#love this sort of loose sharp edged style

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers: Character Styling Update (Firstkhao Focus)

I know these photos have been released for a while now, but I'd like to comment on the character design. P'Jojo clearly has a very specific aesthetic he likes. There were concerns that the styling in the pilot felt too reminiscent of Only Friends, particularly as First and Khao had only just performed as Sand and Ray.

With this recent update, P'Jojo has shown a great eye for playing into that visual language he loves, and taken it up a notch. He's really leaning into Vintage Americana with this series, and I personally love everything about this. He's now differentiated each character's own visual identity much more clearly through wardrobe.

First, well FIRST. Good lord. Kant is going to be one dapper fella. He's got this old school, suave, hipster gentleman thing going on, which has me weak. The little scarves and waistcoats?? The spectacles? I see a lot of men dress like this in old timey, retro barber shops. The increase of skin ink is a very welcome addition too. First looks hella sharp and it's really matured him up to boot. A man who has grand theft auto charges on his record and moonlights as a private investigator of some sort. The fact we get to watch this man get his flirt on? Legendary. The spectrum of his styling lends itself to being casual and quirky as well as more imposing/intimidating.

Moving onto our resident murder baby. Twee lil Bison is giving Baz Luhrmann's Romeo & Juliet. His outfits have more of a street rat edge, which feels youthful in a boisterous, devil-may-care type of way. This gives Bison a bit more grit than in the pilot and I personally like that, as I don't think I've seen Khao play someone more rough around the edges. (Even though Ayan and Ray were sold as 'bad boys', they were still quite clean cut). It also distinguishes him from his brother Fadel. I feel like we could get wild, free-spirited energy and/or an absolute loose cannon. It took me a while to get used to the new haircut but it's growing on me. Khao will make anything work.

I know Khao recently commented that despite wielding a huge gun, people are still calling him cute. But come on, he does look so baby though, bless his little assassinating cotton socks.

I MEAN. LOOK AT HIM.

All in all, I'm really enjoying that Kant and Bison's personal styles are more at odds with one another. That they don't look like an obvious match at first glance, because that should bring some interesting points of tension into the mix.

[kikuwaters]

Ten Levels Lore

Level 5

General

Overview: Eerily silent woods filled with eyes make up the 5th layer of Hell

Level Lord: Nybbas

Geography

Landscape: Dense trees block out sight of the caves open mouth, the strange trunks long and gnarled, encasing the whole area. The ground is soft, sporting many unique plants and animals that can’t be found anywhere else. The river runs through slowly, the fires dim as if it’s always dusk.

Climate: The air is thick here, warm but full of raw magical energy

Inhabitants

Demographics: The Magus

Appearance: Many Magus spend their whole lives in the woods, their appearances altered by the strange magics within. They can appear large or small, with any variety of unique traits naturally embedded within them. They tend to have orange eyes.

Clothing: Clothes vary among Magus, but typically are layered in cloaks with pouches and bags for gathering items. Loose, flowing materials are often used to create whimsical wraps that hang from their unique bodies.

Architecture

Building Style: Homes here are built from old brick and stone, often overgrown with the vines of dangerous plants. They’re secluded, and often seen standing alone. Very few communities exist in these areas above ground, but larger groups have private structures dug under the ground.

Notable Structures: 

The Castle: A remnant of ages past, this is one of the old castles from royalty long gone. Rumor states it used to be home to an old prince, but it now houses the level lord, Nybbas

The Library: Near the castle resides the royal library, sorted and tended to by Nybbas and her many magus assistants. Within lies a disjointed collection of texts, many histories lost during Lucius' rise to power.

Culture

Traditions and Customs: Magus demons are intelligent and ornery by nature, with a need to learn and cause problems; be it for themselves or for others. They love to be on earth and have many names up there, from goblins to fairies to sprites. They're considered mid level demons and are typically the kind to cause small problems with humans as opposed to the contract pacts that others make. When one does make a contract, it's up to the individual and their goals. They're extremely curious in nature and are not immediately drawn to causing misery and mischief, such as Insania demons. In fact, human people used to try and coax Magus in the past into their homes to help with smaller tasks. But they become easily slighted and can turn on someone quickly if they feel they've been wronged in any way.

Conflict and Challenges

Current Issues: Despite being seen as mid level demons, most others tend to leave these groups alone. They can be fine one on one, but often a cluster of Magus will rally around a central Insania demon and follow their lead of chaos.

Unique Elements

The Crematori: Covered in ash and armed with sharp eyes, the Magus often employ many of the kingdom's Crematori. These foreboding members of society can be seen wandering the edges of the waters, listening to them to find where they need to go next.

The mother of the witches: Rumor has it when Prince Sabathiel began to influence his followers to study magic and connect with humans, one follower in particular stood out. Maerothis was fascinated by the magics of hell, and by the women of earth who wanted them. She’s claimed to have given the witches of earth their powers, yet many question this as she was also one of Lucius royal advisors. No one knows how old she truly is, and it’s believed she is still out in those woods to this day.

[missrosiesworld]

The Space Between Us

This short story is a three-part story following my OC, Amara Silva, as she confronts the painful reality of her relationship with Joey Wheeler. Buried emotions and unspoken fears come to a breaking point, forcing Amara to question if love alone is enough. This story explores themes of insecurity, longing, and the struggle to be seen, but above all, it’s about two hearts trying to find their way back to each other. I hope you enjoy the journey. 💛

The air in Joey’s modest apartment was thick, weighed down by tension that had been simmering for weeks, if not months. The small living room, usually filled with the warmth of Joey’s laughter or the playful banter between him and Amara, felt colder tonight despite the soft glow of the lamp in the corner. 

Amara stood near the window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her caramel skin glowing faintly under the dim light. The soft sway of her bohemian-chic outfit—a golden crocheted crop top with fringe details and a pair of dark, high-waisted shorts—was at odds with the turmoil inside her. A patterned duster with warm earth tones draped loosely around her shoulders, its ends trailing slightly as she shifted, her body tense with emotion. Her lilac curls, styled half-up and half-down, framed her face, bouncing slightly as she shook her head in disbelief. Her sage-green eyes, usually so full of warmth and affection, now shimmered with unshed tears, glistening with hurt and frustration.

Joey stood in the middle of the room, his hands shoved into his pockets, his golden-brown eyes fixed on his sneakers, as though the scuffed soles and worn laces might provide some sort of answer he couldn’t find anywhere else. He wore a white short-sleeved shirt with a blue stripe across the chest, the fabric clinging slightly to his frame from the lingering heat of the day. His faded blue jeans hung comfortably on his frame, slightly creased from sitting earlier, but now they felt stiff, almost constricting under the weight of the conversation. His sneakers, slightly worn from running around the city, scuffed against the floor as he shifted his weight, his posture tense, his usual confidence replaced with unease.

“So, you’re just gonna leave me hanging again?” Amara’s voice pierced through the tense silence, trembling with emotion. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her knuckles brushing against the fringed hem of her crocheted crop top as if grounding herself. Her sage eyes burned, shimmering with frustration, hurt, and barely restrained tears. “The second Mai calls, you drop everything. Every single time, Joey. What about me? Do I even matter?”

Joey looked up at her sharply, the guilt flashing in his golden-brown eyes like a fleeting storm. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to apologize, like he understood the gravity of her words. But just as quickly, that guilt hardened into defensiveness, his jaw tightening as his brows furrowed.

“Amara, it ain’t like that!” His voice came out louder than he intended, rough around the edges. His hands curled into fists at his sides as he struggled to explain. “She needed me—”

“She always needs you!” Amara interrupted, her voice rising as the dam holding back her emotions finally started to crack. She took a step forward, the movement sharp, almost defiant, her gold bangles jingling faintly with the force of it. “And you’re always there for her! Every time, no matter what!” Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her breath hitched, the weight of her feelings pressing down on her like a tidal wave. “What about me, Joey? I need you too! I’ve needed you, but you’re never here when it counts because you’re too busy running to her!”

“That’s not fair!” Joey shot back, his voice growing louder to match hers, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He took a step toward her, his sneakers scuffing against the floor as his hands flew out of his pockets, gesturing wildly. “Mai’s been through a lot, alright? She doesn’t have anyone else!”

Amara sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening as the sting of his words hit her square in the chest. For a moment, she was too stunned to speak, the sheer audacity of what he had just said leaving her breathless. But then, the hurt morphed into something else—something sharper, angrier.

“And I haven’t?” Her voice cracked on the last word, trembling as tears threatened to spill. She took another shaky step forward, the movement causing her lilac curls to sway, the soft strands bouncing with the force of her emotions. It was almost poetic—the way her hair, usually so full of life, moved freely while she felt like she was falling apart inside. “I’ve been through hell too, Joey.” Her voice softened for a moment, heavy with the pain of her memories, before rising again, sharp as glass. “But I don’t get to call you up whenever I feel like it and expect you to drop everything for me. I don’t get that luxury, do I? Because I’m not her.”

Joey blinked, visibly recoiling at the bitterness in her tone. “That’s not true, Amara!” he snapped, his voice rough and desperate as his hands flew up in exasperation. His body was tense, his frustration evident in every jerky movement. “You’re makin’ this into somethin’ it ain’t!”

Amara let out a bitter laugh, a sound so cold, so unlike her usual warmth, that it made Joey flinch. “Really?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She tilted her head slightly, her curls bouncing as her sage-green eyes locked onto his with anger and heartbreak. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I’m just a placeholder. A stand-in for someone you actually care about. Someone you’ve always cared about.”

Joey’s eyes widened, and he instinctively reached out, his fingers brushing the air near her wrist but stopping just short, as if he wasn’t sure if he still had the right to touch her. “Amara, that ain’t true! You mean somethin’ to me—”

“Do I?” Her voice cracked again, softer this time, but no less devastating. This wasn’t anger anymore. This was raw, unfiltered pain.

A single tear slid down her cheek, glistening like a shard of broken glass in the dim light. But she didn’t bother wiping it away. She didn’t care if he saw her cry. Let him see the damage he had done. Let him feel it.

“Because I’ve stood by you through everything, Joey,” she said, her voice trembling as more tears threatened to fall. “When Mai left, I was there. When you doubted yourself, I was the one who told you how incredible you are. I was the one who believed in you when you didn’t believe in yourself. But none of that seems to matter the second she shows up.”

Joey opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. He ran a hand through his disheveled blonde hair, his frustration mounting as he tried to find something—anything—to say that would make this right.

Amara’s voice softened, but the weight of her pain clung to every word. Her hands gripped the fabric of her flowing duster, fingers curling into the soft material as if grounding herself against the storm building inside her. “Do you even love me, Joey?” Her voice wavered, raw and vulnerable, a quiet tremor lacing her words. “Or am I just… convenient?”

Joey’s breath hitched at the question, something in his chest tightening painfully. His jaw clenched, the muscles twitching as he stared at her, the air between them heavy with something unspoken—something neither of them had been ready to face until now. His fists clenched at his sides, frustration mounting as emotions swirled inside him, tangled and confusing. He loved her—God, he did—but the fear of losing her, of messing it all up, had twisted his feelings into knots he didn’t know how to untangle.

But instead of saying that, instead of giving voice to the truth burning in his throat, he blurted out something sharp, something defensive, something he didn’t mean.

“You’re bein’ ridiculous, Amara.” His voice came out harsher than he intended, rough with frustration. “What do you want me to say? That I shoulda ignored Mai? That I shoulda just let her deal with everything alone?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

Amara flinched as if he had struck her. The color drained from her face, her sage eyes widening, the pain flickering through them so tangible it sent a sharp pang of guilt straight through his chest. Her breath caught, shoulders stiffening, but she recovered quickly, her expression shifting into something unreadable—something cold, closed off.

The hurt in her gaze deepened, but she refused to cry again, refused to let the lump in her throat win. Instead, she took a trembling step back, as if physically recoiling from him, as if putting distance between them might shield her from the way his words had cut her open.

“No, Joey.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of a breaking heart. Her arms wrapped around herself, as if trying to hold in the ache threatening to swallow her whole. “I want you to care about me the way you care about her.” A bitter, hollow laugh escaped her lips, shaking her head in disbelief. “But you can’t, can you?”

Joey exhaled sharply, running both hands through his messy blonde hair, fingers tugging at the strands in frustration. The weight of her words pressed down on him, suffocating, drowning, but he didn’t know how to stop it, how to fix it.

So instead of saying what he should have said—I love you, Amara. I’m scared of how much I love you—he let the panic, the frustration, the fear take over.

“I can’t do that, Amara!”

The words snapped from his lips, sharp and final, like a slammed door.

And just like that, the last piece of her heart shattered.

Amara froze, the weight of his response slamming into her like a sudden, unforgiving wave. The air seemed to shift, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on her chest as her breath caught in her throat. Her lips parted slightly, her sage-green eyes widening, searching Joey’s face for some kind of explanation—some sign that she had misheard him. But there was nothing. No immediate reassurance. No desperate attempt to take it back.

Her delicate gold earrings, which usually caught the light when she laughed, now glinted dully as she turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable except for the pain flickering behind her eyes. Her lashes fluttered, blinking away the disbelief, her mind scrambling to make sense of what she had just heard.

Her voice, when it finally came, was barely a whisper—fragile, trembling with heartbreak. “You… can’t care about me?”

Joey’s eyes widened, the color draining from his face as the full impact of his words hit him like a punch to the gut. “No,” he rushed out, panic creeping into his voice, his hands coming up as if trying to physically pull the words back. “That’s not what I meant! I just—”

But Amara was already stepping back, retreating as if she had touched a flame and been burned. Her arms crossed over her chest, instinctively protecting herself, shielding her heart from any more damage.

The light fabric of her duster shifted as she moved, the colors—a mixture of warm sunset hues—suddenly feeling ironic, as if the warmth she had once felt in this space had faded completely, swallowed by the cold distance now between them.

“That’s exactly what it sounded like, Joey.” Her voice was hushed, yet somehow it carried the full weight of her devastation. The raw emotion in her words sent another wave of guilt crashing over him. “I’ve stood by you, loved you, and you’re telling me you can’t care about me?”

Joey shook his head desperately, stepping forward, his movements jerky, almost frantic. “No, Amara, you don’t understand!” His voice was rising now, bordering on desperate. “I care about you more than anyone! That’s why… that’s why this is so hard for me!”

Her curls bounced as she shook her head, her sage eyes now brimming with unshed tears. She let out a soft, shaky laugh—one with no joy, no warmth—just a bitter edge that made Joey’s chest tighten. “You care about me more than anyone,” she repeated, voice breaking, “but I’m still not enough? You can’t even say it outright, can you? You can’t tell me that I’m more than just an afterthought to you.”

Joey clenched his fists at his sides, frustration bleeding into his voice. “That’s not what I’m saying!” His voice cracked, his emotions unraveling at the seams. “I’m trying to tell you that you mean more to me than—”

“Than what?” she interrupted sharply, her voice rising to meet his. “Than Mai? Because it sure doesn’t feel like it, Joey. You can’t even put me first for once. And now you’re saying you can’t?”

Her words cut deeper than he ever thought possible, carving straight through his chest. Joey staggered back a step, his breath uneven, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for her but didn’t know if he had the right anymore.

“Amara, please,” he rasped, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. He reached out, fingers hovering near her wrist, aching to pull her back. “You’re twisting this—”

“I’m not twisting anything!” she cried, her voice raw, trembling with pain that she couldn’t hold back any longer. Her gold bangles jingled faintly as she threw her hands up, her entire body trembling. “I hear you loud and clear, Joey. You can’t care about me. You don’t want to. And honestly?” Her voice dropped lower, breaking completely, her next words shattering what little resolve she had left.

“I’m done begging you to.”

The tears that had threatened to spill finally did, and she turned quickly, grabbing her brown leather bag from the couch with trembling hands. As she moved toward the door, she paused, her back to him, her voice low and filled with heartbreak. 

“I thought I was enough for you. I thought you’d see me the way I see you. I guess I was wrong.”

Joey stood frozen, his hands falling to his sides as she opened the door. “Amara, wait—” he started, but his voice faltered as she walked out, the sound of the door clicking shut behind her reverberating in the now-empty room.

Joey’s apartment had never felt so silent.

[noctilin]

hi jez!! i'm a tad kooky and go crazy over anything involving art studying, and finding out how the artists i look up to are able to achieve their effects in their artwork BECAUSE TO ME IT'S SORCERY!! HOW CAN SOMETHING BE SO BEAUTIFUL? I WANT TO KNOW MORE!!! sort of thing haha, but I noticed to me the most prominent thing that stands out from your artwork is the way you draw hair, are you able to describe how you get those beautiful curls and liveliness in your brushstrokes? i'd love to know!

i think the main way is how i exaggerate volumes. i draw hair more thick-looking than they’re supposed to be. visual aid:

realistically, keva’s hair sits and falls like A, but in B i exaggerate the volume and flow in my style. same thing happens to hamuko when i draw her. this is mainly influenced by 90’s anime i like, especially in ranma ½, it’s very obvious how exaggerated the volumes are which help it look even fluffier or poofier.

aside from the volume, i tend to use more curves than sharp lines and edges in the way i draw hair, but i also like to mix it up with a “rounded corner:”

i have no further explanation for my choice for this aside from it just looks more visually appealing to me.

another thing i often do is draw locks of hair in “clumps” rather than drawing every strand. not only is drawing every strand of hair tiring as hell, it also is too busy for my liking. this is also easier for me with my art style where i tend to use colors more than lines, so drawing too many strands like that ends up being lost anyway.

last thing i wanna say is i see hair as a mixture of ocean waves, ribbons and/or filigree. it’s not the exact same but i loosely follow it to give the hair i draw more life. always flowing and moving.

that’s all i can think of to share LOL hopefully this is helpful in some way bc this killed my brain. i am not made for teaching. all in all, hair is fun to play with! go crazy!

ocs used belong to me, @honshew, @hirumashadow, and @tsam__p

[pixelmensupremacy]

Hello and My Lord–

I've just read these headcanons about Resident Evil and the last two about Y/n being a childhood friends with Chris Redfield and the one with wholesome and such fluffy writing about Leon and Chris with Y/n who helps them go through stuff is just– *melts and dies*

I know that I just got here but I already love you and your content wholeheartedly💗💗💗

Also, If you don't mind. Can I ask something with the same Platonic Y/n with Leon and Chris but Y/n constantly gets hurt and simply doesn't notices it but when if it's really bad one - Y/n patches themselves up by their own.

I really love them both , but I need them being sort of protective or somethin.

Love your content and all sorts of writings!💕💕💕💕💕💕

A/N: Thank you, Nonny! That literally melts my heart. I'm sorry this is not the best I coud do, but Ididn't want to make you wait longer!

Warnings: Injuries, the boys caring for reader

To describe best how Chris is around you, whenever you get hurt or are in pain, would be one word

Chris Redfield

Protective

After everything he's been through, Chris couldn't bring himself to loose another close person

He would be alert to not let anything bad happen to his loved ones, including the minor things most would consider unimportant

Even if it's a minor injury he would always rush to your side at the sound of you wincing

He would make it his responsibility to patch up your wounds and won't even let you get on about how you can do it yourself

One time he went as far as picking you u bridal style only to put a bandage on the tiny cut you got on your finger as you were preparing dinner

"You should have left this to me." His tone was as serious as ever, his eyes keen on your finger as he wrapped it in a bandage.

"Chris I was just chopping onions." You rolled your eyes, yet deep down their heart melted at how soft and caring their boyfriend tended to be.

"I just can't stand seeing you hurt."

If by any chance you two met on the force he will be twice as protective

He is alert all the time and has your back no matter what

He would go as far as abort the mission if it meant you will be safe

Despite his effort, you still end up getting injuries

Quite a lot of them actually

Especially ones that are easily avoidable

Even though he knows it's part of the job to get a few scratches and bruises here and there, but it still deeply pains him to see you suffer

Yet it angers him when he knew he could have done something to prevent you from getting hurt

He would get disappointed with himself, but he will never say even though his body language says it all

At times he would scold you akin to a loving parent

Patching yourself up is out of the question in both domestic and working settings

Chris is prepared for any scenario, carrying disinfectant and bandages

Leon would definitely be calmer when you get an injury

Leon Scott Kennedy

Well, he'll still lose his shit, but he won't show it

He will play it off cool

He will observe as you take care of your injuries only to offer his help in a flirtatious way

"Need a hand?" He asked, his eyebrow quirked up as he carefully observed your every move.

"I'm doing great, thanks."

If you accept his offer you will see an immediate shift in his demeanor

His smug expression would be switched to a serious exterior that hid the worry that gradually grew within him

Much like Chris, Leon has gone through thick and thin

He naively believes he could protect the people he holds dear

Especially when he is younger

With the years he grow more possessive over his loved ones

Though he would still be very smug about it

When he notices you often get bruises and cuts he will take it upon himself to prevent them

If you always hit your pinkie or hips on the sharp edges of the furniture he would buy you corner protectors so you won't get bruises

When you two get assigned to the same mission, he would always save you from getting injured at the very last second

"A thank you would be appreciated." His voice echoed in your ears as your heart thumbed against your ribcage- you were seconds away from getting your fingers chopped off.

"Yeah, thanks."

Later that day he would check if you got seriously hurt

Just like Chris he will carry around the basic first aid tools

My boi pulled out a whole damn bottle of rubbing alcohol from his ass in re2re don't test him

[pjwritingblog]

prompt: the first time you're there for one of bruno's visions.

a/n: holy cow it's my first piece of fic in like three years! be gentle with me lol

"So I was thinking maybe tomorrow we could take a picnic up to the hills, if you like." You suggested it offhand while nuzzling Alfajor, a sandy colored rat.

"I would love that, but um...I've actually gotta do my vision tomorrow." You looked up; Bruno picked at a loose thread of his ruana, looking solomn.

"Oh. Well, can I?-" You took a breath. "Would you like me to be there?"

"Oh! No. Um. That's not...You don't want to see that." This thing with him was fairly new, but growing fast. You didn't need him to tell you he saw you in his future: You wanted him in yours.

"It's not about me, cariño. You say they exhaust you, and can be upsetting...I'd like to be there, to support you." You set Alfajor down and laced your fingers with his, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Um." He swallowed. "Yeah. Okay. Come over after breakfast?"

"It's a date." You held his hand to yours and kissed it and he blushed, before standing to go. After you kissed him goodbye, you found a basket and started filling it.

It wasn't like Bruno wanted the visions. The passing, flickering glimpses of the future he saw daily were merely possibilities. But the visions? Well, there was a reason the prophecies were slabs of stone. They were fixed. Unbreakable.

He had told you, one day, as you braided flowers into his hair, about when he was 7 or 8, when he started realizing this gift was no blessing, about how he tried to just stop having visions. It started with migraines, they got worse until the pain radiated throughout his body, making him sweat and tremor. An intense pressure in his head, until the vision burst out.

He started to tell you what it felt like when they were uncontrolled, but he started shaking, eyes shining bright, so you silenced him with a soft kiss on his temple.

So now, when he felt the visions coming, he sighed and accepted his fate.

The next morning, you knocked on Bruno's door. He took a long time to answer. His face lit up when he saw you, which made you blush. He ushered you into his room, which you'd been told looked a lot different now than it used to.

"What've you got there?" He gestured to the basket in your hands.

"Just stuff I though you might want." You felt a little foolish now that you were here. "Snacks, those little cakes you like, water bottle, another water bottle, a brush 'cuz I know you like when I brush your hair, an extra blanket, and this-" You held up a small stuffed frog. "Is Fern. He is very good at making you feel bett--Oof!" Bruno enveloped you in a fierce hug.

"Thank you for being here. I can't tell you how much it means." He kissed you sweetly and took Fern from your hands. "So. Come on through." He gestured to the plain wooden door you had always assumed was a closet. Once he opened it, you could see it was a cavernous space lit with a green, bioluminescent sort of glow. "This is where the magic happens. Literally. Its literal magic. You'll want to take off your shoes."

You both left your sandals by the door, and he took your hand as you stepped through the passage and into sand. You smiled and wiggled your toes in it. You had felt it before, it seemed to cling endlessly to Bruno, in his hair, his pockets, but feeling it like this was different. It was soft and fine, with a pearlescent sheen.

"So." He put his hands on your shoulders. "You can be inside, or outside. Outside, it just looks like I'm in a big sand snow globe. Inside, you can see everything I'm seeing. It...can be overwhelming."

"Inside." You answered immediately. "Outside I'd just be worrying about you."

"Alright. C'mere." He sits you down in the center of the pit before walking to the far edge of the room, where some baskets were sitting. He withdrew a small camp-style torch and a bowl of sharp-smelling leaves. He lit the stove, and made a few small piles of leaves. "The smoke gets in your eyes." He warned before sitting next to you, lighting the piles with a long match he dipped in the fire, before taking your hand.

He closed his eyes for a few moments, and you felt the sand beneath you start to vibrate. He opened his eyes again, though now they glowed an intense jewel-like green. You were so distracted by his eyes that you didn't notice the sand had begun to swirl around you, gently at first, but soon it whipped around you in a perfect dome, sparks of the same glowing green shimmering like glitter.

"Don't be frightened." He groped for your other hand, eyes unseeing as they gazed straight onward. "Here it comes." His brows knit with concentration and the sparks began to take shape. Was that Pepe? No. Dolores. Was she....crying? What had her upset? As the hazy vision became clearer, you noticed her boyfriend Mariano on one knee...

"Oh! He's gonna propose!" Bruno laughed in delight as the tablet formed in his hands. The sand rained gently back down, dusting you both in the process. "He's....this is wonderful." He gazed in awe down at his niece's emerald face, a perfect image of overwhelming joy.

"Is it really such a big surprise? They're clearly meant for each other." You brushed some sand from the cool glass slab.

"No, it's a lousy prophecy if you ask me, not remotely helpful, but I don't," he swallowed, "I don't ever-I can't remember the last time it was something good." His looked up at you, bemused smile interrupted by a yawn. "This is the part when I crash."

"Come on, lets let you lie down." You pulled him up and led him back into his bedroom. His "bed" was actually a big hammock, stuffed with way too many pillows. You had never been in it before, but Bruno headed straight for it.

"I think it'll be easier if you get in first." He said, rubbing his eyes.

"What?"

"Just sit down like you're sitting in a chair."

"Are we both gonna fit?"

"One way to find out." He pushed down on your shoulders and you sat, letting your weight pull the hammock down. He sat next to you, and you both swung your legs over, reclining.

It was...cozy. Your shoulders pressed each other, straining against the edge of the hammock. "Bit snug."

"Just um...I think if we move a little..." He wiggled, then flipped himself so he was laying against your chest. It took away the pressure, and suddenly you just felt perfectly held by the fabric beneath you. "There."

You pulled his hair loose of its bun and started running your fingers through it, loosening his curls and massaging his scalp. You assumed he was asleep by the way his breath evened out, and he startled you by speaking. "I'm really glad you're here. It's easier with you here."

You kissed the top of his head and held him closer. "Well then, guess I'll just have to be here from now on."

[kohakuarisaka]

Untamed (chapter 2 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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As it turned out, 'secluded cabin' was a pretty accurate statement.

Hawks had arranged for a very discreet hero taxi service to drive you the 5-hour trip from Musutafu to a quaint mountainous village that was so small and quiet, you almost doubted it was even on the map.

Past the snowy village, through the winding roads and towering trees, over a bridge, past a frozen lake, and then some miles off the main road, tucked away in a small clearing, was a beautiful cabin.

While the days were steadily growing warmer as spring rapidly approached, it still snowed at night. The snow had melted off the trees from the warmth of the midday sun; but, there was still a light blanket of white on the rooftop and across the surrounding grounds.

There were no poles lining the street, nothing that could bring electricity to the house; however, you could see what was likely a generator tucked away in the back. Someone had propped the cover off and cleaned out the snow.

At that sight, it became obvious that Hawks had beat you here. He already taken to clearing the snow out of the entry way as well, exposing a beautiful cobblestone pathway.

You exited the vehicle and retrieved your bags from the trunk. The very second you closed the hatch, the driver made a speedy exit, wheels skidding in the snow as they backed out before doing a sharp U-turn and barreling down the road.

Luckily, the entrance to the cabin opened before you could worry that you had just been abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Sure enough, Hawks stepped out, wild blonde locks brushed back, a little fluffier than usual due to the change in humidity.

Despite how cold it was, he was wearing a black tank top and loose, light grey sweat pants. He even stepped out onto the cold stone pathway with bare feet. Yet, with a light flush to his skin, he didn't look cold at all.

You had been making a face when he approached, and he offered an explanation, uttering, "I told 'em not to linger. It's suspicious."

Some large plumes departed his wingspan and grabbed at your luggage, one even pulling your shoulder bag off your back. They whipped away, bags in tow, and zipped past Hawks and through the doorway, disappearing into the cabin.

The winged hero didn't immediately usher you inside, as he usually did in these types of situations, but arched over you suddenly, arms bringing you into a tight embrace while his lips captured yours.

The sudden closeness forced your back to arch. Unconsciously, your hands fell onto his barely clothed shoulders, and you felt how warm he was. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought he was running a fever.

The kiss was brief, but uncharacteristically messy, not that you were complaining. It was a kiss of longing, like he had missed you dearly, as if it had been months and not a day and a half.

He pulled back, a distant, albeit blissful, look on his face. His eyelids sagged as if he was tired, but the gold of his iris was bright and his pupils were focused.

"I didn't get to clean yet, but - ugh - do you wanna see inside?" he asked, some slight nervousness to his tone.

"Yeah," you breathed.

Hawks stepped aside and you gently brushed past him and stepped inside. The wood floors creaked softly beneath your feet as you crossed the threshold. Immediately, you were hit with a wonderful scent, earthy, like tree bark, but sweet, like raw honey.

It was a decent sized cabin, spacious and not heavily furnished. The kitchen was on the small side, but seemingly to accommodate a larger living room.

As Hawks had warned, there was a thin layer of dust all across the wood floors. The furniture was covered by clear tarps, shielding them from the debris.

The dining area tucked away in the corner had a chabudai in place of a western style table. It was small and clearly only intended for two people. You had a feeling it was new, considering how spotless it looked compared to the rest of the cabin.

A huge, stone fireplace rested against the north wall, surrounded by large windows that gave a beautiful view of the outside. They were adorned with heavy curtains, pulled back to let the sunlight in.

Hawks was lingering, following close, staring down at you as you walked around and took in the sight of the place. When your eyes landed on him, and you caught his unblinking stare, you realized he was awaiting feedback.

It startled you a little, for Hawks wasn't the kind to fuss over these sorts of things; but, you had a decent enough understanding of what a rut was to know what was going through his head.

"Relax, birdbrain," you cooed, reaching up to tap gently at his cheek with a closed palm. That seemed to knock him out of his stupor, for he blinked and suddenly looked sheepish. He flickered his gold eyes away, as if to give you space.

"I love it," you praised, looking back into the living area. "Cozy, and smells nice."

You heard him exhale a relieved sigh through his nostrils.

"We should get to work. Where's the cleaning stuff?" you asked, peeling your jacket off.

"Oh. I'll-" he began.

"You'll let me help," you interrupted him gently.

When you turned back to face him, and saw the bewildered expression he was wearing, you wondered if maybe that wasn't the right thing to fit with his current state.

"Unless that's... bad?" you offered uncertainly, shoulders sagging.

Hawks laughed suddenly at the sunken expression on your face, as if the joyous sound came sputtering out against his will.

"No," he answered softly, leaning in suddenly for another kiss, as if he couldn't help it. You didn't get a chance to kiss back before he was retreating.

"Don't change," he sighed. "I want you as you, not as my..."

"-subservient housewife?" you offered, just a little teasing.

He chuckled softly, breathing out a harsh, "fuck, no."

Hawks maneuvered around you and headed for what you guessed was a supply closet. Inside, the cleaning gear was also neatly packaged in containers and safe from dust.

It made sense, how neatly arranged everything was. Hawks was a fairly neat person; but, it was also clear that he had this whole thing down, neatly tuned and properly sorted out. He had been coming here for years, after all.

This place was special to him. That much was clear.

The two of you started to dusting and sweeping, followed by a diligent mopping, with the two of you working in tandem.

Hawks was fairly quiet during the whole ordeal, seemingly focused sternly on the task at hand. It had been his nest for years. This was hardly anything new; but, it was now going to be yours, too.

He didn't tell you that he had been worried he would react negatively to your presence. He didn't always react rationally during this time. Seemingly average things would sometimes irritate him, and a part of the possessive onslaught included this abode.

Fortunately, that hadn't been the case. Cleaning the cabin with you was soothing. He wasn't unaware of the obvious implication: that you were preparing a nest together, your shared nest. He didn't say it aloud, but you had come to that realization, as well.

It had actually calmed him quite a bit. He had been on edge before you arrived, skin prickled with heat and sweating unreasonably considering the cold. Those weren't abnormal during his ruts; but, it felt intensified with that knowledge that you were going to be here.

Darkness swept across the forest as the hours dragged on. Luckily, you were just about finished by the time it got dark.

There was a neat stack of firewood arranged on a carrier near the fireplace, making you wonder if that was what he had worked on before your arrival. The logs looked freshly cut and heavy.

Crimson feathers delivered logs to the hearth. Hawks retrieved a set of matches from a cubby near the carrier and then kneeled before the hearth. He set one of the matches ablaze and carefully ignited the firewood arranged in the pit.

Warmth and light flooded the cabinet. Plumes gathered along the edges of the curtains and pulled them back, covering the windows. When they returned to his wingspan, he stepped back and monitored the fire briefly.

While cleaning, you had learned there was a cellar and partial second story, as well as an indoor bathroom. It seemed that the main use of the generator was to power the water heater and indoor plumbing.

The cellar was small, down a short flight of stairs, with concrete floors and walls, the perfect size for containing a month's worth of food and supplies, far more than was necessary for just a week.

The second story was a loft that oversaw the living room, giving a great view of the fireplace. There was no safety railing on the upstairs, likely for the very obvious fact that Hawks could fly. There was, at least, a staircase.

Upstairs, there was a large bed frame with a plush mattress, wrapped up tight to protect from dust, a large chest pressed up against the wall, and a desk without a chair.

After he removed the bed cover, you watched Hawks pull neatly folded blankets and pillow cases out the chest. It was fascinating to see someone, who normally slept wherever his body landed, so meticulously prepare the bedding: layers and layers of blankets, followed by dressing the pillows and laying them out.

It was especially perplexing because of the intense, concentrated look on his face. He had been so focused that he hadn't even realized that you had paused what you were doing to watch him.

Luckily, you caught yourself staring before he did, and shuffled back downstairs before he could notice.

A sudden howling had startled you, before a sharp wind rattled against the shutters. Something was thumping gently against the roof and when the wind picked up, you could almost hear the trees shuddering outside.

"It's snowing," Hawks observed, suddenly at your side.

You could see a glimpse of crimson in the corner of your eye, and realized he had a wing fanned out around you, not quite close enough to touch, but hovering. Maybe, he hadn't even realized he was doing that.

"Oh," you answered quietly.

Together, you prepared dinner, settling for a classic favorite of his: yakitori chicken and stir fry noodles.

Eating dinner together, and talking about nothing, made you realize, it had been the first time in a long time, if ever, that you hadn't discussed work: nothing about the agency, nothing about heroes or villains, nothing about police business or missions.

It was just senseless conversations that amounted to nothing.

The dining table was small and the floor was cold; but, your hands brushed constantly due to the lack of space. It made you realize that you had longed to have this type of moment with him, something so utterly domestic.

"I know it's not super late," Hawks began, on his way to the kitchen with the dirty plates. "But, I'm gonna wake you up early; so, let's get to bed, okay?"

His voice was soft, surprisingly drowsy, you realized, and he continued, "it's - well, there's something I wanna show you, and it looks best in the sunrise."

He had started the dishes before you could; so, you stepped in close, deciding to tease him a little.

"I bet you do look best in the sunrise," you uttered, leaning against the counter top near the sink, where he had busied his hands. He was looking away from you; but, you could see his lip twitch into a faint smile.

Hawks laughed, a low chuckle that rumbled through his chest. "Not me," he replied softly. Yet, he found himself feeling enamored with the knowledge that that was where your mind had wandered first.

"Do you want me to wait for you?" you offered, standing upright and shifting away from the counter.

"Nah," he replied simply. "I'll join ya' in a bit."

You changed into your pajamas, brushed your teeth and pulled your hair back, before heading upstairs. Blankets and pillows were stacked high on top of the mattress, making the bedframe disappear beneath it.

It not only looked incredibly warm, but incredibly soft, and an inspection with your hand, smoothing over the surface, confirmed that. There were several pillows pressed against the headboard and even more at the foot of the bed.

If you hadn't seen him arrange it, you would have doubted it was even Hawks' bed. From the glimpses you had seen into his life, he was a minimalist.

His office at the agency was fairly large, but looked almost comical with the lack of furniture in it. He wasn't one to buy much of anything outside of perishables.

"Take those off."

You had heard that commanding tone many times before; but, in the peace and serenity of this cabin, it startled you. Your shoulders twitched a little and you turned to face him, having not heard Hawks approach.

His gold eyes were glaring at your body, shifting up to meet your gaze when you turned to face him.

You gawked back at him, dumbfounded by his boldness, and a little intrigued, if you were being honest. He had warned you about this, and you were about to comply when his dark expression suddenly softened.

"Oh fuck," Hawks blurted, embarrassment washing over his face. The intensity of the moment dissipated and you found yourself unable to hold back a faint smile at the way his face so rapidly changed from anger to shame.

"Shit - I - sorry - ugh," he stammered, some redness tinting the tops of his ears. His dominant hand came up and ruffled his hair. "That was messed up. Ah - what I mean is, can we sleep naked?"

It was clear he wasn't embarrassed about the request, but the way that he had asked. You couldn't hold back a soft chuckle at his frazzled state.

"Of course," you uttered, and began shedding your clothes.

He was staring at your nudity as if it wasn't something he had seen many times before, as if his hands and mouth hadn't explored every inch of skin, hadn't touched and claimed parts of you your own hands couldn't reach.

It made you feel powerful, beautiful.

"Did you brush your teeth?" you asked, knocking him out of his stupor.

He didn't respond, but made a face that gave you your answer. He turned away then, and hopped over the edge of the loft, floating down into the lower floor, and scurried off to the bathroom.

Promptly, you disappeared beneath the blankets, shivering from the cold, skin prickled with goosebumps. You were about to scold yourself for complying with him so eagerly, without demanding a compromise, mainly that you expected him to warm you up.

Luckily, it didn't take him long to join you, and you suddenly felt a very warm, and very naked, body slot into the space behind you, wiggling beneath the blankets. It was almost concerning how warm he was, like he had just flung himself into the hearth before running back over here.

You rolled onto your back to greet him and Hawks wasted no time slotting over you, tangling legs, arms falling on either side of your head. Wispy bangs fell over his forehead, longer strands catching on his eyebrows.

Your eyes peered over his shoulders, where you could see his wings were fanned out above him, plumes stretched wide, looming possessively. When your gaze shifted to his face, your breath hitched.

His stare was hypnotizing, as if he couldn't believe you were here, gold eyes practically glowing in the dimly lit loft.

It made you sad to think just your presence alone had pleased him so much, whereas nothing else had yet to occur. It made you think of all the years he had to endure this alone, the loneliness far more straining than the lack of a pliant body.

"Hey," he began, voice hoarse, distant.

His dominant hand shifted from the bed to cup your cheek, thumb gently prodding at your cheek bone. Just like the rest of his body, his hand was so warm.

"I know I said I wouldn't let you leave," he explained, fingers sliding carefully across your temple. "But, if you want to, at any time, I'll call the taxi and-"

You leaned up, taking his lips in a gentle kiss to silence him. He moaned into the kiss, clearly surprised by your interruption. His hand departed your face, lowering to caress the side of your neck.

When you pulled back, he chased, not letting you depart from him quite so quickly. The kiss carried on for a short while, Hawks only leaning back when he was satisfied.

"No," you disagreed in a soft hum, hands rising to push strands of his hair out of his face. "I'm not leaving. We're going through this together. Okay?"

He let out a sigh that fluttered across your cheeks. "Okay," he agreed, as if he couldn't believe it.

Hawks shifted until he was lying beside you, one arm loose around your waist. You turned a little to lay on your side and lean into him, cheek falling comfortably into the pillow beneath your head, and felt him nuzzle into your back, bringing you as close as he could without ruining your comfort.

One of his wings folded carefully over you while the other sprawled out across the bed. The light from the fire just barely reached the loft, an amber glow that flickered with the dancing flames.

The sounds of the gentle snowfall outside was a little louder upstairs. One of the nearby windows rattled softly, trembling weakly from the breeze that shook the shutters. The rafters above creaked occasionally in melodic hums.

Behind you, Hawks' chest undulated with his breathing, moving against the skin of your back. His wings shifted ever so slightly in harmony with the expansion and shrinking of his lungs. The longer plumes on the ends twitched occasionally.

"Keigo?" you whispered.

He didn't answer. Judging by the way his arm had slackened where it rested over your waist, you figured he had fallen asleep already.

The bedding was soft, and you had no doubt that he had washed them diligently; yet, mingled with the earthy tones of the cabin, they smelt like him. The hearth crackled distantly, the sound a faint echo through the cabin.

It didn't take long to slip away.

• • •

• • •

Sometime in the middle of the night, you were woken by a strange sound. In your groggy state, it sounded like a distant animal cooing into the night.

Once you properly came to, you realized the warmth against your back had retreated. The blanket had been partially ripped away in the process, leaving the skin of your back exposed to the cold air of the cabin.

What had sounded far away you now realized was coming from right behind you, pained little noises and harsh wheezing. You rolled over to take in the sight of Hawks, blindly reaching for him in a moment of panic.

Worry struck you when your skin touched his. He had already been warm to the touch before; but now, his skin felt scorching, sticky with sweat. Your hand had landed on his chest, where you could feel his muscles rapidly rising and falling with each staggering breath.

The noise that had woken you became obvious then; he was panting, sharp and labored breaths that whooshed in and out of him, occasionally accompanied with a quiet, pained sound.

He had shoved the blankets away and was laying on his back, wings tucked in uncomfortably tight beneath him. Through the faint glow of warm light from the fireplace, you could see his chest raising and falling rapidly, head tossed back, face contorted in pain. Some strands of blonde locks were clinging to the sweat soaked skin on his face.

"Keigo - Keigo," you called to him, hands rising to his shoulders so you could shake him.

It wasn't until he jerked suddenly, eyes opening and head whipping towards you, that you realized he had been sleeping. His labored breathing intensified, but only for a second, before he started to calm down.

His gold eyes were glossy for a second, staring at you blindly, before he started to wake properly. His lips were parted, sharp breaths still escaping him in harsh wisps.

"Are you okay?" you whispered harshly. "Are you sick? You look-..."

You could see a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. Now, with him leaning up a little, you could see the flush of red tinting his skin, all down his chest and across his cheeks. His shoulder muscles were tight and his wings twitched helplessly beneath him.

"I'm f-fine," Hawks answered, voice low and hoarse. He swallowed roughly. "It's - it's a n-normal side effect."

"You're burning up," you hissed, hands touching his skin so carefully, like you would hurt him if you were too rough. "Are you sure you're okay?" you insisted.

"Just need-" he growled, cutting off as he tried to sit up.

His movement had repositioned your hands, causing them to drag from his shoulders to his chest, less you lose stability and collapse on top of him.

It was a familiar touch, a place you had touched him many times before; yet, he froze suddenly, gaze shifting down to your hands as if they were grounding him to this plane of existence.

Hawks' gold eyes fluttered shut and his pained expression softened. He flopped back on the bed, giving up his attempt to sit up as if he had suddenly lost all strength in his body.

Catching on, you uttered into the cold air, "is that what you need? Keigo, do you want me to-"

"Yes," he answered sharply, hissing through the cold, chilled air. He sounded relieved, thankful that you had offered before he had to ask.

"God, fuck - I - I need you, need to - to - be inside you-"

His babbling briefly ceased when you pushed the blankets off yourself and rolled on top of him, a gesture you had done many times before, now a nearly perfect art.

You watched, hypnotized as Hawks arched his back off the bed and flexed his wings until they were sprawled out on either side of him. The beautiful crimson plumes stretched out across the sheets, shuddering in faint waves that matched his heavy breathings.

In the shift, his cock became pinned against your inner thigh. If you didn't known any better, you would have thought he was prodding you with an iron rod pulled straight from the fires of a forge.

It was unbearably hot, hard as steel and painfully poking against your flesh. You could feel his heartbeat through his cock, throbbing against you as if pleading to be touched.

Arousal had never struck you this hard before, with enough force that it made your never regions throb and chest tighten. Blood rushed to your face so quickly, you briefly feared you would pass out.

Now, hovering, looking down at him, it was almost unbearable. It was clear that Hawks was in pain, and you felt a tinge of guilt at the realization that his state had aroused you.

But, the truth was, he looked stunning.

Maybe it was the red flush staining his skin, or the glisten of sweat, shiny with the reflection of the fire burning in the hearth. Maybe it was the way his gold eyes practically glowed through the darkness, staring up at you like a starving predator, glaring with dangerous intent.

Some sort of inhuman growl escaped him and Hawks grabbed at your meaty hips, roughly pulling you forward. It didn't take you long to figure out what he was doing; but, your attempts to aid were waisted, for he simply dragged you down to his liking, until the heat of your sex collided with his face ungracefully.

The first thing you registered was his mouth kissing sloppily at your sex. His tongue followed, lapping at your folds impatiently before breaching your heat. Hawks was always the kind to give sloppy oral; but, this was something else entirely.

He moaned shamelessly when his tongue registered your taste, hips rising off the bed as if attempting to chase a sensation that wasn't there.

Your hands fall onto the wall, and you tried to keep yourself up; but, he wasn't having it, growling and pulling you back down. It was difficult to not go dead weight when his tongue was lapping at your walls, mouth suctioned around your entrance like he was trying to suck juices from a ripe fruit.

One of your hands weaved through his hair, gently massaging his scalp in a praising gesture. It was difficult to get out sensible words. Instead, you moaned broken pieces of his name, thighs trembling on either side of his head.

You had no idea how much time had passed before he seemed satisfied and finally lifted you up enough to remove his mouth. The wet gasp that escaped him, suggesting he had been holding his breath, riddled you with shameful lust.

"You made a mess," Hawks observed deliriously.

He sounded immensely pleased with himself and even leaned in to take another taste, this time honing in on your pearl. You felt more than heard his pleased chuckle when you whined at the sudden touch.

This time, when he pulled away, he let you retreat. As you shimmied down his body, you caught him wiping your essence off his face with a careful finger before popping it in his mouth.

Hawks' skin was still flushed red, all the way up to his ears; but, now, he looked damn smug to top it all off. You couldn't see the look you were wearing, but you knew by the heat on your face that it was lewd.

The cold of the cabin had been lost to you, especially when you positioned your hips over his and felt the head of his cock nuzzle at your entrance, threatening to breach your core.

Hawks' head fell back into the sheets with a whine, eyes squeezing shut. Tantalized by the sight, you intended to tease him a little; however, he nudged his hips forward with a sudden jerk, effortlessly impaling you on his cock, and taking that opportunity away.

"Ohhh, fuck!" Hawks shouted before sucking his bottom lip beneath his teeth. He released it after letting out a low hiss.

You closed your own eyes for a moment, adjusting to the sudden intrusion of his impressive girth, and felt his hands slowly slide up your thighs into the dips of your hips, slotting over a spot he had practically engraved for himself ever since this began.

When your eyes opened, you looked down and took in the deliriously beautiful look on his face. His thumbs nudged your hip bones pleadingly and his eyes opened, peering up at you through dark lashes.

Forgoing any thoughts about teasing, you planted your hands on his chest and rolled your hips. The motion punched a whine out of him. The sound drawled out into a growl when you kept the rhythm, chasing your own pleasure.

"Yeah," he hummed encouragingly. "Come on. Use me. Fuck yourself on my cock. Just like - ahh - fuck..."

You hardly needed the encouragement; but, the dirty words spewing from his lips further ignited the heat in your belly, and you whined in response.

He could have easily pulled your hips down to intensify the moment. Instead, he lifted his hips off the bed to meet yours, effortlessly matching your movement and chasing the delicious warmth and wetness of your core, while letting his hands hold you gently.

"Baby, do you feel good?" Hawks uttered lowly, his pleading question gently breaking through the moment.

"Y-ye-s, Kei - go," you sobbed, stuttering out your response and groaning halfway through his name.

It was always good; but, something about this moment made it more intense than ever before. You could already feel the sensation rising, thighs trembling every time his cock slid back inside, hitting the perfect spot again and again.

"Yeah?" he hummed, sounding so breathless and fucked out, despite you having just barely begun. "You feel good, so fucking good," he praised between labored pants and low moans.

"You're so fucking good to me," Hawks babbled on, head falling back into the sheets, where he closed his eyes. You watched his adam's apple bob, noticed how tight his jaw was clenched.

A growl vibrated through his chest, followed by a breathless sympathy of curses, "oh fuck - oh fuck. Come on, fuck my cock - yeah - ahhh. Ya' hear that? Those sounds. God, you're so f-fucking perfect."

Your union was loud, skin slapping together and wet, fleshy sounds echoing between the two of you.

His dominant hand released your hip and slid around, thumb prodding between your folds and seeking out your pearl. You were already so sensitive, feeling him so deep, teetering on the edge. When his calloused skin touched that spot, you let out a cry.

"Come on this cock," Hawks groaned. "Sooo close - f-fuck. Come on. Come for me. Fucking come. Gonna fill you up. You want that? My seed. Yeah you fucking d-hnn-"

His babbling ceased when your orgasm took you, the sudden spasms and fluttering of your walls making all sensible thoughts drain from his mind.

His hand returned to your hip, fingers gripping your waist, and he started roughly dragging you up and down to meet his thrusts. You went limp, letting him bounce you on his cock to your liking. Your hands slipped off his chest and you fell onto him, forehead knocking gently against his cheek.

You could hear him huffing and grunting, the occasional growl seeping through, right into your ear as he fucked you through your orgasm, and continued on, chasing his end.

His cock throbbed, firmly enough that you felt it and the sensation startled you a little; but, that thought was lost when he let out an uncharacteristically loud shout, crying out in ecstasy.

Hawks had always been loud; but, this was something else entirely, and the moans and growls didn't stop, along with his undulating hips, for what felt like an eternity.

To top it all off, you could feel it, spurts of his seed, burning hot as it filled you. In the corner of your eye, you could make out his feathers, each and every one trembling beneath him.

Then, finally, he went still.

Hawks' panting filled the room, almost loud enough to drown out the crackling of the fireplace. Even after his panting died down, he let out quiet groans, his orgasm having not yet waned in full.

Eventually, he turned his head and pressed a wet kiss against your cheek. You turned your head to meet him, at first catching the corner of his mouth before he angled his head to kiss you properly.

You could practically feel the praises behind each kiss, thank you's and love pouring from his mouth to yours in a nonverbal gesture. His hands ran up and down your back, massaging your skin but also ensuring that you didn't move and he remained deep inside you.

When he finally released your lips, you busied your hands with his wild mane, gently pushing strands away from his face. He seemed to like the preening, letting his eyes flutter shut and head fall back.

You didn't have to ask if he was feeling better. His all-body, harsh red blush had mellowed out and he wasn't panting like a parched dog.

You hadn't realized you were still trembling until he uttered, "it's okay," in a soothing, worried voice.

His hands shifted to your thighs, where he carefully pushed them back and rolled you onto your side, keeping his cock nuzzled deep. His arms wound around your back, bringing you into an embrace while his wings stretched out behind him before sagging comfortably to the bed.

You realized, as he brought you in, that you were still shaking a little. The worry was evident in his eyes, like he had done something wrong.

"D-do you want me to pull out?" he offered in a weak voice.

"It's not that," you replied softly. "That was... intense."

When your eyes locked with his gold orbs, and he took in the sight of your expression, it seemed to steadily become clear to him, what you were feeling. His lips sought our your skin, senselessly kissing whatever he could reach, all over your cheeks, down your chin and along the expansion of your throat.

Hawks’ head fell onto the pillow and his wispy blonde hair tangled with yours. The unease began to fade away as he held you close, bringing the blanket back over your forms when his intense heat finally started to wane. So did the spell, and something concerning struck him.

"Please, tell me if it gets too intense," Hawks uttered, breath fluttering out against your temple. “I’ll-...”

He cut himself because he wasn’t quite what he would do, what he could do. Could he stop? In this moment of clear thoughts, he sure hoped so. But, part of him feared that wasn’t true, and the last thing he wanted was to lie to you about what he was capable of.

You had figured that he had yet to hit the apex of his rut. Yet, his warnings hadn't frightened you in the slightest, especially after what had just occurred. If anything, you were enticed by it. Maybe, in some strange way, it was affecting you to.

"I can handle you," you promised.

You felt more so than heard the uneasy breath that stuttered out his nostrils. Your words stirred something deep in his gut, overcoming the fear, burning arousal and adoration.

[discotechque]

till my hand shook with the way I fear

pairing: abed nadir/nby! reader word count: 1.6k rating: T

me and abed have neurodivergent solidarity and for that, we would be besties. also the mc in this is specifically non-binary so whatever.

There's clear haze that settles over the bar, that's the first thing Abed realizes once he settles into the space. It's dim, like most bars are and he assumes that's the charm of places like these. Jeff and Britta are adults ( he is too but he's overlooked and therefore his opinion is mute ) so he follows their guidance. Watching from afar, observing their inebriated choices while downing another shot.

He doesn’t get the point of alcohol, much less bars, and it seems the whole point is to get pleasure after an initial sting. A sharp weight that lays in the back of one's throat before elation rips through you. Bourbon burns through him with too much consequence, gin coats his mouth with a bitter tang, and wine falls flat on his tongue.

Maybe it's his upbringing, he's never witnessed his father take a sip to this day, or the pressure that rushes to his frame when he's offered a drink. Abed understands the appeal of bars, it does not mean he shares the same sentiments to them. They're noisy little backend places where melancholic characters come to waste away their sorrows, typically finding pathetic people who drool over glass rims.

However, he is not pathetic ( even if his oldest friend is rounding his seventies and community college all seemed like a folly ) and he had never been overtly dripping with melancholy. So he stood by the small arcade game in the corner, unbothered and safe, until someone offered kindness.

And he takes miles of that even if all they've given was an inch because even if he isn't pathetic or melancholic, he is greedy. He likes eyes being on him because he has so many thought he wants to share with one mouth that can only do so much. Abed is not dumb, he knows what the man wants and how his friendly touches are slowly rising above his knee.

He knows what the man wants and isn't surprise at his outburst once learning that the feelings isn't reciprocated. There's streams of Mint Julep dripping from his jaw and lashes, softly mumbling about his love for Farscape before having it degraded. Abed knows he deserves it and was warned by Annie that people are sensitive ( but he is not held by the bounds of common decency or empathy no matter how hard he tries to keep his mouth shut. )

Then, he remembers the man's proposition ( the only reason someone would be interested in him ). He isn't familiar with being viewed as a sexual object and men weren't unwelcome in his eyes. Gay? Is he gay? Maybe something that exists within the unorthodox box that is sexual realization? The questions sound so foreign even within the echo chamber of his mind.

He's in a dingy bar celebrating his best friend's birthday, this is not a time for the sexual exploration of his subconscious ( although he saves the thought because he considers if not now then when ). The drink is seeping within his clothes, it's going to stick if he doesn't move. He needs to fucking move.

And he does, swiftly pulling himself away from the chair and heading towards the bathroom. Wherever that is, Shirley said it was in the far back and Annie said fair left. Yet, she meticulous as ever so what if she always assume her left is everyone's true left and Shirley is vague with her directions but it doesn't even seem to be enjoying her time here at all.

He's not enjoying it either if he's honest. His loose shit now sticks to his chest and he knows it would make sopping sounds if the man's glass was any larger. Jeff brought them here to celebrate because they're all adults and Troy deserves to have a birthday party in style but if all Jeff and Britta do it bicker, doesn't that make them children themselves? And if he shares his companionship with them, does that make him and all the others children by association?

He's going nowhere with this train of though, this he knows but it can't ever seem to stop. His brain becomes a leaky faucet that can never be screwed back just right so it drips and drips just like the alcohol does along his jaw and lashes. Abed wants to go home but he's with his friends and it's his best friend's party and it'd be so rude of him to leave so soon. At least, that's what Annie tells him.

( Parties were far and few between when he was younger and even then, he cannot replace family functions for beings that truly care for him. )

But then he remembers you, nursing an iced tea in the corner because you are not interested in bestowing wisdom onto Troy that you do not have or participating in anybody's shenanigans. Bars are where people come to hook up or fuck up, you proclaimed on the car ride here, there's no in between.

Then he hears it, bursting against his ears as a smile splits across your face, a discotheque pop song that might be pleasant if it wasn't so overwhelming. His hand involuntarily taps against his thigh in tune with the rhythm. It helps sort out the sensations, the noise is different than the bland flavoring of water, and he knows what's what but it all feels the same in his mind.

Abed's eyelids shut, another involuntary tick he can never seem to shake, and his hand has created it's own beat. Rapid and rushed with no real rhyme or reason except for the fact that it's something that will tug his mind away from everything. ( It's the same thing he does when he's at the edge of a rollercoaster, it makes him safe. ) If everyone else can sway to a rhythm, why can't he?

"Hey," an unexpected voice softly call out to him ( tenderness within this group almost borders on unnatural ). Abed slowly opens his eyes to see you, you call out to him. He feels his hands move away from his pants, tangled within your fingers instead as you gaze at him with earnest. "five things you can see?"

Your hands feel polished, no—plush. He's afraid that if his thumbs press too hard, he'll begin to meld into your being. That's a great idea for a movie, he thinks and he knows you've been his muse from time to time. Maybe it means something, he's not willing to deep any deeper.

His eyes scan the room for a brief second before he rattles off, "The wooden floors, the bartender, the door, the chair behind you, and Annie still trying to be a Texan."

Her accent still lingers within her mind, poor acting for someone so involved a role they've assigned for themselves. The though nearly amuses him but he's getting off track, he needs to focus on you. On the way your hands gently rub over his knuckles and needs to ignore this growing pit within his stomach on whatever that insinuates.

"Four things you can feel?"

"My feet against my shoes, my jeans against my legs, how hot my ears are, your hands."

You don't let go even after he's mentioned it, instead he receives a squeeze that sounds throughout his body. A continuous cycle the runs on until you ask him for something he can taste, he doesn't know what lingers within the crevices of his mouth. ( He'd want it to be you and licks his lips without a second thought. ) Yet, settles on the answer Mint Julep.

Something about thinking this way must be wrong, he shouldn't want to keep holding your fingers or gaze into your fervent irises. He shouldn't be attracted to someone like you and shouldn't be searching for so many reason on why he has to tear himself away from your presence. Still, shouldn't doesn't stop him from doing so.

Maybe his hands have melted into yours, it'd be a good excuse on why he can't bring himself to let go. The song changes again, how long has he been in this small little world with you?

"Hey, it's Mazzy Star, this fucks so hard." he's heard of this before, maybe you've shared it with him. It's less grating on his ears, smooth melodies being shifted on strings, and he watches you sway from the corner of his eye.

( He likes to be watched but something about you commands all his attention. )

Still shifting from foot to foot, you turn to him with a far more lax expression. Both shifting into familiarity as you ask, "You wanna sit down?"

"Not really," he shoots back suddenly but you're not perturbed at his fast response reflex. However, his heart sinks as the next words tumble from his lips. "but we can stand here and sway?"

You don't pull your hand away from his, instead, pressing into his fingers as you ponder a reply. Perhaps you think this isn't real as much as he presumes you'll humiliate him for even asking. But you don't and another smile splits down your features, large than the last one he saw from across the room.

"Of course, Abed Nadir has a genius idea. Let's do it."

You don't move him from this space you've cultivated with him. Instead, wrapping arms around his neck as he places them on your waist ( he never went to prom but this is better than any teenage fantasy ). Moving side to side, never shifting around in a circle but rather awkwardly figuring out a steady pace while his stares becoming fonder while the night grows.

Abed still doesn't get the point of bars but he can figure it out the next time he's here with you.

[casukaga]

What are/were your art artistic inspirations? I love your art and it always brightens my day.

thank you!!

ooh ok ok, in general some artists that i really like are hashim akib (he’s my favorite painter! he works with acrylics and his style is a lil impressionistic) and toniko pantoja (i watch a lot of his animation videos and his art style is neat!)

but there are also a few people who’s art influenced me to make specific decisions that i still maintain:

my friend kelsey doesn’t post art anymore but she was my biggest inspiration for taking art seriously and was the reason i started to draw everyday. an instance specifically was with some miku art she once drew that had a very geometric feel to it (a lot of sharp edges and geometric shapes). it’s because of that piece i started drawing lines in hair and embedded more shapes and angles in my drawings.

viria94, aka the person who drew the official pjo art. specifically the style she used in the official character portraits is what inspired me.

when i drew this clarisse/silena piece it was the first time i tried to make my shading blockier because of it:

i tried a little bit of eyedropping some of the colors from viria’s annabeth art into it because i liked how cool the colors were. (i think i only really did it on silena’s skin—like you can notice that bit of grey-pink there.) and that was when i realized she used a combination of saturated and desaturated colors, which influences how i shade now. (before then, my shading was really saturated,, it wasn’t that great,,)

ramonn90

when i changed my coloring style last year, it was because i saw his art on my feed and went, “hmm i’m gonna try that.” just for how rough and sketchy his lines and coloring are, yet everything he drew still looked really pretty and had so much life. also for how he uses chromatic aberration. i wanted to try that too.

the first time i tried that was with these pjo pieces.

and now it’s evolved into how you see it today: very bold and sketchy lines, but i try to make up for it with my colors 👌

i didn’t start using the pen tool in firealpaca until last year (before then i used the pencil tool—very soft and reliant on opacity), and i very much prefer the pen tool now for how loose i can be, but still maintain bold lines.

i think me shading a lot with solid black kinda stems from those typical comic book styles?? yk the ones that have a lot of lineweight and contrast. i never got into comic books but those heavy black lines do intrigue me...

yeah. those are some things that inspired my style.

in general, sometimes i take inspiration for how i wanna approach a piece from the artists i follow. if i see someone do something cool in a certain work or capture some sort of ambience i like, i’d probably want to emulate that some way in my next drawing.

on insta, i have an album of “favorite artists” (for art styles i really enjoy) and “inspo” (for specific artworks i really like) to look at when i need inspiration.

for here on tumblr, i rb things on @inspo-rational for future reference or tag “fave” for anything that inspires me.

[poppinisperfection]

Peter Maximoff x Reader // Hello, Monica // WandaVision // Part 2

Part 1

Post Dark Phoenix X-Men & WandaVision fanfiction. FemReader and Peter Maximoff dating when he suddenly disappears.

Xavier returns and a plan is formed.

Word Count: 1892

Warnings: Emotional distress, mentions of violence, blood, gun wounds etc.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

(Y/n) sat by the screen, her vision blurring and bags forming under her eyes. The analog clock ticked with each second as Hank fiddled around with some tech, and the others sat on the floor half asleep. They had eventually contacted Xavier, and he promised to travel back to New York as fast as possible. That was hours ago, and now it was the middle of the night.

There was nothing they could do, even discussion led to nowhere; nothing about the situation made sense. Metal crashed on the floor, causing Scott to Jolt awake and Kurt to bamf in surprise as Professor McCoy gave a frustrated grunt at his clumsiness. The disturbance didn't phase (Y/n) though, as she read the line for the thousandth time,

"Please stand by."

She was somewhere between breaking into tears and punching every wall she saw. In short, (Y/n) was desperate. After hours of thinking, she finally allowed her eyes to close for longer than a short blink. Her mind was crashing around like a restless ocean, and she found herself drowning inside endless possibilities. But at the centre of it all was his face, his smile, his voice... him.

Suddenly the doors opened with a whoosh, and (Y/n) turned her attention towards whoever was entering the labs. A determined looking man wheeled in, locking with (Y/n)'s blood-shot eyes. An alabaster-haired, umber-skinned, and confident woman followed him; shooting a look of concern towards the group.

"Xavier-" Hank exclaimed with some relief at the Professor's appearance. The bald man gave a small hum in response, but he continued to near (Y/n) instead of making conversation. He placed a hand out and gave her a kind look.

"May I?" he crooned in his English accent, as the (h/c) lady nodded and placed her head forward. Closing his eyes and placing two fingers on her temple, and another on his own - Xavier began to see the whole story, without anyone saying a single word. After a few seconds, his pulled back and gave a sharp sigh.

"(Y/n), I am so sorry." the wise man's voice faltered after feeling the gut-wrenching fear that swept through her mind. The worried girl said nothing, but just tried to keep the strength on her face instead of breaking down into tears. "You've got a location?" Xavier turned to the beastly professor, trying to solve the mystery.

"Sort of- I mean, it's unbelievable Charles." he grabbed some pages and handed them to his colleague, "It's like he's traveled to another universe; I've only heard about theories of multiverses, but this- this is more evidence than anything I've ever read..." Hank rambled on, as even Charles Xavier- telepathic mastermind- look on in shock.

Before anyone could say anything, the old computer screen buzzed and the image shifted. (Y/n)'s tired eyes widened as she sat on the edge of her seat. Even Kurt teleported closer in an effort to not miss a second of the developing situation. A lead guitar began to play, and the opening credits rolled...

The group we're unsure if it was the same show, as it looked completely different in style. But their doubts were cleared when that same woman showed up, slamming the door using some sort of powers.

"She's a mutant..." (Y/n) mumbled, as the others looked on in confusion. The opening continued to play on as more characters were shown - most of which they had never seen before. Then finally, a speedy friend appeared.

"As himself?" Scott added, reading the credits. (Y/n) stared at the title and mentally recorded it.

"It's like they're a family." Kurt noticed as Peter integrated himself so naturally with them. The pair of young boys started to monologue about halloween.

"Halloween? This just gets more and more confusing." Scott rubbed his forehead in bewilderment. Ororo stood beside them, barely comprehending what she was watching. She had previously offered to look after the students while the situation was being investigated, and that lost time had undoubtedly caused her to miss a lot of information.

"So Pete's on TV?" Storm questioned in a baffled tone. The silver haired fellow lay on a couch as the twin boys discussed him, and they referred to him as their uncle. "Okay, somebody needs to expla-" she began, but was cut off as Xavier placed a finger to his temple and transferred the information she had missed. Ororo gave a soft gasp, but ultimately was relieved to be filled in. Since the professor had learned about the situation from (Y/n), some of the grief in her mind was passed to Storm; so the loyal mutant placed a caring hand on her friend's shoulder in comfort.

Xavier chatted behind the group of young mutants who watched the show play out.

"She suggested that maybe Kurt could go in, I told her-" Hank whispered to his friend.

"That would be dangerous..." Charles finished his thought, "But dangerous doesn't mean impossible." the telepath looked towards the blue teleporter who stared at the computer screen.

"You can't be serious, Charles." Hank furrowed his thick brows and stared in disbelief.

"Kurt, (Y/n)," the professor called out, catching the pair's attention,

"Come with me."

-------

The small group trailed down the metallic hallway and approached the familiar doors to Cerebro. (Y/n) looked back at the room they had left, still hearing the distant sounds from the broadcast. Her mind travelled to what she was missing; was Peter still okay?

The circular door released and slid open, and the group followed Xavier's lead towards the machine at the end of the walkway. Kurt's tail wrapped around his leg in fear, as he fiddled nervously with his hands. Placing the silver helmet over his head, Charles nodded for the intellectual beast to flip the switch. Immediately, the room lit up and images of people flashed around. A million conversations ran through the professor's mind, but he was only searching for one person.

"Turn it up." Xavier requested as his eyebrows knit together in concentration. Reluctantly, Hank did as he said. Soon the voices faded and a only a muffled conversation echoed through the large room. "The whole way, Hank." the british man added.

"Charles that's too mu-"

"Do it!" Xavier demanded his face contorting with the amplification. (Y/n) gave a soft gasp as the voice grew clearer.

"I think mom and dad would've loved it."

Peter's words reverberated, as tears formed in (Y/n)'s eyes. Despite Cerebro being on full power, the only thing that Xavier could access was the detached audio of the mind he was connected to.

"Where were you hiding these kids up til now? I assume they were sleeping peacefully in their beds."

"Can you speak to him Charles?" Hank asked.

"Something's... Something's not right... It's too powerful to see..." Xavier stuttered out, trying not to loose his connection. Peter's voice continued, as the group wondered to who and what he was talking about.

"I'm not some stranger and I'm not your husband, you can talk to me."

"There's something... dark... clouding his mind." the powerful telepath explained, "but he's still in there, somewhere." he added. The group began to notice a purple hue clouding the entire room. The clearer Peter's disembodied voice became, the more the mysterious smoke descended. Kurt and (Y/n) stood back slightly, scared of what it could mean.

"Don't sweat it sis, it's not like your dead husband can die twice."

The sentence rang through their ears, before the whole room erupted in a blast of ruby red energy. It was exactly like the force that 'Wanda' had used earlier. Energy passed through the mutants, as images of terror entered their minds. Fragments of memories flashed; glowing stones, broken families, and piles of ashes.

Xavier groaned with pain, but he kept the connection despite the immense power that surged through his mind. (Y/n) grasped her head and panted heavily. The image of a young man lying cold, bleeding through bullet wounds, on a pile of rubble haunted her. She didn't know who it was, but he seemed familiar for some reason - and her heart broke at the sight of his lifeless form.

"He's slipping... I- I can't hold on..." Xavier cried out through gritted teeth, "I can't latch onto anyone!" the room filled with a booming static noise as the bald man searched though all the available minds in that reality. Hank writhed on the floor, clutching his ears with the horrible sound. Soon he gained the strength to pull a hand up towards the switch and slowly tune down the settings. The din faded, and the only noise that could be heard was the heavy breathing from the group that tried to recover from the experience.

"I didn't tell you to turn it off." Xavier pulled off Cerebro's helmet and placed it harshly on its holder.

"It would've killed you." Hank rebutted, standing on his feet.

"There was something forming, a gap in the reality, I could feel it!" Charles placed a hand on his forehead in frustration, "It's like all the minds were under some sort of deep control - but I could sense other ones... ones that were free."

"But what can we do about it!?" the beastly Professor retaliated, annoyed at his colleague.

"If I can find the free minds, I can see where they are; exactly where they are." Xavier began to ramble, "Then I can show Kurt, and you can get there." (Y/n)'s eyes grew wide at his suggestion. Even though she had considered it earlier, she now began to doubt her logic. If it were just her, then she wouldn't hesitate to risk her life for Peter - but she couldn't ask Kurt to do it too.

"Professor, what if... What if it doesn't work?" (Y/n) piped up, looking to the powerful telepath with concern plastered all over her face.

"We can't risk more of our lives, Kurt you don't have to do this." Hank tried to assure the German mutant.

"Nein." he responded, "Peter is my friend, I vill not leave him in danger. I vill do it." Kurt nodded his head as he stood confident in his decision. Despite the hatred that Kurt Wagner had received his whole life; he was always the most selfless person in the room. (Y/n) shot him a weak smile, thankful for his kindness.

"This isn't just about Peter. Somebody brought him there. Somebody, or something, has a power that could change everything we think we know." McCoy warned, trying to convince the group of the dangerous situation.

"Which is why we need to know more." (Y/n) interjected.

"I will be able to communicate with you, as long as you don't go under this person's control." Xavier explained, deep in thought. Hank looked at the trio, and finally gave a deep sigh.

"There's no talking to you people." he shook his head, "I'm sure travelling across the multiverse will be a cinch." his tone dripped with sarcasm as Charles placed Cerebro back on his head.

"Have a little faith, Hank." Xavier joked stiffly as he flipped the switch to the machine. McCoy reluctantly turned the power knob and soon the static noise returned, causing a grimace to appear on everyone's faces. The noise flickered as Xavier passed through more empty minds, searching for one that would work. The sensory overload build up in a crescendo, until everything stopped to a halt.

"Hello, Monica."

[toast-tales]

What’s the cast’s official physical appearance? I want to draw fanart so bad~

EDIT: I've drawn busts of the main cast!

**New Height Reference Chart with human measurements**

First of all, I'm absolutely flattered you want to make fanart <3

Second, if it's not stated outright in the story, most of the cast's appearance is up for personal interpretation! I don't have a reference for every character, but I'll try and do a quick sum-up of how I personally perceive the characters (but again, if you have your own headcanon? That's fine too!)

I’ve linked some Picrews and fanart but they are NOT official physical descriptions, more like...pointing in the direction of what the character might look like. Picrew has its limitations, so they might not have all the right details. I’d LOVE to commission art for all of my characters at some point, tbh. If it’s not described below, you can probably just take creative freedom with the appearances. 

Christopher: long, straight black hair to about his shoulderblades, usually half-up in a bun. Dark eyes, sharp features, aquiline nose. Olive-toned skin. He’s pretty tall (think like 6′3" ish in human terms), but not very muscular. Kind of a beanpole tbh.

Danny: Red hair, usually worn down, straight but a little messy and parted to the side. Blue-green eyes, thicker eyebrows. In human terms she’d be about average height (like 5′6-8″), but if we’re talking relative to giants, her normal height is about 4″ (though under the growth serum, she’s more like 11″). She’s generally barefoot and physically, pretty lanky as well. 

Nathan: Brown, messy hair, curls just a bit and is pretty short. Brown eyes, soft features, freckles, a little bit of facial hair along his chin. Kind of short (5′7ish), a bit of a heavier build, but he’s actually pretty physically fit, considering he does farm work often. 

Sam: They’ve definitely got that slightly curly “more on top” haircut with the sides shaved, dark hair, pale skin. Hazel eyes. Average height, about 5′9″ or so. They’re kind of lanky like Christopher, but they actually work out, and have a good bit of lean muscle, especially in their arms. They have several piercings in each ear - specifically, they wear small black gauges, two helix piercings around the middle/upper edge of their right ear, and a flat piercing in each ear. Their tattoos are up to personal interpretation, they've changed in the fanart a lot which I find fun. But I do like the floral design on their left arm and a snake design around their right arm, along with lots of smaller, random tattoos along their arms and legs. They usually wear a flat-billed cap from their collection. They’re AFAB so they generally bind their chest and dress androgynously (they’re nonbinary but use they/he pronouns). 

Sybil: Very tall, even for a giant (think closer to 6′8″ - like, she's definitely able to look down on even someone like Christopher). Strong features, a bit older than the rest of the cast (in human terms, in her 40s/50s). Dark skin, golden eyes, black hair - usually braided and tied up with gold braid cuffs. She wears loose, white linen clothing most of the time. She is definitely very strong, and has a rather imposing physical presence. Sometimes wears golden, half-rim glasses for reading or looking at human-sized details, but not usually.

Cyrus: Very large, portly man, maybe about 5′11″-6′. He’s got a rough sort of face with a short, scraggly greyish beard, mostly balding. Probably in his 40s/50s, just like Sybil. 

Max: Very pale, almost to an unhealthy degree - messy dirt-brown hair, gray eyes, and rough stubble. Older, in about his late 30s but he looks much older due to...a stressful work environment.

Ryan: Blond hair, in a style kind of similar to Nathan’s - a bit unkempt but otherwise short. Pale, generally has bags under his eyes and somewhat gaunt features - very skinny. Dark greenish eyes. In his early 20s. Wears glasses once he sees an optometrist in the human city.

Maria: Brown skin, long, curly dark brown hair that’s thick and generally tied back (if possible). Similar to Ryan - very skinny/frail and has a sickly pallor to her skin at first. Warm, brown eyes. In her late 20s.

Alice: Pale blue eyes and long, light brown hair, generally worn up in a bun and tied back with a headscarf (if possible). Kind, motherly, but slightly worn features - in her early/mid 30s.

Stan: Tanned skin and dark gray hair with bits of white poking through. Has a thick mustache and well-trimmed beard (when possible). Stern features, has a slightly haggard face with a few scars. In his late 30s, but like Max, looks a bit older. 

John: Blond hair that's going slightly silver with age, long enough to pull back into a short ponytail. Pale skin, kind, green eyes, wears thin-rimmed glasses. About Sybil’s age, maybe closer to his 50s. Generally dresses pretty well, wears a button up shirt, slacks, and loafers most of the time. 

Nora: Blonde hair in a chin-length bob with bangs, wears several piercings in each ear. Generally dresses very nice (similar to John). Very pale skin, light blue eyes. Slightly older than Danny, in her late 20s.

That’s honestly about all I’ve got. If you have any specific questions about any characters, I’ll do my best to answer them! 

[morganaspendragonss]

dancing on the edge of something new

huge thanks to alice ( @reyeslonestar ) for letting me talk this through with her at midnight when it was causing me huge trouble 🥰

five dances in tk and carlos’s life

ao3 | 2.3k | @911fluffweek day 3: getting together // dancing

i.

TK looks over when Carlos slides off the hood of the Camaro, his hand trailing after him until he’s forced to let go. Carlos is smiling almost shyly, shifting from one foot to the other, and TK can’t help but smile back, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Carlos?” he prompts, confusion growing as no explanation is forthcoming. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course. I just, uh…” He bites his lip, then takes a decisive step forward and holds out a hand, cocking a brow suggestively. “Wanna dance?”

TK laughs. “Seriously?” he asks, but he’s already sitting up and placing his hand in Carlos’s, allowing him to pull him off the car and to his feet.

“Well”—Carlos shrugs, yanking TK close and smiling at the oof he makes when their chests collide—“it’s how we began, isn’t it? I figured, if we’re starting again, then it feels only right, no?”

TK stares, stuck dumb, unable to do anything but follow Carlos’s lead as his arms slip around his waist, guiding them into a gentle sway. He rests his own hands on Carlos’s chest, the realisation that he gets to do this now—gets to touch Carlos and be with him like this—hitting him all over again. To think he almost threw it all away… Well, none of that matters anymore. What matters is that they’re here, dancing in a field with no music save for the shuffle of their feet in the grass and the occasional bird or cricket, like a pair of lovesick idiots in a romcom.

And he’s never been happier.

He slides his hands up until his arms are resting loosely around Carlos’s shoulders, fingers playing with the stray curls at the nape of his neck. He stares into those familiar brown eyes, so full of warmth and light, Carlos cast in the beautiful glow of the Northern Lights above them, and TK feels an intense feeling take root in his chest. It’s not love—not yet—but it will be.

He can’t imagine not falling in love with Carlos Reyes.

ii.

The club lights strobe around them, bathing the room alternately in lurid colours and strange shadows. The place is packed, the doors practically straining on their hinges, but the only thing TK is aware of is Carlos’s body moving against his own, their movements perfectly in sync with each other.

It’s been a while since they were last about to do this, to come out and just let loose for the night. In fact, TK thinks the last time might have been when they were out with Paul what seems like a lifetime ago; so much has changed since, and TK feels like a completely different person to who he was back then.

He and Carlos have officially been together for a few months now, but it’s like the universe has been working to stop them from actually being able to enjoy it. They’ve managed to squeeze in some dates here and there, but between the shooting, the solar storm, TK’s medical leave, and weeks of opposing shifts, getting a moment to themselves has been difficult.

But now, finally, they have one. And TK is going to milk it for all it’s worth.

He turns slightly in Carlos’s grasp, his head tilting up to catch his lips in a searing kiss. Carlos grips TK’s hips tighter, pulling them flush against his own as he deepens the kiss, and TK gasps, a sharp thrill shooting down his spine.

The night stretches out blissfully in front of them, the knowledge that this isn’t just a fling that will end with the cold light of dawn making it all the sweeter. It’s still a little surreal, even now, but it also feels so damn right.

TK’s heart hammers in time with the music and he sinks into Carlos’s hold, losing himself in his heat.

iii.

It’s not that TK never felt at home at the condo. The opposite in fact; Carlos’s place had been home even before he could officially call it his, and he feels the loss of it keenly. The thing is, though, even after he’d fully moved in, it had been a struggle to think of it as theirs.

It had been home, sure, but it had also been Carlos’s place.

Carlos had found it a little funny, and it had taken several slip-ups on TK’s part and just as many gentle corrections on his for TK to get used to our dining room, and our bedroom, and our house.

And then—well. Just as he’d started to get used to it, it was all gone. Ashes. It hurt, deeply, but TK knew that it was his turn to be the one to lean on, to let Carlos be the one to set the pace. Carlos had lived there for years, after all, and what was TK’s month compared to that?

Really, anywhere that Carlos is would be home, but this—holding the keys to a house they’d picked out together, a house they’d signed the lease for together, a house they’d picked the furnishings for together—feels like coming home. 

He hates that it was the condo burning down that got them to this stage, but TK can’t stop a grin from emerging on his face as he slips his key into the lock.

He finds Carlos in the kitchen, humming and shimmying to a song playing from the speakers. To his credit, TK really does try to bite back his laughter, but he can’t quite manage it, letting out a loud snort which has Carlos stopping in his tracks, flushing a deep red.

“I see the unpacking’s going well,” he says, walking over to the kitchen counter and leaning a hip against it. 

“It was, actually,” Carlos defends, still blushing. “I didn’t realise you’d be back this soon.”

TK shakes his head; as adorable as Carlos’s embarrassment is, he needs to let him know he’s not making fun. “You can relax, babe. You know I always love seeing you move those hips.”

“Mmm, don’t I know it.” Carlos leans in and kisses him, lingering a moment before pulling back, a wide smirk on his face. “How about you help me finish unpacking here and we’ll see about showing you more of that hip action later?”

TK grumbles, but does as he’s told, the two of them falling into a comfortable rhythm as they work to getting their house in order. It’s ended up being the perfect blend of their different styles, which probably shouldn’t work together, but somehow do, and TK loves it here. They both do, he knows—nothing will ever replace what they lost in the fire, but being able to build a home together is beyond special.

He keeps sneaking glances at Carlos as the afternoon goes on—sue him, his boyfriend is built like a Greek god—and TK smiles when he realises Carlos has started dancing again. He probably doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, which makes the whole thing so much better.

TK watches for a while, then walks up to Carlos and taps him on the shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?” he asks, gesturing to the wooden spoons he was twirling around.

There’s a brief moment of confusion, before Carlos’s eyes light up with realisation. He barely wastes a second in tossing the spoons aside (though, it’s more like a careful placement in the correct drawer) and grabs TK by the hand, sending him into a literal spin.

TK laughs, taking a moment to right himself after the sudden movement caused him to stumble inelegantly. Neither of them are in time with the music as they dance around the kitchen, carefully avoiding the boxes still scattered around, but it’s not important. 

For the first time in his life, TK feels fully, completely at home. It’s not a feeling he wants to let go of.

iv.

“I think they were expecting something slower,” TK murmurs, burying a laugh in Carlos’s neck. Their guests are all wearing expressions with varying degrees of shock, and he can’t really blame them—he’s pretty sure the last thing anyone expects to hear during a first dance at a wedding is a country song. “I still can’t believe you even remember it.”

Carlos shrugs. “I still can’t believe you don’t. It is our song, after all.”

TK rolls his eyes, remembering their first conversation on this topic months ago, back when they were still sorting out all the wedding minutiae. 

“‘Our’ song, babe?” he’d said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Why, because we danced to it for five minutes before leaving to get off in the bathroom?”

“Exactly,” Carlos had replied, his tone so serious that TK wasn’t sure whether he was joking or not. He’d rolled his eyes and lightly shoved at TK’s shoulder. “No, babe. Because it was the first time we danced together on the night that we met. That’s special, right, even if it did only last five minutes?”

TK hadn’t exactly been able to argue that one, and he has to admit now that it was a pretty good choice. If only to see the way Judd almost choked on his champagne in surprise when the song started.

It’s a little untraditional and, if he’s being honest, TK had never thought that one day he would be getting married in Texas on his new husband’s family ranch, with their first dance being to a ‘cowboy song’, as he’d once called it, much to Carlos’s horror. But he and Carlos have never been ones for tradition, and TK wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It’s perfect,” he admits, his eyes never leaving Carlos’s. He stops the dance, not caring that the song is still playing, and steps closer, pressing their bodies together. Everything else fades into the background as he leans up and kisses Carlos, barely moving when they break apart. “I love you, Husband.”

Carlos’s face lights up in a grin that could rival the sun in its brightness. “I love you too, Husband.”

v.

Music is floating through the door when TK gets home, and it’s enough to alleviate the weight he’s been carrying all day. It’s not that it had been a bad shift per se (though, when your standards for a good day are ‘nobody dies’, your view tends to get a bit skewed) but it had been long and tiring, and he’d missed his family desperately.

Sometimes, he still can’t believe this is really his life. But Ana, now three, has been living with them for a year already, and TK can’t imagine their home without her anymore. She’d been a blessing, coming into their lives after years of fighting to get on adoption registers, right when they were beginning to despair of ever managing it.

They did, though, and now TK gets to come home to scenes like this. 

Scenes like Ana standing on Carlos’s toes as he guides her slowly around the room in a basic dance. TK watches for a moment before getting his phone out and hitting record; he’ll be damned if he misses the opportunity to get this on film.

Carlos, having heard him enter, rolls his eyes when he sees what TK’s doing, but flashes him a quick smile before returning his focus to Ana. She hasn’t noticed TK’s entrance, her face scrunched up in deep concentration as she grips onto Carlos’s hands as tight as she possibly can.

When the music ends, Ana claps her hands and giggles. TK takes the moment to make his presence known, dropping to his knees and holding his arms out. She barrels into him, almost knocking him over, and presses her face into his chest, her tiny hands creating creases in his uniform shirt.

“Hi, sweetheart,” TK murmurs, dropping a kiss in her hair. He gently detaches her from him and manoeuvers them until she’s sitting in his lap. “Looks like you guys were having fun while I was at work.”

She nods enthusiastically. “Papa was teaching me to dance! Abuela showed me photos when I was with her and Abuelo and I wanted to be just like her!”

“Abuela got out the photo albums again, huh?”

Ana nods again. “Of her… Her…” She frowns and looks up at Carlos.

“Her china poblana dresses,” Carlos says softly, smiling as Ana grins and points at him. 

TK laughs and draws his daughter into a hug, rocking them gently, his gaze going up to Carlos. “Well, from what I saw, you were dancing even better than Papa,” he says, smirking as Carlos gasps in mock offence. He looks back down at Ana, tapping on the back of her hand. “You know,” he starts, smiling, “I think I might need some dancing lessons too. Think you can teach me?”

Ana lights up and immediately gets to her feet, as if she’d been waiting for him to ask. She grabs TK’s hand and pulls him up, leading him to where Carlos must have cleared a space for them earlier. The music begins to play again and TK lets his daughter take charge, playfully sticking his tongue out at Carlos when he laughs at TK getting firmly told off for putting his foot in the wrong place.

At some point, Carlos joins the dance, the three of them stepping and bouncing around the front room. Ana’s laughter fills the house, shrieking with delight when Carlos sweeps her from the floor and wraps both her and TK in his arms. TK leans his head on his husband’s shoulder, a hand placed on their daughter’s back, and breathes out slowly, all the exhaustion from earlier forgotten. 

At last, he’s home.

[volleychumps]

hi so sorry to bother u again but i tried to send a request and tumblr bugged out :(( so if u got this already just ignore this but if not can i request Tsukki's crush asking him to pretend to be her boyfriend to get back at a toxic ex? And he tries to drop hints but she's oblivious because she thinks its all part of the act? Thank you sm and I love ur writing!! ur style is just *chefs kiss*

Feigned Love. (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

---------------------------

“You want me to what-” 

“Never mind, that was dumb of me to ask, so just forget I ever said anything-” You blurt as the tall boy’s face starts to break out in a disbelieving grin. 

You bite the inside of your cheek embarrasedly, turning away in a rush until a hand catches your wrist to stop your escape, a familiar sigh filling your ears as if this were the biggest inconvenice Tsukishima Kei had ever had to face. 

“I’ll do it. I’ll fake it with you.” 

“Wait-” 

“On one condition-” Tsukishima clicks his tongue as you blink in a bewildered fashion as the blonde takes a step closer to you, a smirk tugging at his lips as he does so at your deer-in-the-headlights expression. 

“Don’t fall for me, you loser.” 

You stall for a second, processing his words before shaking your head with a grin. 

“As if, nerd.” You laugh out loud at the ridiculous suggestion of your best friend before punching him in the shoulder, beaming at his acceptance before beginning to walk off, waving a hand backwards.

“See you tomorrow then, boyfriend?” 

Tsukishima merely scoffed in response as you walked off, not noticing that the smirk had fallen from his face as you did so, hazel eyes wondering through black frames if this was really okay. 

-----------------

“Can’t you pretend like you actually like me, Mr. I-don’t-know-how-to-smile?” 

Tsukishima’s frown seemed to deepen with distaste at your question, looking up from the manga he was reading in a bored manner to hit you back with a sharp retort when it falls on silent lips. Your ex was boisterous walking into the classroom with his friends, and the look of pain passed across your face in a way that had the blonde’s chest tightening. 

And then it was showtime. 

Tsukishima closed the manga, holding it with one hand with his thumb holding his place before standing and sitting next to you on the window sill of your classroom, freely using his other hand to rest your head on his shoulder as his other arm now hung loosely over your shoulder. You blink in surprise as Tsukishima opens the manga back up, leaning his head on your own as some of your friends squeal at the sight. 

“Y/N! You and Tsukishima-Kun are finally dating?!” 

“I called it, you two were always joined at the hip!” 

“Ahaha...yeah, I guess it sort of happened.” You smile, purposefully avoiding the now heated stare of the boy you wanted nothing to do with anymore. Still, the fact that you were getting under his skin acted as a vicious form of self-satisfaction as you make a show of pecking Tsukishima’s shoulder-

not noticing how the blonde’s breath seemed to hitch. 

“Since when?” You stiffen, not expecting said boy to pipe up as Tsukishima’s eyes lift from the ink on the pages, hand slickly moving down to your waist to pull you into his side tighter as an amused grin with ill intent makes its’ way onto his face. 

You glance at your friend’s face in wonderment, surprised he was actually seeing through your favor pretty well as you remind yourself to treat him later. The blonde tilts his head, meeting your ex’s eyes in a bored manner. 

“Since she finally noticed who’s better for her than you were.” Tsukishima’s grin only widens as he feigns kindness, ignoring the silence that settled around the coming students interested in the morning drama as your ex clenches his jaw. “Oh my, did I strike a nerve?” 

“You didn’t strike shit, you little-” 

Your ex audibly growls as the morning bell cuts him off, glancing at you once before taking his seat in a pissed off manner, and you can’t help giggling a little as Tsukishima shakes his head, ducking down to tickle your ear with his breath quietly. 

“You’re quite evil, you know that?” 

Maybe this wasn’t real. 

“And you’re quite the actor.”

Maybe you really thought he was doing this for the game. 

“Hm. Better put on a nice show, then.” 

Your eyes widen when Tsukishima brushes some of your hair back to cup your face as he lightly brushes your forehead with his lips, leaving your jaw slackened as the blonde stretches before getting up and back to his seat, slipping his headphones over his ears without sparing you a glance. You put a hand to your forehead in a daze, snapping out of it before realizing it was part of the favor. Or so you thought.

Tsukishima hides his blush in his palm as you brush past him to get to your seat. 

Then he just had to show you that there was no dice to roll. 

------------------------

Tsukishima tried his best- he really did. 

Two weeks flitted by with the label branded into your backs as in a relationship, Tsukishima slowly getting accustomed to the way of things. 

He always met you on the window sill before class starts, glancing at your now sleeping figure as you don’t even notice when your ex walks in, rolls his eyes at the sight, and gloomily takes his seat. Tsukishima quirks a brow, nudging you slightly to make sure you don’t miss it. 

“You don’t want today’s reaction?” He hums lowly as you shift a little before cuddling into his shoulder sleepily, taking the blonde off-guard at the spin of the now normal events. 

“Mm. Don’t really care.” 

You...what?

Tsukishima’s gaze falls back to his book, but he’s hardly paying attention to the panels, heart involuntarily pounding at the simplicity of your words that carried a heavier meaning than you seemed to realize. 

After class, you grabbed his hand casually as you walked in the halls, mindlessly swiping through your phone as Tsukishima continues to walk along, glancing down at your grip on his palm before looking straight ahead. 

He holds his breath, taking a chance. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re quite used to this whole thing. Can’t get enough of me, hm?” 

The blonde remains casual, but still hears his heart in his ears for your reply, your hand slowly letting go of his as if you were realizing. Tsukishima looks back down at you to see you embarrasedly rubbing the back of your neck, chuckling nervously as he feels his stomach drop at the sight. 

“O-Oh. I just figured because we do everyday-” 

“You done messing with your ex?” Tsukishima can’t stop the hard edge that comes with his words, still walking along. “It’s clear he regrets it, so how long are we planning on-?” 

“You’re right.” 

You had stopped walking, Tsukishima now looking behind him to see you smiling in a slightly strained manner as you laugh. You laugh as you walk up to him, eyes shielding something Tsukishima’s analytical eyes couldn’t pinpoint as you give him a sweet kiss on the cheek, one that would’ve sent the blonde’s mind awhirl-

if you hadn’t done it in a parting manner. 

“Thanks, Tsukki. You did well. I’ll treat you to something expensive to make up for wasting your time, okay?” 

“Y/N, you know that’s not-” 

But you were already halfway down the hall, giving him that familiar backwards wave, sending him back to two weeks prior, where he rolled the dice to play in a game of fake feelings-

when nothing about his actions were fake at all, the game board having been non-existent. 

-----------------------

“Y/N, you were just using that asshat to make me jealous, weren’t you?” 

Tsukki stalls outside the classroom door at the sound of the bastard voice. The voice he hated for all the months you stayed with him. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice cracked, and Tsukishima knows he should walk away from an obviously private conversation happening an hour after the last bell-

but his back touched the wall as he dropped his gaze to his feet, wondering if you would indulge in the satisfaction of making the boy who hurt you asking for you back. Would you accept? Were you using him after all-?

“You’re telling me you actually have feelings for that-?!” 

“And what if I do?” 

Maybe this wasn’t real. 

Tsukishima’s eyes widen a fraction. 

Maybe you really thought he was doing this for the game.

He didn’t hear the rest of the conversation before casually stepping into the classroom, leaning against the doorway with a hand in his pocket, hazel eyes locking onto your figure as he purposefully ignores the agitated vermin holding you by the shoulders. 

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” 

“Tsukki-?” Your eyes widen as Tsukishima’s eyes narrow in on your ex touching you, a humorless chuckle slipping his lips as his whole demeanor changes as he strolls casually up to the two of you. 

“Are you going to let her go or am I going to have to snap your arms in half?” 

He ignores the sputtered question of assault before grabbing you by the wrist, tugging you out of the classroom successfully as he walks a fast pace, adrenaline mixed with your words on his heels as he ignores your questions of where you were going- 

Only stopping when you had whimpered for him to. 

Slowly, Tsukishima lets go of your hand to glance behind him, breath hitching at the tears rolling down your flushed cheeks. He reaches out to you, arm retracting when you flinch at the motion. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you-” 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Tsukki.” 

Your voice had fallen to a whisper, hands making useless attempts to wipe away the moisture as you laugh humorlessly, refusing to meet Tsukishima’s eyes as the blonde lets you speak. 

“You told me to do one thing and I couldn’t even do that.” 

Then he just had to show you that there was no dice to roll.

His feet were moving before he could think as his words flash in his head. 

“Don’t fall for me, you loser.” 

“I must look really damn pathetic-” 

Tsukishima clicks his tongue, impatience finally breaking through as he’s met with the moment he’s longed for as he glares at your teary eyes through his spectacles, cupping your face as his voice drops an octave. 

“Shut the hell up.” 

Tsukishima kissed you harshly, thumbs wiping at the stray tears as he feels your hands slowly grip the back of his shirt, sighing into his mouth so cutely that Tsukishima couldn’t help but drop a hand to your waist, pressing you up against him, satisfied with the sound you made before pulling away and leaving you breathless. 

“B-But you said-” 

“I’m quite the actor, aren’t I?” Tsukishima throws your words back at you as you find yourself smiling, tears drying on your cheeks as the blonde strokes your cheek with his thumb gently- as if he were handling porcelain. 

“As if I would date a nerd-” 

“Well, I don’t want to date a loser- yet here we are.” 

“Tsukki?” 

“What?” 

“...you don’t really mean that, do you- because I’m having trouble distinguishing what’s real and what’s not-” 

“If you don’t shut up I’m going to do it for you.” 

“Well, in that case-” 

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, as you smiled cheekily as he tugged you closer- 

the blonde was a man of his word, after all. 

------------------------------

General Works: @takemetovalhalla @savemesteeb @dreebbles @kasandrafaye @yams046

[heresyourramen]

Firebird - Choi Yeonjun x (Fem) Reader

Part of the Hamratia Collaboration by @delicatewerewolfsoul and @sleepylixie.

The artist is Choi Yeonjun, Greek god is Apollo and the deadly sin, pride.

Genre: Greek mythology/ ballet school AU, Angst, villain YN.

Word Count: 11 305

Warnings: Mentions of injury, swearing, the word boobs once, backstabbing (because that's showbizz babyyy), Villain YN, the tiktok audio "gatekeep, gaslight, girlboss" comes to mind, and the crippling pressure of never being perfect that is often found in any sport.

Description: Cupid might never be a victor when apposing Apollo in archery but he had still managed to bring the Sun God to his knees with a single of his arrows.

and he will continue to torment him for his prideful claims, for Daphne's heart will forever be pierced by Cupids led arrow.

Yeonjun, a principle dancer at the Laurier School of Ballet, had a lot going for him, he was from a well respected family within the performing arts community and had been granted a scholarship many in the school would envy him for. Sadly he did have one thing that was not going in his favour a rather tragic and unsuccessful love life, riddled with beautiful woman and men, even the lovers of his closest friends.

Until he one day finds himself Infatuated with a prize he could not attain.

A Firebird.

Honestly you could never tell if Yeonjun was actually naïve or just played dumb.

Girls and boys flocked to him and he seemed to fawn over whom ever piqued his interest most but it never lasted longer than a month, or someone cheated on someone or the relationship ended out being a fiery crash of hatred and venomous bouts in hallways with wide eyed audiences. Somehow he always acted as if he had gotten the short end of the stick, for a week forlorn before another beauty of sorts would be the centre of his attention. Sweet melodies would once again come from where ever he worked, a soft tenor promising spring and love and hope.

You steered clear.

If it wasn't an emotional roller-coaster enough being a double major, his affections would seem to be. No, you'd much rather work on your stubborn unsupple hips and relevés you always get scolded for than listen to whatever hot mess he had going on.

And god was it a loud hot mess. Your headphones blasting Dua Lipa wasn't even drowning out the heated argument between Yeonjun and his dance partner, seated in the corner of the massive practice room by the only corner without mirrors and filled with shelves for bags you keep your eyes on anything but the pair. You turn to face Jungkook who stood stretching as well but with none of the concerns of being caught as he watches curiously a humoured smirk on his lips. You had been lucky enough to be paired with the groups teaching assistant, just as well you were sure half the boys in your class couldn't even lift you. He senses your stare and looks down at where your sat opening up your hips his smirk stretching to a full blown smile, great at least someone was enjoying this spectacle. A shame really that the two strongest dancers in the class were paired up together for the showcase that would double as evaluations, it meant none of the other junior dancers would stand a chance at impressing anyone but also it was a shame that they also happened to be exes. You huff a small sigh through your nose as you get up from the floor and remove the headphones to put in your bag and to pull out the black training tutu. Jungkook had suggested it considering the challenge of the chosen dance itself that from the start you get used to how it would affect your movements, when he'd announced that the firebird pas de deux you'd nearly spilt more than half your coffee on him. It was insane, you'd thought, you were much better suited for contemporary styles and the Modern Jazz ensemble but Jungkook was patient and understanding most of the time as well as stern when necessary and since the performance would also affect his station in the school you didn't argue. Your fingers guide it over your stockings and over your leotard before fiddling where it had bent funny or folded. You turn towards the door a scowl set on your face at who ever barged in, you had booked the studio for the next three hours no one was supposed to come watch you clumsily stumble into Jungkook's arms.

A boy stood in the door way, eyes wide as it landed on you, you recognised him from around campus a friend of Yeonjuns and a classmate Seo Changbin. He wasn't all that tall but his black t-shirt was stretched taught over a broad chest and big arms, gaze sharp even hidden under his long dark fringe that swept over his forehead and eyes. His gaze matched yours and the unimpressed frown he wore disappeared for only a moment as it fell on you softening slightly as he held up a hand in a small wave to you and your partner respectfully. You dip your head in a nod as greeting before another angry curse draws his attention and yours to the bickering couple.

"Yeonjun-ah!" his voice was loud and sharp enough to make the two dancers stop.

"We will be late for class AGAIN, if you don't move your annoyingly firm ass NOW!" Yeonjun's eyes flickered to the clock above the doorway his friend had just burst through and cursed under his breath before running towards you and Jungkook to grab his bags leaving his dance partner to angrily stomp her way after him. You sweep past them in a wide arc and into the centre of the room as you test out the silky pointes arching up onto your toes and back down as you wait for Jungkook to plug in his phone to the sound system and start the music. He turns and nods at you and you take a step towards the edge of the room aware of the curious gazes on your figures. You stand ready and as soon as the whirring clarinet starts you start your leaping entrance before a twirling arabesque. One thing you cursed Jungkook for was that he managed to choose a dance that had you constantly moving. The door shut and announced they'd left leaving you to fight your way through the next three hours of strenuous technicalities.

Yeonjun would've applauded himself for his dress of choice the baggy grey sweatpants he wore over his tights and tight black t shirt he'd been training in had made it possible to switch out his own ballet shoes for some Jordan's easily enough before Changbin could pull him out of the studio by his hair. They managed to slide into the back seats of the lecture hall for music theory just on time.

"What's the dancer that was waiting with Jungkook Sunbae for you two to stop squabbling's name again?" Changbin murmured his gaze transfixed to the page of his notebook as he doodled away trying to force himself into a state of calm.

"Who?" Yeonjun frowned he hadn't cared much for the pair that waited, he was fully distracted by the small mistakes that his partner was making and would cost him his place as top student and his scholarship no doubt. Changbin looked up at him, any ounce of sympathy for his crappy partner and whatever patience he had left dissipated into the stuffy air of the dark lecture hall, how could he have so little care for the people around him daily? He'd seen you in the hallways with either a massive canvas bag or a baggy sweater over a leotard and skirt and always with a tight slicked back bun that emphasized a deadly serious gaze that often rolled back at the sight of them or rather Yeounjun and whomever he had hanging onto him that day.

"Oh you mean Y/N ?" Yeonjun eyes widened innocently, with the realization. Changbin nodded and Yeonjun shrugged his gaze lowering along with his posture as he slid down to slump his tired body into his chair.

"What about her?"

"Well... aren't they in our class? What do you think their presentation will look like? " Changbin inquired curiously as he watched his friend shrug again his eyes still trained at the slideshow the teacher was babbling over.

"Jungkook is the teaching assistant but he'd managed to pair up with a sub-par ballet dancer, poor guy. Her ankles are weak and she's too contemporary, her theatricality is commendable but mostly just makes her routines seem sloppy, why?" Yeonjun said with a small tug at the corner of his lips as he swept the dark black tresses from his eyes that never left their pacing lecturer. Because of this he missed the way Changbins irritated smirk dropped away, his lips pulling into an ugly straight line, an expression that had started showing more recently. He would agree there was room for an improvement, but there was for everyone in their class even the principle beside him. His temper was on a very short leash with his friend as he watched his arrogance grow after every break up. Yeonjun's love life was tragic, truly, and he'd feel bad for his friends pitiful attempts at relationships if he wasn't such a goddamn prick about it. Yeonjun had managed to date many a girl or boy that even his friends had some sort of interest in, always managing it in a way that made it seem he couldn't help himself and Changbin was tired of it, exhausted not even getting a chance. That small little proud smirk was still stuck on his friends face when he inquired once more.

"Are you not in the slightest bit worried that they might manage to out stage you?" Yeonjun had to muffle his loud 'Ha' with a cough as he snickered to himself his friends gaze growing darker as his frown deepened.

"Of course not but its cute that you worry for me 'Bin." Yeonjun answered with a sweet smile and a pat on the shoulder before focusing back on the class.

That would be it, Changbin thought, Yeonjuns own pride would be his downfall.

He'd make sure of it.

"Hi! Y/N, right?" the strange voice announced its presence loudly from beside the studio door, you're startled enough to drop the empty water bottle and your history book. To tired to even worry about it, you simply raise your hands over your eyes and sigh deeply, brushing the few loose strands that had managed to escape from the the gel and hairpins during the the gruelling three hour training session out of your face. One would imagine after two weeks your body would be used to it but alas. Every part of you ached, actually it was a relief not holding that 10 ton excuse of a book and you knew if you didn't open your eyes right away you'd fall asleep right there standing. You let your arms fall to your sides and raise your eyes to the culprit who stood holding your bottle and book a soft concern gracing his dark features.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mind to startle you like that." He apologizes but doesn't make a move to hand you back your belongings.

"It's okay I'm pretty jumpy by nature." You wave him off not even attempting to muster the frustration you probably should have felt.

"Have you been training for the last couple of hours?" Changbins brow furrows and his eyes trail over your figure clad in some sweatpants and your training jumper. You nod slowly and pulling your phone out of your bag to check the time you'd ran over time, since no one had booked the slot for the studio after. Jungkook stepped out of the studio dark hair swept back as he pulled on his own black hoodie.

"Oh Jungkook, just who I'm looking for." Changbin says and he rests a soft hand on your elbow as he gently guides you out of the doorway his other still holding your stuff before falling away as he stands beside you

"Changbin Madame Jeong spoke to me earlier. Are you sure about swapping places?" Jungkook gets straight to the point, his brow furrowing. Changbin couldn't blame him, being evaluated on your dance ability and your ability to choreograph a piece from scratch was completely different.

"It's not like I have much choice, Tzuyu won't be back anytime soon with a torn ACL." Changbin hears your shocked gasp, and turns his head to observe your hand over your mouth and eyes wide at the shocking news. With classes being suspended for the rest of the semester and such a large group few people had known of her injury.

"What's going to happen now?" You ask eyes wide with concern as you look between the older man and your classmate.

"Jeong had suggested Changbin take my place in your performance and I participate in my own years evaluation." Jungkook said with an apologetic expression down at you, your tired features barely even managed a proper frown.

"What?"

"It's still a month and Changbin is one of the best dancers in the group, you'll be fine." Jungkook wore a guilty expression as he scratched the back of his head as he watched your shoulders hunch over, folding in on yourself as you start to slowly loose hope.

"Hey! Don't do that, you know I'll even come help out if you need me!" he grabs you by your shoulders and force you to look at him, he doesn't break the stare down until you nod. You were furious, not only was this inconvenient but it would effect the outcome of the rest of your studies at this school. But you couldn't even muster any of the energy you needed to be upset about it after a gruelling session.

"Whatever," You shake Jungkooks hands off your shoulders and take your stuff from Changbin who'd been watching the exchange with a nervous nibble at his plump bottom lip.

"We're doing Firebird, I'm sure Jungkook will inform you of how atrocious I am." You turn on your heal and walk away because honestly, fuck that shit.

"Hey I think we got off on the wrong foot I'm Cha-" Changbin stood leaning behind the studio door waiting for you to show up. You had contemplated not showing, because who cares at this point? Not Jungkook, not Changbin and certainly  not that piece of work director Jeong.

"I know who you are, don't worry." You interrupt him as you fiddle with a hair pin that was practically indented into your skull with the way you had furiously stabbed it into the bun. Changbin to his credit musters the decency to look guilty.

"This isn't ideal for either of us but I have faith in us." Changbin says softly and you nearly bark a laugh in his face, you instead settle for a scoff. Yeah, sure he'd be fine he was a top student, technically near perfect almost better than Yeonjun only lacking the physical stature that would be needed to accommodate taller partners, where you're bottom tier at least in ballet, a charity case and no doubt a relief to be rid off, Jungkook was probably ecstatic knowing you weren't his responsibility anymore.

"Yeah, we'll see how you feel after the next three hours buddy." You pat him on his shoulder before brushing past him into the studio at 12 sharp. Changbin with a frustrated glower follow you, you weren't going to make this easy.

He steps in to the sound of Yeonjun's ex yelling at his friend and he can't help but feel a little better about this mess, he doubted you'd snap at him like that.

Your judgement was obvious, your face like an open book as you observed the pair going at each other. But it wasn't just disapproval, it was a corner of a lip tilted in a smile laced with pity. Changbin just wasn't sure if it was for Yeonjun or his partner.

He guessed it was the latter rather, by his past experience of being pinned with a scrutinious stare every time he was with his friend.  You weren't part of the plan in anyway, in fact he really was praying to what ever immortal beings existed in the realms of the heavens the two of you would perform a passable performance at least, but there was always another way to throw Yeonjun of his game.

Love.

His ex was playing a big role in her reluctance to cooperate and he didn't even have to do much about it, in fact Changbin didn't have to do anything about it but that wouldn't be enough. It wasn't Yeonjuns first challenging partner, he'd manage, highly stressed but he'd still  do his best.

"Changbin?" Your voice breaks his stare from the pair as they train through their rendition of Apollo and one of the muses dance and he notes that you're already in the black tutu over your not so traditional leotard. It wouldn't be a problem if the zip that ran down it's front was done up like most other students wore it. He swallowed hard, he didn't blame you, he'd heard that leotards were constricting, he just didn't realize it would do a better job than a push up bra.

"If you're done could we possibly get them out of here?" He doesn't miss the small smile that graces your features before turning around to face the mirrors and finish your stretching. Changbin clears his throat as he quickly changes out of his sneakers.

"Yeonjun, times up!" His voice booms over the music and shocks you enough to come up from the back bend you'd been stretching in, unwinding a supple arch until you're stood straight again, only to be met with a different sharp gaze from under black strands. Yeonjuns dark eyes are trailing over your torso as he makes his way over towards his bag, you keep your face straight as your fingers find the zip on your front, you taunt him a small drag down, his tongue sliding over his full bottom lip, before zipping it all the way up.  You keep yourself from laughing at the way the softest pink dusts his cheeks and his eyes divert as you pass him, you'd think they'd never seen a pair of boobs before the way these boys were acting.

"You ready?" Changbin calls over, his brow raised. He hadn't missed the brief exchange and you meet his gaze.

"I am, but do you know the choreography?" Your brows raise and Changbin gives you a smug little smirk as  answer and starts the music.

"ohmygod you're worse than Jungkook!" You babble. You swear you can hear your hips breaking as Changbin pushes down through his arms keeping your knees on the worn hardwood floor. Solid, warm muscle is pressing into your back as he leans over you.

"Stop complaining it's only a few more seconds." He huffs out, but when you tilt your head up you're met with a grin through your watery eyes. The timer goes off and you suck in a deep breath as Changbin lets you relax out of the pose. The session had been hard, he'd managed to point out technicalities that Jungkook had managed to miss or rather chose to ignore when he suggested cooldown your legs nearly gave out, it was outrageous the best modern dance program at a fucking ballet school. You weren't built for this. You lie back with a huff and watch as Changbin sets another timer.

"More?" This was crazy and he shakes his head with playful grin.

"It's only helping you." He points out and takes your now sweatpants clad legs and straighten them out for you before taking one ankle and pushing it up and towards your chest. This isn't nearly as difficult but it was uncomfortable. His arm that wasn't holding your leg was pushing your hips down to assure it from lifting and although he was sat kneeling between your legs he was still half hanging over your face. Sharp cologne, mixed with sweat was filling your airways and a thin silver chain dangled from around his neck as his he watched you. You clear your throat and head of all of your inappropriate thoughts.

"How'd you know the choreography?" You ask softly but jot your chin out just a little to assert yourself more.

Changbin smiles down at you.  The last three hours had been the most time he'd spent with you, in the last two years and he couldn't help himself, he enjoyed your company. Your confidence, your focus and drive. Your being aware of yourself, wo you are and your bold assertion of it had made him more comfortable than intimidated.

"Jungkook and I ran through it last night after you threw a temper tantrum and ran off." He watches your eyes roll dramatically ready to snap back at him with something sarcastic or mean but he doesn't give you the chance too.

"I'm also pretty familiar with it, I've done parts of it before." Your mouth closes and brows knit in a frown at the interruption and he chuckles at the expression. His fingers trail along your calve softly as he sits back and releases his grip on your ankle to do the same with the other one. But when he leans back over you his face is serious, brows drawn pensively together and lips in an angry line.  You leave it, to tired to pry.

"Y/n... I- what would you do if I made a proposition?" His sharp stare flicks from where it was staring at the floor and to your face and you squirm slightly.

"Depends, what's in it for me?" Your voice is low as each of you regard the other with hesitancy.

"An A+." Changbin answered and you laughed.

"You're funny."

"Y/N. I'm serious." You settle down and he pins you with a determined stir.

"I want to beat Yeoujun. I want his scholarship, and I want principle."  Your eyes widen at that. You didn't have much against Yeonjun besides the fact that he was annoying and reeked of talent but did nothing with it.

"That's a little harsh isn't it? I get principle but the scholarship? Aren't you guys friends?" You inquire curiously and Changbin lowers his head to avoid your gaze. When he looks back up his tongue is stuck in his cheek as he grins.

"You'd think? Either way he sure as hell doesn't fucking act like it." He says it with a little bitter chuckle. The two of you sit in that loaded silence, filled with secrets, and revenge and jealousy for a moment just staring at the other.

"What do you say?" He's leaning closer and his words just above a whisper as he continues to regard you a moment longer, eyes flickering over your face trying to read your expression the tension was palpable if you stuck out the tip of your tongue you'd taste it and Changbins lips.

The glass doors click open.

"Am I interrupting something?" A familiar voice calls and dripping with smugness. Changbin watches as you roll you eyes and sits back with a little smile as he lets go of your leg and ankle. Yup, definitely the right candidate.

You sit up from the floor and look over at the door where Yeonjun is leaning a little grin on his face as he takes in the sight of the two of you, Changbin idly resting in between your thighs.

"It's called stretching, I'm sure you've heard of it before. You know, being a ballet dancer and all?" Changbin retorts and helps you to stand. His hand rests softly in the small of your back and gives it a soft pat  to nudge you towards your bags. You zip the leotard down again, so you can breathe and fiddle your phone out of your bag to check the time and slip your feet into your sneakers. You still had 20 minutes of your session left, how rude.

"She joining us?"

"I can hear you." You voice is sharp as you basically rip your bag off the ground and walk towards them. You pause beside Changbin shifting your weight to one side as you cross your arms over your chest and let your eyes wander over Yeonjun's figure,  tall and strong and delicate features, gender envy if you've ever seen it. God he was perfect, so hopelessly beautiful and and torturously seductive, strong figure dressed in a white shirt taught across his chest and sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips.

"I'll do it." You turn your head and face Changbin who tries his best to hide his panic.

"What? Join us for dinner?" Yeonjun scoffed.

"Oh, how lovely I've been upgraded from object to person worth addressing directly. No, I would rather not join. " You retort and turn to face Changbin and soften your features in a smile as you let your hand rest on the tan skin of his bicep. The same one that had effortlessly lifted you into the hair for two hours as if you were air.

"I'll text you."

Yeonjun watches you with an aghast smile as you push past and waltz out of the doors.

"Quite the partner you got there." Changbin had been watching your figure through the glass doors and smiled to himself.

"Sure is."

The door clicked shut behind them and Changbin tossed the hood of his black hoodie over his still slightly damp hair as they made their way out of the building.

"How's your training going?" Changbin inquired out of courtesy. Yeonjun had been breezing through the almost abandoned school hallways beside him almost without a worry.

"I think she'll claw my eyes out, maybe it'll be a good thing, then I can't see all the mistakes she's making." Yeonjun huffed his arms that he'd stretched up and above over his head flopping to his sides on frustration and Changbin laughed a little at that.

"How about you?"

"It's only been a day, but she's really not as bad as you make her seem. I've never met someone who works so hard in something she won't need." Changbin shoved his hands into his pockets as they make their way across the parking lot.

It was true. Despite your complaints about stretching, you'd let him run you through every part of the routine without any reluctance. Everytime he stopped and restarted, picking at a millisecond misstep, a finger a touch out of place, or an arm not soft enough, you'd let him do so without even so much as slight glimpse of reluctance. You'd take the critisism and focus on improving every single time, Jungkook had also managed to pick a character that suited your theatricality Yeonjun had previously criticised you for. You had even managed a lack of reaction at his fumbling in the different lifts, patiently letting him get used to it.

"That doesn't always make you good." Yeonjin pointed out as Changbin unlocked his car. Changbin had to keep himself from trying to rip his driver side door off at the sudden comment. Instead he takes a moment to pause as he leans against the car roof.

"What? Was that a little harsh?" Yeonjun said in a rather insincere tone from across the car roof.

"Get in the car." Changbin grumbles in answer.

"Forget about the evaluation for a second." Changbin mumbles through a mouthful of burger. It wasn't the best dietary choice but it had been a while he'd worked so hard for such a long duration of time, not because he had to make up for what you lacked but because your determination to do well fuelled him to do the same. Yeonjin was eating away at a plate of fries and looked up at his friend curiously.

"What do you think of YN?" Yeonjun pauses slightly.

There was no denying it, there wasn't many dancer's like you at Laurier, there was actually no other dancers like you. You were an enigma. Few would suffer through years of dance programs that weren't related to their focus, or even suffer through entrance exams in forms that weren't trained just to follow their dreams. Besides that, you held a seductive air, it was part of your muscular, curvier build that many of the female ballet dancer's lacked. You were stronger, your leaps and jumps far higher than most of the female student body and closely matching some of the boys in the classes best even. Your eyes were definitely what had caught Yeonjun's attention but not because they were a particular colour. Rather it was the firey emotion that constantly burned in them. You were passionate. Whenever his eyes met your sharp gaze he saw flames burn, gold and warm.  And he'd be lying if he didn't say he envied it, just a little.

"She's pretty."

Changbins brow raises as if implying, that's all?He knew Yeonjun to well and there was clearly more to the loaded statement.

"Fine, she's more than pretty, but does that really matter? Let's be honest neither of us have been big on locker room talk 'bin." Yeonjun says pointedly and Changbin nods pensively gazing up at the ugly florescent lighting in the dingy diner. He guessed that's maybe why Yeonjun had swiped Felix out of his grasp in an instant. Because Yeonjun never cared much to discuss whom his friends might be interested in. Either way, Changbin doesn't see Felix around anymore unless he passes by a room scheduled for the younger groups ballet sessions.

"I guess you're right. I'm just asking, because I like her shitty attitude and I know most of the girls are stuck up but her words have a bite to it that I think makes her different." Changbin says out loud and steals a fry from his friend who looks him on affronted. But the words are heavy on his ears. Yes the bite, fire. Yeonjun thought, fire that burns red and angry.

"You have the weirdest taste."

"Yah, we have the same taste so don't go around insulting me just yet." Changbin said and tossed a piece of lettuce at Yeonjun but it fell short next to his plate instead.

"Yeah well, you're on your own this time." Yeonjun scoffed and wore half smirk as he picked up the glass of ice water.

"Are you sure?" Changbin said softly his sharp chin resting on his hands as he stared at his friend, eyes narrowed. Yeonjun didn't like it. Like he knew that it was a desperate dismissal of obvious attraction. His critique of your horrible technique and inexperience was something he's used to brush off his crush in his first year at the school because how could you ever be what he wanted ? You sucked and had no friends, in all honesty you were extremely bad then and he couldn't help but wonder how the fuck you made it all the way to third year evaluation.

"I think you're lying." Changbin said with a tiny smirk one that most definitely had the devil hiding behind it.

"I don't think you just happened to remember her name Yeonjun." Changbin said and chuckled as he pulled his wallet out and dug out some cash that he put on the table to cover their dinner.

"You're delusional." Yeonjun hissed and shot him a glare as he collected his bag and hoodie. Changbin was halfway to the door when he turned to face his friend again.

"And you're a terrible liar."

The atelier was empty except for the three of you. The blonde was tall and lanky, built like a dancer himself but here you were, at a fashion school. When Changbin said  he knew someone who could help with costumes you hadn't expected this.  You hadn't expected him to drag you halfway across the city in a really nice car on a Saturday morning, picking you up with a bag  filled with a white tutu in your size and some craft items to take you out to a completely different art school.

"Changbin, I hate you."

"Come on! Hyunjin you have a costume design practical next semester and all you have to do is decorate a to and spray paint a white tutu red." Changbin tried to reason but the tall, handsome man remained unimpressed.

"I hate you." Hyunjin seems to stand his ground as he stares down his shorter friend, you bite down on your lip at the exchange and your eyes widen slightly as his glare lands on you.

"But I'll do it. Only since I'm poor and you're paying rich boy." Hyunjin held up a finger before dramatically sweeping long blonde hair out of his face. You feel a sigh of relief pass through your lips for some reason.

"Also your partner is stunning." Hyunjin said with a vapid flap of his one hand in the direction where you sat. You raise your brows and smile as Changbin shoots you a quick pained glare, "You'll have to give me her number so I can use her as a model in the future for a few projects."

You sit up a little straighter at the sound of that, Chin tilting up proudly.  It wasn't that you were insecure, that wasn't the case at all. It was just that you were constantly in an environment were the bone thin and light ballet dancer was the beauty ideal and you didn't match it. It was nice, getting out and being reminded that you're most definetly an enviable beauty for some.

"We'll do fittings at your school next week." Hyunjin huffed as he pulled out the things Changbin had brought along.

"Really?" Hyunjin holds up a black t shirt and Changbin shrugs.

"You're supposed to be a prince, I can't just make you un upgraded t-shirt!"

"I would like to state for the record, that I said that too." You raise your hand and Hyunjin slaps Changbin over the back of the head and you snicker that you hide behind a cough.

"Why won't you listen to her? You're a real piece of work."  Hyunjin shakes his head and lets out a frustrated huff before pulling the measuring tape around his neck and using a finger to tell Changbin to turn.

"It won't do, I'll make you a proper coat." Hyunjin started taking Changbins measurements, wen he said a number out loud you jumped realizing he was expecting you to write it down for him. You scramble and make your way over to the book on the table beside them writing down the numbers for him.

"Thank you for being such a wonderful assistant." Hyunjin says and his warm smile has your own lips tugging upwards.

"Anytime." you assure him and he surprises you as he takes your hand and plants a soft kiss on your knuckles before turning to face his friend.

"You. If you ever try to bring me a t-shirt and think you're overthrowing a prince with it again, I will choke you." Hyunjin scolds and you raise a brow at the title curiously.

"Prince?"

"Yes, its a nickname we gave Yeonjun since he has everything." Hyunjin explained.

"Everything?" You push and Hyunjin looks over at Changbin who gives a nod of encouragement.

"Yeonjuns always been a talented dancer and well, his family is pretty well off being some of the largest investors in the art community but he also has that wonderful scholarship that his dads company has at the school."

"It's his fathers company?" That was news to you, probably because you didn't have any friends to gossip with at the school.

"And everyone's okay with it?" You ask, your face unable to hide your obvious disgust.

"Well whats anyone going to do about it? Talk to Jeong? He's her prodigy." Hyunjin reasoned.

"But the students...", You try to reason and Changbins shake of his head shuts you up.

"Don't care, everyone wants to be his friend, fuck him or already has."

"On that solemn note, please leave so I can offer up my free time to this nightmare of a project." Hyunjin shoo's the two of you out.

Once you're buckled in the seat of the passenger side of Changbins car you wait patiently as he fiddles with the buttons on the stereo.

"What's your plans for today?" Changbin asks and you shrug.

"I don't have any, unless you want to train. In which case I'm fully booked." You can't help your smile as he cackles brightly.

"Wanna do something? I mean we haven't really had time to discuss any of our uh, approaches?" Changbin struggles to fine a subtle way to say revenge plot and this time its your turn to laugh.

"What did you have in mind?" Changbin grins and starts his car as an answer.

"Changbin I can't afford anything on this menu." You hiss with wide eyes and he waves you off, as if you weren't struggling to do the maths that would keep you from compromising your already strictly ramen noodle diet.

"It's my treat then." You can't help the grimace, what was it with these super rich art school kids. You sit back in the to nice chair and stare at his eyes wandering the menu.

"Why me?" His brows dip in question. "Why did you ask me to help you with the Yeonjun issue?"

An acknowledging nod signals his understanding but he's still quiet for a moment to long.

"Your a bit of an odd case. You seem to severely dislike him and well you are something he can't have."

"Please continue." He puts his menu down on the white table cloth gently before resting his chin on his intertwined fingers.

"The Choi's, as lovely and charitable as they are, expect  perfection perhaps not from everyone but definitely from their son." You sit upright in your seat, curiosity piqued.

"You aren't exactly what is considered to be daughter-in-law material and that's not because you aren't pretty enough because lets be honest you're gorgeous. It's simply because you aren't part of the family's close friends, specifically one of the shining stars." You can't help the blush tinting your cheeks at the compliment mid explanation and Changbin notices despite the extremely soft lighting casting a glow on everything, enough to give you a small smile and a coy head tilt.

"Yeonjun doesn't have a lot of options but his romantic escapades," Changbin breathes out a humourless chuckle, "Let's just say, that's how he rebels."

"That still doesn't explain my unattainability?" You raise a brow and sit back in your seat again.

Changbin reaches over the table, careful of the vase filled with bright orange flowers and takes one of your hands softly in his own, the action was odd but not enough to alarm you.

Yet.

"Yeonjun always wants to be the best and for a while, actually, too long he has been." Changbins eyes are trained on your hand, having turned it over so he could trace the folds and lines of your palm with his fingers.

"Y/N, it takes one simple challenge. A suggestion that he might not be the best and his pride would rule him. He'd be so focused on proving everyone that his station is deserved, that he is in fact the best,  that he'd be to blind to see his own downfall coming."

"He assumes that everyone has placed him on the same pedestal that he had placed himself on his entire life, so that the idea of someone not doing so doesn't exist to him."

Changbin looks up from your hand dark glare trained on your face.

"You don't like him, and he can't believe it."

"You like me more, would rather be partnered with anyone but him?"

You nod slowly to confirm that Changbins observation is correct.

"He can't have that. He'll become obsessed with proving that you're wrong in doing so." Changbins gaze is back on your palm, his soft tracing sending a ghost of shivers down your spine.

"So not only aren't you what his parents expect but you also seem to have a solid dislike for him. It wasn't the plan, honestly." Changbin looks up at you hand squeezing yours now as if it would convey his promise as truthful.

"But it sure is convenient." You say lowly and he nods, suddenly not so sure about how good of an idea it was asking for help. He wasn't sure if the blank mask you wore could because of inner turmoil, for all he knew his explanation could have completely changed your mind in helping him out. He lets go of your hand, sliding his own back slowly his eyes fixed on your face waiting for your next reaction.  What it would be, what he was waiting for he didn't know but it certainly wasn't what he had expected.

The soft chuckle wasn't unwelcome but it was definitely confusing.

"Wow, how does that saying go? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Yeonjun took that pretty seriously, huh?" Changbin doesn't fail to see the irony.

"Don't get me wrong,  we were friends and in some twisted way I'm sure we still are."

"But?"

"But I'm tired of losing to him." Changbin slinks back into his seat hands off the table and falling helplessly to his lap.

You encourage him to continue by pouring water from the jug on the table into his glass as if its a stiff drink, like the one he seems to need.

"There was this one guy. Fuck, was it bad. He's sweet and his cheeks would squish up and make it impossible to count the freckles that was all over his cheeks and nose. I wasn't even crushing, I practically skipped that whole step and boy did I make it obvious." He was sitting back up and he wore a half assed grin one that held more than its fair share of sadness.

"No one missed it, so either Yeonjun was impossibly blind or clearly was trying to make a point." Changbin resorted to finally reaching for his glass of water but simply opted for staring at the droplets running down the side of the glass.

"So he swooped in, charmed the living daylights out of him before I could blink, promptly broke his heart and now Felix doesn't speak to any of us anymore."

"Felix? As in Felix Lee?"  The description Changbin had given wasn't terribly subtle, but it was still somewhat of a surprise.

"Yeah and unfortunately my friend didn't just betray me he broke my heart without even thinking about it twice or having the decency of  asking if my puppy dog eyes meant something."

The revenge plot was starting to make sense and as much as you didn't like Yeonjun, Changbin might've let it slip that his opinion of your ballet abilities wasn't the highest. Of course sticks and stones, but you couldn't help growing fond of Changbin a bit of a Dark cloud that hid a bundle of charm and softness that had seeped past your cold exterior. Dammit you'd even consider him a friend, your first at Laurier.

He was still clearly worried that whatever it was he was planning you'd say no too, weary glances from his hands on his glass to you. You offer him a small grin to soothe his worries.

"Oh don't worry, you still have me in your corner Binnie."  You say gently before sitting forward. "Now, what's the plan exactly?"

Yeonjun watched as your hair followed with your twirls, the red and gold feathers bouncing along with the tutu as you playfully one two stepped into a pirouette with a big smile, your eyes alight with joy as you giggled. The pretty glimmering costume sparkled brightly and he couldn't help but think that your smile seemed blinding in comparison. He'd never seen it before, such happiness coming from you while doing ballet. Granted, you were doing a terrible job at practicing proper technique or steps but the freely stepping to releve and the flowing of your arms  with the glittering feather arm bands made you truly seem like a firebird, free and joyous and beautiful.

Changbin was right the character suited you and perhaps he had maybe judged your talents as a dancer too harshly.

Your playful twirls excited grins and entertained light hearted chuckles from your audience, Hyunjin even going so far as to give you applause for your impromptu show.

"Okay, okay. Come here pretty girl so we can check that the feathers don't come off or it gets in the way." Changbin stood up his coat  black coat with the golden embellishments and lapels open over his white t shirt and he held out his hand for you to except. With a playful tug he pulled you into his chest where you giggled softly. Changbin held you in a couple of releve twirls before the two of you got serious as the two of you turned serious and he manoeuvred around the costume you to lift you as previously practiced.

Jealousy, it bubbled up inside of Yeonjun like a black sticky tar at the sight of you and one of his closest friends so comfortable with each other, in synchronization as if you two had known each other for years and not only two or three weeks.

This crush, or at least the acknowledgement was becoming dangerous. He was starting to fall back into his regular patterns, the ones he knew all to well. Looking for a specific head of hair in a crowd, a black zipped down leotard, eyes that burned with hellfire, without even thinking about it, second nature almost. He was on a downhill drop to being absolutely infatuated and this new version of you, free and happy it was only stoking the hearth in his heart. It wasn't helping his cause.

For once he felt like he'd lost to Changbin.

Be it because he knew you so well, or because he had the burden of being your partner or perhaps because he was the one to witness your joy or perhaps instigate it.

He'd never really been sure what incited your icy exterior and furious glares in his direction. He'd avoided you for most years  but now he was wondering if rather it was the other way around and why it was bothering him that you would.

He'd never considered himself to be narcissistic and yet, what would force you of all people to stay so far away from him? Few who weren't exes and even then few of those actively tried to avoid Yeonjun in the way he was quickly piecing together that you had. Finally it would seem you were in arms reach, not so far away. Changbin was his link to you now, he might just have a shot at pulling you closer, pulling you towards him, the same way you had started pulling him towards you.

The night had started off wild,with too many  beers and too many soju bottles littering the countertop of Wooyoungs apartment when the three of them left. That it was crazy getting more when they met up with a few other s but he didn't realize it would result in this.

"Yeonjun whats your deal man?" Wooyoung said bright smile and cheerful giggle following after as he slung an arm over his much taller friends shoulders and pulled him into a hug, never scared of affection but it was too much. It was a lot with the buzz and the loud music and the smoke filled air.

"I don't have a deal." Yeonjun grumbled but didn't even try to shove his friend off of him.

"He's just mad that my dance partner doesn't like him." Changbin said with a teasing lilt but that obnoxious little smirk was rubbing him wrong. This time he did shove Wooyoungs arm off of him as he stepped closer and peered down at Changbin, bare of the grin he'd previously worn. He wasn't tilting his head back to meet Yeonjuns stare no instead e simply looked up through his lashes his dark glare daring Yeonjun to  do what he so desperately wanted too, knowingly.

"Admit it, you're jealous." Changbin said softly the same smirk growing as he knew his words hit true to their mark. He could tell by the way Yeonjun stiffened.

"You can't have her, she doesn't want you." His words were barely a whisper but the way Yeonjuns anger was zeroing in on his friend, blocked out all other sounds, "And nothing you do will change her mind."

"Because she doesn't care and guess what? You aren't as fucking great as you think you are." Yeonjun shoved Changbin back and was ready to swing when someone pulled him back to no avail as he stepped closer to Changbin who promptly stopped him from landing any hits as he took a hold of his wrists before both of them were promptly ripped apart.

"Go cool off!" Wooyoung practically pushed Yeonjun into one of their other friends who was standing behind him as he pulled him away from Changbin who was steadied with a firm hand on Wooyoungs chest .

"Go!" Wooyoung voiced again, louder and Yeonjun ripped himself away as he shoved his way through the thick crowd.

This place had been playing tricks on his mind since he got here, what had brought Changbin to suggesting this place from their usual spots?

The energy was strange here, it was something other from just dancing in the air. No here, the thickness of lust and sex seemed to hang in the air. It was starting to make him act up in ways he never would've dreamed of.

Yeonjun swept the cold water over his face. This was outrageous he'd never even thought of picking a fight with Changbin at least not physically.  He breathed out sigh before sweeping the damp black tresses and back out of his face he straightened only to be met by the sight of you. He must be really drunk to be hallucinating now. He blinked hard and realized that it wasn't a hallucination. A bright yellow fish darted across his vision and his brain caught up with his vision. The men's room was separated from the women's by a bright fish tank, one that stretched its length glowing bright and filled with an array of both large and small colourful fish.

You haven't noticed him, eyes trained on the small compact in your hand as you reapplied the lipstick shade you had selected to wear for the evening.

It wasn't love at first sight. No, he'd seen you before, on numerous different occasions but now...

The sight of you sobered him up more than the cool water ever could, hair that was usually pulled back now framing your face, figure graced in a short white dress , with a generous neckline much like that leotard you favoured, the golden lighting above the individual sinks lighting up your skin made you glow.

It definitely wasn't love but something had changed, maybe it was him finally admitting his pining for you.

Your eyes caught his as soon as you snapped the compact shut, not a hint of surprise dawning on your features.

Instead you hold his stare as you put everything back into your small clutch a ghost of a smile on your face as you step back from the glass and walk away, only breaking the silent battle when the door hides your figure.

Yeonjun darts out of the bathroom and immediately seeks the figment of his imagination his head must of conjured because it was impossible, that you'd appear here, in the midst of all his way to high strung out emotions. He caught a glance of your figure sashaying through the crowds that seemed to move aside at the meer sense of your presence, everyone making space for you as you pass, to afraid to even graze themselves against you. Yeonjun squeezes through the gyrating figures,  tall long body squeezed out and pushed out of the way, his idea to follow in your wake becoming exceptionally difficult with each surge of the bass and bright flare of  light. White strobes creating stop motion images of the people dancing around him.

As he finally escapes the dancefloor he spots your figure leaning up against the bar, Changbin leaning over it as he whispers something in your ear that tempts a beautiful grin to your lips. Yeonjun immediately pushes away the ugly head of anger that threatened to instigate another fight and plastered on a smirk before sliding in beside the pair of you.

It was strange seeing him through the fish tank damp black strands hanging over his heavy lidded eyes and pouty lips parted aghast. You'd never seen him in anything other than sweats or dance clothes, you would be lying if you didn't say the white muscle tank didn't look good on him, long lean arms, toned enough that as he leaned against the sink you could see the way the muscles in his shoulders moved and now you could see he had paired it with some black jeans that came up high enough to accentuate  his enviably tiny waist.

"Changbin, sorry for interrupting but I'd like to invite Y/N to the dancefloor?" His eyes stayed glued to your face and you dared a glance towards Changbins whos dark analytical gaze encouraged you to play the game.

"And why would I dance with you?" You tease, acting coy as you fiddle a strand of hair around your index finger he bites as he leans closer with his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Well I don't believe we've ever had the pleasure of being partners and well it might be best in a space you'd be comfortable." He leans back with a grin one that so obviously says he's proud of his little insult.

"Is that so?" You barely keep the snappiness out of your tone as you glare him down. Yeonjun tries to suppress the chills the look is giving him. You hand your purse over to Changbin and walk past him a shove at his shoulder, your heels making you tall enough to dare the push without it seeming pathetic. Yeonjun chuckles incredulous before turning on his heels to catch up with your long strides, by the time he's close enough to reach you he realizes you've managed to find people that seem to be your own friends judging by their friendly smiles and the way they made space for you the song the DJ was currently playing resembled dance hall and all though he was aware that his mind severely undersold your dancing abilities he wasn't expecting the sight in front of him. With not a single care for the shortness of the dress or the vulgarity of the moves your hips seemed to lead your body in a seductive rhythm that had Yeonjun staring even if he was sure it was inappropriately. Every time you caught his eyes, your grin told him he'd lost. He didn't even stand a chance to start with. He would've had better luck in the dance studio.

It felt good, a different kind of thrill. Shutting him up even if it was for just a little while, especially after you heard what his opinion was of your dancing ability.

He trailed you back to the bar and with a defeated smile watched you order a drink.

"I have severely underestimated you, I apologize." Yeonjun says with that same small grin and a shake of his head and you beam.

"Apology accepted." You chuckle and brush your hair out of your face as you watch him.

"I really messed up." Yeonjun bites down on his bottom lip and you force your eyes away from his plump pouty lips to his eyes.

"Yes you did." You agree and he chuckles brightly and loudly.

"I meant," He steps closer, leaning down lips brushing up against your ear as he lowers his voice,"If I had just been honest with myself, you might have been doing those moves on me." He pulls back and your head is a whirlwind of thoughts. Honest with himself?  What was that supposed to mean? Either way it didn't matter, your stomach and well other parts of your body were fluttering dangerously at the implications of his words. Your drink arrives and so does Changbin who saddles up to your side comfortably, his arm wrapping around your waist and you let him so you can lean into his strong body and take some pressure of your feet in their heels. Yeonjuns gaze darkens.

"I'm happy we came, this place is way cooler than the uptight clubs we always go to." Changbin announces and Yeonjuns brow dips, he didn't think this place was all that great but judging by the sweat that was dotting his friends forehead, the music and his chosen partners were the reasons behind his high praise.

Your butterflies still hadn't calmed and the alcohol made you dare the chance.

"You finally ready to be my dance partner properly?" You shoot a grin in Yeonjuns direction, one he missed because he was busy staring at Changbins arm around your waist.

"Yeonjun?" You call and it finally seems to click you were talking to him.

"Of course." He dares a grin and bows slightly as he offers his hand formally, you scoff and with a roll of your eyes take the hand offered. He laces his fingers through yours and pulls you away from Changbin's grip only letting go to hold your hands up so you could spin.

One thing you realized,  Yeonjun was a sore loser. He'd stepped into your space as the songs continued to switch through the mix list, this only resulted in him proving his own ability to follow a beat in time with your movements. Pressed closer together the air only got stickier, and you could feel the cold drops of sweat running down your spine as time was lost to you and apparently all form of  rational thought too. It was only when a tender but heavy kiss found the back of your neck that you realized, you were dancing with the enemy in a way that could possibly have you arrested for public indecency. You took a step away and turned steeling your gaze so you didn't look like the deer in headlights you had suddenly become.

Because as much as shutting Yeonjun up was fun this was making you want to find out if there was other ways to have fun with him, you couldn't promise yourself you wouldn't end up in a more compromising position with him and that was definitely not the plan. You eye him for a moment his surprised expression, hair hangning in his eyes or matted against his forehead, in a similar manner to how the white tank was sticking to his chest hand reaching out to grab your hand again. You press past a couple and dissapear back to the bathroom.

So this was how people got swept up in the hurricane Yeonjun was. Distracted by the pretty lashes, sharp eyes that devoured you whole and those terribly soft lips. Ghosts of his fingers ran over your body, everywhere he had dared to touch so surely, the spot on the back of your neck burning at the memory of  the kisses weight. You dared a look into the floor length mirror parallel to the door you'd rushed through. He'd left you a mess, sticky with sweat and smudged mascara around your eyes, breathless and hair messy. You couldn't help but wonder what power it is he possessed to so easily dishevel your appearance.  You purposefully rub at the dark circles under your eyes and dare to pat some cold water to your neck to collect yourself before entering the fray again. It wasn't hard to find him, your body now drawing towards him like a magnet as if he was the sun, tugging you into his atmosphere, but the body plastered to him quickly stops you. Life had a lovely way of reminding you why you'd avoided the beauty, his gravitational pull always seemed to have room for more. With a scoff and a reality check you press your way towards the man that still had your bag. Changbin was stuck in a booth with some other friends your purse on the table in front, whomever he'd been dancing with earlier nowhere to be seen.

"I'm leaving." Changbin shoots up as you grab your purse.

"I'll come with you." He insists and just as you're ready to politely decline a voice interrupts.

"Y/N?" Yeonjun is beside you a hand on your shoulder, brows furrowed as if concerned but a quick peak over his shoulder makes you aware the guy he'd found wasn't hanging to far off . You shrug of his hand and fix your eyes on Changbin.

"That'd be great." Changbin follows after you, hand on the small of your back as the pair of you trail towards the exit leaving Yeonjun to watch after with an empty pang in his chest. He tried to will his feet to move after you but it didn't instead, he stood glued eyes following over the crowd as Changbin accompanied you out the door with his arm around your shoulder and you tucked into his side.

Yeonjun had been left to observe you from far away for the final week before the showcase, in passing when you came in to the studio with Changbin after his own practice slot. You didn't acknowledge his presence, instead focusing on the music or your practice tutu or your pointes instead of him.

But he chalked it down to you simply trying to focus on what was to come.

When he finally did get to see you it was minutes before your peformance, dressed in gold and red. Hair slicked back and a headband of red and gold feathers over it, even with the light from the stage you glowed, shimmered with beauty and charm as you warmed up, smiling at the stage hands that passed you. He came up beside you and for the first time in a week your eyes fell on him.

"YN, I just wanted to say goodluck and well I was wondering if when we could go dancing together again?" Yeonjun was leaning up against the bar you were busy stretching on.

You laugh soft enough to not bother the other performance but still full and hearty, Yeonjun raises a brow he hadn't said anything funny.

"Sorry its just, well you must be blind." Yeonjun takes a step back as he watches her lips quirk upwards. It was just the two of them and the stage hands, Changbin was in the other wing waiting for the curtains for the rendition of the dance of the snowflakes to end. No one to witness the mask that seemed to fall away from the beautifully painted face.

"You know at first I was jealous of you. Perfect, you. With the perfect scholarship, not that you need it because of your daddy. Then I was angry because how could you waste time like that and still be so good. Well now...", Firey eyes ringed with read eyeshadow and golden flakes, disdainfully drags over his figure from head to toe.

"Now I'm just disappointed."

"Yeonjun I hate you, but not because you ever even had the chance to break my heart because lets be honest I'm not half as dumb as you think." You stop stretching as you step closer towards him where he was now frozen in place.

"No, I hate you because you have everything,  all that you'd need to be the best but you're to distracted to ever reach your full potential."

"I don't need this, I'm a modern dancer, to contemporary for the genre anyway. I don't give a fuck about Jeong." Yeonjun sucks in a breath not at the crass words but rather the quotation of his own critique of your abilities, "... but you, you're her little prodigy and you have to do well, you have a scholarship and a family name that you need to maintain. My inability to be perfect means nothing. " You brush an invisible dust particle off his exposed shoulder before continuing.

"Your imperfections though, every single little mistake, every little misstep everyone out there will be looking for exactly that, they're waiting for your downfall and me?" You look up at him blazing eyes staring at him from behind bright red eyeshadow, "well, I'm praying for it."

Even if Yeonjun wasn't speechless he wouldn't have been able to actually retaliate because a 30 second call was made for your stage. Your grin didn't falter in fact it grew to the big stage smile every dancer wore while performing as you turned away from his figure as the pair on stage passed by you at the entrance of the wing you were waiting in.  The lights on the stage lit up as Changbin entered the stage, the black velveten coat and golden decorations glimmered under the light bright and bold, but it casted a bright glow around your figure, lighting up the red and gold feathers of your tutu in a warm light only growing brighter as you started your dance onto the stage. Yeonjun eyes were glued to you, the performance that of which was visible from where he stood taking his breath away. It might've been the lack of oxygen or perhaps it was shock, the fogginess that clouded the edges of his vision as his eyes followed the soft movements of your arms, the bounce of the tutu as you leaped through the air, even the arch of your spine as Changbin hoisted you up and over his head, held you in his arms time and time again as the battle of freedom between the firebird an he prince commenced. He saw the pretty picture of sorrow and torment as the Firebird fought to break free and the prince with his own battle of caging the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in and ultimately be the cause of its death.  The longing on the prince's face as she disappears and leaves him with only a single mark of her, a red feather.

It's only then he feels the insistent tug of his partner at his arm, trying to pull him closer towards the exit of the wing for his own performance. Yeonjun tried to force himself to focus but his eyes landed on the pair a moment before walking onto the stage. Your body was being squeezed in a joyous hug, Changbin cheering silently as he spun you around, your own smile was bright, big and effervescent. Blinding just like the stage lights that obscured the audience, even the front row he knew was reserved for lecturers and special guests. He could only hear the blood rushing in his ears that's probably why he missed the first few counts. He was  behind now, muscle memory kicking in but never being enough to chase the fog far enough to catch up but only to make him more aware of the battle he was fighting to get back on beat. His body wouldn't let him, it was like there was a really strange weight keeping his legs and arms from moving right, but his head seemed to be floating, miles away from here.  Off in the wings where you had been smiling, happy in someone else's arms. Smiling as your lips move, your eyes on fire as his world falls apart a little, by little as you utter those words, those prayers , those hopes of imperfections  coming true with every note and every misstep and every delayed catch of his partners hand, he can feel it. The stuffy auditorium, how it was starting to suffocate him, the bitter taste of disappointment, of failure on the tip of his tongue as the shallow breaths passed over his dry lips and he inhaled the small particles of dust that everyone could see in the bright lights that was shining on every mistake he made.

As those curtains closed and the lack luster applause was still fuzzy to his ears, blood still rushing through it. He realized you'd wished his worse fears upon him, that they'd come true .

That those velveteen curtains blocking out the stage lights, was like the sun disappearing, that you'd burned so bright for the brief moment he'd set his sights on you. So bright he didn't realize how dark it would be when his downfall came.

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

That One Valentine’s Day Special (Captions)

Anon said: “Hello!! I saw that your wandavision requests are open and I had to request something! I’m so obsessed with Vis right now, it’s very bad. I can’t think of any specific plot ideas, all I know is that I would really love to see some fluffy Vision just head over heals in love with reader. Kisses, cuddles, all that jazz. Thank you so much ❤️❤️❤️”

Anon said: “maybe a request where it’s valentines and the reader and Wanda team up to get really dressed up and make an amazing dinner to surprise Vision, but when he comes home and sees them both he’s so flustered that either like has a shutdown or faints? And then obviously Wanda and the reader panic and spend the evening taking care of him and also teasing him for being so adorable/fainting? Thank you!!!”

A/N: Combined aspects from both of these requests to make an ooey gooey Valentine’s Day special (which got belated because I lost half of the writing when I transferred it from doc to Tumblr post :’D)!

Don’t think this is the type of dressed up you meant but I hope you like it, either way! The type of nightwear I was going for with Wanda was something like this.

Subtitles/Captions Masterlist

Tip Jar

Word count: 7,117

Warnings: Valentine’s Day sap. Lingerie, passionate kissing, and everyone being flirty (nothing graphic). Reader makes a really, really, just terrible pun in order to compliment Wanda. This was edited very late at night, so there might be a few errors.

Tag list: @cyanide-mustard @badasspolygenderfriend (These were the only two on the tag list who confirmed that they wanted to be tagged in everything WandaVision-related; if anyone else on the Subtitles list does, just let me know!)

~~~

“Hey, Wanda?” You hollered to the woman in the other room. You were standing in front of the mirror in the Maximoff bathroom, adjusting the collar of the somewhat too-big shirt you wore.

“Yes, dear?” Your girlfriend hollered back from a couple of rooms away.

“While I definitely get the why we’re doing this,” you continued, tugging the shirt’s shoulders farther to one side, then back to the other, before giving up and moving onto your hair, “with Valentine’s Day and all, you know--”

Wanda piped up, probably to assure you that she was listening more than anything, “Yes, I do.”

You snorted. “--but is there a reason we’re doing so… much?” 

As you spoke, you ran your hands through your hair, ruffling it to give it a bedhead type of look. You faltered a bit when your eyes settled on the ugly scar on your forehead that your hair couldn’t cover without being in a bizarre style. You frowned and dug a finger into the scar tissue, feeling very little other than mild pressure when you did so. 

There was a pause on Wanda’s end. “You don’t think he deserves it, working so hard this past week?”

You reeled back, insecurity forgotten, and quickly left the bathroom. You walked down the hall to where Wanda was working on her own outfit in the bedroom she shared with Vision, rambling away, “No, no, no! I mean no as in no, you’re wrong, not as in he doesn’t deserve what we’re doing. Of course, he does! To be completely honest, he probably deserves it more than anyone in town--aside from yourself, of course--but… For example, we did a lot revolving around food and… Vis doesn’t eat.”

There was another pause and you halted by the closed bedroom door, mainly to pick a rose petal from where it stuck itself to the bottom of your stockinged foot but also because you didn’t want to walk in on your partner.

“But Valentine’s Day revolves around food quite a bit, doesn’t it?” Wanda said from the other side of the door. At this point in your relationship, you could pick up pretty easily how Wanda was feeling by her tone of voice. She spoke thoughtfully, which wasn’t all that concerning, but there was a certain edge to her voice that made you worried; she was going to start overthinking and scrapping the entire idea if you didn’t interfere soon. 

You tilted your head from one side to the other while considering her statement before giving a nod she couldn’t see and responding, “I suppose you’re right there. Lots of holidays do, now that I think about it. Thanksgiving? Turkey. Easter? Candy. Christmas? Just… food in general.”

You glanced around as you spoke. You couldn’t see much of the house from where you stood in the hallway but you knew what to expect when you walked to the main part of the house. All of the house’s lights were off, save for a few lamps that washed the house with what would have been a low, cozy, get-comfortable-before-bed sort of light if Wanda hadn’t used her powers to turn the lightbulbs in said lamps from yellow to a red; because of this change, the dim light gave off a much more romantic energy that fit with the rest of your and Wanda’s decorating. Red, pink, and white rose petals were scattered all across the floor, starting from the front were, where Vision would be when he walked in after work and making a trail to different rooms of the house. One path led to the kitchen and dining area, where you and Wanda had spent a good part of the day preparing various sweet, Valentine’s Day- and romance-themed treats plus dinner and setting up the table with candles and flowers and a pink tablecloth that matched the pink rose petals. Another led to the living room, which was decorated in a similar nature. Thanks to Wanda’s ability to conjure, she was able to quickly clean up the area that was usually hidden under a mess of baby equipment, change the color of the throw pillows and blankets to the correct red and pink theme, and even had “floating” heart decorations that danced across the ceiling on transparent strings; the babies themselves were gone for the night, safe under Agnes’s care once she and you had been able to convince Wanda. Finally, a rose path, accompanied by ceiling hearts, led down the hallway until it made a fading stop at where were you currently stood, leaning next to the bedroom door. The bedroom itself wasn’t decorated and neither of you had really talked about the assumptions that could be made from looking at the trail, but what you had discussed was how many romantic movies Wanda was going to project onto one of the walls after dinner while cuddling would most certainly take place on the couch.

The third path was mainly to guide you down the hallway while Wanda greeted Vision from the kitchen. It was also to lead Vision to go change into his own set of comfy pajamas when you and Wanda would ultimately have to push him to do so after him grumbling about too tired to do so.

Poor thing, you thought while pushing yourself away from the wall. 

Being the company’s fastest and best worker, Vision had become victim to Mr. Hart doubling his workload and as a result, the gentleman had been working like a dog for the entire past week. His days had consisted of getting up way too early only to go into work and be worked to the bone, then come home and relieve Wanda of the babies--regardless of her assuring him that she’d be fine while he rested--until he passed out on the couch sometime later into the night. You’d been surprised, after learning of his synthezoid identity, that he’d need to sleep at all but you supposed anyone would need to recharge after a day like that.

You, on the other hand, had racked up some vacation days and, after a chat with Wanda about the upcoming romantic holiday, decided to add an extra day to your weekend so the two of you could do something nice for her husband. You’d probably regret this on Monday but for now, you were just happy to have spent the day working with Wanda and were hoping the rest of the night went well. 

Speaking of the woman, Wanda had been quiet for some time now, other than the sounds of rustling fabric. You decided now was a good time as any to get involved before she decided that she should do something completely different and cause all the previous work to go to waste, so you knocked. After getting a verbal invitation, you strolled in, only for a sharp inhale to almost propel you back to slam into the doorframe.

Wanda was standing in front of a full-length mirror against the far wall of the bedroom, anxiously fiddling with what little clothing she had on. She wore what looked like a bathing suit but was made out of a sheer, body-hugging, baby pink fabric and embellished with a subtle pattern of roses. Her back was turned to you but you could see from the mirror’s reflection that the piece still left plenty to the imagination with a more opaque version of the same fabric keeping her chest, the bit of fabric held snugly between her thighs, and even an upsidedown V-shaped panel that was framed by silky white bands and reached from the middle of her torso to the lower part of her hips covered. This lovely piece, clothing an even lovelier woman, was paired with similarly colored stockings of the same fabric, minus the rose pattern, and you were both surprised and amused by the addition of a string of pink pearls around her neck and one wrist with matching earrings and a pair of white low heels with a bow on the toe strap. Wanda’s hair was styled in loosely curled waves, making it look shorter than it actually was, and pushed back with a headband that could be mistaken for a minimal tiara, which was also embellished with pink-tinted pearls.

You knew that you were staring, flushed, and with eyes almost bulging out of their sockets--you knew only because you could catch part of your own reflection in the mirror, not because you could feel anything other than goosebumps-inducing tingles travel across your body--but it took Wanda laughing softly and catching your eye in the mirror to pull your slacked jaw off the floor and close your suddenly dry mouth. You eventually also tried to speak but not much other than a stammering “Uhhh…” came out and you gave up, instead choosing to scrub your hands over your face so you would at least look away.

Then Wanda dared to ask, “So, do I look okay?”

You stared at her again but this time it was one of disbelief. “I’m sorry, what?”

Wanda rolled her eyes and chuckled again at your utter belief before nervously running her hands down along a perfect set of curves. You fully believed she had no intention of torturing you by doing so but here she was, doing just that. If it hadn’t been for the awkward look on her face, makeup-free except for light lipstick and a little mascara, your gaze probably would have stayed with the path her hands made over her stomach and down to rest on her hips. You watched her gaze jump worriedly from one part of her body to the other instead.

“Look,” she continued, “I know I look okay, I know I look fine--”

Fine? Only fine? If Wanda asked you to strip naked and run through Westview while screaming her praises, you would do so without a second thought. Well, you probably would have done it regardless of what she was wearing but you wouldn’t be complaining about the extra bit of help.

“--but ever since the twins were born, I feel a little… hmph… wearing something like this.”

While you couldn’t possibly fathom how she could see herself as anything but one of the most beautiful living creatures ever, but you’d also figured out quite a while ago that she didn’t exactly see herself the same way you did. You chewed the inside of your cheek a bit before walking over and wrapping your arms around her; her own hands settled to rest on top of yours. You rested your chin on her shoulder and met her gaze in the mirror one last time.

“I suppose even goddesses have their insecure days, huh?”

Wanda laughed and rolled her eyes so hard you were vaguely worried about them rolling back into her skull. She lightly slapped your arms but still leaned back into your embrace as she scoffed, “Be quiet.”

“Wanda,” you said, “you had kids. You still look great. You look so good. So, so, so good. Insanely good. Earth-shakingly good. So pretty. Very gorgeous. Amazingly foxy. Incredibly stellar. Your mom body? Could demolish Aphrodite in a beauty pageant.”

You rambled on a bit longer before Wanda was smacking your arms again. She looked more at ease now, though, completely relaxed in your arms with her head leaning into the crook of your shoulder and one ankle loosely crossed over the other. 

“Mom body.” She snorted. “Please, enlighten me further about this mom body I have.”

You quickly shook your head and gave her reflection a warning look. “Can’t. If I say much more, it’ll upset the gods. Every single one of them. I’ll be thrown into the pits for all the sinful things I’d have said.”

Wanda’s head fell back as she laughed again; you felt the tickle of her hair against your exposed neck as you grinned against her shoulder. When she settled again, you gave her a serious look, moved your lips to kiss the shell of her ear, then muttered, “But let’s just say you’re a foxy mama in absolutely every sense of the word.”

The woman in your arms erupted with laughter once more, though this time it was short and accompanied by a gentle slap to the cheek. Then her hand rested there, holding your head close as she leaned her forehead partially against yours. 

“You and my husband,” she said with a little shake of her head, “and those ridiculous puns of yours.”

    You nodded slightly in agreement, then tilted your head to peck her cheek. “That one really was just…”

    “Awful?”

    “Yeah, no, not good.” You chuckled and reached a hand up to poke her cheek. “Made ya smile though.”

    Wanda hummed, squinting at herself in the mirror, then huffed. “I suppose.”

    There were a few moments of the two of you just holding each other and soaking up each other’s presence.

    Then Wanda just had to ask again, “Do you really think I look okay?”

    It was your turn to roll your eyes. “Wanda! You’re so pretty! You’re so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so--”

    “You tell me I’m pretty all the time,” she pointed out.

    “I have yet to be wrong,” you countered.

    She looked herself over again. Tilting her head and glancing up at you from under her lashes, she said, “You could call me sexy.”

    “I could,” you agreed, “Don’t want to make you uncomfortable though.”

    Wanda raised a brow. “Did I not just say you could?”

    You snorted. “Was my foxy mama joke not enough? Do you know what havoc me doing so would release onto the world? Would you want the gods to reject me because of my filthy language?” You leaned your head into her neck while keeping your eyes on hers. You waggled your eyebrows and lowered your voice. “‘Cause I’ll do it.”

    Wanda made a face at you, scrunching up her nose and pursing her lips in the special, incredibly cute way that only she could. Then she smiled and ruffled your hair slightly. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you calling me sexy once.”

    “Oh, nay,” you insisted, “if it happens once, it shall happen a million types! An unholy, unhinged, affectionate monster shall be released from its mortal prison!”

    Wanda hummed thoughtfully and made a show of tapping her chin and tilting her head. “Okay, deal.”

    You rolled your eyes and smiled. Giving her cheek another quick smooch, you said simply back, “‘Kay, you’re sexy.”

    She smiled back at you and did a single clap. “Yay.”

    “And, hey,” you said, tapping the scar on your forehead, “even if you weren’t a level of beauty that matched an immortal otherworldly being--impossible--at least you don’t have a scar on your face.”

    You saw Wanda’s gaze soften in the mirror before she twisted around in your arms to face you. She gently took your face in her hands and your eyes fluttered shut as she leaned up to kiss you directly on said scar.

    “I like the scars,” she said softly, “It means you survived something, even if you don’t know what it was, and I’m happy that you did.”

    Your eyes blinked back open. “Why?”

    “You wouldn’t be here for me otherwise.” 

    You huffed out a little breath, somewhat involuntarily, and were suddenly very aware of the fact that you two were practically tangled around each other now. You squished your nose against hers in a nuzzle and said in a lower tone, “Lucky you then.”

    She dropped her hands from your face to wrap her arms around your neck. She matched your tone and bumped her nose back against yours, tilting her head a bit. “Very lucky.”

    It was almost like a mutual decision when your lips crashed against each other. 

Having been prone to the feeling of floaty dizziness as a result of your migraines, the feeling itself wasn’t particularly jarring. What replaced the usual undercurrent of pulsing pain, however, was what made this dizziness feel heavenly instead of hellish. When you kissed Wanda, it was like immediate intoxication but instead of booze, it was the taste of the gloss on her lips and the strawberry flavor that still lingered on her tongue from your cooking session earlier that day and the mix of citrusy sweetness from her perfume and shampoo that made you think of candied orange slices whenever you inhaled. You’d always be too busy to mentally describe it while in the moment, far too concentrated on committing whatever part of Wanda’s body that you were touching to memory via your grazing fingertips and adding new scents, words, feelings, images, and whatever else to the catalog of things that reminded you of her in your head, but when you thought about the love-drunk dizziness that followed the initial intoxication after the fact, you equated it to being a little tipsy and stumbling into a warm home. Only this time, home was a woman whose arms and mouth kept drawing you back for one more kiss, and then five more, and the thing that made you tipsy was the way the air crackled with invisible electricity and magic, and the look in her eyes when your eyes fluttered open after parting. 

While time seemed to slow to a stop during your and Wanda’s moment, it hadn’t actually done so at all. This was proven when you heard the front door begin to open, causing you and Wanda to practically leap away from each other. She stared at you with wide, startled eyes and you couldn’t help but note your handiwork; her entire face and neck were flushed a deep red, her hair was significantly messier than it had been previously, that the lip color she’d been wearing had been partially transferred to your mouth.

The admiration could only last a moment. “You’re supposed to be in the kitchen.”

“I’m supposed to be in the kitchen,” Wanda repeated. “My lipstick is all over your face.”

You brushed a thumb over your bottom lip and it came away with a glossy pink. “Your lipstick is on my face.”

Wanda stood in front of you, suddenly frozen except for flitting eyes and hands grasping at the air while she tried to think of something. Then, with a couple of snaps of her fingers, she remembered her magic a moment later. “Oh, I can just-- You look amazing, the shirt’s a nice touch. See you out there!” She snapped once more and disappeared in a puff of red smoke just as you heard the front door swing open and Vision’s voice drifted down the hallway.

“Darling, I’m ho-- Oh.”

Then Wanda’s voice also bounced back your way from where she was probably now perched in the kitchen. Her tone was one part frazzled, two parts cheery, and five parts flirty teasing as she spoke. “Hiya, honey! Whaddya think?”

You drew your attention from their voices to the mirror that you now stood in directly in front of. The outfit you wore wasn’t nearly as polished as Wanda’s, but it had its intimate charm. While the two of you both wore stockings, that was where the similarities stopped. Your stockings were a sheer brownish-black and you wore no form of shoes with them nor any other accessories aside from your lightly ruffled mess of hair. In contrast to Wanda’s overall body-shaping attire, the pair of high-waisted silky shorts that you wore were flowy and loose, and instead of the shorts’ matching tank top with uncomfortable lace straps, you wore one of Vision’s pajama shirts that was a similar shade of red with vertical yellow and dark brown stripes. Posing a couple of different ways for yourself in the mirror, you were pleased to find the red and yellow were an almost match to Vision’s skin and the glowing gem in his forehead; with a little more pondering, you were a tad upset that the shirt you were wearing had yellow stripes instead of yellow spots.

If it had spots, you thought, I could look like a strawberry with a thigh-high chocolate dip.

Pleased with your look otherwise, you aimlessly moved about the bedroom before hovering around the doorway where you could almost make out the rest of Vision and Wanda’s conversation. The plan in place was that Wanda was going to give Vision the itinerary for the night--gifts and cards, dinner, because there was food to be eaten whether Vision ate any or not, an indoor movie theater that Wanda would magically whip up, and the rest of the night spent in romantic snuggling bliss--and then would give you a cue. When the actual process of getting the gifts came about, you were to bring said items to the living room, being somewhat of a surprise gift for Vision in your own right. You glanced towards the bed, where a white clothing box wrapped in a red ribbon sat with a trio of cards, one each from you and Wanda and one Wanda had made on behalf of the twins, who were still too young to do much on their own.

You couldn’t be sure whether it was because Wanda had slipped up and mentioned you--it was much harder to hear them from the other part of the house after their loud introductions finished--or if Vision, clever and curious man that he was, had caught on to your and Wanda’s plan already and decided to uncover it ahead of time. Either way, you suddenly caught a glimpse of Vision turning down the hallway, hovering a few inches off the ground to probably preserve the rose petal trail underneath his feet, and jumped away from the doorway before he could see you. While you couldn’t quite make out what Wanda was saying, you could hear a slight strain in her voice as she tried to get Vision to back down from his cause, to no avail. You only had a few moments to think of something and you decided to hop onto the bed and get comfortable in a casual sitting position, moving the small stack of Valentine’s Day goodies and looking coolly off to the side just before Vision floated into the room.

The soft thud of Vision landing on his feet your attention back over to the doorway and you saw him standing there rigid in his work suit, his gaze roaming over you before respectfully glancing away--only to be slowly dragged back less than a minute later. After watching this process continue a couple more times, you decided to tease him.

“Oh, hey there, crimson toaster oven,” you quipped nonchalantly, reaching up to toy with a stray piece of hair as you did, “how was work?”

Vision’s eyes settled on yours as you watched him with a cocked head. You expected some sort of reply, and for a moment he seemed like he was about to speak. Instead, though, he settled into an almost completely frozen state, jaw clenching slightly.

At first, you were amused. Then you realized he was quite literally frozen, nothing moving aside from the whirling of gear-like shapes in his irises, and your facade broke down a bit.

“Vis?” you questioned, sitting up straighter and moving the Valentine’s Day gifts aside, “you okay?”

No response.

You frowned and got up to walk over to him. “Um, Wanda?”

The Sokovian woman appeared a moment later shimmying around Vision’s form to stand next to you.

“Is he okay?” you asked.

“Oh, dear,” Wanda murmured. You watched as her gaze turned red and she looked him over, using her powers to check that his internal functions were still working properly. Eventually, her gaze stopped at his face and after squinting at him, Wanda said, “Ah. [Y/N], it appears we broke him.”

“I’m sorry?” you choked, “Broke him?”

Wanda seemed much less worried than you felt about the implications of Vision being some form of broken. She instead smiled and stepped up to him, giving you a simple “Yep” before pressing her fingers to his temples. Her eyes flashed red again and a second later Vision’s body sagged into a much more human position. “There we go.”

You blinked and watched as Vision shook himself out, flapping his hands and then rotating his arms and neck with a grumble. 

“Ah,” he said, “much better.”

You eyed him. “Everything’s chill then? His gears got, ah, de-gummed, so to speak?”

Wanda snickered. She was now tucked against Vision’s side and helping him shimmy out of his jacket.

Vision seemed to remember where he was and what was going on because his eyes flitted from Wanda to you and back. When he settled a bit more, he looked at you both in turn, his gaze making a slow, deliberate path down both your and Wanda’s bodies as he took in what each of you wore. Finally, his eyes jolted back up to meet yours, and he responded in a low, gravelly voice, “Well, right now, I’m doing absolutely marvelously.”

You grasped that everything was back on track again and a smirk graced your face. “Well,” you said, clapping your hands together and turning back towards the bed, “as long as the short-circuit didn’t fry anything, the step of the night is gifts.”

Then you were being dragged back to Vision’s side by your wrist and he had an arm around both your and Wanda’s waists. “Now, just hold on there, [Y/N]. Shouldn’t I get to spend some time with my lovely partners, especially after seeing all the effort they’ve put in? Besides, I haven’t even gotten to compliment you about your looks.” He paused and pressed a kiss to Wanda’s temple, then nuzzled the side of your neck. When he moved his head away again, he eyed the way your shirt hung loosely off your shoulders. “Is that my shirt?”

You and Wanda shared an amused glance. She’d told you earlier that day about the anniversary-Hart family dinner mishap she and Vision had had when they’d first moved to Westview, the same day you’d met the couple, and how Vision and the Harts had come home to Wanda wearing an intimate nightdress that had made Vision more than a little flustered; the story is what sparked the idea for the evening’s current attire. She ignored his comment about you wearing his clothes and decided to nudge him back to the plan as hand, brushing a hand over the suit jacket now hanging from her arm. “I don’t know about that, honey, your eyes were certainly saying something.”

Vision pouted and hummed, probably trying to come up with another reason to keep hugging you and Wanda close to his body. After a moment, he chirped, “Ah, well! I brought you each something and something for the boys, and I left everything out in the living room. We can’t open gifts without all of them, what a pity. We might as well--”

“I have an idea.” Wanda interrupted. When you looked from Vision to her, she was still smiling but her eyes sparked with a playful warning. She freed herself from Vision’s hold, much to the tall man’s dismay, and walked over to the bed. She picked up the cards and tucked them under the arm that also held Vision’s jacket, then brought the clothing box over and held it out to you. “How about I go and make sure the food is warmed up and the table is set, then get all the cards and things into one place while, [Y/N], you give Vision the one gift he should still have.”

You raised a brow as you took the box from her and watched her saunter to the door, consciously moving out of Vision’s range. “You don’t want to see him open it?”

“I saw you open one I bought for you, you get to see the one you bought him,” Wanda said simply. “And I have a feeling that we’re better off if we’re not all in the same room until things get back on track, Vision might run the risk of shutting down again.”

You gasped dramatically and pressed your free hand to your cheek. Looking at Vision with wide eyes, you whispered, “How will I warm my bagels?”

Vision narrowed his eyes and made a grumbling sound from so deep in his chest you could feel the rumble where you were still held against him. Said sound and Vision’s overall reaction so far made you perfectly happy with the idea of the night derailing a bit off course, but you knew how much of a stickler Wanda could be when she made a plan and this was just as much a night for her as it was for Vision or you. 

With no further objections, Wanda walked out of the room. The heels she wore gave her a sashaying step and neither you nor Vision were particularly upset as the two of you watched her go. Then the door was shut and you two were alone. 

“So,” Vision said slowly as he turned his attention fully to you, “this is what you’ve been up to instead of going to work today.”

“It is indeed,” you confirmed, “and before you say anything else, I know full well what I’ll be getting into when I go in on Monday.”

“I hope so. You’ll be working harder than I have all week.”

You hummed and chewed on your lip as you thought. “Maybe… I could just… quit my job…”

“Hah!” Vision laughed and waggled a finger at you. “No, no, no, no, no. If I have to endure it, then so do you.”

You grinned and turned away from his finger as if to avoid his complaint. He chuckled and tried to catch your eye, rambling away about Oh, the work we shall both do, but you merely twisted away further, feigning beautiful, blissful ignorance. You even went so far as blocking Vision’s face from your sight with the box you held, which made Vision break off briefly to laugh again.

“--and then, maybe someday you will come home,” Vision continued, catching you in his arms again and tugging you close to him, “and see both of your partners, looking very fetching and being even more wonderful than usual because they’ve set up and entire romantic evening, not only because it’s a romantic holiday but because they specifically wanted to plan something to help you relax after a particularly busy week.” He paused, then added, “And it might even be a little better for you than it will be for me because you actually get to eat the food that’s taken up the entire kitchen.”

You tittered, tilted your head in mock thought even though Vision couldn’t see it, and then lowered your chipboard shield just far enough for your eyes to poke out from over it. “Mm, now that does appealing. Just one question though.”

“Of course, darling.”

You waggled your brows at him. “Which outfit will you be wearing, Wanda’s or mine?”

Vision smirked just slightly but it was enough to set off a volcanic eruption of heat throughout your entire body. You felt his fingers suddenly brushing against yours as he started to gently pry his gift out of your hands.

He said, “Depends on what’s in the box.”

He snagged the box from your hands, revealing your blushing face, but instead of opening it right away, his arm moved around your waist to be with the other once more. He pressed his forehead against yours and you felt a different sort of warmth as the golden gem in his forehead touched your skin. He tilted his head closer still to nuzzle his nose against yours then--

You quickly turned your head away again, flashing him a wicked grin when he stared at you, dumbfounded. You draped your now free arms loosely around his neck, fingered brushing lightly against his neck and fiddling with the collar of his button-up shirt. You shuffled closer to him to eliminate what little space left there was between your body and his, looked him in the eye, and teased, “Careful now, Mr. Maximoff. Wouldn’t want to knock another screw loose in that gorgeous, handsome head of yours.”

Vision’s low chuckle vibrated in his chest, feeling almost like a purr against your own body.

“Or,” you added, “knock one too many screws in?”

“[Y/N].”

“Wind the gears too tight?”

“[Y/N].”

You looked at him innocently; the irritated scowl on his face was contradicted by the mischievous twinkle in his pretty blue eyes. “I can keep going.”

“Oh, I’m very aware of that,” said Vision in that grumbling voice that would probably make you implode every time if it were his regular speaking voice, “but we are never going to get out of this room.”

“Interesting hypothesis,” you said with a very serious nod. “You are welcome to test it or stop me at any time. Now, where was I?”

It took a smirk and a raised brow to kick Vision back into gear but then you were grabbing his face and laughing against his mouth as he all but threw himself at you.

Kissing Vision was quite different than kissing Wanda, although no less addictive. Wanda’s kisses always felt needy but not in the way that one would think. Her kisses always felt like she had been lost up until the very moment your lips would touch hers, and then she was finding refuge and trying to absorb every bit of warmth and comfort that came from the way her mouth melded against yours before the kiss ended and she was alone and lost again. She almost always felt soft and sweet against you but you could feel a wild, restrained power brewing just underneath, and her power seemed to draw out and entangle itself with a power of your own, whatever that power was; the kisses never seemed to last long enough for you to figure that piece out.

When you kissed Vision, you could never get the idea that you were kissing someone not totally human out of your head, but in the best way. One of your favorite things to do whenever you kissed him was to run your hands over his skin and explore every single uniquely intricate thing about him, like the way his skin somehow felt soft and dense at the same time and how it was just slightly textured with lines and grooves that felt inhuman or the way that he didn’t really have a heartbeat or a pulse but rather a gentle constant rumbling of whatever gave him life doing its job, and sometimes this rumbling would jolt or slow depending on where you focused your ministrations. No matter his current state of being--exhausted, flustered, distressed--he was always strong and steady under your hands like he was ready to catch you if you suddenly misstepped or fly you to safety at a moment’s notice should the need arise. You couldn’t help equating the way his mouth worked against yours with the phrase “built to please”; he was always curious and searching in the way his hands and mouth roamed, and he seemed to get the most pleasure when he figured out exactly what you needed and did that--and he was much more often than not oh so very right. 

While Wanda felt wild, Vision felt grounding. When you were kissing Wanda, you were so focused on her body and yours and the energy that wrapped the two of you up in a magical cocoon that you felt like you could start bursting at the seams at any moment. Kissing Vision got you much more out of your head, to the point where you were merely exploring him as much as he was you, which led to the occasional knocking of teeth or finding a ticklish spot that caused the kiss to break into giggles and teasing; maybe you would go back to kissing or maybe the two of you would slip into a conversation so seamlessly that you wouldn’t even notice until a couple of hours had already passed. 

You often wondered if, when you weren’t around and your partners kissed each other, if either of them felt the same thing that you did. You wondered even more often how Wanda and Vision felt kissing you.

This time, though, it was Wanda’s voice from a couple of rooms away, muffled but noticeable, that finally broke the two of you apart. 

“Any day now,” she hollered, although there was no trace of irritation in her tone. “It’s not like we only have a few hours left to celebrate Valentine’s Day or anything.”

Vision’s face scrunched up and he eyed the wall that separated the kitchen and bedroom via another room in between. “Mm, she’s got a point.”

You pursed your lips and squinted at the wall as if you would see red magic permeating it if you did so for long enough. “Do you think she X-rayed us?”

Your partner let out a short little chortle as he disentangled himself from you and looked over the box he’d managed to hang onto during your kissing session. “Even if she did, not like it’s going to be any different once we’re all in the same room together.”

“Good point,” you said. “Mm, more kisses.” You were still curious, though, so you hollered back to Wanda, “Hey, magical girl, did ya see me kiss your husband?”

All you got was a laugh back, which had you smiling. 

Then you turned back to Vision, who was toying with the box’s bow, and said, “Alright, Vis, happy Valentine’s Day. Now give me your tie and your pants.”

You and Vision joined Wanda in the dining area shortly, Vision now dressed in a dark blue set of silky pajamas that matched your own shorts of the same shimmery fabric. Wanda had lit the candles not only at the dinner table but also around the rest of the house and she’d set proper places for three at the dinner table, although only two of the places had been served with simple dinner and various sweet, gaudy treats. After the three of you sat, Wanda gave Vision his cards: a beautifully designed one with a poem on the front and a lengthy handwritten letter on the inside from Wanda, a handmade one with bad Valentine’s Day puns and flustered ramblings all over it from you, and a “hand-drawn” one from Tommy and Billy that had really been drawn childishly by Wanda again as the babies were still too young to do so themselves. As he’d mentioned earlier, Vision had gifts of his own, which included a Valentine’s Day cupcake of your favorite flavor that he had snuck from work for you, cards and flowers for each of you, and a pair of inversely colored, Valentine’s Day themed stuffed puppies for the twins. With Tommy and Billy mentioned, Vision questioned their whereabouts and was surprised that Wanda had even let them out of her sight, though somewhat appreciative.

Dinner was next and went fairly quickly. You and Wanda ate a late dinner while the three of you conversed, mainly about Vision’s day and overall week but also you and Wanda explaining how you’d planned and prepared for the date without Vision being any the wiser. Vision made a comment that he, as an incredibly smart individual with a very expansive range of knowledge, should have noticed something sooner, which led to another bout of teasing from primarily you about how he’d fried his batteries when he saw his partners dressed up in pretty clothing and one of his shirts. Then topic conversations bounced around aimlessly for the rest of the time until both you and Wanda had cleaned your plates and even helped yourselves to some of the other goodies. Vision absolutely refused to let either of you do cleanup work, so you convinced Wanda to go change into something a little comfier--“At least take off those pearls and heels. Don’t really mind the rest of the outfit, though.”--and then went over to prepare the living room for movies by bringing over a few more treats to snack on, cleaning off an area for Wanda to magically project movies on the wall without clutter, and turning the couch into less of a decorative scene and more of a nest of red, white, and pink pillows and blankets.

Finally, the three of you settled onto the couch with Vision in the middle. That wouldn’t last for long, though, as you each grabbed a blanket or pillow and shifted yourselves into a big, fluffy, snuggle pile. You and Wanda managed to end up squished between Vision’s arms, where both of you could comfortably rest your heads on his chest. You could also slip an arm around Wanda and absentmindedly run your fingertips underneath the hem of the pajama shirt she now wore--another of Vision’s; it was a light blue and white striped button-down--and over the rose patterns of the sheer fabric hugging her hips. Instead of starting the movies right away, the three of you laid in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company.

Vision briefly had to unwrap his arms to stretch and yawn, the yawn something that wasn’t entirely necessary for him. After placing them back, he murmured, “We don’t normally celebrate these types of things, do we, Wanda?”

Wanda’s eyes fluttered open; you had been watching her lay in quiet, cozy peace and she smiled sweetly at you when she caught you. “Goodness, no. We’ve proven time and time again we’re not exactly the remembering type when it comes to holidays. Holidays, events--”

“Anniversaries,” you offered with a little grin. “Especially those that coincide with meetings with bosses.”

Vision groaned softly. “A minor disaster.”

“Ended well though,” Wanda pointed out.

“And provided the idea for this whole thing,” you added.

Vision hummed thoughtfully and you felt his hand run down your back. “That so?”

“You getting flustered over sexy nightwear?” you said. “What potential.”

Wanda snickered. “What potential indeed. We broke the man.”

“Well,” Vision grumbled, his arms tightening slightly around both of you, “I assure you I’m doing fine now.”

You whispered into his chest, “Only because Wanda put on a shirt.”

Your trio broke into tired chuckles, which then faded into warm silence. It continued for a few moments before Vision pointed out that the movie-watching part of the night didn’t necessarily need to happen.”

That you sitting up and reaching for a movie list you’d compiled much earlier in the day.

“We must watch at least one movie,” you demanded, “and that movie is Grease.”

[kaaytea]

Im the anon who requested the Koushuu x manager/Kazuya's sister reader

Since im still completely in love with the dinner headcanons, I was wondering since it its Koushuu's bday, if i could make another request?^^

About how manager/kazuya's sister would surprise him? Maybe she finally convinces Kazuya to let her spend some time with Kou in the dorm room and they have this really special, fluffy moment cause he deserves some love on his bday🥺🥺

I’m honestly surprised at how quickly I wrote this (see what happens when you guys inspire me😤) so hopefully it sounds consistent. As a fellow Koushuu lover I had sO much fun writing this. Technically bc Wolfy's birthday is in the winter, Miyuki wouldn't share a dorm with him anymore but for the sake of this oneshot let's pretend third years are allowed to stay on the team 🤭 I hope you like it anon! 💖

Reason

----------------------------------------------------------

"Please Nii-chan!"

Kazuya's face scrunched in displeasure as he twirled the bat in his hand.

"How many times do I have to say no?" He flatly stated. Kazuya kicked his foot against the crate you were sitting on, his way of trying to end the discussion and get you to continue tossing balls for him.

You let out a deep sigh before picking up another baseball, briefly letting your fingers brush over the worn stitching and scratched leather then lightly tossing it up where Kazuya cleanly hit the ball into the net. You sat there stewing in your thoughts as you continued to half-heartedly toss the balls up, putting in only just enough effort to get the ball up for your brother to hit. You didn't flinch at the sharp clang of the bat, once upon a time you might have, but at that moment you were too upset to even give it a second thought.

"Ok, but what if-"

"(Y/n)," Kazuya cut you off with a stern look, his tone was frighteningly reminiscent of the one your father used to scold you. The simple utter of your name immediately sent chills up your arms as you fought the urge to cower as you did when you were a child. "I said no, I'm not discussing this with you anymore."

You shot up from the crate, gripping the ball in your hand tightly as you glared up at your brother. You weren't going to let him play the older brother card -not this time! You would keep pushing for this until he broke down.

"But it's not fair! You hang out with your friends all the time! Why can't I?!"

"Because Dad told me to look after you, and that includes keeping you from mischievous boys"

Your face screwed up in a sour expression, "If you wanted to keep me from boys why in the world did you let me become a manager for a BOYS baseball team?"

Kazuya stared down at you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words to respond to you.

"That's.....that's actually a good question. Any chance you'd consider resigning?"

"NII-CHAN!"

The boy broke out into a fit of laughter leaning his weight onto the bat to keep himself upright as he gasped out phrases like: "your face!" and "You actually thought I was serious!"

You huffed at your brother’s childish behavior and slumped back onto the crate, leaning your head on your palm as you spun the baseball around In your other hand. You were completely frustrated with Kazuya, he was treating this like a joke, and somewhere deep in your heart you were a bit hurt by his lack of faith in, not only you but Okumura as well.

Kazuya's laughter started to die down as he straightened up and got back into his batting stance. Only this time you didn't toss him a ball to hit, he watched as you dejectedly dropped the ball in your hand back into the crate.

"Do you really not trust me?"

You heard him sigh through his nose, followed by the sound of another crate being dragged over so he could sit in front of you. He kicked your foot gently, an unspoken way of him telling you to look at him while he talked.

"Look, it's not that I don't trust you, you're very smart and have always been careful with who you make friends with," he offered you a small smile making you fight the urge to smile back, "It's more the fact that you asked to be alone in a dorm room with Okumura. That boy confuses the hell out of me, I never know what he's thinking so it's difficult for me to give you permission to leave you unsupervised with him."

You snorted at what he said. Your brother made Koushuu sound like a mysterious delinquent when in reality he was anything but.

"Nii-chan, Kou can't look me in the eyes longer than 5 minutes. You don't have to worry about him doing anything bad."

"Kou?!" He gasped out. The catcher brought a hand to his forehead dramatically, "You're on a first-name basis with him already! What do I do?! You're being corrupted!"

You groaned, rubbing the heels of your hands into your eyes trying to distract yourself from the unavoidable headache that would surely appear in the next few minutes.

Kazuya stood up from the crate and pushed it to the side with his foot.

"Two hours"

"What?"

"I'm giving you two hours with him -but that's it!"

A grin spread across your face and you jumped up trapping Kazuya in a tight hug. One of his hands ruffled your hair as you babbled out thank yous.

"Yeah, yeah whatever. Now get off, I wanna get through the rest of this crate, and then I'll walk you back to your dorm."

--------------------------------------------------

The day was finally here! Your brother had graciously granted you two whole hours to hang out with Kou in his dorm! Safe to say you were a little more than excited as your dorm mates teased you about seeming extra lively that morning. You simply brushed it off as having gotten a good night’s rest, but the heat radiating off your cheeks contradicted your efforts.

You checked the gift bag hanging loosely from your wrist for the thousandth time as you approached the familiar door. After confirming that his gift was still safely stowed away, you gently knocked and impatiently bounced on the balls of your feet while waiting to be let in.

It didn't take long for the door to swing open and reveal the familiar eyes that always shone with warmth, a juxtaposition to their icy color when you were around. It took you countless hours and silly conversations to melt Okumura's frosty exterior, leaving something reminiscent of a loyal pup.

"Hi," he softly said, already moving to the side to let you into the dorm. When the door closed you threw yourself at Okumura, wrapping your arms around the boy’s neck and pulling him into a hug. The action startled him slightly, his body stiffening up from surprise before he cautiously wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Happy birthday, Kou!" You chirped, beaming up at the blonde, whose cheeks were quickly tinting a soft pink.

"T-thanks," he sputtered as he untangled himself from you. Before Okumura could get a chance to process and compose himself you were already pushing his gift into his hands while chanting "open it open it!"

He sat down on the edge of his bed —with you doing the same, positively vibrating with excitement— and gently pulled out a little bundle of blue tissue paper neatly folded over the gift. Okumura carefully unwrapped the object revealing a new pair of batting gloves.

He turned the gloves over in his hands inspecting them. A mixture of white and deep blue detailing produced a very clean look to the gloves. The thicker material around palms and the very obvious brand name instantly made him realize you probably spent a good amount of money to get these.

"Do you like them?" He turned to look at how excited you seemed. The sparkle in your eyes made his heart flutter, but he couldn't shake the slight guilt that ate at him. "Takuma helped me a bit with finding a style similar to your old pair -but, I noticed you rub at your palms after batting so I got you gloves with extra padding around the base of your hands!"

Okumura was a bit surprised at how observant you were. It's true his old gloves, a pair he's had since his second year in junior high, had started to wear down. It always amazed him how you could pick up on small cues in the sport. Although to be fair, you were a Miyuki and had basically been trained by your older brother in everything baseball-related since you could walk.

"They're really nice," he slipped one of the gloves on, clenching his hand a few times to get a feel for them, "you didn't have to spend so much on me though."

You rolled your eyes and bumped your shoulder against his.

"I knew you'd say that...Think of it this way, these will probably last you the rest of your time at Seidou, so technically they were a valid investment on my part." You sent him a gentle smile which he returned before taking off the glove and moving to put them in his practice bag.

While Okumura was occupied your attention was stolen by the laptop sitting open on his bed.

"You weren't doing school work, right? I'm not interrupting or anything?"

The boy looked back at you and shook his head, his blonde hair bounced slightly at the movement. He walked back over to the bed returning to his spot next to you. In one quick movement, he dragged the laptop over to the both of you and unplugged the headphones he had in. Immediately your senses were filled with the voices of announcers and the crack! of a wooden bat.

"The Hanshin Tigers?," You looked up at him where he confirmed your guess with a short nod, his eyes not leaving the screen as he watched the team’s left fielder catch a pop-up, "I didn't know you were a fan."

"I wouldn't really consider myself one," he softly said, "Taku made me watch all their games with him when we were kids, and the habit sort of stuck."

You smiled at the thought of a younger Koushuu being forced to watch games with his enthusiastic friend. You wished you were there at that time to see a younger version of your two friends, Takuma most definitely shaking Koushuu’s shoulders excitedly at any play that seemed remotely difficult. 

It was obvious that Okumura was still invested in the game, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't interested in seeing how it was gonna play out, so the both of you found yourselves sitting up in his bed.

You quickly lost track of time as you both watched the game, pointing out plays and betting on what would happen. Although, the longer you sat the more sore your arm was becoming. Okumura didn't have the largest build compared to other players on the team, but his shoulders were still significantly broader than your own. Because of that you had bent you right arm and shoulder in an awkward position to watched the game. You started to fidget around trying to find a more comfortable way to sit. Koushuu was about to offer to set the laptop up on a desk instead, but his thoughts were cut off when he let out an involuntary squeak as you picked up his left arm and draped it across your shoulders.

"Is this ok?"

He could only stiffly nod as he felt his heart rate pick up and heat spreading across his cheeks. The heat spread to the tips of his ears as he felt you snuggle closer into his side and rest your head on his chest.

As awkward as he felt in the moment, Okumura had to admit that having you tucked under his arm was a nice feeling. He enjoyed being able to connect with you, somewhere deep in his heart he hoped this moment was what would push the both of you to become a little more than just friends. Slowly Okumura relaxed into the feeling, pulling you closer into him and gingerly leaning his head on yours.

--------------------------------------------------

"Koushuu?" You questioned as you both watched the ending ceremony to the game being displayed. He responded with a hum, dropping his hand to play with the ends of your hair.

"Would you play professionally if you were given the chance?"

He sighed, twisting a lock of your hair around his finger as he pondered your question. He was quite familiar with this topic, his family had been asking him that very question for the past few years and he always had the same response.

"If I found a reason to."

He gazed down at you, watching your eyes shift around his face as you studied his expression.

"I've always just followed Kazuya from team to team, managing and learning so I wouldn't be left behind," your eyes flicked to his lips briefly before locking back on to his crystalline hues, "But he leaves in a few months....I've been trying to find a new path to follow."

A greedy voice from the depths of Okumura's mind whispered 'me'. If he were to be honest he already found his reason to continue perusing baseball, and that reason was you.

In only a short time span you had somehow given a new meaning to the game, your passion and joy for the sport had spread into his heart and, as selfish as it sounded, he hoped that you'd join his side and face the sport together as partners once your time at Seidou came to an end.

Neither of you had noticed how you were slowly leaning closer and closer to each other, a magnetized energy pulling you together. With your noses just barely touching, you cupped his jaw and started to tilt your head up.

"YOUR TWO HOURS ARE UP (Y/N)! ITS TIME FOR YOU TO LEAVE NOW!~"

The magnetic feeling vanished the instant the door slammed open and Kazuya practically sang for you to leave. Luckily, Okumura had quick reflexes and was able to put a decent amount of space between the two of you the moment Kazuya's voice echoed around the room.

"I'll walk you back to your dorm," he said softly, avoiding looking at his captain as you both shuffled out the door.

The walk to your dorm was silent. There was nothing to say as you were both too embarrassed to mention what had almost happened.

Okumura was somehow even more aggravated by Miyuki, the both of you were so close to finally admitting and giving in to the chemistry that had been slowly and steadily building since summer break. All of that progress was ruined in a matter of seconds by the nuisance of a captain.

You stopped in front of your dorm door, quickly looking down both halls only to find the area vacant of any other girls.

"Koushuu," you tapped his shoulder making him turn his attention from the floor to you. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you reached up on your tiptoes, your lips a hairs width away from his.

"Happy Birthday," you whispered before pressing your lips together.

Okumura gently returned the kiss, his hands hovering near you —unsure of what to do with them— until you moved his right hand to cup your cheek. Instinctively he tilted your head up slightly.

You both pulled away with batted breath and burning faces. In those few seconds following, your actions caught up with you. Your body burned in embarrassment as you stuttered out a 'bye' and slipped into your dorm.

Koushuu's fingers drifted up to his mouth as he walked back to the baseball team's dorms, still slightly in shock at the situation.

Hopefully, that first kiss showed you your new path just as it had confirmed his.