 years ago. She now works as an agent, being frequently tasked with getting in the way of G.U.N's missions and goals.

Personality: Poise is highly vain, caring a lot about her looks and economic status. She's also very petty. She's sneaky and decieving, hiding the fact she's deeply insecure and in need of external validation with an arrogant and smug mask. She likes to feel wanted and on top of things. She also loves romance and beautiful scenery.

Fun fact: Poise can wear accessories ala SA2's upgrades. She's often tasked with some thanks to L.A.N.C.E's aid during missions.

Name: Umbra the Android

Species: Shadow Android

Relevant games: Sonic Heroes, Shadow the Hedgehog

Allies: Poise the Viper, Invade the Artificial Wisp

Powers: High speed, agility and intelligence. Easy time operating computers. Can't use chaos control but has heightened strength.

Backstory: Umbra is one of the Shadow androids built by Doctor Eggman. The place was found by Poise during a mission and he was retrieved back to L.A.N.C.E. HQ. Upon activation, he was made aware that he was an Android, not the original, and was asked a barrage of questions by L.A.N.C.E. leader, Commander Layla. Her intent was to have him expose through personal account the horrors that happened near the end of Project Shadow, exposing G.U.N. to the public. Despite really having Shadow's memories up until him falling back to Earth, he feigned amnesia, aware that should he give them what they want he'll be discarded just like the original was by G.U.N. 50 years ago. As a result, Layla decided to give him a place to stay in the L.A.N.C.E HQ until he "regained his memory", while also trying to please him due to his high importance. To prevent boredom at being stuck in HQ and possibly help him remember, he was given permission to partake in missions. He was also allowed to customize his body (as long as he uses his original Shadow look during the exposé) and given another top secret L.A.N.C.E project, Invade, to keep company at HQ and help in missions

Personality: Umbra is acutely aware he's a copy of Shadow. Feeling like a "shadow of a shadow", he picked the namd Umbra, his goal being to eventually be his own person. Having Shadow's memories, he's very similar to the original: brooding, serious, stoic, quick to get things done. Where he differs is his attempts to branch out and create meaningful connections, even if he isn't the best at showing affection. He doesn't wish to be alone in the world, aware of his unusual and unnatural circumstance, aware that otherwise he has nowhere to go. Due to his memories, he has tried to create distance from them. But still finds himself feeling rage and grief when remembering Maria and the A.R.K. He hopes to meet Sonic one day, part of him still having that rivalry, part of him hoping he'll be seen as his own person.

Fun fact: Umbra considers Eggman's other robots as siblings. He's melancholic over the fact him and Omega have to fight, hoping to one day be on good terms with him and fight alongside him instead of against.

[neon-kazoo]

This is Love (3 hero/villain snippets)

(All based on the song “This is Love” by Air Traffic Controller)

1. Run

“Villain,” Hero acknowledged with a slight inclination of their head. “Back again so soon?”

“What can I say,” Villain grinned back, all teeth. “I just love to pick a fight.”

Hero readies themselves for the inevitable attack, planting their feet wider and placing a hand on one of several throwing knives strapped to their thigh.

“This time, I won’t let you win,” declared Villain.

Hero did not bother to indulge the jab, instead focusing on the move that they intended to distract from. Villain’s own knife sailed past them on the right as they dodged smoothly to the left.

Quick to respond, Hero sent two of their blades into the air in rapid succession. They both narrowly missed the target, one drawing just a single drop of blood from Villain’s ear.

Villain rolled, ducking behind a barrel before popping out the other side while simultaneously loosing their last long range dagger.

Hero tracked them easily, and they were ready to block the blow with a makeshift shield. The knife lodged itself in the wooden board and Hero chucked it back to the side where they had found it.

“Get your blood pumping yet?” Villain called from behind the corner of the brick building they had moved to.

“Not hardly,” Hero replied, palming two more daggers and stalking towards the alley in which they heard the villain’s voice.

“Don’t worry,” Hero turned the corner just in time to see the maniacal grin spread across Villain’s face. “I have just the thing.”

Hero raised their throwing arms just as Villain reached into their back waistband and pulled out a gun.

“Now, let’s see how fast you can run.”

2. Betrayal

(tw: mention of past abuse, mention of suicidal ideation, toxic relationship)

“I’m an idiot for thinking…all those late shifts, God, I just thought you were saving up for us! To think you were out there….doing, doing those…those things,” she spat, and she didn’t stop there. “And the laundry, GOD I praised you for helping out. I didn’t think…why would I ever think! The hydrogen peroxide…the cold cycles!” Her voice carried nothing but despair when she realized, “Everytime I thought you were spoiling me, you were really just destroying evidence! Oh my god, and the gifts-“

“I was going to tell you,” Villain replied evenly, holding his hands up placatingly.

“Don’t you even start with me. Where is this necklace from?” She questioned, looping a finger under the chain and shaking the charm violently, “Did you get it from that heist I heard about? The one two towns over, out that old highway-“ Lover paused to suck in a affronted breath before she renewed, “Where did you get my ring! I swear to god, if you got my engagement ring off some poor dead woman before you got down on one knee-“

“I bought that ring. How could you ever think I could do that to you-“ Villain responded with only the smallest hint of malice in his tone.

“You could kill me! And maybe you should!” Lover shouted, before sinking to their knees on the kitchen floor, body racked with sobs. “God, I’m stupid. I’m so, so STUPID.”

Villain stared at the form of his lover, fallen to the tiles, curled up against a wooden cabinet. His face didn’t change, remaining impassive as he kneeled beside the love of his life.

“I knew it would go like this,” he started with what seemed like calmness, but if you knew him well enough—like Lover did—you would know that this was his true anger. “You say that we are partners, we fall in love, we get married,” something like disdain crept in between his words, “but once you see the darkness, you get uncomfortable and you forget all about who I really am-“

Lover scoffed loudly, a sound Villain would have been pleased to hear from her if directed at anyone else.

“You must love playing the victim. Do you actually believe that? That I couldn’t handle this?”

“I was good once, you know? I could’ve been what you wanted, back then, before my father beat it out of me,” he spoke matter-of-factly, voice devoid of any emotion.

“You know, what you’re doing out there…,” Lover shook her head. “You’re just a part of a pattern. When you make others feel your pain, you’re just continuing the cycle. And you’ve done nothing to get out!” She explained. “God, Villain, what if we had kids?!”

Lover slowly pulled herself up off the ground, clutching the countertop for balance.

“Everyone who’s tried to fix me knows that I can’t change. This is just who I am. I could promise you that I’ll try. Then you’ll forgive me, and then we’ll move on and—like always—nothing will really change. You’ll play house and pretend everything isn’t the exact same-”

“I am not your past lovers, Villain. Do not make assumptions about my decisions,” her words burned with thinly-veiled fury. “I want this to work. I really do. I love you.” She added, some doubt creeping, “It’s pathetic, I know. Especially to someone like you-”

“It’s not pathetic to love me. This is love, and I’m not going to just let you leave like it was nothing. I’m a jealous fool who won’t let go. You know that. I don’t want to see you with someone else,” he admitted, and he spoke it like a true confession.

“Then work with me! Let’s make up for it. All of it. Let’s do good,” she clasped his hands and looked up at his face, trying to catch his eyes.

“What if I don’t want to do good? If I was sorry for my actions, I would have shame. I would never stoop as low as to have pride in what I do. You should be disgusted by me,” he stared past his fiancée towards the window above the sink and watched the evening light filter through.

“You really are a fool. Don’t you understand?” Lover grabbed him by the chin and forced him to meet her gaze. “I would've taken you. Skeletons and all. If you had just told me. You didn’t have to hide. We could've figured it out together. We’re supposed to do this together.” She held up her ring finger to punctuate her point.

“It’s too late now,” he tried to break away, but Lover held strong, “I've got nothing left to give you. Without you I have nothing. No laughs. No joy. No reason to live. This is over.”

“You cannot put that on me. That’s not fair. You’re sick. This kind of love will only make you mad,” Lover defended, but it didn’t seem to Villain like she really believed it. Her face fell, like she could hear the untruth in her words, too.

“I’m sorry, Lover.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

…

Lover had no regrets as she perched on the rooftop with Villain, hiding in the shadows and waiting for the target to pass by. A figure crossed the street below them, and they both smiled.

“Fuck it, this is love.”

3. Bank Robbery

Hero struggled fiercely against the two men at her sides, jerking her arms where they held her and cursing when they didn’t budge. These guys were ridiculously strong, and impassive to any of her attempts to free herself. Both their expressions were hidden behind black ski masks, which naturally made them hard to read. She was actively trying to jam one in the foot when another man approached.

“Ah ah,” tutted the third man, obviously the leader and the only one who had spoken thus far. “Do I really need to say it?” He asked as he rested the butt of the gun against Hero’s forehead.

Hero went still but continued to glare into the mask of the man in front of her. Unfortunately, this only seemed to amuse him.

Outside, the other heroes could be heard arriving. Deafening sirens and the cheer of the crowd gave them away easily. Hero couldn’t see the leader’s face, but she could somehow still swear he grinned and his eyes lit up with glee.

He placed his hands on both of her shoulders as he spoke, “Perfect, now you can actually be of some use.” At the same time, the two burly men released her.

Before Hero had time to start formulating any sort of a plan, the leader used his hands to shove her out in front of him, making her stumble towards the doors. Hero whipped back around to face him, not wanting any of these people to be out of her line of sight for long.

“I think you’d better tell your friends to go,” he suggested, then added casually, “And if you try to talk to someone, well then,” He gestured lazily with his weapon, pointing it towards the cowering mass of civilians across the room, “someone has to die.”

Hero could hear the quiet whimpering of some of the hostages as she walked towards the door. She was shadowed by one of the men that had held her earlier, no doubt so he could listen in on anything she did (or didn’t) say.

Great, so these criminals weren’t quite as dumb as they looked.

With no other reasonable course of action coming to mind, Hero crossed the lobby with a straight back and chin held high.

“I have it handled, guys,” she called out conversationally when she reached the glass entryway. “Seriously, go home.”

Hero threw back a glance to the group of robbers, and she once again found herself with the uncanny feeling of being able to tell the leader’s expression—this time, a sneer.

So definitely not what he was going for. Oh well, he should have been more specific. Hero certainly wasn’t going to go beg. That just wasn’t in the job description.

Confident in her attempt, Hero walked back towards the vault and shrugged her shoulders.

“I tried.”

She could hear the snarl in his voice when he spoke.

“You think that’s funny? I’ll show you what’s funny-“

Except, he never got the chance. You see, all Hero ever really had to do was rile them up. After that, criminals basically do the job for you.

He was too blinded by anger to see her grab for his gun, and his lackeys were too busy underestimating her to bother to point their own weapons in her direction.

When glass shattered and the rest of the heroes busted in, all the soon-to-be-prisoners were already on the ground.

“I told you guys, I had it handled.”

[golden-snackoos]

Rambling/examining/overthinking about why I feel weird about feeling so compelled to draw fanart for AA instead of focusing time on making original content.

Maybe some of yall might feel similarly. IDK! I'd love to hear opinions on this topic.

I think it just comes down to feeling guilty that I'm spending time and putting energy into characters that aren't mine. But at the same time, the time I spend exploring how I draw Simon and Nahyuta for example, is time I still consider well-spent because it serves as inspiration for how I might want to write my own characters eventually.

IDK I think I'm just scared to start making my own stuff haha.

There was a point in time where I thought about making my own AA OCs and then I remembered a post from someone I followed that struck a nerve at the time, but it rings true for how I feel nowadays.

The post went something like "It's a shame to see other artists create fan content and fan OCs of existing properties." When I first saw that post I thought "Wow rude!" because I was doing that, making fan OCs and consuming fan content. But as the days passed by, I felt like I could understand that sentiment better.

We have one life to live, and I'd personally feel like I am squandering it if I couldn't bring my unique vision to life. I have to at least try, even with an audience of 0.

But why do I still feel so compelled to keep drawing AA fanart?

It's fun!

There's community attached to these properties.

There's engaging conversation about the writing.

There are sooo many talented artists making work that makes me feel alive

There's a lot of love being shared between the community

I work a grueling job and go to school. It's easy to come home after a long day and draw fanart for a property with a world that's already laid out for me

This game is a huge source of inspiration that has shaped my tastes and ideals. I want to honor that in some way

All this to say, it's fun to make AA fanart but I acknowledge that some day I need to channel this energy into making my own characters a reality.

I just ask that, if you've read this far, to please continue to support me when I pursue that path.

Thank you for reading!

P.S. I'll continue to post art and reblog posts when I have spare time. I don't think I'll ever be able to stay away from tumblr. There are plenty of artists who create their own properties as a full-time job but still have time for a bit of fanart from time to time. I'll be following in their footsteps haha.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

💍 for Josh Lyman

A marriage headcanon for our sweet Joshy boy!!

Pls forgive me but I'm going to give an engagement headcanon instead, something just popped into my head

Josh has it all planned out

A dinner at sunset on a terrace at a nice restaurant

But he uhhhh

He couldn't plan for the weather

He tried, but the wind kicked up at the last second and dangit, he arranged a table outdoors

And you're doing your damndest to be (hehe) chill about it, but you're freezing

Plan B, he can pivot to a plan B

"Hang on," He slides his jacket around your shoulders, "I'm going to see if they can seat us inside."

He presses a kiss to your cheek and hurries inside

And god you are freezing. Your nose is running. You reach into his pockets, looking for a tissue

There's nothing in the first pocket, so you reach into the second one

And instead of a tissue, you feel.......a velvet box

You go still

Your heart is pounding in your chest

You shouldn't take it out. You shouldn't look

But you can't help yourself

You draw it out, your hands shaking slightly

Maybe they're cufflinks. Maybe this is the box that his cufflinks came in?

You can just peek inside. It might be empty. It's probably empty.

It is not empty.

Your jaw drops slightly at the sight.

There is a ring in there, and as far as you know, not one that would suit his tastes.

Your throat is dry; you're not cold anymore, somehow

You look up as you hear the click of shoes, and spot Josh standing there

His hands flex at his sides for a moment

You feel like you should apologize, and tell him that you weren't snooping

But before you can say a word, Josh is getting down on one knee

"Cat's sort of out of the bag, huh?" He laughs nervously. "I spent all morning trying to work out which knee it's supposed to be. Took a poll, even. Leo said left, Toby said right. The president said it didn't matter. He told me speak with conviction, and reminded me that marriage is a commitment, and not something to be taken lightly."

His eyes search your face warmly, his tongue sweeping nervously over his lips.

"The fact of the matter is, I have never been so certain of anything in my entire life."

He reaches up, gently prying the box out of your shaking hands and taking the ring out. He holds the band carefully, eyeing its glint in the dying sunlight before he meets your eye again.

"Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?'

[blaiddfailcam]

Sometimes I like to imagine what narrative would have unfolded in Elden Ring hadn't the player character arrived, and it was left up to the rest of the cast to like, actually interact as characters instead of always using one rando as a conduit. It's fun when you start to make sense of the different NPCs' plot progression, and where their paths might intersect.

Perhaps after finding Lanya's remains, Diallos would encounter Rya, would confront Boggart at her behest, and in a twist of fate, all three ascend the secret passage to the Altus Plateau.

Perhaps Kenneth Haight's bombastic plea for help would draw Blaidd's attention, and in fear of the beastly knight, Kenneth might fabricate a tale in which Darriwil had taken up residence among the blood-ravenous detractors, much to the half-wolf's annoyance.

Perhaps Millicent and Latenna's travels would guide them into each other's company so they might brave the Consecrated Snowfield together (as opposed to Latenna just becoming a spooky ghost companion). Hell, maybe Millicent would actually get to meet Malenia after all that trouble. Imagine that.

This is probably why I never play as my own character, lol. I feel like the characters would shine all the brighter if they were permitted to engage with the world and each other, but I know that's not in the spirit of From's RPGs. We all know Nepheli Loux is the real Elden Lord, anyway.

[fromashesweriseuphiddenones]

Calling Out to Assassins Creed artists lacking a muse!

I am in a pickle as I have no motivation to draw yet I still have the mischievous art bunnies attacking. I have noticed that there is a severe lack of Desmond x such and such art. Sure there is Desmond with his three assassin ancestors, and Desmond with Shaun. Nevermind Protocreed. But what about some of the rarer pairings? So below the cut I present a challenge. If you are interested keep reading if not then keep on scrolling.

For the remainder of August (and if this is successful maybe continue next year) I challenge you to draw any one (or more if you are interested) of the following:

Desmond X Shay (18th century)

Desmond X Claudia (15th century)

Desmond X Malik (12th century)

Desmond X Kadar (12th century)

Desmond X Leonardo (15th century)

Desmond X Kassandra (431 BCE)

Desmond X Evior (9th century)

You are free to draw them however you like. Modern day offers you the most freedom however if you want a challenge I provided the century in which the principle game the character features takes place. You are free to draw them enjoying each other's company, Safe For Work sexual themes (such as holding hands, kissing, and hugging), or NSFW Content (please label as such as well as adhere to Tumblr's rules regarding it.) please use the tag #DesmondMiles'summeroflove and @fromashesweriseuphiddenones (me) to participate.

Lastly, want some bonus points? Include any the following:

Desmond and his lover will exchange pendants instead of engagement rings, and then lace the wedding band on the same chain. This is because Desmond works in the food service industry and they are very picky about rings and other jewelry.

Desmond's symbol is a Phoenix. Shay gives the Irish tree of life, Malik a sword charm, Leonardo found a pendant with simiprecious stone pieces inside.

Remember that Desmond is not full on white. The fandom agrees he is biracial. His mother is likely as pure Syrian as you are going to get (Altaïr is already biracial himself and then Darium and Sef were as well.)

Read any of my fics from AO3 if you want specific secen ideas or inspiration (like Desmond and Malik laying together in bed in their sleepwear)

Regardless of the era, Desmond is going to wear as close to Levant Robes as possible (if he is with Evior, Malik and Kadar he's going to have tailor made robes)

Lastly just have fun with this. By the way, just because I challenged you to this, doesn't mean that it's just for Tumblr. If it turns out you really like a piece you did go ahead and share it! I want people to find art when they go looking for it.

Safety and Peace upon you my siblings of the Creed, and May the Father of Understanding Guide Us.

[rikeijo]

Today's translation #266

Febri vol. 40. Kubo Mitsurou's interview

Part 11.

--- The most extreme example of that is the rings scene in episode 10 - it was shocking. After listening to what you've just said - was is also a spontaneous development?

"Not spontaneous - it was inevitable! At least this is what I was thinking, when I was drawing the storyboards. I was looking forward to draw that scene at the end of episode 9., where Yuuri and Victor meet again at the airport in Fukuoka, and at that point in time, me or Yamamoto Director, we weren't really planning to set up any bombastic tricks in episodes 10 or 11. However, because episode 10 is the last breather before the Grand Prix Final, we wanted to make it as fun as we could. To do that we were putting forward different ideas and I was wondering if it would be possible to make the relationship between Yuuri and Victor even deeper. By that point in time, they had already hugged and done things straight out of Monday 9PM TV dramas, so I was thinking that probably doing more would be impossible. But then, a thought came to me, that it would be nice to have an item that could be a kind of boost for the Grand Prix Final. When I was looking around websites of various rings brands, I found the information that engagement rings are not only for people who want to get married, but also something that you can gift to your soulmate. I thought: "That's it!". Plus, among the reference materials we have gathered during our location hunting in Barcelona, I found photos of a church and choir, so I thought: "That's the place!".

--- Everything just came together, almost as if you were guided by something/somebody.

"I was almost at the end of my wits at that time, but that scene, I drew on impulse. It was before the anime started airing, so I didn't know what the response was going to be like, and how people were going to interpret it. I was like: I don't really care if people are going to think that "this scene is just absurd!" (laugh).

--- As a result, the viewers went crazy.

"If it was a manga, I think that much less attention would have been paid to it, surprisingly. It was very interesting for me to see, how impactful it was when it was made into animation.

[Notes: Many TV dramas that aired at this time slot, Monday at 9PM, on Fuji TV gained huge popularity, so it's a sort of "brand" for TV dramas. It's already a well-know fact in the fandom, but for newer fans which happened to stumble across this translation - she meant the airport scene.

---

"When I was looking around websites of various rings brands, I found the information that engagement rings are not only for people, who wants to get married, but also something that you can gift to your soulmate."

Many people would probably feel a bit weird if somebody important to them gave them a ring saying that "it's an engagement ring", but then said: "But it's not an engagement, we are not engaged" - the classic "words have specific meanings" problem. I'm sure some jewelry brands use the word "soulmate" in their marketing, but I'm not sure they encourage people to gift "engagement rings" to people who they don't want to get engaged to. There are others types of rings, too, after all.

In Jp, she kind of "solved" this problem using the English-Japanese word "engage rings (engeeji ringu)", where engage is short for "engagement", instead of Japanese "konyaku yubiwa", lol. Both mean exactly the same thing, but people who don't speak English may not know what the word "engagement" means - like, "engeeji ringu" is the ring the bride-to-be may get from her partner, but maybe it has different meanings in English, who knows? 🤨 If she said "'konyaku yubiwa' are not for 'konyaku'" instead, then you'd immediately think: "eee, what are you talking about? Why call them "konyaku yubiwa" then?"... At least, no clubs for after-school activities were mentioned this time 😂 (The "rings are for bukatsu members" explanation was from Pash!!! issue published on February 10th 2017, and this interview was published on March 1st 2017.)]

[zappedbyzabka]

omg hello silverlaw collar anon here :]

The addition you made was so delicious! johnny and terry definitely have their possessive sides (mostly terry) and it works so well together. Also the mention of the engagement ring 👀

Johnny for sure is the type to see someone flirting with Terry and walk up, kiss Terry passionately, then pull away to smugly look at the other person while adjusting his collar. He also does that fake confusion and goes, “So sorry to interrupt, I didn’t know you were busy. I’ll have your drink at the bar, Terry.” then he walks away proudly, knowing Terry is pleased by that little show.

I think once Terry gets a ring on Johnny’s pretty finger he prides himself in showing it off. At some point he thinks it’s enough for Johnny to just wear the ring but Johnny insists on keeping the collar as well. Of course Terry isn’t complaining, he wants to mark the boy as his as much as possible (Johnny agrees). Johnny definitely flashes that ring around to everyone who can see, because he knows they know a ring like that could only come from a man like Terry Silver. They know he’s claimed.

Also adding to the possessiveness I think either by his own idea or Terry’s encouragement Johnny gets a tramp stamp (maybe a snake or something symbolic) and Terry never keeps his hands off it when they fuck. He can’t when it looks so good on his boys smooth pale skin.

(btw huge fan of all your writing please never hold back bc your tags and your writing in general are too good not to share)

Hi anon🫶 I’m glad you’re still here!

Johnny isn’t afraid to show off that Terry is his, as much as Terry likes to show him off. He has to make sure everyone knows. And there are always signs of him all over Terry: the cufflinks he bought Terry for his birthday, the long necklace he wears under his shirt with Johnny’s birthstone in it—custom made for their anniversary—and the bites/hickies he leaves on his man that show when Terry is wearing his polos instead of business attire.

Johnny absolutely adores his engagement ring (which has Terry’s name on the inside of it) and will take any chance to show it off. Offering his hand to anyone who wants a better look at it, and making sure to say just who put the ring on his pretty finger.

He feels so good when he’s wearing his ring and collar. It’s a good anxiety soother to reach up and feel the texture of his collar and fidget with the band on his finger (think about the fact that Terry is wearing one too.) And Terry is always so pleased when he does wear both—he’s so glad his boy proudly shows off who he belongs to.

Johnny had wanted a tattoo for a while, and another way to feel like he belonged in a way that made him feel buzzed. Terry had been thinking the same thing and heavily pushes for it

Maybe something like this but smaller and lower, or maybe a snake wrapped around his hips to symbolize ownership, or maybe one of the many swords Terry has neatly hung up.

Terry brings a tattoo artist to the mansion rather than take Johnny to a shop—he feels the moment is too intimate (which is a little silly compared to what they have done in front of people, but this is almost ritualistic.) he’d tattoo Johnny himself if he had the ability, and he doesn’t want to try and botch it.

Johnny lays on his stomach with his head on Terry’s thigh, focusing on the big hand petting his head and the sound of Terry’s voice mixed with the hum of the needle.

Terry tells him how nicely it’s coming along throughout the drawing, assuring him that it’s exactly what they had pictured.

It was incredibly difficult for Terry to have to keep his hands off for the healing time, knowing Johnny had a mark he could never take off and would never want to cover, but the cling film helped with it.

He helps Johnny take care of it, washing it and rubbing the ointment on it—which were the only times Terry allowed himself to touch it.

Johnny loved it and was so impatient to start showing it off, so impatient for Terry to properly enjoy the new stamp.

The day that it was fully healed was insane.

Terry first kissed it from the start of the tattoo to the dimple on his back. Thoroughly worshipping his boy for how lovely he looks with the ink. He touches it nonstop when he’s fucking Johnny from behind or eating him out; it’s such a gift.

(And also picturing this as Joanie and fem Terry🫠)

omg thank you❤️:^) The poll I did asking if I should tone it down was a big “no” so I’ll be just doing my thing ksksksks