#oh also i can’t draw side profiles to save my life

[sosilliest]

Gosh… rung is all over my notes right now, i can’t stop drawing him!!!! The scrimblo…?!?!?!?!??????!!!

more silly doodles ^^^ oh Man!!

rung on the hamster wheel. this should be a transformers trend i want to see Every character on a hamster wheel.

[uncouth-the-fifth]

imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona’s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

_

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

_

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

_

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. “Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you��?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.

[lovethisletters]

Devilish nights || A fantastic 3 one-shot!

I love this idea ngl, I love the dynamic between the three of them! And I tried to do them justice here but... there's definitely a Whole ass ranch for improvement... :C

also Diavolo is Mexa xd

Summary: the fantastic three go to a concert but things don't go as planned.

Additional notes: I was going to make this a comic but decided against it since it was gonna take me much more time to finish it, but perhaps I'll do it as a small follow up to this one-shot.

▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️

There's a reason why the Demon elite are very protective of their private life...you see: everyone has a side of their personality only the ones closest to us are allowed to see and for the demon prince, the avatar of pride and the loyal butler this is no exception.

—Uhhh?!?! You're going out?!!—all 6 brothers questioned in surprise.

—Yes, and I hope that when I arrive, the house is not a mess!— Replied the avatar of pride as he placed a distinctive blue coat over his shoulders.

—Ehhh? Are you going on vacation to the human realm, Lucifer ?! And without me ?! How cruel!—Asmodeus inquired dramatically, hugging his older brother's arm like a child begging his mother to go out and play.

The black-haired demon was unfazed by the avatar of lust childish demeanor, released himself from his grasp with ease and continued with his speech.

—Diavolo has important matters to resolve in the human realm and he needs me and Barbatos to support him, it is not a vacation.—

—I hope all of you behave in my absence; Satan, you're in charge, ”Lucifer declared.

-What?!?! Satan in charge ?! - the rest complained.

—As much as it bothers me to admit it… Satan is the most responsible among you — Lucifer looked at the blonde demon in the eyes — I'm counting on you — and the avatar of pride came out hurriedly before he could even hear the answer of the fourth brother.

—Don't— whispered the avatar of wrath as his lips settled into a sinister smile at the plan that was being formulated in his head.

[…]

—Ahhh ~ finally it's THE day! I can't wait any longer !!!— upon hearing the title "prince of hell" we could normally assume that the person bearing it is someone intimidating, ruthless and rude; but there he was ... the heir to the throne of the Devildom jumping all over the place with immeasurable enthusiasm, glow sticks in each hand and a white shirt with the image of a sun with the face of Luis Miguel on the chest.

—Diavolo, I'd appreciate it if you could calm down a bit.

—Calm down?! Lucifer! I have been waiting for this for years! I will finally be able to be at a concert of my favorite singer from the human realm! Do you have any idea how much I struggled to get these tickets?!?! I had to do it the human way! line and everything!—The redhead claimed at the lack of enthusiasm from his best friend.

—His majesty stopped time and he moved a couple of old ladies to be able to acquire the tickets in the front row; it would be appreciated if you showed a bit of enthusiasm, Lucifer.—Barbatos finally spoke, the same formal and cold smile always etched on his face to which Lucifer could only replay in the same way.

—Oh! I won't let you two ruin my night with your formalities! At least pretend you're as excited as I am!—Diavolo begged but his stoic companions could only mutter a mocking “yeeei”as they waved their respective glow sticks reluctantly and the prince of hell could only roll his eyes.

[…]

Mistakes happen, they happen when we least expect them and even worse; at too inconvenient moments.

—Quick, Lucifer, we're next!— The tallest of the 3 hurried, still jumping up and down.

—Give me a second — The black-haired demon searched in his pockets for the tickets that Diavolo had asked him to keep until the day of the concert because he was afraid of losing them among all the paperwork that week and knowing the responsible nature of his friend he entrusted them to him .

The thing is ... Lucifer could not find the tickets ... and when he realized this, with all the tranquility of the world: he cleared his throat, clasped his hands and positioned himself firmly like a teacher about to explain something to a child .

—Diavolo, in terms of tickets… I forgot the ttickets— At first the prince of hell gave his friend an incredulous look and even proceeded to laugh.

—Sure, stop playing games, Lucifer— the redhead expected a laugh from his friend followed by him handing over the tickets, but that gesture never came.

—Your Majesty I think Lucifer is not joking— Barbatos corrected

And oh my god, have you ever seen a child's face when you take a toy that he just can’t have out of his hands? And then the endless crying begins? Yes, at that moment the heir to the throne of hell simply bursted in tears.

—It’s Okay, your majesty, everything is going to be fine— The butler tried to calm him down by patting him on the back.

—Diavolo, I can buy others, don't worry— But the redhead only limited himself to pointing at the sign above the theater entrance "Sold out" was written in large letters.

—Well… I guess I owe you the next concert, how about we go to your favorite restaurant, hmm? My treat — Despite his offer, his friend only let out a sigh of despair and helplessness.

—You have no idea where you left them?

—Ummm… I guess in my office…

—Tell your brothers to bring them to you! Please!!— Lucifer was quick to dial Satan's number, because by the way things were he would not be surprised if Diavolo's despair at this moment led him to pray.

By pure chance, Lucifer noticed that he had several unanswered messages and calls from one of the angels: Simeon

—You can't reach them?—the prince questioned

Lucifer just stood there, glaring at his phone with a mixture of regret and anger.

"Damm you Simeon" was all that came to mind.

—Oh? Aren't those Solomon, Simeon and Luke?—Barbatos voice interrupted his thoughts.

And sure enough, there at the entrance of the theatre were the inhabitants of purgatory hall, dressed in human world clothing, waiting in line, the youngest of the group with tickets in hand.

—Oh!? I didn't knew they had bought tickets for this!

—They didn't

—How do you know?

—Because those are YOUR tickets!

—What?!?!—Diavolo's confused expression was quickly met with Lucifer's phone right in front of his face, showing him the text messages.

—I'll go get them—but before the avatar of pride could take another step towards the purgatory hall group, Barbatos hand stopped him in his tracks.

—Your Majesty, I believe Luke's birthday is just in a few days and he seems to be enjoying himself, why don't we let them keep the tickets?—the butler suggested politely.

It took a couple of seconds for the prince of hell tho make his desicion, but the smile on the small angel face made all trace of doubt dissipate, and with a heavy sigh he finally spoke.

— leat it be, Lucifer...

—...are you sure of it, Diavolo?

—yes, perhaps next year we'll go together...all of us, right?

Lucifer was surprised but with a small smile forming on his face he said yes.

—Now... who's hungry?! We should go to the fanciest place in town, after all, It's Lucifer's treat!—the prince joked

—Perhaps the restaurant we attended last year would be fine, your Majesty?

—Ah yes! That would do!

And while Lucifer's wallet had started regretting his desicions, he was happy he could spend this evening with his dearest friends.

▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️

I was going to put a drawing of the fantastic three hanging out but I only did Diavolo bc while I was finishing Barbatos and Lucifer my computer crashed and didn't save anything :c

So here's a Diavolo in front of bellas artes to compensate:

If you find any grammatical errors let me know! I'm trying to improve my english and that would help me so so much!

I will forever thank you if you go check out my other profile: @aileysmirnov  where I post things about my OC: edits, one-shots, imagines, art, etc. If you like Greek mythology and the bat family maybe you would get to be as fond of her as much as I am!

Anyway, thank you for reading!

[hardskz]

a penny for your thoughts.

pairing — han jisung x female! reader

genre — trope inversion of the soulmate au, college au, enemies to lovers, angst and fluff-ish, smut; oral, possessiveness kink, praise kink, safe word, size kink, first time

synopsis — life isn’t easy when you belong to the 1% of the world population that has a soulmate, know who your soulmate is and happen to be utterly in love with said soulmate’s best friend. alternatively, jisung can hear all of your unfiltered thoughts and has heard enough of your horny fantasies to the point where he wants to throw up, so he takes matters in his own hands. 

note — i think i’m gonna cry this work is my 11k word BABY i’ve never been THIS invested over a fic. this is purely self-indulgent and an emotional rollercoaster ride if you ask me. this fic is all over the place it’s chaotic and i apologize in advance for many italics you are welcome i hope you CRY and SUFFER with me because completing this bitch was a midlife crisis in itself. that being said, i appreciate any form of constructive criticism so pls go ahead and rip my baby apart sdkjl

“You’re staring again,” Hyunjin notes. Seungmin and Jeongin stifle a burst of laughter while Felix, whose head is resting on Hyunjin’s lap, sends you a look that resembles Candace from Phineas and Ferb whenever she finds her brothers creating some whacky futuristic shit, laughs like a madman and then resumes to call her mother with an ear-splitting MOOOM! because she’s so certain that her brothers are busted this time.

“Am not,” you huff as you tear your eyes away from the guy just sitting a little bit farther away from you, basking in the warm glow of the sun. Today he’s sitting in the perfect angle, giving you the best view on his side profile. His signature cap is perched right on top of his head but even then, you can see how his eyes brighten up and how the corners of his lips tug upwards as he laughs at his friend’s joke.

“You’re a worse case than the Mary Sue protagonist of every romance anime ever.” Seungmin snorts before he playfully nudges your side with his shoe. “Just say you want Seo Changbin to bang you and go.”

“Hey! We have a child present!” Hyunjin chastises, to which Jeongin rolls his eyes.

“I’m not a child. We’re all in fucking college.”

“Fine, not a child then. The baby has been corrupted! Don’t swear, it sounds so wrong coming from you!”

“Shut up. It’s called freedom of speech!”

“It’s ‘shut up Hyung’ to you!”

Felix groans in distress and is probably rethinking his life choices. Seriously, what does Felix, resident hopeless romantic, see in Hyunjin? Sure, he’s good-looking and a great friend when he’s not bitching around or hovering over the nearest trash can after taking too many shots. But a romantic? Please, Hyunjin can’t even eat without making a mess out of his shirt.

“I don’t want him to bang me,” you mutter and receive a collective ‘yeah sure’ look. “Fine, I don’t want him to bang me only. He’s nice,” you retort before your eyes flit back to him for a millisecond. By now, Changbin has put his hands on the grass and is leaning back, enjoying the sunlight while listening halfheartedly to the other guy blabbering.

“And hot. We get it. Now get dicked,” Seungmin deadpans, earning flabbergasted looks from everyone and a smack from Hyunjin.

“Show a little more empathy, you dickwad. She’s whipped.”

“Anyway—“ Felix sits up, earning a pout from Hyunjin but he blatantly ignores it, and directs the conversation back to the previous topic before the other two bump heads, “(y/n), you have his number. You’re not strangers, so why don’t you just make a move?”

You glance at him with horror in your eyes. “What do you expect me to do? Ring him up and ask him to hang out with me because I find him cute?”

“Uh, duh? Last time I checked, that’s how you ask someone out.”

“Absolutely not.”

“New idea.” Seungmin butts in. “Why don’t you ask Han Jisung—“

“No.”

“Agreed.” Hyunjin shoots you a nod of approval before Seungmin can start yet another interrogation about your bitter hatred towards Jisung. Jisung, who happens to be said friend of Changbin that is laughing beside him right now. “He must think he’s so much better than us because he’s hanging out with the senior geniuses of the music production major. Then again, Seo Changbin and Bang Chan are on a different level than us commoners.”

“Speaking of Chan,” you quickly say to steer the conversation away from the personification of everything you hate. “Where is he? It’s so weird seeing the trio incomplete.”

This time, Jeongin chimes in. “Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Chan and that one language major — you know, the one who collapsed a while back?” When all he’s met with are clueless faces, Jeongin sighs. “Seriously, you guys should keep up with campus news. I swear, everyone and their mothers already know by now. But anyway, they’re soulmates. It’s also the reason why Chan has been pulled out of the boxing team until the end of the semester and had to cancel their training camp as soon as she broke down.”

Felix does a double-take. “But Chan’s the ace of the boxing club!”

“It is what it is.” Jeongin stretches his legs out, shrugging. “What else is to expect when you have the proximity link and need to be around your soulmate within a certain distance unless you want death?”

“Poor guy. Must be a smack in the face for him, now that he’s got a soulmate and happens to have the worst link one could have.” Seungmin says.

“The tattoos are worse though.” Hyunjin fires back. “I mean, you’re literally born with a tattoo of your soulmate’s name and then grow up knowing that you have one? And even if you never meet them, you won’t have better chances with others if you want some romance. Who in their right mind wants to have a lover who’s got someone else’s name tattooed on them since birth?”

“No one.” You chuckle. “Absolutely no one.”

In another lifetime, another universe, you and Jisung would probably be on better terms. He’s sunshine on legs and looks decent from an objective point of view.

In another lifetime, another universe, you’d like to believe you’re childhood friends and have been neighbors ever since your first shit in your diapers. Perhaps you would be clowned from being inseparable once in a while, but you’d go with it and then shrug it off as if it was nothing.

In another lifetime, another universe, you’d like to believe that being soulmates doesn’t equal the downfall of two people. Sure, the fact that people are bound to each other and the danger of growing too dependent on that person remains, but it probably won’t be so frowned upon. Probably. Hopefully.

However, as much as you want to twist it, another lifetime is not this lifetime, the reality.

In reality, you and Jisung are only neighbors because the universe has some kind of inexplicable hatred towards you. Seriously, you must’ve done something wrong in your previous life to be punished in this one. And because the universe has sadistic tendencies and loves to make you suffer, the laws of the universe are just as equally fucked up.

The concept of soulmates is a lot of things, but most of all, it’s a mystery. There are endless possibilities for soulmate links, not all of them discovered. And unlike popular belief, soulmates do not have to necessarily share the same link. So voilà, even more fuckery from the universe.

There’s only one reason that justifies your wholehearted, unfiltered hatred towards Han Jisung. Well, only one reason that seems justified in this lifetime.

The tattoo is simple; just fine black characters under your collarbone that are nicely hidden under high-cut shirts.

But the fact that it’s his name tattooed on you since birth remains.

“Let me crash here for the night.”

“No.”

“Let me crash here for the night, please.”

“My answer is still no.”

The exasperation is plastered on Jisung’s face as he tries to keep his temper in check. Truth be told, it’s damn satisfying seeing him wanting to rip your head off but refraining to do so. Perhaps you’re enjoying this more than you expected at one o’clock in the morning. For the past five minutes, Jisung has been asking you to let him stay over for the night. You’d save him out of his misery and help a neighbor out who locked himself out of his apartment at this hour — well, if he wasn’t Han Jisung.

By now, he’s growing more impatient with every further rejection. “Oh come on, all my friends live on the other side of town and you can’t expect me to ask the old grandma next door! At this rate, I’m gonna freeze to death overnight!”

“Then go break a window or something,” you deadpan, ignoring the dramatic hand gestures he’s making to accentuate his words.

“The fuck? I’m not going to break into my own place.”

Not wanting to draw out the pointless conversation any longer, you’re about to slam the door shut when he blocks your action with his foot. “C’mon, just this one night. Please.”

He’s not budging anytime soon. His bullheadedness reminds you of Seungmin, who always tries to get Hyunjin wasted whenever you attend those Greek frat parties. Seungmin, who always succeeds in getting Hyunjin wasted, followed by Hyunjin hugging a bucket for the next few hours as he tries to get over the hangover. With a defeated sigh, you gesture Jisung to come inside and don’t wait for him until he’s taken his shoes off at the entryway.

“Look, I know you don’t like me—“

“Well, ‘don’t like’ is putting it very lightly—” you scoff once he’s caught up to you in the living room. It’s not exactly spacious; the couch takes up most of the room and college assignments are spread all over the minuscule coffee table.

“You could at least treat me like a decent human being.”

That statement is enough to get your ears flaming. You whip your head in his direction, voice getting louder. “How can I when your existence is making my life worse than it already is! And I mean it literally! Just seeing your name whenever I look at myself through the mirror sickens me!”

“Stop acting like you’re the only victim here.” Jisung snaps back in the same manner. If there was a little bit of etiquette in the first place, it has all vanished now. “I’m not having it easier when all I hear from you is the dozen ways you want Changbin to fuck you dumb!”

You freeze.

“Cat got your tongue? It’s already bad enough that you have those kinds of thoughts about my best friend every single day.”

“But I thought— y-you had the proximity link?!” This has to be a joke. A very bad one at that. His proximity link is the very sole reason why you lived next to him. His soulmate link is the only reason why you’ve been stuck together like glue since you could walk.

Jisung taps his foot impatiently, running his hand through his hair. “That’s what I thought too until I started hearing things that nobody said around me. First, it was just a few thoughts every other day, but now you’re like an annoying radio that I can’t switch off.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then? I would’ve—“

“Stopped fantasizing about Changbin’s dick? And then you would’ve jumped to the next person. I don’t care if you like him or not, it’s none of my business. Changbin’s hot, anyone with eyes can tell. Besides, it’s not like you have a chance anyway…”

You feel your blood boiling at his underlying message and cross your arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jisung doesn’t bat an eyelash and says in a mocking tone as if stating the obvious. “No doubt that Changbin will make you feel good. But could you return the favor?”

That’s a low blow. Even for Jisung, that’s a low blow.

“I get that you’ve got a dirty mind. But those are just fantasies. Could you really execute them just the way you had in your head? You don’t even have experience in the first place.”

“If I sucked you off right now, you wouldn’t even be able to speak properly!” God knows what went over you when you countered. At this point, rage has taken over your brain and you don’t even realize what you just said right away. Not that it matters anyway; all you see is red.

Jisung just raises a brow, clearly unimpressed by your outburst. “Prove it,” he challenges casually and then flops himself onto the couch, legs spread wide. It’s an open invitation. “Go ahead, make me see reason with your oh so mind-blowing skills.”

The only thing you’re able to do physically is gape at him. He is joking, right? As if he actually means it—

“I knew it. Shameless in your head but too flustered to say it out loud, let alone following up with your bold statements.”

That seals the deal. You’re fuelled by anger and the desire to prove him wrong as you drop on your knees and are on eye level with his crotch. However, your spirit dissolves the longer you silently stare and realize that you have no fucking clue on what to do. Jisung is painfully aware of that too.

“I’m more terrified than turned on seeing your angry face.” He lets out an exasperated sigh before he pulls you up and directs you to sit on his lap. “Obviously it’s not working when neither of us is in the mood. You gotta get in the mood first,” he mutters, hands settling on your hips.

The look in his eyes is more composed now, but you can tell he’s being observant. As if you have clues written all over your face, he keeps you under his stern gaze. Then his eyes droop lower to your lips and he slowly leans forward.

Not even a second later, you firmly plant your hands on his shoulder and push him back. “No lips.”

If Jisung is judgemental about your sudden stunt, he doesn’t comment on it. “Anything else, your royal majesty?”

You’re too tired to react to his mockery and roll your eyes. “No marks.”

“I can work with that,” he mumbles more to himself rather to you. Then he leans forward again and buries his face in the crook of your neck. Surprised by his actions and new to the unfamiliar sensation, you tense up. Jisung seems to take notice of that too.

“Relax,” he orders, rubbing circles on your hips to help you loosen up.

Well, that’s easier said than done. It’s already bad enough that you’re gradually exposing yourself as the complete amateur you are, and out of all people who could’ve been the first to do any form of sexual advances on you, it just had to be Jisung. Perhaps you shouldn’t have rejected that one kid in high school who was the only one who ever had a crush on you. Even if that kid wasn’t your type and not a serious commitment anyway, maybe you would’ve at least some sort of experience with dick.

“A-ah—“ your breath hitches when he nips on the patch below your earlobe. He smiles against your skin as if he just made some scientific discovery and swipes his tongue on the same spot, eager to make you squirm. Not wanting to slip up anymore, you clamp your mouth shut with a hand.

“Let me hear you, baby. Just relax, I got you.” When the fuck did his voice start to sound lower and raspier? Where did ‘baby’ come from? All rationality and resistance leave your body when he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

The cologne of musk lingers strong on him, almost intoxicating even, and you can’t form a cohesive thought anymore. The only things you are painfully aware of are an arm forcing your chest flush against his and his hot breath all over your neck.

You’re so far gone that you fail to notice that you’ve started grinding on his lap. Jisung moans softly into your neck as he encourages you to move with his hands.

“On your knees, baby,” he whispers after a while. A rush of disappointment runs through your veins once he detaches his lips from you and slides you off his lap, but all of that is forgotten once you see the prominent bulge in his pants.

Right. There’s a reason why you ended up in this predicament in the first place.

Jisung urges you to touch him with a simple nudge. “C’mon, baby. Take it off.”

You don’t waste time discarding his sweatpants. Just when you’re about to tug his underwear off, you notice the wet patch on the fabric. A surge of mischief washes over you as you boldly cupped his hard-on over his boxers, causing an obscenely loud moan from him.

He flinches, definitely not expecting that brashness from you, and throws his head back. “S-stop teasing me already and take that goddamn thing off or God help me what I’m going to do if you push my buttons.”

That. That was a threat. That dealt much more damage to you than you like to admit.

As much as you want to watch him break and see if he’d make his threats come true, you decide against your feelings and hook your fingers under the waistband and tug the fabric down in one swift motion. A groan leaves Jisung as his cock, fully hard and leaking precum, is exposed to the cold air. He’s certainly above average; on the longer side probably, and you’re conflicted on whether to think fuck, I want him in my mouth right now or fuck, how on earth is that supposed to fit into my mouth?!

You don’t get far with your inner conflict when a hand grabs a fistful of your hair and slowly urges you closer. The next thing you know, something is tapping your lips and before you fully register it, the tip of Jisung’s cock lies heavy on your tongue.

You carefully look up and meet Jisung’s hooded eyes. His shirt has ridden up a bit and flashes just a little bit of his toned stomach. That’s just enough of an indicator to see that Jisung is holding himself back, in case his irregular breathing hasn’t been a dead giveaway.

Jisung opens his mouth, about to say something, when you give an experimental suck on his dick. “Do something— f-fuck, a little more, baby.”

That’s enough to build your confidence up. You slowly take in more of his dick, sucking carefully and making sure to cover your teeth. The rest that doesn’t fit in your mouth is barely covered with your hands, and you messily try to coordinate your hands, switching between rubbing the base of his dick to cupping his balls.

“Mmh, use more pressure,” Jisung whispers, not trusting the stability of his voice when you fondle with his balls. A groan leaves him when you suck harder on his cock and switch back to swirling your tongue around. For a total beginner, you are holding yourself up better than he expected. Fuck.

“Focus on the tip fir— hhh- aa-ah...” His brain blacks out for a moment when you swirl your tongue around his tip and dare an experimental hum, the vibrations going straight down to his dick. The grip on your hair loosens, but it’s still firm enough to experience a sharp tug. “You’re doing good baby. So good.”

The combination of his sounds, the decent taste of precum on your tongue and the way his adam’s apple bops is enough to send you into sensory overload. You notice the way Jisung tenses his thighs, as to keep them still. You’re about to pull out completely to prevent your drool from getting on your face. However, before you get the chance to complain, he forces his length back on you that it grazes the back of your throat, nearly making you choke.

“Fuck, I— I’m gonna— s-soon—“ he hisses and you take it as a sign to speed up. At this point, your jaw hurts and a mixture of drool and precum drips down your chin. It’s borderline disgusting if you think about it, but the delectable sounds leaving Jisung compensates for it.

He sharply tugs on your hair, ordering you to pull off, but you slap his hand away. “I’m going to spill in your mouth if you don’t pull off right now—“ Jisung chokes on his words when you interrupt him with a hum as if to say so what? It doesn’t help that you’re looking up at him with teary eyes and a lot of conviction, even though you’re visibly struggling to keep half of his dick in your mouth.

When he cums, it’s accompanied but drawn out moans, and you forcing yourself to swallow the horrible texture. It’s not horrible per se, but you’d gladly refuse to swallow a second time if you were given the choice.

Jisung looks down at you with flushed cheeks and is about to wipe off the drool or cum or whatever liquid is staining your bottom lip, but you quickly block his hand. “I’ll clean up by myself.”

For a minuscule second, he looks defeated; he looks borderline disappointed, but before you can pinpoint his feelings for sure, his expression changes. “But what about you?” he asks, eyes raking down your body and stopping at the waistband of your pants.

“I’ll deal with it on my own.” You shrug, avoiding his eyes. All of sudden, you find it hard to breathe in the room as the realization settles into your brain. You just sucked off Jisung. Jisung, out of all fucking people.

“You sure?” Your eyes flit to him who looks like he’s been observing you the entire time. His breathing has calmed down, his lips look a little bit plumper than before and his hair sticks out in all different directions. Looking at his current state makes you feel sick, and your undying hatred for him starts growing again. It’s your fault that he looks so fucked out and—

Why the fuck did you even do that?

“Yes. Now stop asking before I change my mind and kick you out.”

Before he can have the last word, you turn on your heels and rush into your bedroom, ignoring the fact that your underwear is practically drenched.

You wake up to the smell of pancakes emerging from the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making breakfast?” Jisung throws you a questioning look and then plates the last batch of pancakes from the pan. “It’s the least I can do after you were friendly enough to let me crash on the couch.”

Your eyes wander to the countertop to the two plates stacked with pancakes. Jisung finishes up the second plate and hands it out to you.

You stare dumbly at the plate. It’s too early for your brain to mouth filter to work, so the first thing you spit out is, “How do I know you didn’t poison it?”

“Are you fucking serious—“ Jisung squeezes his eyes shut, mutters something inaudible under his breath before he puts on the fakest smile he can muster. “I can take a bite if you really insist.”

“Give me that plate.” You point to the other plate on the counter. Presentation-wise, it looks the same as the one Jisung is offering you, minus the visible steam.

“There. Wanna switch again or can I finally eat?” he scoffs when you walk past him to get cutlery and sit at the dining table; it’s essentially a round wooden table where one of the legs is about to break. Two plates and a pitcher at most take up the entire surface. You really should consider buying a new table, but you have better things to spend on rather than that.

From your peripheral vision, you see Jisung rolling his eyes. Perhaps you were making an entire unnecessary circus, critically cutting through the pancake and inspecting each and every side before stuffing it in your mouth. But again, in your defense, it’s too early in the morning to show basic etiquette towards him out of all people.

You have to admit that visually, the pancakes look good. What you didn’t expect were the pancakes to taste just how they look. It looks like you couldn’t contain your surprise in you, judging by the amused smirk that finds its way onto Jisung’s face as he claims the chair across from you.

“As if you could actually cook,” you splutter because there’s no fucking way you are giving him that satisfaction of the day.

However, it seems to bemuse him even more. “You literally eat this every day and know the recipe by heart. With the excessive number of times you recite the ingredients a day, obviously, something got stuck in my brain,” he explains while cutting through his own portion.

The rest of breakfast is spent in silence. You both finish at the same time and while you’re washing the dishes, he’s stayed put in the chair, mindlessly checking something on his phone.

“You didn’t have to cook, you know. You could’ve just left.” you start. It’s already awkward enough that he’s still here. Bloody hell, you should’ve just waited with the plates and ushered him out of your place instead of just getting away as fast as possible from the table. Now that you think about it, this was probably the only time you two were somewhat amicable at such proximity. (Even if you didn’t talk at all. Still, it’s progress.)

He drops his phone on the table with a soft ‘bang’. “It’s the least I could do. Besides, I was starving too.”

“In other words, you’re taking advantage of my fridge?”

“Exactly.”

Just as you’re drying your hands, he’s about to leave. “I’ll get going, lecture’s starting in a few. And, uh, thanks for letting me stay here.”

You just shoot him a weird look. “You already thanked me once. How often do you wanna repeat yourself?”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Fine, next time I’ll just leave without a word then.”

It’s when he’s finally out of the door that his last words sink in.

“Yo, I have pics of sweaty Changbin in a jersey. How much do you wanna pay for those gems?”

You nearly choke on air. “What the fuck?” Really, that’s the only appropriate reaction.

“Hyunjin, this needs more context.” Felix looks like he’s seriously second-guessing his taste in men before shaking it off with a sigh and elaborates. “He’s been trying to find out some scoop about Chan for the campus blog and caught him in his angry boxer mode and Changbin was also there assisting him. Hey, did you know that Chan doesn’t tape his hands before punching the bag? Fuck, that’s so intimidating but so hot at the same time—“

“Yah! I’m your boyfriend! How can you say that in front of me?!”

Changbin. Changbin in a jersey. Changbin in a jersey and drenched in sweat. And Hyunjin seriously has HQ pictures of that Changbin.

It really, absolutely shouldn’t have been the first thing that crossed your mind, but the idea of that Changbin — bonus if he still has anger pent up in him — barging into your place and instantly throwing you on the bed—

“I’m not a perverted creep who’s gonna buy pictures of him that he doesn’t even know exist. Besides, isn’t that a violation of his rights? He never consented to those pics. This is college, you’re only working for the campus blog, not fucking Dispatch.” you deadpan.

“So you don’t even want to take a sneak peek at a picture?”

“No.”

You barely stepped a foot into your apartment when Jisung storms out of his own place and stops in front of you. “You fucking liar.”

“Excuse me? What the— hmph!”

The next thing you know, Jisung forces his way into your hallway, slams the door shut and crowds you against it. His face is invading your personal space, eyes enraged and jaw locked. Even though his anger is far from justified as you haven’t glanced at him ever since he stayed over, a tiny part of you believes that you pissed him off for good. It's not the first time you witness him angry. However, it's the first time you witness him look as if someone murdered his family and was trying to get revenge.

“I thought you took care of it yourself!”

“Took care of what?”

“Did you already forget that I can read your mind?!”

You scrunch your nose, trying to connect the dots in his words. It doesn't take long for you to realize that there’s no point in trying. A frustrated groan leaves you. “Why are you getting so riled up? I just breathed and you stormed into my place!”

“‘Bullshit. You weren’t just breathing,” he snaps, and you flinch when his hand lands a few inches beside your face with a loud pang. “You were thinking of Changbin again! And I mean that in the thousand sex positions and locations you want him to bang you kind of thinking! And also—“

“Also what?”

“I know you’ve been pent up for days. Seriously, why don’t you just get off like every other sane human being?”

His brutal delivery leaves you flabbergasted. How the fuck does he know that? No. No. No. He doesn’t know. He can’t. Just because he can read your mind doesn’t mean that you didn’t pleasure yourself after giving him that blowjob. Jisung’s probably bluffing — he has to be bluffing.

“W-why should I answer you?” you stutter. Suddenly the walls look much more interesting. When was the last time you painted the walls? Maybe it’s time to switch things up—

“Are you really about to get all cocky with me? Give me a break.” Jisung chews on his bottom lip after little deliberation. “You wanna know why? Because one of my best friends is going through a hard time that can utterly destroy his entire future thanks to the fucking universe! If that isn’t stressful as it is, I also see and hear all kinds of things you want Changbin to do to you. And your fantasies are also affecting me.”

You stare at him as if he sprouted eight new legs. “So you’ve also been…?”

“Sexually frustrated? Fuck yes. And it’s all your fault. So take responsibility and do something against it before I do.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“So what if I am?”

A cold shiver runs down your spine once you meet his stone-cold gaze. Frustration is displayed all over his features, from his labored breaths to the raised brow. He’s not playing mind games this time, he’s actually frustrated.

There are a billion red flags, a billion blinking signs saying NO DON’T YOU EVEN THINK OF DOING THIS! DON’T BE A FUCKING IDIOT in your mind. There are so many countless reasons why you should listen to your head, but the way Jisung is lusting after you is terrifyingly attractive.

You don’t trust your voice to respond verbally. Instead, you look down at your trembling hand and tug at the hem of his shirt. It’s just then when you also realize that your thighs are clenched. Fuck.

Jisung takes the hint. In the blink of an eye, he’s yanking you to your room, kicks the door shut with a loud ‘thud’, and manhandles you on the bed. You’re too stunned to react, and gulp when he hovers over you and strips off his jacket, leaving him in a white shirt that doesn’t hide his toned arms.

“Use the color system, alright? Green when everything is alright, yellow when you want me to slow down, and red when you want me to stop for good?” he asks.

“I know what the color system is,” you mutter, tearing your eyes away from him.

“That’s not an answer to my question.” he presses.

“Fine, color system it is. There! Happy? Now get on with it—“

Jisung pins your wrists above your head vigorously. “You don’t call the shots here. I do.”

Your stomach swoops. You really should’ve listened to your brain. This Jisung isn’t comparable with the Jisung you sucked off a few days ago. That Jisung was cocky — he’s always cocky, what are you even saying — but he still gave you room to breathe. This Jisung is downright scary.

“Good thing for you, I know exactly what you want me to do—” he starts sinisterly as his thigh settles firmly between your legs, pressing up against your clothed core. You suddenly regret wearing a skirt. “—and trust me baby, even if I couldn’t read your mind, I would do all those things because that’s what I plan on doing to you regardless.”

The look he gives you should be illegal. He shouldn’t be in the position to look down at you, as if he’s the king and has free reign over the consequences you are about to bear. Your head suddenly feels dizzy, and it’s way too hot in the room. It’s as if your bedroom has morphed into some vacuum as you’re desperately trying to breathe. Your system ceases to function once he presses his thigh even harder on your cunt, and all you manage to make is a pathetic whimper.

A menacing grin makes its way to his face. He’s clearly thriving on this ego-boost and continues to grind his thigh on you until your hips start to sway along. It seems like you found your voice again once he leans down and nibbles on your neck. Your moans are barely audible at first, but they slowly turn into drawn out mewls and labored breaths.

Your eyes snap open when he suddenly retreats his thigh and holds your hip in a vice grip, stopping you from moving. “W-what the fuck? Why did you stop?”

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Huh?” You squint at him. “But you can read my mind!”

“I want you to say it out loud.”

There’s no way in the universe that you’ll do that. You’ll gladly wipe off that shit-eating grin out of his face whether he likes it or not, but with his hold on your wrists, that is deemed impossible.

You should say something out loud though. Yellow. That would save you from the humiliation. You could regain at least an ounce of control, not feel so pathetic anymore. It’s a simple word, just two syllables, six letters. The tables can be turned to your advantage. It’s easy.

You don’t.

“You’re embarrassed, aren’t you? You can’t say all those filthy thoughts in your head out loud because you’re ashamed, huh? Not when you love feeling so powerless, subject to anything I do to you. Face it baby, just admit that you’re a needy little bitch who wants to get off on my fingers so bad, and I’ll give you what you want,” Jisung growls in between hot, wet kisses he leaves on your neck.

“I—“ you whimper after some difficulties, “I’m your needy little bitch w-who wants to get off on your fingers.”

Jisung’s head pipes up, his face just hovering a couple of inches away from yours. With that little distance between you, you know it’s not a trick of the light and that his eyes are blown up with hunger, hunger, and more hunger. "Not just any bitch, but mine? Do you like it when I call you mine?"

You nod. From there on, it’s a chain reaction.

He wastes no time slipping his fingers past your panties, mindlessly trailing along your folds. You throw your head back in pleasure, bucking your hips into his touch. A cry leaves you the moment he slips a finger inside you, his thumb simultaneously flicking your clit. It’s sensory overload, rendering your rationality to a standstill.

Your utter downfall is marked once Jisung adds a second finger, never slowing down. He groans at the way you clench around him like a maniac, and the sounds he makes send jolts all over your body. You’re writhing under his grasp at this point, overstimulated by everything yet at the same time, you feel your arousal slowly fading.

“Does my baby feel good? Are you close?” Jisung asks, nipping on your earlobe.

“I don’t know,” you whisper.

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’?”

The pit in your stomach grows. You’ve never experienced claustrophobia, but right now, it’s like everything’s suffocating you. “A-as in I don’t fucking know!” you exclaim shakily.

Jisung stops his movements. The weight on your wrists is lifted, and he looks at you, face unreadable. “(y/n), color. What’s your color?”

“Green. It’s just...” your trail off, avoiding his eyes.

“Just...?”

“I’ve never come before,” you confess in defeat. You really can’t believe that Jisung out of all people is the one to make the call of judgment. “I mean it! I’ve tried getting myself off but I never managed to... so cut me some fucking slack because I’m trying my best here and am still new to everything!”

Jisung stays silent. He stares at you in… confusion? disbelief? You really have no clue how to read his expression. Something negative for sure, though. He’s Satan’s spawn, for fuck’s sake. He’s probably thinking twice about going down on you, thinking about the gravity of a mistake he’s dealing with this time. He just has no clue how to articulate his irritation—

“You’re so cute, fucking hell,” he whispers.

You do a double-take. What? What did he say?

A small chuckle escapes his lips. As if he doesn’t mind. Wait. He doesn’t mind. “I’ll take good care of you. Trust me on this,” he says.

“That’s a little late coming from you, your fingers are literally up my vagi— h-ha-aah—“

“Just shut up and let me do the work.” Jisung rolls his eyes as he works you up again, fingers moving at a slower pace this time. Within minutes, he’s reduced you into a panting, stuttering mess. “You look so tiny and helpless underneath me. How adorable,” he coos, to which you just whine.

“Yeah? You like it when I call you tiny? Like it when your tight cunt already feels stuffed with just two fingers? Maybe we should stretch it to a third one, think you can handle that?” he presses on. That’s when he rams his fingers into a particular spot, making you arch your back. A knowing smile makes its way onto his lips. “Found it.”

“N-no, fuck— t-too much—” you babble, but he continues to abuse your sweet spot without remorse.

An unfamiliar pressure builds up in your abdomen, threatening to burst. Your whines grow louder, breaths shallower. You squeeze your eyes shut as you thrust your hips into his hand, desperate for more friction. “Jisung, I think I’m gonna—”

“Oh no, not like this,” he growls. “Keep your eyes open. I want you to look at me when you cum. So you’ll remember that it was me who made you cum for the first time. It’s me who’s making you feel good.”

That is easier said than done. You manage to open your eyes, though with a lot of difficulties. Scratch that, your eyes are barely open. Jisung is a blurry image, and you’re unable to register everything he says, the sound of his fingers squelching in your heat blaring in your ears.

You deem it fucking impossible to keep your eyes open when your orgasm hits you hard, body spasming from the sensation. But you keep on trying, keep forcing to set your eyes on him.

It’s all worth it though when the reward you get is a proud smile on his face, as well as streams of praises coming from his mouth.

It’s a continuous pattern that goes as follows:

1. You spend your days glued to your friends.

2. At least one of them (usually, it’s Seungmin) preaches how you should get your shit together and ask Changbin out.

3. Somehow, Changbin manages to leave a strong presence in your fantasies and you end up daydreaming about a scenario that stars him, you and a bed (if you’re feeling more daring, any other kind of surface or object he could pound you into.)

4. Jisung notices and forces the horniness out of your system.

5. You tell yourself that it’s the last time Jisung has such control over you.

And then the cycle repeats.

But here’s the thing: you find yourself doing no. 5 you with less conviction the more it happens. No. 5 is a formality at this point. You don’t know when you went the wrong path, but are you really in a position to complain? Jisung is good with you, he’s good with his fingers, even better with his mouth.

But then there’s this side of Jisung after he’s ruined you. He knows what you want to eat after you’re all cleaned up, knows what show you want to watch, knows if you want to just drop dead in bed or need someone to force you to finish your uni assignments. In short: Jisung is good. If you ever said that out loud and someone caught wind of it, they might assume that you liked him.

But Changbin. You like Changbin. You like Changbin you like Changbin you like Changbin—

You like Changbin, right?

“You’ve been looking at me as if I had the word CLOWN written over my forehead. Do I have something on my face or what?” you cross your arms and are met with your friends quickly averting their eyes from you.

Felix is the first one to break the silence. “Is that a new dress?”

“Not really. I recently found it when I cleared out my closet and decided to give it one more try. Why—“ you pause, and your expression turns grim once it dawns on you. “I look ridiculous in this, don’t I?”

“Yeah.”

“No!”

“You look like a clown.”

“Seungmin-Hyung, did you really just???”

If your crippling self-esteem hadn’t reached its all-time low before, then it definitely did now. “Geez, thanks,” you deadpan.

Jeongin is panicking, trying to provide some damage control as Felix snaps at Hyunjin and Seungmin. “Nobody cares about your two cents!”

“Well, but she asked for our opinion!”

“Nobody cares about your honest two cents!”

“Let’s just have lunch at the burger place and talk about this later, Hyung!”

You’re still dazed, chuckling dryly like those cartoon characters usually do when their soul leaves their body after someone dragged them. The entire situation is downright sad to witness. Is this a sign that your period is coming soon? That’s it! That probably explains why you’re acting so uncharacteristically sensitive today—

“The dress suits you, (y/n). You should wear it more often,” Changbin says.

“Hah?” you flinch and you’re sure your soul actually left your body when you turn to face Changbin smiling genuinely at you. Out of your periphery, you see Jisung and Chan behind him, but that’s not the point.

What? The? Fuck? Did he really just? Did Changbin just… compliment you?

You don’t realize how long you’ve dumbly stared at him until Jeongin nudges you. “Uhhhh, thanks!” you squeak out, cringing at how your voice just went up by an octave. You can feel Jeongin facepalming internally at your response, but you don’t blame him; you’d most likely do the same.

Changbin just smiles before he turns away to get to his next class, tugging Jisung and Chan with him.

Nevermind. Wearing this dress was the best decision you’ve made in your entire college career. The way you suddenly beam almost gives Felix whiplash — it’s obvious in the way he stares at you as if he ended up watching a comedy instead of the melodrama he was expecting. Hyunjin seems just as flabberghasted, Jeongin is still cringing from the secondhand embarrassment, and Seungmin just grins.

“Ah, so lover boy is the reason, I see.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Oh my god, just shut up, Seungmin.”

Jisung is eating you out with such fervor that has you sobbing and thrashing around. He’s merciless in every literal sense, keeping your hips planted on the couch with his hands to the point where veins are bulging out, and lapping up your juices with his tongue, continuing even though you already came. He only pulls away, lips glistening in your release, once you tug on his hair despite his orders to not do that.

“Already spent now? But baby, we just started.” he pouts. “Or is it because it’s me? Would you defy if Changbin was the one eating you out?”

You stare at him with blown out eyes. Why the fuck is he bringing up Changbin now? The words hang heavy in your throat and are threatening to burst, but the death stare he delivers stops you from doing so.

Something’s not right.

“Don’t tell me... you’re wet again because I just mentioned Changbin. Changbin this, Changbin that, huh? It’s always only Changbin, Changbin, Changbin. And I thought I was doing you good all along,” he rages, making you flinch. He can be terrifying when he wants to be, but this time, he seems completely out of it. “You know what? I’m fucking done with holding back. You’re mine, got it?”

With that, he dives back into your cunt, sucking harshly on your clit as he slides a finger in you. You try to pry him off, but his weight is restraining you to the sofa.

“Jisung, it hurts— ouch—“ Panic starts to rise in you when he finally detaches himself from your nub, but instead, moves down to your thighs and starts sucking on the skin with a force much harder than you’re used from him. “What are you doing? S-stop—!”

“You’re mine, you’re supposed to be mine. I am literally written on your skin. So why can’t you just wish to be with me? Do I have to mark you up so that you’ll finally get it?”

It hurts. It hurts. Once you feel teeth on your skin, you burst into tears. “Red, Jisung, red!”

As if it was the spell to break the cast, Jisung finally snaps out of it. His features break once his eyes meet yours. Regret sticks onto him like a second skin, and he slightly moves his hand in an attempt to reach out to you. Your muscles react faster though, and you instinctively pull your legs towards yourself and shy away from him. The way his face drops by another layer of remorse tugs at your heartstrings, but the impending fear overpowers everything else you’re feeling.

“What’s going on? What went over you?” you ask.

Jisung’s breath is shaky. He feverishly opens his mouth several times, but no sound is coming out. He’s struggling to find the right words, maybe trying to find a somewhat reasonable justification for his behavior. In the end, he lets out a defeated sigh. “I can’t do this anymore without having feelings—” his voice is weak and vulnerable and you’ve never witnessed him break down like this before, “—I like you. I like you the way you like Changbin. I just...”

Silence.

“Leave,” you whisper, but in this silence, your voice rings out loud and clear. This is… too much weight for your heart to carry.

Jisung complies. He grabs his belongings from the floor, slips on his shirt, and leaves with his head hung low. His footsteps grow more and more distant, but then he stops.

“Are you really in love with Changbin?” His voice cracks.

You don’t muster up the courage to face him. “Just read my mind.”

It’s silent again. Too overwhelming. You’re waiting for yet another outburst of him, waiting for his “I want you to say it out loud”, because that’s how the conversation always goes.

The last thing you hear is the front door falling in its lock with a soft click.

You like Changbin. You like Changbin you like Changbin you like Changbin you like—

You like him, right?

Things have changed.

You and Jisung haven’t crossed paths ever since, not even passed each other by in the hallways. It’s weird since you’ve grown used to seeing him every day outside of your apartment complex. You’ve never really acknowledged each other’s presence with a wave or something in the sorts; it was just a second where your eyes met, and then your days went on.

That being said, you run into Changbin quite frequently. If you ever exchanged words, it’s nothing more than friendly small talk and the one or other compliment about his music. Talking to Changbin is nice; he makes you smile.

You know a little bit more about Changbin now, like his favorite ice cream flavor or the fact that he has a pokemon plushie named Gyu. It’s cute, and you chuckle when you think about how you’d pay good money for that information a few weeks ago.

Changbin is nice, and there’s nothing more to the story.

The chaotic quartett you call your friends however, doesn’t seem to buy it. They are loud and nosey and have eyes, so it was set in stone that they’d tease you about it sooner or later. It’s all fun and games, and you played along with it at first, because that’s how you guys are. But as time went on, when the banter became so repetitive and blown out of proportion to the point where they have made clowning you about your small interactions with Changbin the pinnacle of their entertainment, you’ve begun to be fed up by it.

“Will you finally stop bringing him up in an indecent manner every single lunch break? Or even better, stop bringing him up altogether?” You snap, which shocks everyone at the table because you never snap.

Nobody has time to react as you quickly stomp away to grab some fresh air. You mutter out every curse under the sun, not intending to let your anger take over you this much. You’ve only made it past the door when Felix catches up to you, placing a hand over your shoulder.

“(y/n), what’s the matter? Clearly, something’s bothering you. And I know it’s not because of just Seungmin.” Concern is woven in his smooth voice.

You have to admit, it was a smart and calculated move from your friends to send Felix your way. He’s always been the compassionate one out of your little friend group. Like a pillar, he’s the one who keeps you all grounded (and he’s the one to drive your asses back home after the wild Alpha Beta Gamma frat parties).

“I don’t like Changbin that way, I realized. So it’d be very much appreciated if you asses didn’t allude to that every time,” you huff.

Felix sends you an understanding smile. “We can work that out. You know that Hyunjin and Seungmin in particular can be insensitive and sometimes don’t realize they’ve taken things too far..”

“Fine, but that’s not the main thing that’s eating me up alive, Felix.” you sigh. The words seem to flow out of your mouth like a waterfall. “I’ve realized I’ve never really liked Changbin. Okay, fine, he was just a crush I had but I don’t like him.”

He nods slowly, his brain processing your ramble. “So you like someone else.”

“Yes. And I don’t know how to fix it because we got into a huge fight.”

“Talk to them. That’s the only thing left to do.” His response is immediate, and he says it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Every relationship has its ups and downs, and if you want to be committed, you have to fight for it. If you were made for one another, you’ll make it.”

The last part makes you laugh internally. If only he knew.

“Let me guess, you expect me to barge into his place to sort things out,” you say.

Felix gives you the look of judgment. “I mean, you could also show some human decency and text him in advance so he’s also prepared. But that works fine too.”

Come to think of it, you’ve never been to Jisung’s apartment. That’s about to change when you knock on his door sometime in the evening, shortly after sunset.

Jisung’s face immediately drops once he opens the door. “What are you doing here?” His voice is soft, drenched in regret.

It’s not that his appearance has reached rock bottom. He still takes good care of himself; however, you pick up the dark circles under his eyes and his complexion seems a little paler. Not sickeningly pale, but in a sense that he hasn’t seen the light of day for a few consecutive days.

You shift your weight on one leg and fiddle with your fingers. “Can we talk?”

Jisung gulps. “Yeah, sure,” he mumbles after a moment of hesitation before inviting you in.

“I’ve thought a long time about this. Everything, really,” you start awkwardly as soon as you’re both standing stiffly in his living room. “I, um…”

You cringe inwardly as your voice trails off. Truth be told, you’ve rehearsed what you wanted to say many times a few hours ago. Even wrote down the entire speech. Then threw the draft away, only to compose a new one. And then again and again and again. After what felt like an eternity, you had polished your final speech and memorized it from top to bottom, even making sure that your flow sounded natural. But now that this is the real deal, your mind goes blank. Of course, of fucking course, your illiterate brain had to give up on you in the situation that mattered the most.

Jisung purses his lips. “Do you want something to drink first? No need to rush—”

“I don’t like Changbin!” you blurt out. Jisung stares at you in confusion. “I mean, I used to like Changbin — I still do, he’s a nice guy! Don’t get me wrong — but that’s all he is. He’s… nice. I like him, as a friendly guy. I had a crush on him, but now it’s just, uh, like. Platonic! Yeah, platonic.”

Despite him nodding slowly, you know that he is still lost. You would be too if you were on the receiving end of this painfully clumsy delivery.

You give yourself a mental slap as you take a deep breath. It can’t get any worse than this. Definitely impossible. You’ve already proven to him how bad your public speaking skills are. Might as well get over it with the bluntest words. “I miss you. And not because of the sexual things we did, but everything else. I miss you coming over, miss the movie night, and all that. I miss you, Jisung.”

He stares at you silently. Your eyes search his face for any sign of emotion, and for one too many times, Jisung is impossible to read. Okay, perhaps you did manage to tell him what you wanted to tell him even worse than whatever the fuck your initial attempt was.

But then his blank armor cracks. Little by little, his eyes soften, disbelief and remorse on display for you to see. Jisung is looking at you as if his world has fallen apart even more. He’s looking at you as if he’s clinging to the last threads of reason, trying to make sense of the situation. He’s looking at you with eyes that could hold stars behind them, stars that were supposed to burn out yet shine brighter than the universe.

“How can you say that? I hurt you. I made you cry! I was being a selfish asshole who put out his anger on you!” he exclaims, voice breaking towards the end. Pain clouds his red eyes, and he’s fighting to keep the tears at bay.

You slowly prod closer to him, testing the waters. He doesn’t react once, not even when you stand directly in front of him. Not even when you gently place your hands on a shoulder each. Not until you say, “It’s alright. I’m alright. No hard feelings.”

That’s his breaking point. Tears stream down his face, while quiet hiccups jump out of his throat. “How can you be so nice to me?” His sobs are muffled as he eases into your touch, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around your waist, clinging onto you as if you’re his lifeline.

The answer is simple, you say to yourself, as you thread a hand in his hair. “We’re soulmates.”

The weight of the words hangs in the air, shattering the previous tension and all the worries in your heart. It’s liberating, finally being able to say it out loud without feeling like an abnormality for saying those words with happiness. You’re soulmates. You’re soulmates, and that’s okay.

Jisung’s sobs resound throughout the room, and so do his countless, tiny yeah, we are’s. You need a moment before you register the wetness on your face. It feels like an eternity standing in his warm embrace, even after there are no more tears left to cry.

“Can I kiss you?” Your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, but Jisung catches it. two fingers gently lift your chin so that you’re facing him. You almost melt when your eyes meet, his gaze filled with adoration that makes you want to burst at the seams.

“Yeah. I’d love that.” Jisung smiles.

It costs you your willpower to tear your eyes away from him before they flutter down to his lips. Despite his bottom lip being a little cracked, they look inviting and you wonder what they taste like. You expect him to nudge you, expect him to tell you to hurry up and do something because you’re pretty sure you’re staring at his lips for far too long.

He doesn’t. The grip on your chin is loose as if to tell you to take your time and go at your own pace. But the longer you wait, the more reluctance builds up. It’s a lot of power he’s given you; hell, it’s the first time he hands the reigns to you.

“Can you… uhm… I’ve never done this before, so yeah…” you look at him with a crooked smile.

The breathless chuckle that leaves him sounds like music to your ears. Jisung moves his hand to the back of your neck before closing the distance between you.

The kiss is short and sweet, but that alone suffices to make the butterflies in your stomach burst. The faint taste of coke lingers on him, and before you know it, you’re kissing again. Jisung’s lips are like an addiction, reeling you back in for another one. Somewhere along the way, the kisses change. Innocent presses of lips are long forgotten, replaced by teeth playfully tugging on your bottom lip, and Jisung kissing you deeper to the point where he steals all oxygen out of your lungs.

Your hands slide down his chest, tugging on his shirt. Startled by your bold actions, he pulls away, but you catch him back into another liplock that leaves the two of you breathless. All you can think of clearly is Jisung Jisung Jisung—

This time he forces himself away from you. Gasping for air, he places his forehead on yours. “If we go farther than this, then I don’t know if I can control myself.” His warning is barely above a whisper.

“Then don’t,” you whisper back.

That’s all the reassurance he needs before leading you to his bedroom, all the whilst latching onto your lips once more. He doesn’t let go of you until your back hits the soft mattress and he’s on top of you. Warm, slightly calloused hands trail from your cheeks to the hem of your shirt.

“Color?”

“Green,” you respond, smiling up at him. The sun has long vanished at the horizon, replaced by the dim moon and stars. Despite only a little light surging past the blinds into the room, you can see Jisung’s features crystal clear. The endearing smile is cast into the back of your mind, so is the delicacy in his touch, fingertips lightly grazing your skin as he sheds all your clothes off until you’re left in your underwear. After hearing your complaints, he discards his own clothes with an amused glint in his eyes.

Jisung takes his time pounding every single detail of your features into his memory. His hands roam all over your body, inciting goosebumps. You lean into his touch with a sigh and flit your gaze to him once he stops on a particular spot.

The look on his face is unreadable, but the hesitation in his voice speaks for itself.  “Does this bug you?” he asks, uncertainty laced in it as he runs his finger over each character of his name that’s inked under your collarbone. You shake your head with a hum that turns into a soft moan once he leaves kisses on the spots his finger burned before, one for each letter. Eventually, his actions spiral out to sucking lovebites and rutting his bulge against your heat, enticing louder whines out of you. Your vision morphs into blurriness as you move your hips in sync with his, locking your arms around his neck to pull him even closer to you.

“(y/n), baby…” Jisung heaves for air, “Is it okay if I…?.”

“Please,” you mewl, “want you inside me.” Your desperation must’ve shone through your tone, as Jisung presses a loving kiss on your forehead before he reaches over to the nightstand for a condom, grinning like a lovesick idiot.  

In books and movies, this is the part where the virgin would reach peak nervousness. Too many fears would be inhabiting their mind; the fear of pain, fear of not fulfilling their partner’s needs, fear of the entire situation, essentially. Whatever they depict in those books and movies, it doesn’t match up with the warmth and want pumping in your veins. Even after Jisung slipped your and his underwear off and slid the condom on his leaking cock, there’s no sign of fear bubbling in you. It’s rather the opposite; you nudge him to finally slide into you.

“So impatient,” he tuts playfully, and because he can’t help being a bit sadistic, he teases your dripping entrance with the tip of his cock. Tears begin to form in your eyes from the frustration of clenching around nothing. You feel like crying for good once he slowly pushes into you. The stretch feels unfamiliar and completely different than what you’re used to from his fingers, but it’s not unpleasant as you throw your head back. While you’re adjusting to his girth, Jisung observes your every expression, faltering whenever you scrunch your eyes shut. 

“You still there?” he asks in hushed tones, caressing your cheek.

In awe about his concern, you nod. “I’m fine. It’s just… new. I’ve never done this, but I guess you already figured that out.” It takes you a moment to catch your breath, and then you give him the green light to continue.

The way Jisung has your hands firmly against the bed lacks the usual roughness; he isn’t gripping your wrists as if he’s about to cut off your blood circulation. This time, he has intertwined his fingers with yours as if he doesn’t ever want to let go of you. A firework of colors and stars is all you see as he thrusts into slow and deep and with all the passion he has to offer. His lips don’t leave space for a breather either; he kisses you with so much fervor that it swallows your heart up whole. At that instant, you realize that he’s claimed your heart and isn’t going to give that up any time soon. You don’t mind, because you know that you’ve committed the same crime.

It’s not long after until you feel the orgasm building up. Jisung brings one hand down to flick your clit, and just like that, you unravel beneath him. His own release follows suit, a muffled groan coming from his lips as he spills into the condom.

It’s quiet for a moment, no words spoken between you except for harsh breathing. Eventually, Jisung slides his softening dick out of you and disappears for a moment to clean up, returning with a damp towel for you to freshen up a little, as well as a glass of water.

“I think I won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” you say after you gulped down the drink in one go, voice devoid of emotion. A laugh leaves Jisung. The way you deliver it is so casual as if he didn’t just have his dick in you minutes before. “Also, isn’t this the part where we should cuddle?”

“So bossy, your royal majesty.” He even takes a bow before he climbs back on the bed, pulling the covers over your bodies, and scooting up to you. He says something else, but you don’t register what exactly. All you care about is being wrapped in his warm embrace. The stench of sweat isn’t prominent on him anymore. Instead, it’s a huge cloud of Axe overpowering your senses. You would complain, but you’re too blissed out to bother.

Jisung must’ve noticed at a certain point that you’ve wandered to daydream paradise. “You’ve been quiet for a while. A penny for your thoughts.”

“But you can read my mind.”

“I want you to say it out loud.” His answer comes like a shot while his hand is brushing through your hair. “That, and your thoughts are too jumbled and my head is going to malfunction if I try to decode everything running in your head right now.”

The corners of your lips quirk upwards. “I’m just thinking about how we did everything in the wrong order. It’s just now that we kissed, before that I only sucked you off or something. We’re so fucked up.”

“If you word it that way, we definitely didn’t follow the book.” Jisung laughs in agreement. The vibrations from his chest causes you to bubble up in warmth.

“I don’t mind, though. That’s not the point. I’m happy.” You don’t have to look up to know that his eyes lit up. “Jisung, I’m happy that you’re mine.”

The hold around your waist tightens, and you feel a soft kiss being pressed on top of your head. “And I’m happy that you’re mine.”

In another lifetime, another universe, you probably wouldn’t have to go through these struggles. Society would normalize having someone that completes you. You wouldn’t go through countless stages of denial, countless stages of frustration, and countless stages of doubt.

In another lifetime, another universe, you potentially could’ve been on even worse terms. Just like in those cyberpunk movies, maybe you two would be enemies, one fighting alongside the government, the other assisting the villain who tries to overthrow the system. Star-crossed lovers, that’s what you two would be dubbed as.

In another lifetime, another univer—

No need to fantasize about what could be. The only lifetime that matters is this lifetime, this universe, your reality. In reality, people like you live in hiding. In reality, society is doubtful towards people with soulmates. In reality, people like you are destined for a tragedy. It’s taken you a long time to wrap it around your head.

That’s alright though. You’re alright. You’ll always be alright. The universe might have not played in your favor in this lifetime, but you still found each other. Perhaps, the universe will be more forgiving towards you in your next lifetime. Or the one after. Who knows? Whatever happens, at least you know you have one person you’re bound to meet wherever you are, whenever you are. One person who won’t ever let go of you. One person you won’t ever let go of.

“Yeah, I’m yours.”

[melzula]

Date Night

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: you have no idea how excited I was when I saw this request in my inbox

request: Could you write a Fire Lilies blurb about Princess! Reader and Zuko watching the Ember Island's play about their adventure with Aang and the others?

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

When Sokka and Suki had revealed that the Ember Island Players were performing a play about your little group, you had actually been really excited to go. Constant training and preparation for Sozin’s comet was physically and emotionally draining, so a night at the theater with your friends was exactly what you all needed- even if your boyfriend wasn’t too thrilled about the prospect.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! Think of it as a date night,” you try to convince him as the two of you take your seats

“Kind of hard to do that when it’s not just the two of us,” Zuko grumbles only for you to shush him, hugging onto his arm and snuggling up close to his side the moment the curtains draw. He lets out a small sigh and rolls his eyes as the train wreck of a play begins, but there’s a faint blush on his cheeks from how close you are. Despite how terrible he knows this is going to be, he does appreciate being your boyfriend again.

The play is really... something. Though it isn’t exactly what you expected, it’s still entertaining nonetheless. You were nearly brought to tears at the portrayal of Aang, laughing the hardest you ever have in your whole life. Things took a turn though once you and Zuko were introduced. You aren’t a fan of their distasteful take on Uncle Iroh, and Zuko isn’t too thrilled about their portrayal of himself either.

“They make me look totally stiff and humorless,” he complains.

“Actually, I think that actor’s pretty spot-on,” Katara teases smugly.

“How could you say that?!”

“Let’s forget about the Avatar and get massages,” actor Iroh then suggested.

“How could you say that?!” “Zuko” yelled in response, prompting your boyfriend to sink down in his seat with a frown. At that moment an actress emerged from the interior of the ship. She wore a tacky but very large dress with a poorly put together crown made of icicles, swooning at Zuko’s feet and kissing the ground he walked on; the actress was you.

“Oh, how I long to settle down in Ba Sing Se like the selfish, spoiled Princess I am!” She sighed dramatically. “I’m a dirty water rat that betrayed my people so I can follow my true love!”

You wanted to gag at how corny her acting was, but you also wanted to melt into the floor and hide forever at how embarrassing the portrayal was. You try to ignore the quizzical glances your friends send your way, choosing to shield your profile with your hand instead to save yourself from further embarrassment.

“Zuko, pay attention to me!” The Princess on stage whined only for Zuko to keep her at arm’s length.

“Nothing is more important to me than the Avatar!” Actor Zuko rebutted.

“You know, you’re a pretty bad boyfriend,” Sokka points out, and Zuko scowls.

“I wasn’t that bad... was I?” He asks guiltily.

“Umm... you had your moments,” you defend weakly, and Zuko deflates at your response.

“Even though you ignore me I will stay by your side because I’m desperate!” the Princess proclaimed, wrapping herself around Zuko. “And I won’t even use my water bending to help you restore your honor because I’m useless!”

“Oh, boy,” Toph laughs, “it’s like I’m actually there!”

“Still excited about the play?” Zuko whispers to you, and you merely grumble irately in response as you wrap yourself up in the lower half of his cloak.

It’s safe to say the majority of your group finds the play unbearable. From turning Aang into a whimsical immature child to making Katara overly dramatic and emotional, the performance butchers your characters in every way possible. You especially weren’t fond with the siege of the North segment where your selfishness and desperation for Zuko’s love were emphasized the most. They especially loved to highlight the fact that you paled in comparison to Yue as Princess, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth that lasted all the way to intermission.

“So far this intermission is the best part of the play,” Zuko grumbles from where he’s leaned against the railing. You sit by his feet on the stairs, angrily chewing on Sokka’s fire jerky.

“I’m not desperate,” you mutter through a stuffed mouth, “and I’m not selfish either. I’m a great Princess!”

“At least your actress kind of looks like you,” Aang argued. “I’m a woman!”

“Listen friends, it’s obvious that the playwright did his research,” Toph buts in. “I know it must hurt, but what you’re seeing up there on that stage is the truth.”

“Easy for you to say, you haven’t seen how they’re going to butcher your character yet,” you mumble.

Of course Toph ended up being the only member of your group to give her approval to the actor portraying her. You have to admit though, being played by a buff guy is pretty cool, but you could’ve done without the sonic scream. At this point, Zuko’s cloak is now yours as you worm your way underneath it to block out the sound.

“Oh, Zuko!” Actress you cries suddenly. “My mind is telling me that being with you is wrong, but my heart tells me that there’s still good in you! I want to settle down in Ba Sing Se with you and have weird, mutant bender babies!”

You nearly choke on your own spit at the thought of “mutant bender babies,” groaning as your friends begin to laugh. Zuko’s mind is still trying to process the word “babies.”

“My honor has prevented me from keeping you happy, so now I will succumb to your bewitching good looks and live in a dirty earth kingdom city to please you,” the Zuko on stage replies dramatically.

“Bewitching good looks?” Suki teases your blushing boyfriend with a raised brow.

Things start to get uncomfortable with the start of crystal cave scene.

“I’ve had eyes for you since the day you first captured me,” actress Katara swooned, causing both you and Aang to stiffen in your seats.

“I’m sorry, did you flirt with my boyfriend in the crystal caves?” You glare over at Katara before turning your angry gaze to Zuko. He smiles at you sheepishly, frowning when you remove yourself from his cloak and scoot a few inches away from him.

“Well brother, what’s it going to be? Your nation or a life of treachery?” Azula asked.

“Zuko, don’t do it!” The Princess cried. “I love you!”

“You’re a water rat and you’re annoying and also I don’t love you anymore!” The actor yelled in response. The actress playing you bursted into tears before turning them into a “powerful wave” that knocked Zuko off his feet.

“Is that really what happened?” Katara asked the two of you gently, both of you refusing to meet her gaze. He tries to reach for your hand to comfort you only for you to pull it away. It isn’t a pleasant memory to revisit, and seeing it played out for you again makes things tense.

The second intermission is even worse, though a little boy dressed as Aang does tell you that you’re so much prettier than the real Princess y/n, so that’s a plus. But the ending of the terrible, horrible, awful play leaves your group shaken. You can’t seem to stay mad at Zuko anymore, not after watching his “death” on stage.

“Oh, Zuko,” you murmur softly at the sight of him being consumed by the flames, and your boyfriend wraps a comforting arm around your figure in response. He’s equally just as shaken.

Your group is mostly silent as you leave the theater, Zuko and yourself trailing behind just slightly as you walk along the sand.

“Are you alright?” He asks gently.

“The other stuff I was mad about was stupid, and I know things are different now. But... watching you die?”

“I know,” he murmurs thoughtfully.

“Remind me never to go to another Ember Island play ever again,” you groan, smiling weakly as he drapes his cloak over your shoulders and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Gladly.”

| tags: @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers s @kikaninchen-2 @sokkas--boomerang @eridanuswave @royahllty @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @kittenthekat1234567890 @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @coldlilheart @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 |

[snuggetfish]

Majidad family headcanons..? 🥺👉👈

Say no more 💖 This is LONG so I've put it under the cut!

First off, how many children would Majima want? Frankly, the man’s so happy to be given the chance at fatherhood in the first place that even just one would send him over the moon... but he wouldn’t say no to more. He’s paid enough visits to Kiryu to feel that twinge in his heart, hearing the echo of so many cheery voices around the orphanage. 

So, if it at all possible, he’d love to see his dream about having his own little cuddle puddle of kids become a reality. He’ll maybe slightly underestimate how difficult it’d be to take care of them all, but he’s Majima Goro, moulded by fate to be one tenacious bastard. He’ll pull through, somehow, with the help of a loving partner willing to go the distance with him. However, if he did only have one kid, you can bet they’d be spoiled absolutely rotten. You might think that the roles of good cop/bad cop would be obvious in a crazy yakuza dad+presumably civilian spouse couple, but think again, because Majima is a complete pushover when faced with cute puppy eyes. 

Extra serving of ice cream after dinner? He'll pile gigantic scoops into his bowl and then give up not even halfway through, sliding it towards his child. He can't really wink, but they get the picture. “Who in ever is gonna finish this for me?” Five minutes more at the park? Sure thing, they can have the whole hour and maybe Kiryu-chan might show up in the meantime too so they can... schedule their next fight. No throwing down in front of the kid! I think also once Majima becomes a dad, his priorities shift. Slightly, but noticeably. He still upholds his vicious reputation, but he isn't living at the edge any more, fighting through each day like it's his last, defusing bombs with little regard for safety. If surviving up until now was luck more than anything, with a child in his life, he's going to make damn sure it becomes a certainty. He's got something so very precious to stay alive for.

When they're still very young, Majima would be a great help in comforting them during the night. He typically gets back at late hours anyway and relishes the chance to spend a bit of time with his child, instead of immediately collapsing into a restless sleep like he always used to. If they're awake or crying he'll comfort them as best as he can, even with his whispered voice now hoarser than he remembers it and no knowledge of lullabies... but hey, pop songs will do too. 24h Cinderella anyone? Though if they're sound asleep, he'll stick to just holding their tiny hand for a while, feel it clasp gently around his fingers... 

First things first, the gloves come off, always. "Skinship" is a Japanese word put together from English that I think is great for describing the kind of parent-child intimacy he'd want. On mornings where can afford to sleep in, it wouldn't be uncommon for his spouse to find him on the couch, dozing on and off with the baby nestled on his chest. He's afraid of falling fully asleep and missing the tenderness of the moment, plus his nightmares are not something he'd ever want his child to know... So he'll stay like that, stroking their back and peeking through a lidded eye at his partner who's busy making breakfast. Also on this topic, an idea that occurred to me recently: you know how Majima's tattoo has one of the snakes' heads on the left side of his chest? Well... call him superstitious, but he'd only hold the baby on the right side. Can't have it threatening his sweet pea. 🥺️

What about once they get older? Well probably Majima would start waking up with unexpected “extensions” made this his tattoo, in black marker. Possibly some scribbles on his eye patch as well, which he’ll still proudly wear to work. And if you know what’s good for you, you really don’t want to be the one making fun of a Mad Dog that’s sporting a little heart doodle on his face. Kisses? Yes, absolutely. As we learn from Dead Souls, Majima would not shy away from smooching his child. A “good night” kiss, a “good morning” kiss, a “have a nice day” kiss when they’re off to school. One day the kid complains that his beard’s too scratchy and Majima doesn’t even think twice before he goes back to being clean-shaven. 

I think at some point they would also have to be introduced to the domain they're going to be ruling (though only as children!): the Majima Family. Nishida would be promoted to “designated driver", for a kid all too eager to ride on someone's shoulders while daddy's away in a meeting and the Kamurocho Hills construction site would be getting a new foreman. Their duties would include drawing on the blueprints and shouting words of "encouragement" at the men through dad's loudspeaker, whenever he needs a break. Bet Majima even gets them a little hard hat and everything, custom-made! Ok so it also doesn't take long for them to figure out a fun game to play with the new family members, a hazing ritual basically: show up on the day of their first office duty and annoy the hell out of them. Men were nervous to begin with, but now they're confused and pissed, like who the hell is this brat and who let them in? Kid plays the silent card: doesn't say a word about their name or their dad's, just keeps running around and getting in their business. 

After chasing a lightning-fast kid all around the whole office, Majima comes in and they think they're saved. Surely the boss has 0 tolerance for little intruders.... Though, of course, the intruder immediately runs to daddy and it slowly... very slowly dawns on them. Kid’s grinning from behind a leather-clad leg and the poor newbies have gone white in the face mentally counting how many fingers they're gonna have to give up. But it’s all fun and games... mostly. Of course a Majima descendant would inherit his mischievous nature.

But hey at some point, uncle Saejima comes back. Though Majima’s maybe a little reluctant at first, eventually he can’t but see the value of his kid training with his kyodai in the dojo. For self-defense, but also to develop their athleticism. Saejima’s of course happy to spend time with his niece or nephew, though... you know how in Y4 one of dojo's mechanics is that the students can just skip your lessons if they're not feeling motivated enough? Majima’s munchkin would absolutely do that. Slide underneath the big tiger’s legs and make a run for it! 

I think Majima would find it terribly endearing if the child at some point started dropping Kansai words here and there. And that’s in spite of Saejima chiding him that his own accent is fake and that the kid probably picked it up from the “real source”, a.k.a Saejima himself. Heh, dad and uncle might bicker sometimes, but they both make it clear just how much they love the little one.

Now, raising a child as a high-profile yakuza is obviously not going to be all rainbows and sunshine... I think Majima would love nothing more than to indulge in the cozy fantasy of being an ideal father, spending all his waking moments playing with his kid, putting his energy and creativity to good use, just generally making sure his son or daughter get the best childhood he's never had... but it's a fantasy for a reason, because he's grounded enough in reality to know that it's not going to work out as idyllically as that. 

He's fulfilled his and Saejima's dream of climbing the yakuza ranks, although it's come at the cost of being a notorious figure, with scars both external and internal. How is he going to protect his family? How much time is he really going to be able to dedicate to his kids? How is he going to keep them from walking the same dark path he has? Not a day passes where he doesn’t ask himself all those questions... doubly so on nights where he comes home to find that they’ve wiggled in his bed as well, cozy and safe in his partner’s arms. And it hits him that they’ve already grown up so much and he fears he’s missed out on so much, on making a positive impact in their life...

Ultimately, I don’t believe Majima would want his kids to grow up involved in the yakuza. Yet at the same time he can’t entirely hide his career. Maybe that’s a good thing because it teaches him that it's never as black and white as "if I leave, they'll be safe; if I stay, they'll die". One can raise a child to be strong and, above all, make their own decisions and carve their own path, even as a dad who's for all intents and purposes a criminal. The yakuza are, after all, a fact of everyday living, hidden in plain sight, given how pervasive they are in business and politics. A kid that's seen the flip side of the coin (within reason, because you bet Majima would still be fiercely protective of them) would surely be well equipped for life. It’s what he hopes, at least. If I thought the last ask was long...oh boy. I’d like to deeply thank all my friends off whom I’ve been bouncing these privately ideas for months now!! 💙💙💙 I didn’t think there’d be much interest in Majidad headcanons, but I’m happy to have been proven wrong!

[anightflower]

Come and Find Me Chapter 4: The Andrew Curtis Case

Guys I am so sorry this took so long. On top of school kicking my ass, I had to rewrite and reedit this chapter several times until I got to one that I deemed worthy. I am going to try and post Chapter Five early for you guys if I can. 

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Rape, Abuse

Masterlist 

Spencer glanced around the room at all the police officers assembled. He cleared his throat. 

“The Unsub is a white male in his late 20s to mid-30s. He is a man with an average build and a friendly face, someone who women would not pose as a threat.”

“Since there were no signs of forced entry, we believe he’s posing as someone who women would let into their house. Classic cases of this include maintenance men there to check up on things, someone who needs help after their car broke down, or a similar case like that.” Emily explained. “This is a man who fakes confidence, but in reality views himself as inadequate in some way, he knows he can’t fight off another man, so he chooses women who live alone and are essentially defenseless.” 

“Yet, he hates that they are successful enough to support themselves or that they have any sort of power.” Morgan chimed in.

“He clearly was cheated on or had some sort of marital issue that caused him to spiral into this spree. He is a sexual sadist projecting his partner onto the women he attacks, that’s why he chokes them, watching the life drain from their eyes sparks something in him and gives him a sense of power. That is also why he rapes his victims, he loves the idea that he is all powerful and they are helpless.” Hotch explained. 

Spencer swallowed, “Comparing his last four victims it seems his type is 20-30 year old females with (Y/C/H) and (Y/C/E).” 

Which coincidentally looks like the love of my life. Spencer thought, repressing a shudder.

________________________________________________________________

Spencer starred in shock at the scene around him. He was just finishing up the geographical profile, when they had received a call about yet another body. 

Her empty bulking eyes stared up at the ceiling, her body was beaten, cut, and bruised. 

“Strangulation marks on her neck, multiple stab wounds and injuries, this looks like our unsub.” Emily resisted the urge to shudder. 

“Man, whoever cheated on this guy, must have really broken him.” Morgan mused, looking around at the bloody scribblings on the wall. 

Spencer knew that if they tested the blood on the wall, it would match the victims. He looked at the frames on the wall, trying to ignore the blood that seemed to coat everything. The victim had her diploma hung up and multiple pictures of her smiling with family or friends. Spencer stared hard at the name on the diploma; Adria Winston.

It scared Spencer how easily he could see you in this woman’s place. Injured, dying, pleading for him, for anyone to save you-

“Reid. Reid, are you alright?” Morgan clapped a hand on Spencer's shoulder, drawing him back to the present. 

Spencer shook himself out of his dazed state. “Yeah, uh I just need to step out for a second.” He said, pushing past Morgan and making his way outside Adria’s house. He pulled out his phone and dialed your number, it was late, so you would most likely be asleep, but-

You picked up on the third ring. “Hi baby, are you alright?” Spencer bit back a smile at the sleepiness in your voice.

“Not really, but I just really needed to hear your voice. How is Ohio?” Spencer asked, trying to distract himself from what he just saw. You could tell, but you played along with it. 

“Not too bad, whoever designed the Google lounge has nothing on me.” You joked. 

“Well, we already knew that.” Spencer smiled. 

“Yeah, you wouldn’t believe some of the cool stuff I found, I’m telling you if the employees complain about these amazing comfy chairs I got for their break room, I am totally coming back and stealing all 22 of them for my apartment.” You said enthusiastically. “They're perfect for reading in Spence, I’m telling you, you would love them.” 

Spencer let out a little laugh, “I’m sure they are. We will have to see if we can find some, but I don’t think 22 will fit in either of our apartments.” 

“I suppose you’re right” You sighed dramatically, but then took a more serious tone of voice. “Are you alright baby?” 

Spencer’s chest tightened at your worried tone of voice. “There’s a sick selfish part of me that is so glad that you aren’t here (Y/N). All of these girls look so much like you-” Spencer paused, swallowing back tears. “I just am so glad you are safe, I don’t think I could focus as well on this case if I knew you could possibly be in danger.” 

“Aw Spencer, I am so sorry baby. You aren’t sick or selfish for wanting me to be safe, everyone focuses on the safety of those they love, it’s only human. I know you are going to catch this guy, you are the most brilliant man and agent I have ever met. Just don’t tell your team I said that, I don’t want a bad reputation before they even meet me.” You teased, trying to lighten his dark mood. 

Spencer let out a small laugh and sniffled. “Trust me the team is going to love you. We will have to figure out when you can meet them, but I definitely want to wait until things settle down a bit here.” 

There was silence on your end for a second. “Listen Spence, I can stay here a bit longer if it will help you focus, but when I come home I am taking self-defense classes and such. I want you to have a sane mind knowing that your girlfriend actually can handle herself. I honestly think it will help me keep sane too, after hearing everything about this case.” 

Spencer heart skipped a beat, as much as he wanted you safe and sound, he also needed to hold you in his arms to keep his sanity. But ultimately you were the one who should lead your life, not Spencer.  “I appreciate you considering me, but I want the ultimate decision to be made by you Princess, I trust your judgement and I don’t want you living your life based on my fear.” 

You breath caught in your throat at the sentiment. “I love you Spencer Reid.” 

Spencer could have sworn his heart stopped. The two of you hadn’t said I love you yet. Part of him wished it was in person, but just hearing you say it, meant the world to him. “I love you more (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

So help him god, Spencer would catch whoever this unsub was and put him away, so you could come home to a safer city. 

________________________________________________________________

“You know what strikes me as funny?” Emily asked, looking at the crime scene photos. 

The room was silent, waiting to hear what she had to say. 

“Each of these unsubs reported strange gifts and letters being sent to their home. The police had thought it was nothing, but now I am thinking that maybe this could be a connection. I mean think about it, didn’t you guys notice that each victim received a gift box wrapped the exact same way?” 

Morgan nodded. “Yeah they had the white box with the red bow-”

Spencer chimed in, “Red typically symbolizes love and infatuation, but in this case it was the unsub’s warning, red meant war or violence was about to come upon this victim.” 

“Reid and JJ I want you to talk to the officers and get the reports these women filed for harassment, I think we are missing a connection.” Hotch ordered. 

An hour or so later they had that connection.  

“All of the victims received their gifts from a delivery service called ‘Special Delivery.’” JJ explained to everyone. 

“Well it seems we have to pay them a visit.” Hotch said. 

________________________________________________________________

Special Delivery was a small Ma and Pa store, located just a couple blocks from Ava’s coffee shop. Spencer debated on stopping in to check in with her and maybe grab the team coffee. 

Spencer had quickly taken a liking to Ava, not only because he had called him your “sexy superhero boyfriend,” but because she was a reliable friend to you, one who always managed to bring a smile to your face. She reminded Spencer of a more wild Emily, in the best way possible.

Emily stopped outside the storefront window, glancing at the display of chocolates, gift baskets, and jewelry. “Why is it always the cute small places that get ruined? Can’t it be one of those big corporate offices that fuck over their employees instead?” 

Spencer huffed a laugh. 

As they entered the store, the bell let out a delicate twinkle. Causing a silver-streaked brunette to pop out from the back of the store. Her round face held a warm smile as she approached them. 

“Hello dears! What can I do for you?” She asked as she excitedly clasped her hands together.

“Hello Mrs. Ellison, my name is SSA Prentiss and this is Dr. Reid, we had a few questions for you.” Emily said gently, flashing her badge to the woman. 

The woman's smile dimmed a bit, “Oh, uh of course, is everything alright?” 

“Mrs. Ellison I am sure you’ve heard of the recent tragedies-” Emily began, 

“Oh yes, I’ve been keeping up with the news, it’s just dreadful that something so horrible could happen so close to home. You see these things in movies or in other places, but you just never expect them to happen right near you.” Mrs. Ellison said sorrowfully, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“Mrs. Ellison, I am afraid everyone of these victims received several deliveries from your shop. Each was wrapped exactly the same, white box, red bow, does this ring any bells for you?” Spencer asked, cutting to the chase. 

“Well dear, it is Valentine season, red, pink, and white are the typical go to colors.” She shrugged. 

“Do you have any regulars? He would have each gift he bought wrapped the exact same way? He would seem friendly, but would be on the quieter side?” Emily asked, attempting to prod the older woman’s memory. 

“I’m afraid none of that is ringing any bells dear, I am so sorry.” Mrs. Ellison said apologetically. 

“Do you have any other employees? Or do you run this place all by yourself?” Spencer asked. 

Mrs. Ellison, let out a small laugh, “Oh goodness me, no. I get so many orders, I could never do it by myself. I previously had three employees, Jess, Remy, and Andrew, but I had to fire Andrew when I found him stealing from our stock. It was a shame too, he was a hardworking boy, but I’m afraid he just fell apart after his wife left him.”

Emily and Spencer exchanged a quick glance. “Do you happen to know why his wife left him?” Spencer asked, his heart picking up speed. 

“Oh it's not my business to share-” Mrs. Ellison hesitated. 

“Please Mrs. Ellison, this could be crucial information.” Emily urged her. 

Mrs. Ellison let out a sigh. “That horrible girl cheated on him. I just couldn’t understand it either, Drew was such a doting gentleman to her, it simply didn’t make sense.” 

“Do you still have his contact information? His address?” 

“Why of course, but you couldn’t possibly think he has anything to do with this-” Mrs. Ellison began, making her way to behind the counter to grab a binder. She looked up worried when Spencer and Emily didn’t answer right away. “Do you?” She urged. 

“It’s quite possible he had nothing to do with it, we just need to follow through with every angle.” Emily quickly explained. 

“Of course.” Mrs. Ellison said, but her hands slightly shook as she opened up her binder to get Andrew’s address. 

________________________________________________________________

“Andrew Curtis, this is the FBI, open up.” Hotch hollered from outside the door. There was no response. Hotch looked to his team to make sure they were ready, then kicked in the door. 

As the team checked different rooms, several calls of “Clear!” echoed throughout the house. Curtis was not there. 

Morgan made his way to the basement and swallowed back a gag. “Hotch! You better come see this.” 

Guns at the ready, Spencer, Hotch, Rossi, and Emily, made their way down to Morgan. 

“What the hell.” Emily huffed as they all beheld the horrific sight before them. 

It was a girl, for sure. She had the same mutilated marks as far as they could tell, but her body was decently decayed. 

“He’s displaying her like a trophy.” Spencer observed. “He props her up naked and makes sure her wounds are fully on display to remind him what he did.”

“There’s more trophies over here.” Rossi said in disgust, gesturing to a shelf full of different valuables. 

“He’s sick.” Morgan hissed. 

“We need a med team down here to remove a body. As soon as it’s IDed we need to know and alert any next of kin.” Hotch ordered into his earpiece. 

Rossi put on a glove and began to go through the other trophies for evidence. “I’ll talk to the victims families and see if any of them recognize these items.” 

Morgan dialed up Garcia. 

“Speak and be heard, the all-knowing goddess listens.” 

“Hey baby girl, I need you to look up any missing person’s reports from around this area. The victim has (y/c/h) and (y/c/e). She fits our victimology to a t, but we need to figure out who she is.”

“I’m on it.” Garcia said. 

“And Garcia,” Hotch said, stopping her before she hung up. “I need you to find a license plate for Andrew Curtis. Also check to see if he rents or owns any other property, he’s currently not at his home and it is too close to other buildings for his victims to not be heard.” 

“You got it. Talk soon.” She said, hanging up. 

About half an hour later Garcia got back to them. “Curtis drives a 2003 silver sedan with the license plate 637-IRT. I also found that he rents a small storage unit that’s a 20 minute drive in a more secluded part of town. I am sending the address to you guys now.” 

“Thanks Garcia.” Hotch said. He turned to JJ “I need you to get an APB on Curtis. I want you to warn the public to keep an eye out for him.” 

JJ nodded and rushed off with her phone. Hotch looked to the rest of the team. “Everyone else, vests on, we are heading to that storage unit.”

________________________________________________________________

“Fuck Drew, what are we going to do?” The boy asked as he looked at the screen projecting a news report on Andrew Curtis.

“Well, it might be the end for me, little brother, but I have you as my legacy. They don’t have a clue that you are even involved, so I need you to get out of here.”

“No, no, no. I am not going to leave you!” The Boy cried, tears streaming down his face. 

Drew huffed a laugh. “Now, now, little bro. It isn’t the time for tears. I’ve taught you everything you need to know. You need to get your girl from that Doctor remember?”

“How am I supposed to do this without you?” The Boy asked, fear filled his voice. 

“Your time will come. You have to be a man about this. You have the skills now and you have our little videos to watch. Your own little tutorial to pluck that girl right out of Dr. Reid’s hands. You need to hide those and hide them well. Promise me you won’t fuck up your chance.” Drew growled. 

The Boy whimpered and Drew smacked him. “Promise me!” He yelled. 

“I promise.” The Boy sobbed, grabbing at his pained cheek.

Drew’s face softened and he gave the boy a smile. “Good, now get out of here legacy and make me proud. I expect to see you on the news someday.” He winked. “You remember our code right?” 

The boy nodded. 

“Then this isn’t the last time we will speak to each other. Now get the fuck out of here, I already fucked with the security footage, so they won’t even know you were here.” Drew explained, pushing the boy out towards the parking lot. 

The Boy’s heart broke as he rushed from his mentor, not only because he knew he would never be able to see Drew in person after this, but because he knew that he would never be able to ruin the 6th victim. The sixth whore that was tied up in the trunk of Drew’s car. 

________________________________________________________________

The girl sobs were muffled by her gag. Drew pulled on her hair harder as he dragged her to the storage unit. He knew he didn’t have much time left, so he might as well let every moment count huh?

The girl’s sobs turned into terrified screams as she beheld the bloodied storage room and the various knives and devices within it. 

“Shut up you stupid bitch.” He growled in her ear.

The girl whimpered something and Drew ripped away her gag. 

“Please.” She begged and Drew simply laughed as he lugged her limp body towards the table in the center of the room.

“Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I have a family who cares about me-” She pleaded. 

“Whores don’t have families. Whores have nothing. They just cheat and lie and move onto the next guy. Huh Madelyn?” He growled as he threw her up onto the table.

“My name isn’t Madelyn, please it’s Emily-” The girl sobbed.

“Enough of your lies Madelyn. You stupid slut. You couldn’t stay loyal could you?” Drew snarled, hitting the girl’s head hard against the table.

She sobbed harder. “My name is Emily, my name isn’t Madelyn, please it’s Emily.” She babbled.

“SHUT UP.” He said, hitting her again.

Suddenly a shout rose up from outside the storage unit door. “Andrew Curtis, this is the FBI, come out with your hands raised.” 

The smile that crept across Drew’s face was wicked. He grabbed a knife and pulled Emily against him. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” He whispered in her ear. 

“Andrew Curtis, this is your last warning. We will come in armed and ready.” Hotch’s voice shouted again. 

Drew remained where he was, the sick smile on his face, as tears streamed down Emily’s face. 

When the door burst open and several agents poured in, he did not flinch or cower away. 

“Drop the weapon.” Hotch boomed, his voice echoing in the space.

“Now, now, now, where would the fun be in that?” Drew mocked. 

“Put down the weapon, Curtis and let the girl go.” Rossi ordered. 

Drew’s eyes looked past all of them and fell on Spencer, he bit back a smile.

“Come any closer and I’ll slice her throat.” Drew threatened, pressing the knife harder to Emily’s throat, a few drops of crimson blossomed and crept down her neck.

“If you don’t let Miss Bloise go, then we will be forced to take action Mr. Curtis.” Rossi explained.

Drew’s hand shook, god he wanted them to come at him, but then he thought of his mentee, how lost he would be without him. 

He lowered the knife and let the girl go. She ran towards one of the agents, tears mixing with the blood that ran down her neck. JJ wrapped an arm around the girl and guided her out. 

Morgan rushed to Curtis, pinning him down against the floor and putting cuffs around his wrists. 

Though they had caught him, Hotch felt uneasy. Curtis had given in too quickly. The greasy smile across Curtis’s face as Morgan led him away only heightened his suspicions. 

________________________________________________________________

The team sat outside the interrogation room, watching as Hotch tried to get a rise out of Andrew Curtis. He and JJ had gone in; Hotch to be the intimidator, JJ to be the trigger as she looked a bit similar to the victims. So far the man had just sat in the chair, his arms crossed, silent and smirking. It had been almost an hour and they had gotten nothing out of him.

Spencer felt as though Curtis could see him through the two-way mirror. 

“You know Agent,” Curtis began. “I know you’re trying to be the big bad wolf, but it’s not going to work, I’ve dealt with worse than you.”

Morgan looked about ready to kick in the door and beat the confession out of Andrew. 

“Send me in, I’ll get an answer out of him” Morgan growled, cracking his knuckles.

“Unfortunately, the confession won’t stand up in court if they found out you beat the shit out of Curtis to get it” Emily smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

“The Court doesn’t have to know” Morgan argued, making Emily scoff. 

“Focus kids.” Rossi ordered sternly, but Spencer could tell he was fighting back a small smile. 

Hotch and JJ came out of the room. Hotch looked to Spencer, his expression grim. “He wants to talk with you.”

Spencer looked at Hotch confused, “Why me?”

“He’s ‘fascinated by you’” Hotch explained. “I know it’s not ideal and you don’t have to go in their Reid, but-”

“But, we could get the confession out of him. We have the charges for Miss Bloise, but we want to pin him for the other girls he attacked. I understand and I will do it.” Spencer said. 

“I’ll stick with you Spence” JJ reassured, putting a hand on his arm. “You won’t be alone.”

Spencer nodded, sending a grateful look JJ’s way as they made their way into the interrogation room.

“Ah the elusive doctor. So glad you could join us.” Drew purred.

Spencer said nothing as he moved to sit down across from Curtis.

“-your wife left you Mr. Curtis, is that correct?” JJ asked.

“Please doll, a pretty thing like you can call me Drew” Drew said, looking JJ up and down. 

Spencer’s fists clenched in anger as he felt JJ tense next to him.

“The file says she left you after she cheated on you. Did you have medical issues Mr. Curtis?” Reid asked, drawing Curtis’s attention to him. “Did you struggle to please your own wife?”

Curtis growled. “That stupid whore has nothing to do with this.” 

“Ah so you couldn’t and when she left you for a man that could, you projected your anger for her onto these women. You were angry at them for being confident and independent, much like your wife who knew what she wanted.” Spencer said, sitting back in his chair with a faint smirk. 

“These women were nothing but whores, willing to let men in like me. They wanted someone so badly they let a stranger into their house.” Curtis hissed.

“Mr. Curtis, you were a delivery man. They didn’t let you in, you forced your way into their homes didn’t you?”

“If a man needs a glass of water, can’t he let himself in?” Curtis purred. “They turned their backs on a predator and got what was coming to them.” 

“Did you attack them in their homes?” JJ asked. 

“Only to make them quiet, couldn’t have the neighbors hear them scream.” Curtis laughed and Spencer resisted the urge to choke out the man across from him. 

They placed images of all of his supposed victim’s before him. “Do you recognize these women?” JJ asked, her voice harsh and cold. 

Curtis looked over all of them, silent for a couple minutes. Spencer’s patience thinned. “Well?” 

Curtis pointed to an image of Lila Jennings, the third victim of this case. “She screamed the loudest.” He pointed to another image. “She was a hot piece of ass, it was fun breaking her.” 

“Enough.” Spencer hissed. 

“In short Doctor, yes I do recognize these women. Every single one of them and no I do not regret a single one.”

Without saying another word, JJ and Spencer got up, taking the files with them. Curtis’s laughter rang out behind them as they shut the door.

________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST

@andiebeaword @haylaansmi @parkastoria @possessedjoker @amronsparty @generaltheoristexpert @sierraraeck @coniumalces @tamedbyafox @anotherr-fine-mess @adoregin @rainsong01 @canyonnmoonn  @mggshoe @boxofsparklingmuses @richardpapensmuse @deanlenaz​ @rainsong01 @goldentournesol @annesauriol @itsametaphorbriansblog @secretpickleprofessordean @shameleswhorehourstm @stepsofthefbi​ @iifloweringnightsii @mggsprettygirl​ @bravegirl221​ @messyhairday-me​ @n1ghtsh4d3-67​ @abbeypaw7​ @findmedontlooseme @hiiwouldlikesomesleepplease @sarcasticsagittarius1998

[makeste]

literally just a giant post of Bakugou faces.

today, 4/20 (actually it is very much still only 4/19 over here, but to heck with it, we’re getting an early start dammit), is Bakugou Katsuki’s birthday. and as someone who loves Bakugou and who also hasn’t found much worth rejoicing about in April 2020 in general, it’s important to me to celebrate the shit out of this day. but these are strange times and I am le tired, and so what my tired brain ended up arriving at was “just do a post about how much you love his stupid face.”

so these are my favorite Bakugou faces. I stopped after Kacchan vs. Deku because this post was already like 100k words (slight exaggeration) with like 40,000 faces (slight), and because this already took forever and the next 130-something chapters were only going to have about one fifth as many good faces compared to the first 120, even though there are some good ones there still to be sure. but anyway, so there are no spoilers here. 

happy birthday Kacchan, and happy birthday to Kacchan’s angsty side profile with his hair covering his eyes.

why I like it: he scured.

lol but seriously. because up until this point he’s just been a complete asshole. even after he gets grabbed by sludgeman, he’s all “AS IF I’D LET THIS MUDMAN TAKE MY BODY FOR HIMSELF”, and he’s all feral-looking, and at first you’re like “eh he’ll be fine.” but then along comes this panel to serve as our narrator saying “he was not fine.” because he really is not. and on the page before this too, you can see how tired and desperate his struggles are starting to get. and absolutely no one is trying to help him. and he’s fighting, he’s straining, but he can’t. fucking. breathe.

and then this panel. and he’s just a kid. he looks so very, very young here, like this is the youngest he looks throughout the entire series except for in his flashbacks, and it’s because all the pride and bluster and anger are stripped away and he’s just a boy underneath it and he’s scared. “you looked like you needed saving.” exactly. exactly. and for Katsuki to actually ask for help is so rare. so you know that when he does ask (and he absolutely was begging for someone to come help him even though he couldn’t vocalize it. credit to Horikoshi for conveying all of that emotion in a single panel), he really, really needs it. thankfully there was one person watching who finally snapped himself out of that “a hero’s bound to come along soon” mindset that had everyone else gripped, and realized that he needed to be that hero.

why I like it: because he’s humiliated and fairly shaken up and also the most handsome he’s looked up until this point, but most of all he’s just chewing his lip and being all “god fucking dammit did fucking Deku really just save me, fuck my life, why is the universe fucking dumb.” like even after this hugely traumatizing experience, he’s incredibly resilient to the point where after he calms down, his lingering emotions are mainly just “smdh this is a new level of irritated even for me.” he is so brave and thickheaded and tough and absurdly, ridiculously petty jesus christ.

why I like it: like the old man said. his face just screams “I’m a rotten thief.”

there’s so much personality in this one expression. and then it’s juxtaposed against proto!Katsuki who I really desperately just want to punch in the face. just. my son my be a dick, but by god he’s an honest dick.

why I like it: baby?? cute baby??? mine?? my baby?!?

he’s just like. “I got it all figured out. gosh I’m so good at life.” that is the face of a child who has never encountered a single difficulty in his very young existence. everything is easy and he expects to be good at everything and he always is and he’s so, so pleased with himself. with a kid that little you really don’t want to go and shatter their dreams just yet, but maybe someone should have taken him down just a peg or two before it all got out of hand. alas. he was so cute that nobody wanted to and I can’t even blame them because he’s just that fucking cute, though.

why I like it: this is a very underrated panel which I think most people probably don’t even recall. it’s from chapter 11 just after he loses to Deku and Iida, and specifically right after Momo just completely lays into him and explains in vivid detail exactly how stupid every single one of his decisions was lmao. and it’s like he’s just had his eyes opened. he talks about her speech later, too, so it clearly had an impact.

there is no pride here at all. initially when I was reading this, I thought he was still shell-shocked. but looking back at it, and knowing what I do now about his unexpected willingness to accept criticism (something I certainly wouldn’t have expected during my first readthrough of this chapter), I think this is also a genuine “!” face as he realizes that she’s completely fucking right. YOU DONE GOOFED SON. but it’s okay because he learned from it!

also look how big his eyes are. when they get all wide like that. it’s so rare that I have to appreciate each and every time it happens. also he has no right to have such thick eyelashes. goddammit.

why I like it: because he’s strongest at his moment of weakness! because he’s upset but he learned from it! because he is such a strikingly human character with such complex emotions and there’s such a lovely mix of them on display here and that shit is my weakness! because this is when I signed the adoption papers (well, had them finalized after I initially obtained them after the “you looked like you needed saving” face in chapter 1, at least)!! because he always cries in front of Deku and doesn’t get embarrassed, but then he does get embarrassed if anyone else shows up! because his emotions around Deku are so raw and out of control! because the intensity of them is as compelling as it is confusing! but mostly because someone showing fierce determination while simultaneously showing intense vulnerability is basically the cheat code to unlocking my heart, and also the best thing anyone can ever draw in a shounen manga. thank you I’ll take infinity of them.

why I like it: because half of 1-A saw this face and instantly thought “fuck that’s hot” and then went “!! oh fuck me” but it was too late! that’s right kids. even knowing firsthand what a trashpile he can be, you’re still not immune to his charms. that confidence, though.

why I like it: the face of a boy who has just realized that holy shit, there are other people in his class. nothing gets past him. his reflexes are too fast.

why I like it: the slow motion (this is such a cool moment even if it’s at his expense lol), and the fact that this is such a weird and totally unique expression, and yet he somehow almost manages to make it look good. actually he does make it look good, let’s be real. of course, this was back when Horikoshi had more time to roll up his sleeves and really get into the art. look at all that shading goddamn.

why I like it: he cares!! he has feelings!! he has concern about someone other than him omfg whaaaaaat.

he’s so unsettled by what he just heard about Todoroki. the guy who was so strong and cool turned out to have an absolutely horrifying shounen protagonist past that he never let on about. honestly this scene is one of the reasons why I’m so strongly in favor of not interpreting Katsuki’s parents as abusive; because I just really like the character arc of him actually having a pretty good childhood, all things considered, but still having all these problems. because sometimes people actually do have everything going for them and yet they still screw up, because people are only human and sometimes you can fuck up (or be fucked up) even on easy mode! and if that happens it doesn’t mean you’re any more to blame, or more worthy of derision or scorn, or that you already had your chance so screw you, or any of that! anyway so that’s just such an interesting and relatively rare thing to explore and so I like it.

anyway. so just, the idea of him thinking of Todoroki as someone who had it made all his life, only to realize that’s not actually the case at all and that he’s actually the privileged one in comparison, just makes for a really great character-building moment. it’s a really big wake up call for him, especially given that he’s so often just wrapped up in himself and his own concerns still at this stage of the game. and it’s a moment that has a lasting impact on him and that he doesn’t forget, and it helps contribute to him starting to learn more empathy.

why I like it: my child is rabid please help.

but he’s so happy to have Ochako prove to be such an unexpectedly worthwhile opponent. she was sneaky and she nearly got him and he only just made it out by the skin of his teeth and fuck yes, that was awesome. he was really ready to throw down some more with her and it was gonna be the highlight of his fucking day. I just love seeing him acknowledge other people’s strength, because we know the value he places on being strong. so that’s a ton of respect from him, and Ochako fucking earned it, and this is just a great moment.

why I like it: just casually spittin facts and launching ships. nothing to see here move along.

why I like it: for everyone reblogging that one scene of shoujou!Bakugou from the anime over and over again, I just want to remind you all that as great as that scene is, we shouldn’t forget that in the manga he can be effortlessly handsome without even trying.

why I like it: as I said above.

why I like it: another one of the infamous “haah!?” faces. whenever he does these that one raised-eyebrow eye always goes so wide, and even though he’s trying to look like a pissed off thug it always makes him look surprisingly young instead.

also I’m not crazy for seriously wondering if Horikoshi’s art peaked all the way back in the sports festival arc though, right?? you honestly can’t find a bad panel even if you specifically go out and look for them.

why I like it: babyyyy.

I still don’t get how anyone could watch this scene and not get that he was way more upset than he was actually angry. he looks like he’s about to cry honestly.

why I like it: MY PRECIOUS SON’S ANGELIC SLEEPING FACE. all tuckered out. he’s had a hard day.

but seriously when you smooth out all of the >:O it is amazing how young he actually looks though. this one panel is shaded in such a way that you can see that he still has baby fat in his cheeks!! he’s just a little boy! HE IS A LITTLE CHILD LIKE THE REST OF THEM AND YOU MADE HIM PARTICIPATE IN THESE HUNGER GAMES AND HE KICKED ASS AND THEN GOT SAD AND YOU MADE HIM SLEEP AND CHAINED HIM TO A POST WHEN HE WOKE UP ANGRY AND TRYING TO BITE PEOPLE. anyways what a whirlwind of events huh.

why I like it: this child is literally trembling. he has been shaken to his very core. also for real though how did Jeanist even do that. anyways great internship or greatest internship.

why I like it: this is from chapter 60, right after he basically declares war on Deku and says he’ll crush him during final exams. then he turns around and is just like AND LET’S NOT FORGET THIS ASSHOLE HERE!!! and his eyes are practically bulging out and Todoroki just has his trademark “!!!” totally blank stare. this panel fully kills me guys.

why I like it: how was he THE CUTEST CHILD WHO EVER LIVED?? look at his little fists?! I can’t even deal with this???

why I like it: I actually like this one even more than the more iconic “the strongest heroes always win in the end” panel right below it, because in this panel you can more clearly see that he was crying quite a lot (he was only six!!), but it seems to me that it was more because of the unfairness of it than because he was hurt. even though he was hurt. but these jerks bumped into him and then acted like it was his fault, and it was two against one and he was much younger than them and IT’S JUST ROUGH YOU GUYS! LIFE IS HARD WHEN YOU’RE SIX! but he’s a little tough guy though so he scrubs the tears away in this very clumsy and boyish fashion because HE WON ANYWAY SO TAKE THAT! he is so little but already so determined.

why I like it: his eyes are just so intense all the time. even when it’s not an intense moment at all. also the dot shading here is so cool.

why I like it: okay so technically it’s the back of his head and not his face. but I feel like the fact that Kacchan was twitching and flinching and shaking too doesn’t get enough attention in this scene. he and Todo were both wigging out here and I love it. during the third light novel he also gets freaked out by the whole Disney Channel “we were telling a ghost story but now it seems like the story has come to life” plot that goes on at one point, just fyi. Kacchan is absolutely that kid who will refuse to watch scary movies just because “they’re dumb” and definitely NOT because he is scared, how fucking dare you sir.

why I like it: because this is the first of many scenes in this arc and the next arc in which he is freaking out but doing an excellent job of covering it up with his natural ferocity. he and Shouto have just come across one of their classmates’ arms lying in the middle of the path being chewed on by a villain in a straitjacket. his first reaction is to ask Shouto which of their classmates had been out on the path in front of them. he has immediately put two and two together, and he is immediately ready to throw hands with this dude, rules or no rules. but you can see the shading over his eyes though, and I think that -- along with the sweat visible on his face -- is a huge indicator of how horrifying this actually is to him.

why I like it: because this blank “processing...” expression that he sometimes gets when a lot of people are talking at once and he’s not really sure but he is pretty sure that he doesn’t like where this is heading, is my favorite.

why I like it: because even now it’s still ambiguous just what exactly was the prevailing emotion in these eyes and this expression, and the prevailing sentiment behind the “stay back.” I happen to think it was fear! not the same overwhelming, helpless fear as the 14-year-old who was caught up in the sludge, but a very on-edge, controlled-panic fear of a 16-year-old who’s trying to remain in control because he’s a hero in training now. and I think the “stay back” is the “stay back” of a boy who knows the look in that other boy’s eyes, and knows that it’s no use this time. it’s not protective, and it’s not hostile or defensive either. it’s just... resigned. don’t do it, Deku. that could have been the last thing he ever said to him, and it was measured and brave even through his fear and I love him so much.

why I like it: this is one which has to be viewed in juxtaposition with the panel immediately above it lol. Tomura looks like he could literally stare a man to death with those crazy eyes, and Kacchan is comparison just looks so ridiculously young and small and out of his league. but he doesn’t crack. but his eyes are super wide and even the shadows underneath them are stressed almost to their breaking point. like I’m screwed I’m screwed I’m so goddamn fucking screwed oh shit. my baby, guh. this was such a fucking scary experience though for real??

why I like it: same deal as above lol. this whole situation just keeps getting worse and worse, and here he’s just probing for more information while simultaneously trying to buy himself more time to think of a miracle plan. there really isn’t much chance of him getting out of here unscathed at this point (or at least there wouldn’t have been if the heroes hadn’t shown up), but I don’t think he’s letting himself think about that yet. but I’m sure it’s there at the back of his mind all the same.

why I like it: this is my favorite Bakugou face ever. SO MANY EMOTIONS. All Might came to save him! his hero!! he beat the bad guys (or so they think for that brief moment anyway) and it’s all okay now! he was alone but now he’s not anymore and All Might is there! and he is relieved, and he actually lets his guard down to show it for just a split second! his lip is trembling! I don’t think he even realizes for a moment, and then he does, and he immediately goes all tough guy again and the moment is gone! but while it’s there! it’s so much! I have never so badly wanted to hug a fictional character in my life.

why I like it: don’t you think this person could one day inspire thousands of others. do you see this courage in those eyes. the way he pushes past fear and panic and fatigue. don’t think, don’t doubt. just win.

why I like it: by now you have probably detected a pattern of me liking all of the Kamino faces because he was going through so many emotions that for once the walls just couldn’t keep up. he always looks so much younger when he’s not making >: faces. everything just smooths out. I also like that Horikoshi never makes his expressions symmetrical; he almost always has one eye wider than the other, eyebrows doing different things, stuff like that.

also this is when he sees All Might’s true form for the first time, and you can just see it hit him like a punch to the gut. All Might weakened; All Might weakened because of him; All Might might lose (!?!); All Might might die???? Katsuki’s entire world is falling apart in an instant, and in this moment he’s just a little boy.

why I like it: it beginsss. the angstening.

he’s not even resisting the hand guiding him. none of his usual unruliness or general aura of barely-checked rage. he just looks tired. and completely lost in his own thoughts. which as we now know were not good. I cannot fucking believe we had to wait another 25 chapters after this to finally get this kid a damn hug.

why I like it: because Bakugou Mitsuki is fulfilling my (and dating sim!Momo’s) lifelong dream of ruffling Bakugou Katsuki’s (spiky yet fluffy!!) hair. and all he can do is just chew his lip and halfheartedly glare at her all “mooooooOOOOmmm.” he doesn’t even really look pissed off here (because it’s hard to be mad when someone is talking about how worried they were about you and how relieved they are that you’re safe now, especially when that someone is your mom who isn’t normally the type to be so open about this kind of stuff at all), just begrudgingly grumpy. and I swear to god his bottom lip is made of fucking rubber the way he moves it around, just look at it.

why I like it: those eyelashes though!?!? [grabs Katsuki by the shoulders and shakes him roughly] WHY ARE YOUR EYES SO PRETTY.

why I like it: this is right after he found out he flunked the license exam, and you can see how upset he is. obviously we now know that shortly thereafter he went and had a complete meltdown. and buddy if you keep grinding your teeth like that, your dentist is also going to have a meltdown.

and yet again Horikoshi manages to strike this uncanny balance between making him look pissed off and making him look like he’s trying very, very hard not to cry. he just failed, again. it’s like the whole world is screaming at him over and over again that he’s not hero material at all.

why I like it: because he drags Deku out to the middle of nowhere and is all “I know you have All Might’s power and we’re gonna fight”, and Deku protests, and you expect Kacchan’s reaction to be just about anything other than what it actually is. this is as close to pleading as Katsuki is ever going to get. he may not be drowning in sludge but he is still desperate.

why I like it: this may be the best Katsuki that Horikoshi has ever drawn.

why I like it: super ultra mega unpopular opinion: I like this panel even more than THE PANEL!! that follows shortly after it. I am a sucker for when Horikoshi does this thing where he shows Katsuki’s face from a side profile, and his eyes are covered by his hair so you can’t see his full expression, but you know it is something vulnerable because he only ever does this when Katsuki is trying to hide his vulnerability. I could make a whole separate post just about these hair-covering-eyes faces lol. but out of all of them this is my absolute favorite. I can hear Okamoto’s voice acting in my head just looking at it.

why I like it: because it is THE PANEL. he finally broke completely; he let the walls fall away; he couldn’t hide it any longer. he’s so unbelievably torn up about this; he hates himself for it and feels like a failure; he’s lost and doesn’t have the faintest idea how to find his path again. he ended the Symbol of Peace. he was weak and wrong, and Deku was strong and right, and he can’t even hate Deku for it anymore, he just wants to understand what it is that he keeps doing wrong, why it is that he keeps failing.

why I like it: it’s, uuuuuh, angst.

lol it’s funny because at the beginning of the series, it was always Deku who was always crying at the drop of a hat. and to be fair this is still true. but Katsuki also cries way more than I would ever expect a rival character in a shounen manga to cry. and specifically he has cried every single time he’s had a dramatic and overly emotional altercation like this with Deku (and that’s three separate times now). is it because he’s always felt like he has less to hide around Deku? or because his Deku Emotions are so much more intense and volatile than his other emotions? at any rate, whatever it is, if this happens one more time (and I guarantee you it will too because A Certain Someone still hasn’t officially made an apology yet) he will officially lose all authority to ever call Deku out for being a crybaby again. meanwhile poor All Might will just be beside himself. I’m sorry dude, both of your children are just like this, you just gotta deal with it and accept their feelings.

why I like it: HE FINALLY GOT HIS HUG, BLESS.

and more hair covering his eyes! and chewing of the lip! and his head is bowed so much here, he fully allowed himself to be pulled into this hug and to accept this gesture of comfort for once in his life, just for a moment! after everything he was feeling, everything he was beating himself up over, All Might comes and tells him it’s not your fault. and there’s still so much guilt there, but he needs to hear this so badly that he accepts it all the same. meanwhile he is also CRYING AGAIN!? because this was the chapter where Horikoshi said “I am going to put all of the angst and cathartic conflict resolution into a single fight and it’s going to be the best thing ever” and it really was. do you even understand how much I love this. do you??

why I like it: OH GOSH I FORGOT ABOUT THIS, THIS IS MY OTHER FAVORITE KATSUKI HAIR-COVERING-EYES PANEL.

oh no. he’s ruffling his own spiky fluffy hair. he’s tired and he’s beat up (and whose fault is that lmao) and he’s learning all kinds of new things about himself today. he’s got basically nothing left in the tank, but for the first time in ages he has his path laid out in front of him again and he knows the way to start moving forward. he has been absolved of his guilt, the guilt which was eating a hole away inside of him. and all of a sudden he realizes -- it occurs to him -- hey, All Might finally admitted it, he really did give his power to Deku. but it’s still a secret though, isn’t it? it’s important, isn’t it? and so he tells them, hey, look, I get it, I won’t say anything, you don’t have to worry. it’s partially gratitude -- he owes so much to All Might and it’s ridiculous, that’s a fucking debt right there, and this is the least and only thing he can offer right now in return -- and it’s partially just... the right thing to do. like, common sense. honorable and shit. and it’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. but just, let them know.

I love his side profile so much and I love his hair and his ear and the scuffs on his face and his beaten up hand and his hunched up shoulders and him being soft and trying not to show how soft he’s being and he is precious.

BONUS:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY HANDS IN POCKETS GRUMPY TRIANGLE EYES ROVING FERAL HOG SON, I LOVE YOU.

[blishwix]

❝ WE ARE ALL WEARING MASKS. THAT IS WHAT MAKES US INTERESTING ❞

huh, who’s LUKE MITCHELL? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually JIMBO “WICK” BLISHWICK VI. he is a 35 year old PUREBLOOD wizard who is CEO OF A WIXEN TECH & MEDIA COMPANY. he is known for being CALCULATING, FRAUDULENT, HEDONISTIC, CONCEITED, and AMORAL but also CHARISMATIC, AMBITIOUS, INNOVATIVE, METICULOUS, and PERSONABLE, so that must be why he always reminds me of the song IT’S LONELY AT THE TOP BY BIG BAD VOODOO DADDY and STYLISHLY RIPPED JEANS AND SUEDE SHOES, PURELY AESTHETIC AND MISLEADING SOCIAL MEDIA FEED, NEATLY TRIMMED BEARD AND SANDALWOOD MUSK, HORN RIMMED GLASSES WITH SMUDGES ON THE LENS, MOLESKIN FULL OF ENDLESS CODE AND FUTURE TECH INNOVATIONS, EXTRAVAGANT PENTHOUSE OVERLOOKING THE CITY, WHISKEY STONES AND EMPTY DECANTERS, and CHARMING PERSONABLE SMILES WITH MALICIOUS INTENT HIDDEN UNDERNEATH THE SURFACE. i hear he is aligned with THE DEATH EATERS, so be sure to keep an eye on him.

GENERAL

FULL NAME: Jimbo Dashiel Bartholomew Blishwick VI NICKNAME(S): Wick, Jim, Dash, Bart (yes he legit will go by any of these) AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 35, 02/16/1994 OCCUPATION: Tech & Media Mogul GENDER: Cis Man PRONOUNS: He/Him/His HOMETOWN: Dallas, Texas CURRENT RESIDENCE: London, I guess ALMA MATTER: Ilvermorny, Horned Serpent BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood

BIOGRAPHY

MEET JIMBO BLISHWICK: THE YOUNG AMERICAN CHANGING THE WIZARDING WORLD ONE STATUS UPDATE AT A TIME. 

I’m not sure exactly what to expect when the invitation comes in. It seems archaic to be communicating over owl. There was even a part of me that thought I should revert to the “email” form which my subject is so fond of. What if the wixen tech mogul’s fondness for typing meant he had poor penmanship? To my delight not only was Mr. Blishwick’s handwriting clear as day, but it came with a gleeful acceptance to be interviewed. So it was on that high note that I made my way to Blishwix HQ in London to meet with the illustrious CEO. What I had expected was some pristine corporate office with dark leather and wood accents, sterile and admittedly cold and disconnected from the world. What I was met with was surprising. Blishwix is anything but old school in its style. Much like the young hip branding that accompanies its many products and services, the corporate HQ of Blishwix is sleek, modern and very accessible. It’s a open space of mostly glass walls, the bull pen dotted with standing desks and stability balls replacing wheeling chairs. Towards the entrance to the main floor there is a food bar, one which changes weekly I’m told. This week it’s a cereal bar, last week it was a sushi bar, the next week it’s expected to be a pho bar. Employees are scattered around it with tablets and laptops, giddily conversing around mouthfuls of rainbow marshmallows and corn flakes. There’s also several corners tucked away with velvet cushions where some team members curl up with headphones and e-readers or handheld video game consoles. Designated comfort zones, the tour guide describes them as. It’s the Blishwix goal to make sure the employees are all comfortable, so whenever they get stressed out or overwhelmed, there’s always a little place they can escape to in order to calm their nerves. In truth, Blishwix looks less like a company and more like an urban hang out for pretty hipsters in crop tops and flannels. Surely the big man on top would have a more professional set up, right? 

Even the display in the bull pen did not prepare me for Jimbo Blishwick’s personal office. It’s one of a few closed off areas to the side of the floor, wide with tall glass walls over looking the bull pen, and predominately empty save for another bean sack, a slim desktop atop a standing desk, and a row of bookcases displaying dozens upon dozens of novels, all of which I can’t place and among the only print media to be found anywhere in Blishwix. “They’re muggle books,” says a voice from behind. When I turn and get a first glance at the figure leaning casually against the glass door to the office, my gut instinct is that this is just another one of those twenty something year olds squeezing stress balls on the work floor. He’s tall, wearing a handmade beanie in a burnt orange color -- One that is, frankly, not a good pair with his golden hair. His neatly trimmed beard and horned rimmed glasses speak of an elegance that doesn’t exactly match the acid wash tattered jeans or the faded t shirt worn under an oversized cream cardigan. The shirt is colorful and bears a phrase that doesn’t come easy to me. Woodstock. Perhaps this is another “muggle thing”. It isn’t until he draws close enough that I recognize the bare footed man. It’s Jimbo Blishwick himself. “Call me Wick,” he easily responds to my surprised expression, knowing full well he wasn’t what I expected. Instead of holding out a hand in a formal handshake and then pulling up a chair for the interview, he engulfs me in a hug and ushers me into the love sack. It’s awkward at first, but eventually I melt into it. It’s just as comfortable as it looks, and their use in the designated comfort zones make more sense to me now. Wick opts to sit crosslegged on the floor, a large coffee in one hand and a bowl of granola balanced on his thighs. He sips the coffee as my eyes wander the space, finding small and interesting little things to ask him about. 

The first thing that draws my attention is a set of crystals sitting on the top of his desk, and when I ask he lets out a howling laugh that echos throughout the office, surely drawing the attention of his hard playing -- and hardly working -- employees beyond the glass walls. “Oh, I had a bit of a headache,” he says with a somewhat amused grin. “My wife said they might help.” The wife in question isn’t some darling stay at home mom you might expect. In Wick’s own words: She’s the reason the “Boss Girl” phrase was invented. Selene Blishwick is as shrewd a business person as her husband is, and perhaps a bit more progressive. As I attempt to shift a bit in the cushion, Wick relays some confidential information about some of their upcoming branding collaborations. Each is more unconventional than the last, and they all have one vital thing in common: Selene Blishwick is the one that found them. I’d go into detail, but Wick swears it would become a marital problem if I spill the big secrets before they’re due to come out. Instead he offers a sly grin and taps a single finger to his lips. “Our little secret, then you can be the cool hip one among your friends who knew all about it before it came out.” An exciting proposition, though I realize that I do need something I can share with the public from this visit, and as Wick’s bowl of dry granola gets emptier I fear I’m running out of time. So I set out to do what I’d planned: a profile on the CEO of Wizarding London’s premiere tech company. 

When I ask Wick what was the event that kickstarted his long journey to bringing the wixen world into the 21st Century, he answers in one simple phrase: “A pen pal program.” I was surprised to say the least, but it all became more transparent as I urged him to elaborate. What ensues is a story about the overweight son of a MACUSA politician who was teased and bullied all his life and struggled to maintain platonic connections. “I had no friends,” he says, a sad truth but it comes out with a light and airy laugh. “But I didn’t make it quite easy for people to be my friend.” Despite his laid back and easy going charm, Wick reveals a disabling shyness and insecurity that kept him from engaging with the world. The only one privy to his thoughts and personality was the journal he carried with him wherever he went. “I always thought I sounded better on print than in person. I could be whoever I wanted to be on paper -- Handsome, smart, clever and fun. I just could never bring that outwards, you know?” I think we can all sympathize with the young Blishwick’s plight. It didn’t help that he had quite the shoes to fill. Sixth in his line, the Jimbos that came before the media mogul were all tied to American politics. They’re all charming and ambitious men, but Wick says he just didn’t have it in him to be a lawmaker. “Big Daddy” -- yes, that’s the moniker his father, Jimbo the fifth, goes by -- “He’s just built to be a Senator, I’m just the apple that fell a little too far from that tree.” Secluded and distant, educators began to worry that Wick’s development would be halted by the lack of socialization between him and his peers. So one Ilvermorny professor had suggested Wick be one of a handful of students elected to partake in a cross continental penpal program. “Fabricating friendship,” he called it. What they didn’t know is that the program would lead to a lot more. When I ask him who his first penpal is, if it’s someone he still has direct contact with, he lets another one of those amusing grins slip. “Oh yeah, very much so. I’m actually married to her.” 

A fifth year at Ilvermorny, Wick was matched with a Hogwarts student a handful of years younger than him by the name of Selene Rowle. According to Wick, their correspondence lasted throughout both of their schooling and beyond, until he had taken a chunk out of his trust fund in order to travel to the United Kingdom to meet in person. He says that’s the only time he used his family’s money to get where he is now -- literally using it to transport across the Atlantic. Leaving behind his family’s estate in Texas and the promising job at MACUSA his father had acquired for him, Wick came to London in order to meet his long distance friend for the first time. The only person “who really knew what he was about” he says. I ask if it was for romantic reasons. He thinks about it while he sips his drink. “I guess in hindsight it does seem a little romantic.” Whatever his reasons, Wick came and he never turned back. He said that one of the first times they interacted in person, he and his future bride had lamented on their past communication and the long waits between letters. “We felt like we’d left things off on cliff hangers so often, and you’d have to wait forever just to get some kind of answer to those burning questions the last letter gave you. It was one of the most frustrating things.” The pair wondered what it would have been like if there had been a more instantaneous way to talk with wizards across the globe. After all, Wick had concluded, the muggles did it just fine. During his teen years, the Texan said he had grown very interested in what nonmagical civilization was like. A “No-Maj Studies Class”, as they call the Muggle Studies program in the states, had a unit on the technological advances of the nonmagical community during much of the modern era. The professors tried to teach the students that this was all building towards a very dangerous threat to the magical community: exposure and the fast spreading of information over the internet. Wick saw something different. “As I thought about how I wished I had a better gateway to my penpal during my teen years, I just kept thinking about how muggles had that already figured out. They could instantly send letters to anyone anywhere in the world. No long wait times for traveling owls or anything like that. It was instantaneous.... And why shouldn’t we be like that?” 

It was this very thought that birthed the company the Blishwicks lead now. 

So how do you bring the magical world safely into the 21st Century as dictated by the nonmagical? That was no easy feat. For his part, Wick said he had to learn all about something that didn’t exist in their world, something that didn’t interact well with magic. And how do you study muggle tech without magic interfering? Simple: You “become a muggle”. That’s when I realized there was a book I recognized on his eclectic shelf of reading material. Daisy Hookum’s best seller My Life as a Muggle. It’s the first book on the shelf, in the most pristine condition. A first edition, and it’s even signed by the author herself, though Wick doesn’t remember the meeting. It has a simple message in it: I hope you enjoy the time you spend in the nonmagical world and make memories as fond as my own. “Oh yeah,” he laughs, “I did tell her I was also voluntarily giving up magic in order to help kickstart my company.” He says it with an air of unfamiliarity, like he only vaguely remembers the moment. Still, he presses on with the story. A controversial choice for the son of a self proclaimed “conservative-traditional” pureblood senator, Wick was shortly disowned by the American Blishwicks for his choice to give up his magic for two and a half years to live among the muggles. But it had purpose. “I may have lied my way into an internship with a tech company in Edingbrugh. I was trying to learn as much as I could about this muggle innovation. If I wanted to create something similar for our community, I needed to master their version.” He says it took more than the two years he gave himself to live among them, and he’s still studying it to this day, but after that amount of time he had the ground work he needed to then create his tech and media empire. The biggest obstacle wasn’t even in creating the highly secret magically encrypted network which allows smart phones to be used in the wizarding world. No, for Wick the biggest hurdle to pass over was the longstanding traditional values the community had. “I think there’s an innate fear in not just advancing the community, but in mirroring any sort of progress than the muggles have done. There’s nothing wrong with it, I mean we have adapted enough of their inventions into our own world already so why not take it a step further?” He refers to radio and electric hook ups that appeared in a lot of wixen homes in the past century. 

Blishwix started out small, creating and selling smart phones and desktops primarily with the idea in mind to change the way we communicate. Email was one of those first muggle digital contraptions that made its way into the wixen mainstream and has stayed, but within a short decade the company’s offerings expanded to mirror exactly what the digital world of the muggles looks like now. It’s becoming more and more rare to see wixen without a Loquix* in hand, or a Blishwix desktop at home. The Wixpix social media app, in which users post photos taken from the cameras on their cellular devices and add witty captions which can then be “liked” or “commented” on by users across the globe, continues to grow in popularity. And now the media and tech giant is rolling out a “streaming platform” -- a sort of home theater in the form of an app that catalogues film and television programs created by wixen for wixen. There’s Accio, an application that allows you to ask random questions and receive an answer instantly; Portky** which allows users to request forms of transportation when they desperately need it, including ministry-approved portkeys (or so it claims, we haven’t used it yet here at the Prophet). There’s even applications for those lonely wixen looking to find a love connection. Erised is one such app where user profiles are made with a handful of photos, a small ‘about me’ section, and a few small details that can be provided to prospective dates in order to help connect those with similar interests and hobbies. The married Wick does not have an Erised profile, but his assistant allows me to scroll through her’s and even swipe a few times on other profiles. I accidentally match her to someone she admits she can’t see herself interested in, but we all have a good laugh about it. These are only a few of many “experiences”, as Wick refers to them, offered by the company in order to branch the magical people from across the globe. “What is more beautiful than seeing people from different cultural backgrounds and walks of life coming together and sharing ideas and thoughts so quickly?” I realize as I’m sitting there in that bean cushion, scrolling through a prototype of the next Blishwix tablet that I know so little about the world beyond my little corner of it. I suddenly understand Wick’s enthusiasm about expanded communication. 

It’s all pretty exciting to see coming together, it’s almost impossible to understand what more could be done by Blishwix. So when I ask him what’s next, Wick gets a very eager look in his eyes. “There’s a lot of places we still don’t have our tech in that I think would be all the better for it,” he solemnly reveals, and I’m shocked to hear it. Since visiting Blishwix, I have seen their product seemingly in every corner of Wizarding London I explore daily. Who isn’t using connected to their expansive network at this point? “I would love to do a partnership with the Ministry. As the governing body, I feel like we can offer them so much that could continue to further develop the community and continue progressing us into the future. If we could get our desktops in every Ministry Department, we can further the sort of work that keeps our world moving. Just imagine how we could expand Law Enforcement, Education or Wellfare departments if we can make all the relevant information they need all the more accessible to their employees? Think about how much easier it would be for them to process information on our fast and reliable network.” 

On the topic of Education, Wick reveals his ambitions don’t stop with the Ministry. “I would love to see Blishwix in schools like Hogwarts,” he says, revealing what may be the biggest bombshell yet. “This whole dream started because of a chubby boy who had no friends in school and wanted a faster way to communicate with the one he made far away. I think a lot about that and how my life would have been different had I had this kind of technology available to me. If there are lonely kids like me who could have that, or even kids who are just struggling to get the information they need to be successful in school, and I could give them what they need to advance in life? Then I could say I’ve done what I initially set out to do. Until that day, I would say that Blishwix hasn’t been a success yet. Even teachers could benefit from the use of the internet and all the resources we have out there which we now have access to.” I begin to wonder if the technological genius is actually more of a philanthropist. “I don’t know, you tell me,” he quips when I muse out loud. Our interview comes to a halt by this point, and I’m left with so many more questions. What is Blishwix cooking up for the wizarding world next? What kind of innovations will define the company’s next decade? These, and so many more, questions are left unanswered as I walk out of Blishwix HQ, a takeaway bowl of fruity cereal in one hand and my previous generation Loquix in the other (scrolling through shopping apps in order to find that “love sack” I spent much of the afternoon lounging in).

The same day I begin writing this piece out, Blishwix has announced the Loquix VI, their most advance smartphone yet. They livestream details of their upgraded OS and hardware reveal on the company’s social media, an event I watch while typing this article up on my worn out typewriter. Halfway through and I’m out of ribbon, and I silently curse myself as I order a new set online. All the while the Blishbook Pro is being revealed on the stream, its sleek wireless keyboard and slim expandable monitor shimmering under the stage lights. I join in with the loud gasps from the shareholders crowding the conference room where the event is being held. The irony of this isn’t lost on me, and as I sit here writing out these last few paragraphs with a quill in my cramped hand I begin to realize exactly why I admire Jimbo Blishwick and his forward thinking. At least he’s not sitting here with ink blotches in obscene places, running to his editor’s office just barely before deadline with a mess of typed and handwritten article. I remember in that moment, drenched in the rain while rushing through the offices of the Prophet, the first line in his owl response to my inquiry for the interview: 

You should have just emailed. 

Touché, Blishwick, touché. 

*Portky app idea comes courtesy of Kim ( @strvngemagics​ ) **Loquix phone name comes courtesy of Vic ( @cfdiggorys​ / @moodyparis​ / @aarlingtons​ ) Both gave permission to use / mention these galaxy brained concepts in the intro and credit for their conception goes to them. Thank you guys so much!!

TL;DR: Wick is full of shit. What can I say? Here’s the ‘Murrican lad who claims to be some hip and cool CEO of a wizarding tech and media company. Okay he’s I guess apple meets zuckerberg. Idk I’m not galaxy brained enough for this afheiahfpea hence the very oddly written bio. Wick’s a pureblood from america who supposedly forsake his family’s purist ways and then decided to create a company modeled after muggle tech in order to “bring the wizarding world into the modern era”. In actuality? He’s a fucking bigot who created a network that he could use to spy on people who may be enemies of the cause. At least that’s how it’s being factored into the DEs. His theme song is “Somebody’s Watching Me” by Rockwell bc he’s always watching you. Gives off this very laid back and down to earth and charming persona just so he can gain your trust and meanwhile he’s leaking your information to the DE and helping them further their agenda. Some extra tidbits not seen above: 

He’s got some daddy issues which are leaking into his parenting. Aka he is not exactly excited to be a father but you wouldn’t know that from his Wixpix feed which feature so many “cute” dad photos with his baby boy. In order for him to become his best self, his dad had to make his life a living hell and he believes that’s how he’s gonna have to handle Zephyr as well. 

He is smart, yes, but he’s not some brilliant innovator like the world thinks he is. His empire is built on stolen material which he simply “adapted” to the magical world. He’s not original, but he is clever. 

He’s not a fighter, clumsy with a wand, had a severe stutter as a kid which made it very hard for him to cast spells etc, so he avoids battle often and instead offers up his company more for espionage for the DEs. He’s better suited to behind the scenes mayhem, and that’s kind of the way he likes it. 

He’s a coward. He’s hiding behind computer screens and tbh if things get really sticky he’s likely to try and sell out the DE in order to save his skin. Has an escape plan to the states if things get really sticky but the likelihood of him succeeding are slim to none. 

He acts very charitable and humble and kind but he’s conceited as hell and he’s a real shady bitch sometimes. Talks shit on everyone behind their backs

He’s had a few affairs here and there despite being married. Even with that, he is in love with his wife and feels a sort of fealty towards her. She’s a very important part to the company, she’s pretty much the brand of it and so he relies on her a lot to help manufacture their image even just as individuals to help the rouse. 

BODY IMAGE TW/EATING DISORDER TW. Wick has some body image issues due to his past tbh. He got bullied a lot as a kid for being overweight and quiet, his solace was in food and he was a binge eater. As he got a bit older, he made some desperate choices in order to lose weight to gain a slimmer figure. It wasn’t healthy, it landed him in hospital a few times, and eventually he had to meet with nutrition specialists and therapists in order to work out a more healthy mindset on food. He’s still harbors body imagine issues, but he’s learned to be better about it. Still, he maintains a very strict diet and work out regime because he feels his image is one of the most important things about him. He did meet Selene when he was slim and athletic and therefore thinks it’s best he maintain the figure even just out of fear she wouldn’t find him attractive otherwise. 

is any of the stuff he said in this interview true? Idk, idk

Idk, I hate this man and this bio afheuiahfpea I’ll end up rewriting it eventually. 

MISC

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic LANGUAGES: English FAMILY: Jimbo Dashiel Bartholomew Blishwick V (but they call him “Big Daddy”; father), Cricket Blishwick née Berkeley (mother), Beaufort Harland Blishwick (younger brother), Cora-Lou Blishwick (younger sister), Selene Blishwick née Rowle (wife), Zephyr Blishwick (infant son), and by extension all the fucking Rowles I guess PETS: TBD FACE CLAIM: Luke Mitchell ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Aquarius MBTI: hm PINTEREST: (coming soon)

WANTED CONNECTIONS

interns - a couple new grunts at the blishwix HQ. they can be any affiliation, but if they are DE affiliated then they’ll know a little bit more about what is going on behind closed doors at the company. could be fun for future plotting purposes. 

co conspirators - other DEs who similarly to wick lead a double life in the public eye. philanthropists, media stars, all sorts of “do gooders” who are banning together in order to break “harmful stigmas and stereotypes and join the wixen community globally”. blishwix mission statement aims to create a platform for wixen of all types across the world to interact free of prejudice and judgement and to bring the magical community into a modern era free of harmful ideologies. of course that’s a fucking lie, so if you play a baddy bad who’s pretending to be goody good then this could be a fun collaboration. 

partnerships - alternatively, let’s see some honest to good people and groups get schemed by these fuckers. this would involve some potential screwing over but no worries, at the end of the day blishwix will tank and then your character can get their sweet revenge on this man and his corrupt business. 

idk hmu with ideas. 

[shirtlesssammy]

10x14: The Executioner's Song

A guard checks the halls of a death row prison. Tommy, a prisoner, taunts him, while another guard watches the exchange on a monitor. The guard walks away to get coffee. The lights in the prison hall flicker, and a man walks towards Tommy’s cell.

The first guard makes it back to their monitoring station to see the man approach Tommy’s cell. The lights go dark, and then flash back on to an empty hallway.

The man is inside Tommy’s cell though —and it’s CAIN! He taunts him, and then stabs him through the abdomen. They disappear.

While driving to the prison, Dean quizzes Sam about his ridiculously good knowledge of serial killers. Oh Sam, never change. Sam then fills Dean in on the killer that went missing. A supernatural serial killer is Sam’s jam!

They check out the prison cell and talk with the warden.

The warden shows them the security footage, and through the magic of television, they zoom in  enough for Dean to recognize Cain’s profile.

Cas is busy interrogating a demon for the whereabouts of Cain. He’s been seen but low-level demons keep their distance.

For Interrogation Science:

Getting all he can from the demon, Cas stabs him dead.

Crowley, meanwhile, is bored with the bureaucratic hell he created for himself. Rowena is still poking the bear with her own little machinations.

Sam discovers that Tommy’s dad disappeared about a week prior. Dean gets a call from Cas revealing that Tommy is dead.

Dean asks where Cas is, but Cas senses something and tells him he’ll call back. Cain appears.

Cain tells Cas that he had to kill again with Abandon gunning for him. He liked how it felt, and now he’s on a mission to kill all his children.

Cain asks after Dean, and just by looking at Cas’s worried face, knows that Dean isn’t well. Cain tells Cas not to worry. “I’ll get to him in due time.” Lol, Cas draws his angel blade SO FAST, but Cain disappears.

Rowena asks her favor for Crowley to find Olivette, the leader of the Grand Coven, and Crowley realizes that Rowena was playing a long con to get in his good graces. Rowena laughs and tells him that they could have fun together —away from the doldrums of Hell. Crowley walks away.

For Profile Science:

TFW meet back at the bunker. Sam confirms that Cain is wiping out whole families —and Tommy had a son. Dean’s ready to hit the road and find the boy —to find Cain.

And when he finds him, he’ll kill him. He’s the only one that can do it. Sam worries that wielding the First Blade against Cain will destroy Dean. Dean knows.

Rowena shows Crowley her plans for abducting Olivette. Dean interrupts though and tells Crowley he needs to bring them the Blade. Cain has a kill list and Crowley is on it. Rowena continues to chortle over her revenge plans, but Crowley puts the kibosh on it, grabbing the First Blade out of a laughably easily accessed “secret” storage compartment. Rowena shames Crowley for what she sees as an utterly stupid choice: handing the blade over to Dean is surely a death sentence. 

At a farm, Team Free Will locates Cain’s next target. They go over the plan: hang out and wait until Cain arrives, and then Dean kills him! Easy peasy. Crowley appears and immediately voices his concern about the “risk to us.” 

“There is no us,” Dean retorts. GOOD lord, show. Crowley decrees that he’s going to stick around and hold onto the blade until Cain’s trapped...so it’s one big happy PARTY! 

Cut to Sam and Dean failing to watch over the basketball-playing kid while they talk about emotions. Dean’s afraid.

Cain appears at the farm ready to kill the kid, when Cas intervenes. Cas orders the kid to run while he takes on Cain. Cas gets all glowy!

But barely a lock of Cain’s magnificent hair can be budged by Cas. Chucking Cas to the side with a little bit of demon mojo, Cain heads after the kid. Sam tries to hold the barn doors closed, but Cain skips doors altogether and zaps in right next to the kid. He stabs him, but instead of a horrible death the kid explodes into purple magic. An illusion! 

Cain’s unimpressed. “The rune of amaranth,” he guesses, and Crowley confirms it. (Now, you just need to learn that, Sammy, and you can also be a witch!) Cain traces the boundaries of his devil’s trap cage, while Sam, Cas, and Crowley worriedly arm Dean with the blade. Dean implores them to take him down if he comes out shooting metaphorical black lasers out of his eyes. 

For MMHMMM Cas Science:

The staging of the actors says it all about Dean’s dark path. Also, breakups can be weird, y’all.

Dean powers up, blade in hand, and then smiles. We’re...so comforted? He heads up to confront Cain, who continues to prowl the devil’s trap. Cain insists that killing off his descendants is the best service he can do for the world. He asks Dean how it feels to hold the blade again. “It feels like a means to an end,” Dean totally lies. Dean walks into the devil’s trap and they start to fight. 

It’s not looking so good for our Dean Bean, and Cain’s disappointed. He thinks Dean’s been holding back, like that might save him from fully deep-diving into the Mark. Even as he rips the blade away, Cain identifies Dean’s biggest weakness as his bravado. (Uh, I’d say it’s his hair-trigger temper or perhaps his endless self-loathing.) Cain drinks in the power of the blade, and hurls Dean to the ground.

“Have you ever mused on the fact that you’re living my life in reverse?” Cain asks. He predicts that Dean’s story will end in his brother’s death. “First, you'd kill Crowley. There'd be some strange mixed feelings on that one, but you'd have your reason. You'd get it done, no remorse. And then you'd kill the angel, Castiel. Now, that one… That I suspect would hurt something awful. And then would come the murder you'd never survive, the one that would finally turn you into as much of a savage as it did me.” Cain starts to bring the first blade down on Dean, when Dean pulls a Darth Vader and slices off Cain’s hand. 

Dean grabs up the First Blade and looks upon Cain, seeing his sorry future. “Tell me I don’t have to do this. Tell me that you’ll stop.” Cain can promise no such thing, so Dean swallows and passes judgment on Cain...and on himself. He brings up the blade over a kneeling Cain and brings it down with an anguished cry. JENSEN ACKLES YOUR FACE IS KILLING ME. Dean walks the blade back down to his waiting friends, looking utterly lost. 

For Quit Your Damn Face Science:

After a long hesitation, Dean hands the blade to....Castiel. 

Dean reveals that he played Crowley - the demon was never on Cain’s list. Dean gets a Sam hug, and we all feel GREAT and not broken at ALL.

Crowley returns to Hell, greeted by despondent piano music and Rowena. She’s packed her bags! She tells him she was devastated to learn of his mortal death, and that she was wildly proud to find him King of Hell. She tells him that now he’s nothing but a “sad, bored wee boy on the throne” and she can’t bear to stay longer.  

Back at the bunker, Dean drinks coffee and broods. Sam tries to look on the bright side - Dean’s drinking coffee and not murdering anyone! Yay! Cas returns, revealing that he stowed the blade “somewhere safe.” WHERE, CAS? WHERE IS THE BLADE? Must I go past the series’ end and never know where your secret treasure cave is??? (Side note: That’s what Dean said.)

Dean leaves the kitchen, and bro-pats Cas on the shoulder.

Cas asks how Sam is doing and the answer is….NOT GREAT. “Dean’s in trouble,” Sam says, and we fade to black.

Mother Always Said You Would Quote My Heart:

It's called true crime, Dean. It's a hobby

Consorting with hunters!

Have you never mused upon the fact that you're living my life in reverse? My story began when I killed my brother, and that's where your story inevitably will end

[eternalbangtan]

Black Bunny // jjk

Pairing: Jungkook x reader, college AU, ft. Jimin

Genre: fluff

Word count: 2.8k 

Sequel & Drabble (pure filth)

Summary: You meet Jungkook in one of your classes and end up doing a project together with him. 

Jungkook was the guy that you first noticed as he sat in the back of one of your afternoon lectures. 

You always came to that lecture a bit late because you had another lecture right before this one in another building that was far and you noticed him one time, when you were scanning the classroom for any empty seats. The last few empty seats happened to be next to him so you walked to the back of the class quietly and sat down a few seats away from him. 

He didn’t stand out in any particular way but you somehow couldn’t help but steal glances at him. He was wearing all black and had long curly hair that covered a large part of his face. His side profile seemed a bit intimidating and the way he seemed to be concentrating on writing his notes was admirable to say the least. Who handwrites notes in college nowadays? You were intrigued by him but you quickly took out your laptop and started taking notes of what the professor was saying.

This lecture was for a course that you didn’t particularly want to take but had to just because of credits. That’s why you were puzzled by his concentration on note taking for this uninteresting class. The lecture went on but it wasn’t as boring this time around thanks to the guy in black. You couldn’t help but look at his dark locks that he from time to time played with. It’s really rare for a guy to have hair this long and you thought to yourself that you’ve discovered another characteristic of your ideal type.

Last weekend, at a party, you and your girlfriends were discussing your ideal types of guys and you were the only one that didn’t really have a type. All your friends had these detailed descriptions of what their ideal prince charming would look like but you ended your description at ‘nice eyes’. To be honest, these things seemed useless to you because life never works out the way you want it to and that goes for relationships as well. Your friends’ exes or present boyfriends were not even close to their ideals but they were dating them anyways. You can’t plan out who you fall for but you found yourself thinking about your ideal type while looking at Jungkook. You knew nothing about him but somehow you thought that if you ever had to define your ideal type, it would have to be him.

“That’s it for today!” said the professor and brought you back to reality of the classroom. “As I mentioned last time, there is going to be a team project as a part of the final evaluation so I want you to find a partner and start working on it. I don’t ever accept anything after the due date, no matter the excuse, so if you don’t want to fail the class, get to work.”

Ugh, you hated this professor so much. The way he spoke was so arrogant and you despised arrogant people who thought they were something more than others. That was one problem, but the other was that you knew no one in this class because you never had the chance to talk to anyone thanks to your late arrivals. How were you going to find someone to do this with?

You looked over at the guy in black and noticed he was packing very slowly, looking at the people in the classroom. Maybe he is also looking for a partner, you thought, and if he already has someone in mind then what worse can happen than being rejected. You decided to give asking him a shot so you packed your things into your backpack as fast as you could and then slowly walked up to him. He didn’t seem to notice you for what seemed like ages so you had to awkwardly bring his attention to yourself.

“Hey, sorry to disturb you… Do you have someone to do this project with yet? I’m y/n…” Oh, what have I done, you thought to yourself. He didn’t even look at you. “If you already have a partner then never mind…” You were mortified and hated yourself for being so awkward and having no self confidence in front of strangers. When you were about to apologize one more time and walk away, you heard his voice.

“Hi, I don’t know anyone in this class so I’ll take up on your offer. I’m Jungkook by the way.”

That was a response your low confidence didn’t expect but it made you smile and look his way one more time. This time you were more confident and you slowly brought out your right hand from the pocket of your jacket to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you Jungkook, I’m looking forward to working with you.” You tried to look him in the eyes but you were too shy to maintain eye contact for longer than a few seconds.

He slowly stood up from his seat and shook your hand firmly “Same here, nice meeting you y/n.” He said and his face lit up, showing you his bunny teeth that you immediately found insanely cute. Another ideal type characteristic, you made a mental note to yourself. He suddenly seemed really approachable, unlike the first impression you had of him during class.

You looked at his notebook that was still open on the table and realized why he had looked so concentrated when taking notes. It wasn’t notes that he was so focused on, but his drawing. It was an abstract drawing and you thought that it was really pretty. As soon as he noticed what you were looking at, he let go of your hand and shut his notebook closed.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to look…” you thought that he didn’t want you to see and would be angry but he shrugged it off. “It’s not done yet. I can show you when it’s done… If you’re still interested by then”

You realized he was just being shy, the same as you, which made you relax a little. “I’ll be waiting.” Another awkward pause. “Can I have your number? For the project, I mean.” you asked.

“Sure, give me your phone, I’ll type it in.” he said as you gave him your phone. He then rung his number and took out his own phone to save your number. “Talk to you later. I’ve got one more class today so I better get going.” He said as he picked up his bag, which was also black. “Have a good evening!”

You couldn’t decide if he was a shy person or not because he kept switching from awkward to suddenly really cool in a matter of seconds. You’ve never met someone like him in your life.

“Bye, talk to you later!” you waved at him. He was really handsome on top of his cute behavior so you couldn’t take your eyes off his back even as he was walking out of the classroom. This was probably the first time someone piqued your interest to this extent. Also his fashion sense was, at least in your eyes, out of this world. He was wearing black boots, baggy pants, a simple t-shirt and a trench coat. Everything in black but he made it work so that it looked well put together and not boring in the least. Anyone else, including you, wearing that same outfit would probably look ridiculous.

Later that evening he texted you and you agreed to work on the project this Friday. You both had only morning classes and the afternoon seemed like a perfect time for the both of you. You met up in a cute coffee shop that he suggested and that you never knew existed, even though it was right next to your campus. You loved the atmosphere and even the baristas were really kind. Jungkook was friends with one of them. His name was Jimin, and he even got us a discount on top of saving us a cozy spot that was ideal for studying. Why was everything about this study session already better than any coffee shop date you went on? You had to get yourself together though because Jungkook was already opening his laptop while you were busy thinking about unnecessary things like Jungkook’s yet another all-black outfit that consisted of a puffer jacket, flannel checkered shirt that peeked from under it, a t-shirt that left his collarbones on display for everyone to see, black jeans and these huge chunky sneakers that probably only he could pull off.

It was already late fall so the weather was getting colder by the day. You ordered a cappuccino and Jungkook asked for an iced americano. You were waiting for the coffee, looking around, admiring the interior, Jungkook’s fit, and decorations of the café. It was forest themed, so the furniture was wooden with cozy pillows, there was a lot of cute plants and the light brown color of the walls made it seem a really welcoming space. Jimin then brought you your drinks and you got started by coming up with ideas for the project.

It was coming along pretty well but it took more time than you initially expected and Jimin came to apologize that they were closing earlier today because one of their baristas couldn’t make it to work. That left you with two choices. Either calling it quits today or finding another place to study. You both agreed that you had a nice momentum so trying to do more would be better and you were trying to come up with a great spot to move to. The library was out of the question because you wouldn’t be able to talk to each other, getting another coffee somewhere else at this hour would make you sleepless and you both hated the study rooms on campus.

“How about we go to my place? It’s not far from here.” Jungkook suggested with his bunny smile. “My roommate told me he would be out partying today so we won’t be disturbing anyone. Would you be okay with that?” he added as he rubbed his neck with his hand, suddenly all shy, looking at the ground.

His sudden shyness made you smile and before you could think it through you agreed. “Definitely a better choice than my place. My roommate isn’t the friendliest of all people.”

“It’s settled then.” Jungkook said as his bunny teeth reappeared with his smile and he waved goodbye to Jimin. You bowed to him and like that you were on our way to his place.

He really didn’t live far from the coffee shop and even from campus. He apparently met his roommate online when looking for a place before starting freshman year and they’ve been living together in the same apartment since then. Their place was surprisingly clean and surprisingly you didn’t feel the awkwardness that comes with every first visit to someone’s home.

“Make yourself at home. Do you want something to drink? I’m going to bring some snacks to eat while we work.” You heard Jungkook from the kitchen as you sat down on the sofa in the living room.

“A glass of water would be nice, thank you Jungkook.” You took out your laptop from your backpack, went through what you came up with this afternoon and Jungkook was soon to come from the kitchen with your drink and a bowl of chips to snack on. He sat down next to you, maybe a little too close for you to concentrate on the work but you didn’t want to complain so you went back to reviewing the project.

You got used to Jungkook’s closeness in no time and now you were passionately discussing a part of the project you didn’t agree on. The air between you got colder so you decided to leave this part for later and reached out your hand to grab a snack but Jungkook had the same idea so you ended up grabbing his hand as you were reaching for the bowl of chips. Your shy self pulled back quickly, jumping up ever so slightly, surprised by the sudden contact. “I’m sorry.” You didn’t want it to make things awkward so you apologized and when Jungkook, seemingly unfazed, put the chips in his mouth, you quickly reached for the bowl once again, hoping that stuffing your mouth with food will make you stay silent and not embarrass yourself in front of him even more.

You were looking straight into your notes, though you weren’t reading any of it because your mind went blank and you didn’t notice the smile Jungkook had on his face, finding your shyness cute. You couldn’t lie to yourself. He was attractive and a practically perfect example of your ideal type but there was no way someone like him would feel anything for you because these things just don’t work out.

“Did you really not do that on purpose?” he said and you looked at him, slightly confused by his question. “Because I wouldn’t mind.”

You could see a slight blush spreading on his cheeks and you tried to process what he was saying.

“Uhh, sorry if I made it awkward now, I…” he couldn’t think of any words to say to make all this go away.

“Are you saying that you wouldn’t mind or that you would like me to… hold your hand?”

Where did this confidence come from, you had no idea, but Jungkook was suddenly staring at you with his doe eyes and that made you lose your confident behavior once again.

“If it’s okay with you, then I would love to, y/n.” These words of his made you look at him, your cheeks probably crimson red and he continued, pulling a piece of his hair behind his ear “I have to tell you something. I’ve noticed you on campus a while back and when I found out you were attending the same lecture as me, I was really happy but I had no idea how to approach you and what to say out of the blue. You never even looked my way so I assumed you weren’t interested in me at all but then you talked to me and… This sounds like I’m some sort of a stalker, right? Sorry…”

You were left speechless because the lecture you talked to him was the first time you noticed him. There were so many people in the classroom that you didn’t even try to look at all of them and basically didn’t care much who was there with you.

“Wait, you’re saying you knew me and wanted to talk to me but… never did just because I didn’t notice you? And why would I think you’re a stalker? That’s silly.” you added as you laughed slightly.

Jungkook was looking down on his hands that he had folded on his thighs and suddenly he saw your hand on his. He looked up at you and when he saw you smile at him he didn’t know better than to place a light but long kiss on your lips that left you wanting more. After realizing what he had done, he tried to apologize once more. “That was… You looked too cute, I couldn’t help myself, sorr-” but he couldn’t finish his words as you placed your hands over his shoulders and kissed him, silencing whatever he was going to say. Jungkook didn’t waste another moment and started to kiss you softly but passionately, his hands hugging your body and pulling you even closer to him. When you pulled away to take a breath, you looked him in the eyes, this time without looking away.

“Why didn’t you talk to me sooner, Jungkook? Now I feel like I’ve wasted time not knowing who you were when we could have been friends.”

“Only friends…?” he asked hesitating a little, while still holding you.

You couldn’t believe he was the same guy who kissed you so confidently just a while ago. “Friends and more if you want.”

“Of course I would like you to be more than just a friend… would you like being my girlfriend, y/n? Because I would love that.” He confessed.

“I would love that too, and for you to be my bunny boyfriend” you couldn’t help but smile like a fool.

Jungkook looked a bit puzzled by your words, tilting his head to the side. “Bunny?”

“Yes, the cutest bunny in the world… and now he’s mine.”

He pouted and looked away from you but when you pecked his cheek, he smiled, unconsciously showing his bunny teeth, making you tease him again.

“Whatever you say.” Jungkook said, hugging you tightly again. “I like you a lot, y/n. More than I had thought.”

“Me too, Jungkook. More than I had thought.”

A/N: I don’t know what I am doing but I enjoy it. I hope you liked it >w< Also, should I write a sequel? I appreciate constructive criticism ^^

[sarcastic-space-gal]

The Dancer with Golden Earrings (Part 2)

Summary: The bard and the reader travel together, hoping to find a job once in Brugge. However, more they get to know each other more they’re afraid to part from one another;

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader;

Word Count: 2k;

Warning: Slow burn? (or my attempt at it);

A/N: Here is the second part of “ The Dancer with Golden Earrings”, if you haven’t read it, here is Part 1. As always, feedback is appreciated. I hope you’ll like it. Love you all xoxo. 

The cool breeze of the morning caressed the leaves making them rustle and creating a peaceful melody. The sun was still faint behind the hills as the birds chirped before vanishing in the early lights of dawn. The only other sounds were a horse neighing and-

“No.” said a voice, sternly.

“Geralt come on!” Jaskier lowered his tone after seeing few people around him snap their heads toward him “She will travel alone!”

“The answer is still no”

The bard sighed “You weren’t so disappointed when you asked me to come with you”

“I did not ask you, you followed me”

“That’s because I knew you needed some company on your way to kill monsters” said Jaskier cheerfully pointing his finger to Geralt.

The witcher grumbled, quickly turned his head and came back to fix his bags on the saddle while the bard smile faded as he placed his fists on his hips. But Jaskier knew how to coax his friend, touching his inner protective side.

“So you are letting a young, unarmed woman wander these dark and dangerous forests, even knowing she’ll probably be at the mercy of some foglers, leshies or even giant centipedes?”

Geralt slowly made eye contact with him, a serious expression on his face. Bingo, thought Jaskier.

The witcher’s eyes glanced behind the bard’s shoulders were you stood saying farewell to the chamberlain, while giving him a respectful bow and a small smile.

Besides Jaskier constant ranting if he refused to let you come with them, he remembered how kindly and friendly you had greeted him, even after knowing he was a witcher. Moreover, Jaskier was right about all the forest’s creatures lurking around Cintra.

Geralt glanced back into Jaskier’s eyes and grumbled again.

“Fine.”

“I knew it! Lady Y/n, come here there’s a place for you on Roach”

“Nobody touches Roach, Jaskier!”

The first few hours of walking were occupied by the bard’s tales and by your interested comments in regard to those stories.

“And from that day, they all call him White Wolf, thanks to me” said Jaskier “I composed at least three ballads out of that”

“I’m sure they have been all very successful” you smiled watching your steps.

“Well, I can’t deny that” he smirked.

Laughing you looked up to the witcher, who was riding his horse ahead of you two.

“Oh, I still haven’t had the chance to thank you for letting me come with you” you mentioned while stepping over a fallen tree.

Geralt slightly turned his head to the side revealing his profile but not fully making eye contact with you.

“It was Jaskier’s idea” he simply said.

You turned to him and even if you weren’t sure, you could have sworn you saw a glimpse of redness on the bard’s cheeks.

“I thought this wasn’t the right place for wandering alone” he said with a nervous smile “Mostly for a lady”

You couldn’t help but feel flattered by his interest or… concern? No, it was probably an act of chivalry, you thought.

“This is wouldn’t be the first time that I travel alone, but I quite enjoy some company” you responded, winking at him.

Few days went by, you arrived in some small cities east of Cintra but luck was not by your side: no jobs, neither for you nor them, so you decided to head far east, hoping to find a better opportunity. To be honest, you were not mad at it. Geralt and Jaskier were an odd pair of travel companions as they sometimes made yourself ask how could they even be friends, due to their evident differences. Geralt was quiet most of the time, easily irked by the bard’s enthusiasm and his keen singing but they seemed to get along, nonetheless. Little did you know, they felt the same for you: Jaskier was always by your side, playing his lute or talking about new ideas he had for his ballads, happy to have found someone who gladly listened to him, meanwhile Geralt was delighted to have found some peace from the bard and not having to listen to him constantly.

All day went by and without even realizing it, the sun was already setting.

“We will stop here for tonight” Geralt dismounted, drawing his sword “I’ll find something to eat”

Placing your bag on the ground you watched as the witcher ventured into the forest. Finally, after a long day of walking, you sat down with a loud thud next to Jaskier.

“In just two days we will arrive in Brugge hopefully” you mentioned looking at the fire.

Jaskier seemed to think for an instant, then his face lit up.

“There’s the Spring Festival in Brugge!”

Both of you knew the annual festival always attracted many people and there was plenty of work for artists like you two.

“Oh, that’s true! I almost forgot it’s already spring time.” you squealed in excitement.

“If they want to listen to some good music and leave behind those old, awful ballads written by Valdo Marx, they cannot do it without me”

“A rival?”

“You can call him that. I prefer, pretentious pompous stuck-up minstrel”

“Uhh, I sense some bad blood” you chuckled “I have listened to those ballads and trust me there’s no competition” you assured placing your hand on the bard shoulder.

Jaskier’s lips curved in a genuine smile “Lady Y/n, you flatter me”

“Please, call me Y/n. Just Y/n”

“As you wish. We are already dropping the formalities”

You chuckled at his flirty comeback. After few days spent with him, you sort of got used to his antics and compliments, but you never got used to how those compliments made you feel.

“Let’s hope we have some luck this time”

“I’m confident we will find someone who’s looking for our service and not just any service. The best dancer around all the four kingdoms is coming their way. I’m sure you will find something” as soon as he finished the sentence a profound sense of sadness washed over him, even if he couldn’t quite understand why. Or maybe he could.

She will leave…, he thought. 

Why do I feel so upset about this? You knew it was just for some time, she has her life, someone to return to…

“What about you earrings?” he suddenly asked, trying to distract himself from his thoughts.

“What?”

“Well, you are known as “the dancer with golden earrings”, even if I prefer Y/n”

Giggling you glanced back at the fire “It’s a long story.”

“I love long stories.” he said, ready to listen to whatever you were going to say.

“But it’s also kinda sad…”

Jaskier instantly froze, worried to have touched a sore point “I mean if you want to tell it, if you don’t want to it’s ok-”

“Oh no no, it’s okay, it’s okay, it was a long time ago.” you lowered your glance “It all started when I was just a little girl. My parents were street artists, they traveled around the Continent trying to survive with just those little payments they received. My mother... she was so full of life, she loved to dance, she taught me all about it and my dad was a musician, together they performed in all four kingdoms. They were the happiest years of my life, but it didn’t last for too long… One day my parents were getting ready to go out on the street, just as every other day, when suddenly we heard screams from outside. I remember my mother screaming and shoving something in my pocket, I remember her tears, my father yelling to run away, my home burning down. What happened next is a just a confused and blurred memory, the only thing I remember is waking up in an unknown place, sobbing, asking where my parents were. One of my parents’ friend took my away and saved me, I could see the horror and the sorrow in her eyes while she told me I was now alone in the world. That day I lost everything, my parents, my home… the only thing I have are these earrings, that my mom gave me before dying. So, yeah, I travel alone more than you think”

Jaskier stood quiet for a bit, he just kept his eyes on you, then he simply murmured “I… I’m so sorry, Y/n”

You managed a small smile “I believe destiny has been cruel but I also think it has more plans for me. I know it”

When you turned your head toward him, Jaskier was glaring at you, silently.

“Do you believe in destiny Jaskier?”

Without breaking eye contact with you, he placed his hand on your knee tenderly.

“I do” his voice steady and clear.

You smiled.

The sun wasn’t up yet when you cracked your eyes open the next day. That would have been the last day of walk before arriving in Brugge even if you weren’t so happy about it. You knew that some coins could come in handy, but you couldn’t help but think you had to part from them. From him.

The day went by quickly as you tried to enjoy all the small things, even the bickering between Geralt and Jaskier, who never failed to make you laugh. When the sun eventually set, Geralt left as any other night to hunt, meanwhile you and Jaskier were left to light up the fire and set up the bedrolls for the night. Enjoying the fire’s warmth you placed your bag down and sat next to Jaskier who was now strumming his lute.

The night was already dark, the stars shined through the trees and Geralt was nowhere to be seen, but you knew hunting wasn’t a simple task, so you patiently waited for his return.

His fingers started moving on the strings, filling the air with a slow and gentle melody.

Jaskier started singing, just a little higher than a whisper, one of his most famous ballads. You loved  listening to his voice since the first time you heard it, back in Cintra. The bard was playing cheerfully around the room, making the audience sing and clap their hands and occasionally winking at the noble women, who were themselves really captured by the bard’s enthusiasm. And how could you not? you thought.

The rhythm of the music accelerated as your feet involuntarily began stomping on the ground and without thinking about it twice you got up and let the music take over you. Jaskier curiously followed you with his eyes, unsure about what you were doing and then smiled when you started dancing near the fire. Your arms, your hands, your fingers followed his voice elegantly in an almost hypnotic movement. He couldn’t help but thinking about how beautifully you danced, how naturally your legs rhythmically drew circles on the fallen leaves, how your golden hoops shined at the fire’s light. How breath-taking you were.

He gave a final, mighty strum of the lute as you playfully bowed, almost making contact with the ground with your head.

“Jaskier that was amazing!” you exclaimed getting up again.

“Your dance was superb!” Jaskier stood up as well, and without noticing it at first, you found yourselves mere inches away, making eye contact with each other.

Your breaths got caught in your throats as a strand of hair fell in front of your eyes. Few seconds passed in complete silence, just the crackling of the fire and a lonely owl screeching and hooting.

Jaskier’s eyes darted up to look at your head “You have something in your hair, umm… Do you want me to get it out?”

Too focused on his deep blue eyes to give a proper answer you just mumbled out something.

“Oh, umm, yes”

Jaskier slowly lifted his hand and grabbed the leaf that got stuck between your beautiful hair, the feeling of his palm so close to your cheek sent shivers down your spine.

The bard by now was surprised you still hadn’t heard his heart pounding so fast in his chest, he thought it would burst out of his ribcage. Your hair was soft

A sudden movement near the fire made the two of you break eye contact.

“Dinner’s here” Geralt dropped the carcass near the fire while his gold, feline eyes observed you, attentively.

With a quick step back you both parted from each other, hoping that the red light coming from the fire would conceal the warm sensation you felt all over your face.

“G-Geralt, you managed to come back after all” Jaskier mentioned trying to shift the attention to the motionless animal in front of the witcher.

“You can do it the next time” he grumbled “If you are not too...busy”

“Don’t be so prickly! I’m actually starving, let’s cook” said Jaskier approaching him.

Fortunately, their bickering draw the attention away from what was happening, even though you knew the witcher could see better than any other night creature and could hear anything even from far away.

The rest of the night you occasionally shared glances with the bard, your head was filled with thoughts, doubts, sensations, it was a mess, a complete mess. Why do I feel like this, nothing happened, stop being so silly, you thought. Looking at the two men you decided to focus on their conversation, trying to distract yourself.

“Geralt, are you sure Calanthe will give you his grandson? I mean you saw how she reacted with that sort of porcupine” asked the bard.

“I know she will, and even if she won’t, I will meet his grandson sooner or later”

“How can you be so sure?”

The witcher tossed something into the fire absentmindedly “Because it’s destiny”

Both you and Jaskier instantly looked at each other.

“And people who are destined to be together will always find each other.” 

Jaskier glanced at you before smiling. I hope you are right Geralt. he thought.

Part 3

TAG LIST: @alyxkbrl​

[lordseochangbin]

Bad News 

Smut, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: “Badboy” Lee Minho x Aspiring Writer

A/N: So I honestly didn’t want to publish this 4.1k baby because it’s so long but I had so much fun writing it LMAOO so when I finished I was like hmph why not :D After reading it again I realized it actually goes by pretty quickly so enjoyyy

----

Scribble. Scribble. Scribble. 

So annoying.

You’re jotting down every note from this man, this doctor who claims that if humans eat raisins it will save their life from any harm. Evidence? Bullshit. But I suppose that’s what you have to do in order to get into Yale’s English department. Sir Lordseochangbin expects nothing but a good story and you already know he’s going to throw this one in the trash. Just like the others. 

“... and so the texture of the raisin is very particular. Every ridge is filled with yum but it is also the color, OH the color! The color of the raisin is magnificent! People may mistake the raisin as a cat's disposal however…” 

“Doctor!” you get up from your seat, closing your notebook and showing a fake smile of happiness to leave and resent of the wasted time. “I believe we should wrap this up, thank you for your time!” You tell him, shaking his hand before quickly running off. 

“Take care!” 

You enter the busy room full of books and posters. Had you never done your research on the professor behind the English department, you would’ve guessed this was some 17 year old fangirl obsessed with some hotshot korean rapper. Pictures of the man were everywhere and you couldn’t help but to cringe, was he obsessed with himself or something?

He’s sitting on a comfortable chair with a mirror in his hands, his fingers forming the classic ‘peace’ sign as he giggles in a cute voice “Mmhpm! Cute binnie! I’m cute binnie!” 

You literally want to gag in your throat but okay. “L-lordseochangbin? Lord? Are you there?”

“Oh fuck” you hear in his normal voice as he slides the mirror under the desk and straightens his shirt. 

“Ahem. Y/n, how can I help you?” You take a breath of relief to see him back to his old self before handing him your notes.

“I got a story, just wanted to know your opinion” you said with a grin. 

He grabs the pack of papers out of your hands and looks at the first page. “How one doctor is raisin-g awareness about the new way to save lives” He reads in monotone before tossing your work on the floor. 

Your heart is pulsing and your hands are fidgeting. This is fucking stupid. You don’t need Yale. Fuck it. Can’t deal with this stupid conceiting motherf-

“Y/n… sit down.” he takes a sharp breath before grabbing the mirror out the floor. “Do you want to know what I see when I look at myself?”

Not this bullshit again. “Lordseochangbin, what do you see?” You ask, rolling your eyes.

He looks into the mirror, winking at his reflection before answering “I see perfection. You know why? Because interesting shit happens in my life. They range from being thrown into a dumpster in Sri Lanka to marrying the love of my life, Mel. Like I said, terrifying yet beautiful experiences and what’s best is that I learned from it!”

“W-what are you saying?” You respond, leaning closer to him on your seat as you anticipate his response.

“The first story you sent me, the one about that boy. The boy in your story captured my eye. He helped others by secretly selling illegal drugs, donating the money to charity and supporting his family.  I want more guys like him.”

“Like him?” 

“Hmm… how do I say this in the nicest way possible? Y/n, get yourself out there man.” He says, sending you a look as if to sympathize with your loneliness

“Oh”

“Yeah.. now go get a life” He says, shooing you off before he could shut the door on you. 

Wow. Okay. So not only did he throw away the story you spent 7 hours on but also told you to go do something with yourself? 

You turn around, facing the closed door. “One day, I’m going to go inside that room and draw devil ears on every one of those fucking posters! Triangle headass!” You curse, rolling your eyes before hearing a quick “I heard that!” and running out of the building.

-----

You know what the funniest thing was about that story Lordseochangbin mentioned? You made up the name. Your high school memories were long gone and all you could remember was calling him “Daddy” every time he pushed you to the edge. In the story, you called him Eric but what was his name? You just couldn’t remember.

The high pitched screaming ringed through your ears as you remembered the times with “Eric”. You made those scenes extra spicy in your book, replacing high school jerseys with suits and lingerie, old school basketball games with extreme galas throwed by rich people. The whole story was like a perfect manhattan lifestyle until he broke it off with you. 

And god, your safe word with “Eric” was the best part… like seriously? The number of times you screamed “CRANBERRY JUICE” as he fucked your insides out was insane and perfectly memorable. His face, unforgettable. 

These vivid images ran through your head as you jumped into the taxi with your two friends. You, y/n, were bound to get into some trouble. 

The night’s off to a boring start as you have time adjusting from candles and Netflix to DJ lights and drinks. You hit your tenth shot before your friends could pull you off to the floor. You sway your hips to the music, throwing your head back as you feel the beat pulse through you. Throwing your hands up in the air, you feel a tight grasp on your hips before turning around to see your friend. 

“Yo. 9 0’clock. That guy has been checking you out, go get yourself into some trouble!” She says, pushing you in the guys direction. You start to stumble on your feet, letting the crowd of waving arms and stepping heels lead you to him before you're in his arms. 

“Umm… are you okay?” He asks with a smirk on his face. This man is gorgeous up close, and that aching feeling between your legs is just hoping you can get a taste of those plump lips. The ones that lie agaped as he waits for your response. 

“Oh right! Yeah, I-I’m fine..” you shake your head, stupid y/n. His arm finds itself around your waist as he guides you to the bar table, a glass of water in front of him. 

“No drinks?” You ask with a smile. “I’ve had enough” He simply replies, taking a sip of his vodka as he looks across the table. You’re staring at his side profile and as much as you know you shouldn’t you just can’t help but to gaze at him. 

“You’re perfect…” you mutter under your breath before he could turn his attention back to you, “What was that? Sorry the music is a little too loud” He apologizes as he leans in closer. 

No..no no no. Please. He’s so close you can smell the cologne he’s wearing and god is it addicting.

“Umm…. hi!” You randomly spurt out, your hands grabbing his shoulders. At this point you are just wide eyed staring at each other, centimeters apart as your gesture seemed to pull you two closer. You have his full attention and you’re not sure what to do with it. The proximity is making your breath hitch and he’s staring at you like an eager kitten, pupils wide and a grin on his face. 

“Umm.. hi” he mocks you, “What is it? Virgin that’s trying to get knocked up? Good girl trying to disappoint her parents in a club?”

“What?!” you reply confused, “Oh! Wait I mean I’m not trying to get knocked up and I think I’ve dissapointed my parents enough but you’re kinda hot so I mean I wouldn’t mind having sex with you NOT that I haven’t had sex before or anytime I mean I’ve madeout but like sex with you seems-” You realize how fast you’re talking and wince at his still expression, silence between you two for a few seconds before he finally says: 

“Perfect, you’d look so pretty under me kitten” he whispers, his thumb holding your chin up as he pecks your lips.

You close your eyes into the kiss before he could say, “Strawberry chapstick, cute” Looking as innocent as a doll, you look up to him as he gets up.

He sends a wink in your direction before grabbing his jacket, “Let’s get out of here” You get a chance to look back to your friends before they mouth to you, “Use protection!!” and you laugh at their responses and the thrill that’s running through your nerves. 

You two exit through the back, a motorcycle helmet in your hands as you throw your leg over him and settle on the backseat. Once the helmet’s on, he turns his head slightly as if to check on you and grabs your hands, wrapping them around his chest. His black denim jacket is covering your shoulders and his white tee is clinging to his body.

You y/n, you just got yourself into some trouble. 

----

A million fans blowing at your face simply couldn’t compare to the cool breeze that blew past you as you find comfort on the motorcycle seat. Your initial goal is long forgotten, but this guy in front of you is already screaming danger and you love it. 

“What’s your name?” you ask, your question being muted by a nearby car horn.

“Sorry, what?” he replies with a smirk before pulling to the side, pushing the kickstand with his foot and getting off the bike. You’re stunned when he takes off his helmet, his messy hair poking all over the place and when he uses his fingers to comb through his dark locks you realize you are absolutely done for.

“Did you ask something?” 

“W-what’s your name?” you ask, your voice muffled because of the helmet. He simply chuckles as he takes the helmet off you, he’s so close that he can hear your shaky breaths and unsteady heartbeats. 

“It’s Minho. Lee Minho… yours?”

Your nails grip onto the leather seat on the motorcycle as you attempt to get off when your dress gets caught on the bike. “Aw, fuck!” you curse yourself, you knew jeans and a jacket would’ve been a good idea. 

“Woah, woah don’t worry I got you” He says, walking over to the other side of the bike before getting on one knee to help the situation. You’re trying your best to look away because this may or may not have been one of the most embarrassing moments of your life, one leg is mounted to the floor and the other is leaving you unbalanced on the other side of the seat. 

“Nice panties by the way” he says with a smug look. Your cheeks are pink when you turn around to see that he's right in between your legs, the inside of your dress completely open for him to see but his eyes are still focused on that one knot that he’s been trying to untangle. 

“Oh my god” you pant out, covering your eyes in humiliation. “This is so embarrassing”

“It’s nice to know you were serious when you said you wanted to have sex��� his smile is hard to hide when he finally sets you free, the balance of the bike suddenly shiftng your weight as you fall towards him. 

“Oh-” you let out as his eyes stare into yours. They’re literally shining, and maybe it’s the reflection of the street light behind you but it looks so magical in the moment as your hands wrap around his neck and pull him into a kiss. 

His hands are around your waist, giving your ass a tight squeeze as he stands up, your lips still connected before he could pull away with a smile. 

“You…” he says with a quick breath, “You never told me what your name was.”

---- 

At the sound of the elevator bell, your back is up against the wall. Minho is quick to get his hands on the bottom of your dress, slowly pulling it up to your waist as he presses kisses into your neck. 

“The second I saw those white lace panties, I wanted them off you right away” He growls into your ear as he grabs your jaw. 

Your legs stiffen as he presses your back on the wall and you gasp as he throws off his jacket, pulling his back tee over his head. “So.. so..” you stutter as your hands grab his hair, pulling him into a deep kiss. His tongue is past your lips, his teeth biting down your bottom lip and you whimper at the arousal building up between your legs. 

“Aw, what was that kitten?” He asks in a playful tone

“G-god stop teasing Minho.. just fuck me already” you whisper, your eyes close shut as the trail of wet kisses he’s leaving across your chest as he slowly takes off your dress. “Is this okay?” he asks as his hands go to your waist.

“It’s fine.. please just-” your lips shut as his attaches to your breast, the other one being groped by his hand as he massages it. His tongue swerves around your wet nipple as he flicks it softly, your cold buds hardening before he could suck on it harshly.

It’s a moment of pleasure until you feel your core pulsating, your hands diverging between your legs as you rip off your panties, fingers diving into your wet folds before Minho could slap them away. 

“Who said you could fucking touch yourself?” He asks, making you whine at his words before he unzips his jeans. “This should fucking teach you a lesson…” His pants are on the floor and before you know it he’s carrying you bridal style onto the bed. 

He’s leaning against the backboard, leaving you confused at the fact that you’re just lying there before he pulls his boxers down, revealing his cock covered with beads of pre-cum. 

“M-minho..WAIT. Umm.. shouldn’t we make a safe word?” Minho looks at you in surprise before letting out a chuckle.

“A safeword kitten? C’mon, I can be rough.. but not that rough”

“Just say a word Minho”

“Strawberry-chapstick.”

“Strawberry...chapstick? O-oh.. okay”You stutter as you place yourself in between his legs. Your hands wrap around his member as you pump him up a few times, your tongue sucking on his tip as you leave his arousal all over your lips. When you go down on him, he lets out a loud moan, his eyes shut in pleasure as his hands go to your head. 

“Nnngh, God.. you look so pretty with my dick in your mouth” he lets out, his eyes watching you attentively. A few more groans pass his mouth before he’s biting onto his lip, trying to let anymore out. When he feels you slowing down, he starts to thrust up your mouth, stuffing it with his cock and watching you gag on it. 

“I-i’m so close kitten, I’m gonna fuck your mouth so good” he mumbles as his hips meet your face, your nails gripping onto his thighs as you feel that familiar twitch.

In seconds he’s laid back on the bed, his hands pulling you up to your face as you manage to swallow all his cum before he could align his cock with your entrance, quickly moving past them as he bucks his hips into yours. 

“OH!” you scream, a mantra of his name leaving your lips. As if you haven’t said or thought of his name enough already. It’s the only thing on your mind when you’re staring at him in bliss, your hands on his shoulders as you sink down on him, just for him to hit your sweet spot again. The way his cock is stretching your walls feels so fucking good and you can’t come to terms on whether is pain or pleasure. It’s a pattern of thrusts and moans before it could grow slower and sloppier. 

“I’m so close Minho, please fuck me Minho! Please!” You cry, his hands playing with your clit as he rubs his fingers on it. His hips buck into yours again, finding that same pace and you look helpless, letting him take over you as your breasts jiggle against his chest, mewls passing your lips. 

“J-Just-” You stutter before you could reach your high, letting out a loud pornographic moan as he reaches for his own before filling you up. Your eyes close shut as you get up, falling on the bed next to him. 

He lets out a long, exhausted breath before his hands could play with your hair, giving you access to lay on his chest before saying, “For a virgin.. you really know how to suck dick” 

You nearly choke at his words before rolling your eyes, “I’m not a virgin” 

“Ahh, that makes sense. Who was the lucky guy?” He says with a smirk, leaning down on the side of his bed to grab another liquor bottle and handing you a glass. 

“He’s.. not sure how to explain it. High school friend I guess…” you reply as you take the drink down in one go and place it on his nightstand, cuddling into his arm as you start to fall asleep.

“Who was your first?” you mumble before your drink could get the best of you.

“Mine… she was in high school too. I had some shit going on though, couldn’t keep her. You know, it’s hard thinking my parents own some bigshot company, and I'm just here. Going to be heir to a billion dollar business and I just… can’t handle all of it. I’m here clubbing every night because I know no matter what I do I’ll never be able to impress them…”

---

Thank god. Thank GOD for that recorder you snuck underneath your dress. What you didn’t thank god for was all the times you screamed, “Fuck me! Fuck me!” God… it made you cringe in your seat. It was good sex though, you had to admit. 

What you weren’t proud of was the fact that you didn’t get anything out of that night. No inspiration, no good story. No nothing. You slumped down your seat in exhaustion before you could hear Minho’s voice. 

“It’s like I’ll never be able to impress them…” you hear him pause for a second before rewinding the tape and listening to what he said seconds before you fell asleep. 

He has a story. Minho… he’s more than just a guy that goes clubbing and rides on his motorcycle and drinks every night. He’s a boy that was never loved by his parents, using his money to donate to charity, never knowing what his future lies of him as the heir to a billion dollar company. 

“I trust you.. you know. I don’t know what it is about you but… oh, are you sleeping?” He giggles. You smile at how attractive his laugh is before looking down at his notes. Would it be bad to use these for a story? His life… as a book? 

You remembered his sleepy eyes as he laid on the bed, you trying to put on your clothes in a hurry as you left the apartment without a sound. Should you have left? You throw your face into your hands before hearing the sound of his voice again. 

“She looks cute with this cat filter” you hear him mumble before you could hear the click of his camera, a laugh leaving his lips as you could hear him close settle in his spot next to you. 

“Fuck me, fuck me” He mocks in a high pitch voice before hear a starling snore. “Oh, she snores. Great.” 

You mentally facepalm yourself before turning off the recording, leaning back in your seat as you stare at the roof wondering if it was worth it to break his trust like this.

“I gave you a day, y/n. Got any ideas?” You turn around to see Changbin leaning against the door before looking back at the recorder on your desk.

“I think I do. I’ll have it done in a week.”

----

A month passed and all of your dreams came true. Getting into Yale, publishing a book, and getting the status as an official writer. You regret giving yourself a deadline of a week, but when Changbin saw how well you were doing he extended it, knowing a book could never be done in a week, not even a month. You spent your days and nights on this however, the thought of Minho in mind was only brain fuel. 

Some nights resulting in reaching your own high, but you couldn’t even count the number of men who passed by your apartment door. They weren’t just men, men from Yale, and were they hot. 

You ended up asking them to leave however, knowing you had to get back to work. None of them used “Strawberry-chapstick” as a safeword. None of them took a cute cat filter selfie when you fell asleep. None of them were Minho. 

----

Smile, sign the book, have a conversation and it’s the next person. Minho walked past the book-signing banner as he walked into the library, heading straight to the counter. 

“So busy here, it’s not usually like this” 

“Mr. Lee, there’s a book signing going on here. New author who just made her way to Yale, you should read her book.”

“Yale? It’s probably a book about Hilary or Bush, i’ll pass on reading about notable alumni” he sarcastically replied.

“Well if that’s the case sir, the kids are eagerly waiting in the room past the signing for you” 

“Perfect, thanks..”

Minho tucks his jacket as he walks towards the kids room, catching a glimpse of the fan meeting as he walks by the crowd. 

“Shit, shit! Hide me” You whisper, hiding behind Changbin’s back as you watch him walk by you. 

“Y/n.. I’m your boss not your friend, get out there” he says, stepping to the side before you could make eye contact with him. You see him stop walking down the hall, his eyes staring right at you. 

“Shoot, um changbin can you-”

“Sir you can’t come past this line, it's a book signing.” 

“I need to talk to that girl!” Minho exclaims, pointing a finger at you as you continue to hide behind Changbin. Minho tries to fight off the bodyguards before you could tell them to let go. 

Brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, you look down at his luxury shoes as you ask, “What are you doing here… you shouldn’t be here”

“I’m always here, the real question is” he looks off to the side, reading the name off the banner, “Y/n.. you left me that night”

You took down a harsh gulp before looking back up at him, “I did.”

He scoffs at your words, “Seriously y/n, you did? No fucking joke, I had no idea what your name was, who you were, all I had was this” he presses the button on his phone, lighting to show you his lockscreen of you sleeping with the cat filter.

“I’ve been thinking about you since that day y/n… please” he says, grabbing your hands in his and giving it a squeeze. You’re left speechless, not sure how to reply before Changbin interrupts you two. 

“Y/n, it’s time. You! You must be a friend of y/n, check out her new book!” 

Changbin hands him a copy and you try to grab it out of his hands, “No Minho you seriously shouldn’t…”

“Wait y/n this is crazy..” he says, swapping your hand away. He mumbles out the title ‘Bad News’ before turning around to read the description. “Bad boy with a bad reputation. Drugs, Drinks, and girls. A billion dollar company and parents that are more than disappointed. Choi Mino..” 

He glares at the words before looking back up to you. “Minho… look I can explain-”

“Don’t bother” he says, dropping the book on the floor, “You could’ve at least thought of a better name for a dissapointment” 

Minho bits his lip in anticipation of a response, another try to ask him to stay but you’re left without words. You don’t know how to explain yourself, you can’t. 

“I-i’m sorry..” you whisper under your breath before Minho could roll his eyes at you and leave. 

“Oh, where’d your friend go?” Changbin asks you, you turn around- trying to hold back the tears that were close to falling before facing the crowd of readers in front of you.. books in their hand and smiles on their faces.  Posing a fake smile you grab the book that Minho dropped in your head, leaning against a table.

“Hello everyone, you know my name. I’m the author of Bad News.

[nekumiko]

Colors

Fandom: Daiya no Ace

Genre: Romance

Rated: T

Words: 9, 024

Series: Colors

Summary:  She’s fascinated with his hair. Just his hair. But Ryousuke finds it invasive, and of course he won’t let her off that easily.

Chapter Seven: Jealousy (but not just Ryousuke’s)

If there is one thing you must know about Kominato Ryousuke, it's that he cherishes his family. Ever since his first year in Seidou - the first time he’s lived away from them - he’s been using the phone installed at the back of the dorms every once in a while to call his parents. But he'd only ask about life back home and about his brother (now, though, Ryousuke is the one who updates them about Haruichi). When he is asked about his day, he would answer, but would keep it brief. And unless he would talk about the schedule of their official games, he never initiates a topic about himself. 

Except for tonight, even if he’s not enthusiastic about the reaction he’d get.

"I must be keeping you from practicing,” his mother says from the other line. “Just always take care of each other, okay?  'Kaasan and 'Tousan miss you and Haruichi a lot!"

"Okay." Then, with a practiced, casual tone, Ryousuke adds, "By the way, I've got a girlfriend now."

His mother gasps. "What?” Ryousuke swears she could hear her smile as she repeats, “A girlfriend?"

He then moves the receiver away from his ear to save himself from his mother’s squeals. 

"Ryou-chan has a girlfriend now!" she practically sings. "I’m so proud!”

“‘Kaasan…”

“My eldest son is really so manly~”

“Please stop.”

“I can't wait to tell 'Tousan! Why is he taking so long in the shower?"

"I'm sure he and all our neighbors have already heard you." He smirks. "Okay, that's all. Good night, ‘Kaasan."

"What? So soon? But you can't just drop big news like that and leave!"

"But weren't you saying goodbye earlier?"

"Ryou-chan!"

Ryousuke chuckles. "I'll tell you more about her next time. I have to do a few more swings before bed." 

"Hmph. Fine. Good night."

"Yeah, good night." Ryousuke hangs up with a relieved sigh. At least that’s out of the way. 

It's only been a week and a half since he asked Aya out, but letting his parents know about her doesn’t sound so bad. Besides, it’s an important life update, isn’t it? 

A smile creeps up on his face once again. The fuzzy feeling in his chest whenever he thinks about Aya resurfaces. He takes a deep breath to keep it from overwhelming him, yet the smile remains. Okay. Now, we practice. He then turns around to go back to the indoor gym.

Haruichi stands there, dazed.

Ryousuke immediately sets his mouth back to a thin line. "Haruichi."

"Aniki…"

A silent moment passes. 

And then Ryousuke clears his throat. "You should've taken the phone from me. 'Kaasan was so heartbroken because you never call."

"Eh?" Haruichi startles at the change of subject. "I-I was about to, though…" he trails off, awkwardly crossing his arms in front of him.

Easily recognizing Haruichi's stance, Ryousuke relaxes his shoulders and puts his hands in his pockets with a defeated sigh. He would not let this go anyway.

"Is it true?" the younger Kominato finally asks, his cheeks turning pink. "Th-that Aniki has a girlfriend?"

Ryousuke stares at his brother silently for a few seconds, before smirking and stepping closer to him. Then he karate-chops the top of Haruichi's head. "Eavesdropper."

"I didn't mean to!" Haruichi, with his hands soothing the top of his head, turns in his spot as Ryousuke walks away. "I really was just about to use the phone!"

Ryousuke playfully waves his brother off, but before he rounds the corner, he stops and looks back. And with the slyest tone he could muster, he says, "Don't get a girlfriend just because I have one now, though."

"What?" Haruichi's blush turns a deeper shade. "Of course I won't!"

"Haruichi!" A girl struggling with three canned drinks and her school bag catches up to the pink-haired first-year the next day.

Haruichi bows in greeting. "Good morning… uh, Aya-san."

Aya finally reaches his side, a look of confusion on her face. "Hmm? What's with the hesitation?"

"N-nothing!"

"Okay…” Aya shifts her belongings to hold up a yellow can. “Hey, are you up for lemon soda? I got lucky in the vending machine today. But I already got drinks for Kazuya and me, so…"

With an uneasy smile, Haruichi takes the free drink (that's more on forced into his hand). "Thank you, um, Aya-san."

The girl raises an eyebrow in suspicion and slight worry as they start walking.

Haruichi's discomfort matches the color of the lemon beverage's can.

Does he want to talk about something? Or did I do something wrong?

Haruichi clears his throat just then. "Um, this is very sudden, but what would you like me to call you now? I've been thinking of 'Neesan,' or if I should match it with Aniki's and call you 'Aneki.'"

Her eyes widen. "This is a surprise." Then she turns away to continue in a rehearsed, calm tone, "But what does your brother have to do with this?"

"Huh? I just heard that he has a girlfriend now."

That makes Aya stop in her tracks, bewilderedly staring at the boy's profile. 

Haruichi pauses as well to look back at her. "Aya-san?"

She glances around. Okay, no one seems to have heard. She then pulls him to the side (as best as she could with all the items in her hands). "You've heard. Like from rumors, or from Ry- Kominato-san himself? Has he been telling people?"

"I, uh, just overheard his phone call to our parents last night."

"Your parents?" Aya exclaims. She looks down at her feet and mutters, "He's already gone that far?"

"Is something wrong?"

"Huh?” Aya looks back up at him and laughs nervously. “Nothing! I mean, who cares if he tells everyone about his girlfriend?"

Haruichi gasps, and then his shoulders noticeably sag. "So it's not you?"

The sight makes Aya's heart crack. "W-what makes me the first one you'd think of, anyway?"

He shrugs. "Well, a lot of things. Aside from the seniors, you're the person who's around him the most."

Oh. Of course. He has a Ryousuke radar. How could I forget?

"You also talk about and act as if you've known him for a long time." The signature pink finally dusts his cheeks. "D-do you remember the first time we met at the train station? When you mistook me for him… I mean, I think friends - or more than friends - greet each other like that when they meet up, right?" 

Haruichi, I tripped at that time.

"Ah, and you also said Aniki isn't really as harsh as he puts himself out to be. That must mean you've grown close enough to notice that."

I just followed Ryou around a little too much…

"And you draw him a lot, too."

Aya blinks. "Wow, so even Haruichi thinks my drawings are declarations of love."

Haruichi only gives her a sad smile. "Well, I'm very sorry for mistaking you for—"

Aya cuts him off with a giggle. No one can really get past this guy when it comes to his brother. She manages to hold an index finger up to her lips. "Ssssh. Just keep it down, Haruichi."

He then almost blinds her with a smile brighter than the sunshine piercing through the school windows. "Wow. So I’m right?”

Aya nods.

Haruichi chuckles. “That's a relief. I uh, kinda don't want anyone else to be my older sister."

"Older… sister…" Aya repeats, inwardly gasping as she remembers why they are having this conversation in the first place.

"So… about my question…"

"Uh, well, it's up to you!  'Neesan' is sweet, but 'Aneki' is cool. It all depends on how you see me as an… older sister."

Haruichi's smile grows wider as he nods, oblivious to her racing thoughts. "Okay, I'll think about it. See you later!"

Aya watches the boy run excitedly to his class, his pink hair matching the blush on her cheeks. Of course Haruichi would think like that. If your sibling gets a significant other, you'd have to treat them like your own sibling too, right? She chuckles helplessly to herself. These brothers act fast…

"Your Kominato is right here, not over there," a voice suddenly speaks in her ear.

Aya gasps, feeling her heart on her throat. She turns to see the only other pink-haired student smirking down at her.

"What? Being called 'oneesan' sounds so appealing to you?"

“…How did you know that’s what we’re talking about?”

“I just figured he’d ask that, now that he knows.”

They also know each other too well. She straightens up to compose herself. And then she eyes him suspiciously. She wouldn't be surprised if Ryousuke had been going around telling everyone about their relationship. After all, he is the embodiment of his seemingly-favorite color – the color of jealousy. Oh. What if he likes yellow exactly because of that? "Aside from your brother, have you already told anyone in school about… us?"

Ryousuke slightly frowns in confusion. "No."

Her jaw drops open. "But you told your parents already?"

"I don't see anything wrong with that," Ryousuke nonchalantly replies with a shrug.

"But… but it's too early! And it's usually the other way around! Your friends first before your parents."

"And where did you even get that idea? From shoujo manga?"

She pouts. "You should've at least let me know first."

Ryousuke smiles apologetically. "Alright, I'm sorry. But what's done is done. My mom was actually very happy about it. She would’ve suggested I introduce you to her already if I didn’t cut the call early."

“She would do that?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her. But we don’t have to go back to Kanagawa until after Nationals, right? So don’t think about that for now.” He then takes her school bag from her. "Here, I'll walk you to class."

"Oi, Ryousuke!" Isashiki Jun jogs up to the boy, with Masuko trailing behind him. But his grin vanishes when he spots Aya. He then turns to his friend with a reprimanding scowl. "Hey now, aren't you too old to go this far?"

"Huh?"

"I know you two are always at odds with each other, but if you're going to get physical now, it's time to stop."

"Uga!" Masuko says in agreement.

"What the heck are you talking about?" Ryousuke asks, growing irritated.

Aya looks back and forth between them, and then at the second- and third-years whispering and giving her and Ryousuke odd looks as they pass by. Are people still under the impression that we'd fight whenever we meet? Aya internally smirks. That's good, then. "I appreciate the concern, Isashiki-san, Masuko-san," she says as she pries her bag from Ryousuke's hand. "But Kominato-san isn't bullying me! He's just turning over a new leaf and attempting a rare act of kindness."

"What?" Ryousuke now turns to her in disbelief.

And that's when Aya realizes she’d just made a grave mistake. She gulps, and then manages to smile. "Anyway, thank you for the offer, Kominato-san!" She bows quickly before backing up towards the nearby stairs. "But I can manage this! I-I'll get going now!" She then dashes up the steps and into 2-B's room.

"About time the princess arrived~" Miyuki grabs his energy drink from her hands when she approaches.

As usual, Kuramochi has been sitting at her desk to talk to Miyuki, so he stands up to give Aya her rightful space. But not without sparing the panting girl a curious look. "Have you been running? There's still plenty of time before the first class."

She slumps in her seat. "Oh, he is going to kill me."

"Who? Ryou-san?"

Aya groans. “Yes.”

Kuramochi grins teasingly. "But haven't you two been lovey-dovey lately? Because you're apparently his girlfriend now?"

"I'm serious, Kuramochi."

The boy loses his smile. "Oh, you really are. What happened?"

Miyuki, on the other hand, laughs as he opens his canned drink. "Congratulations, Aya!" She pats her back quite harshly. "You're his girlfriend, though, so maybe he'd go easy on you."

"Hey, Miyuki!" Kuramochi warns as the brunette drinks. "This isn't the time!"

Miyuki then almost spits out his drink and makes a disgusted face. He taps the girl's shoulder with the can. "Oi, Aya. This has gotten warm now."

Aya grits her teeth and grabs the can. "I am never buying you a drink again, Bakazuya."

 Someone knocks on the Art Club's door later that day.

The third-year club president opens it. "Kominato-kun?" She looks behind her before subtly blocking Ryousuke's view of the room. "What brings you here?"

"I came for Aya. Is she still in there?"

"Did he just call her by first name?" another member runs up to the door with a huge grin on her face.

The club president ignores her and instead eyes Ryousuke suspiciously. "Makoto-chan? Why are you looking for her? What did she do this time?"

"I'm supposed to pick her up and walk her home."

Collective gasps are heard from inside the usually quiet room.

"I knew it!" someone shouts. "You really are a thing!"

"Oh?" Ryousuke tries to look behind the (taller) girl still blocking the door. "So she hasn't told even the club she hides in." Even if she’s the one who said I should’ve told my friends first.

"She's pretty secretive," the club president says, shrugging.

"I guess that's why she chose this club." Ryousuke gives an innocent smile. "If, for some reason, I’m not allowed to enter, then can you just get her for me?"

She laughs. "Nah, come on in. I guess she should be punished for keeping such juicy news from us." She then steps aside to open the door wider, revealing the back of the room.

The art club has apparently been using the back wall as a place to hang up their members’ framed artworks. And the first thing Ryousuke notices is Aya's famous drawing of his double play from a game one year ago, hung in the middle of it all. And in every row, more drawings of him almost outnumber the other club members’ work.

"She's over here!"

Ryousuke turns around to see a member waving at him from the center of the room.

The tables and chairs have been pushed aside to create a large space, where the club members are hunched over an unfinished banner. And there she is, the only passed out person on the floor.

"Senpai!" A first-year sitting beside Aya pokes her cheek. "It's time to pay for your sins."

Aya merely flicks the hand away and stays asleep. With the amount of commotion around her, it has to be considered amazing.

Ryousuke almost smiles fondly. He kneels beside her to gently shake her shoulder.

It’s only then that she opens her eyes. A small, confused frown mars her peaceful expression. "Ryou?"

Ignoring the sudden skip in his heartbeat, Ryousuke carefully pulls her up by the arm. "What are you doing down there? Are you that sleep-deprived?"

Aya successfully sits up with his help, but her eyes close again and she falls forward, holding onto his arm and laying her head on his shoulder.

It is important to note that Ryousuke is willing himself not to pull her closer, nor to even blush.  

She yawns as she replies, "I'm doing the good luck banner for Nationals. I'm supposed to be an assistant like the rest of the juniors, but the seniors assigned me to lead the project because of my apparent attachment to the team. Don't you think that's unfair? I just accepted a new batch of commissions the other day!"

Still trying to keep his calm, he smirks. "This side of you is adorable, Aya, but I don't think you should be saying all that in front of them."

"Them?" Aya repeats. She opens her eyes again and lifts her head to see the club members watching. Aya then immediately moves away. "W-what are you doing here, Kominato-san?"

She barely witnesses Ryousuke's smile turn upside down before two club members squeal and jump on her.

 "You don't need to be so stressed," Ryousuke says as they walk out of the school doors, her bag in his hand. 

"I just complained about my seniors in front of their faces. How can I not be stressed?"

"Ah, so that's what you're worried about."

Aya looks at him. "What else is there?"

"Are you being bullied, Aya? I already know that you like to draw me, but I'd think they're making fun of you by framing and hanging all those up."

"I-I just like to draw you…" Aya gasps. "Oh no, you saw all that too." She whines as she covers her face with her hands. Her voice muffled, she continues, "Now you know how much I like you."

Ryousuke's face immediately warms up. "Wha-"

"You're going to call me a stalker again," Aya adds in a softer and more worried tone, her hands moving to now only cover her red cheeks. Yet she stays oblivious to the boy's reaction.

Secretly sighing in relief, Ryousuke clears his throat to compose himself. "No, I won't. I promised I wouldn't call you that anymore, didn't I?" And then he starts walking again. "Because I do know we've agreed to go by first names."

Aya drops her hands and stares at him.

The afternoon sunlight hits his toned back, bathing him in the color of betrayal. Noticing she hasn't caught up, he pauses to look over his shoulder. "Hey, come on."

Aya hurries to his side, fidgeting with the hem of her blouse. A yellow card. It's only been more than a week and I already caused a yellow card.

They continue walking in silence. The quiet street with only a few people passing by amplifies her unease.

"Hey," Ryousuke finally says, "sorry, that's out of line. Maybe you just aren't used to it yet. So it's okay. I won't force you."

"Is it really okay? I think it was really rude of me to just… drop you."

"Well… yeah."

Aya wrings her hands together. "I'm sorry too."

"It’s kind of my fault, too. I guess I am going about this too fast."

"Hmm, it's not exactly that. It did surprise me, but I think it's sweet that you and even Haruichi are already thinking of me as family."

"Then what's up?"

"I think I just… want to stay low-key? You saw how my clubmates reacted. I don't want everyone else suddenly cooing at me and at the development in our relationship."

Ryousuke looks back down at her. "So that's why."

Aya nods, smiling nervously up at him.

That makes him smile reassuringly. "Okay. I can live with that." 

"Thank you."

He then smirks. "Besides, you'll be the first one to slip up anyway."

Aya groans. "Oh, I already kind of did with Kazuya and Mochi, and now they won't let me live it down."

"'Mochi?'"

"Huh?"

"Who is that?"

"Uh, your partner in the field? Seidou's shortstop, Kuramochi? Oh my god, does no one else call him that?"

"Hehh?" he says in his characteristic teasing tone even as he turns away from her. "A nickname." His hand starts to ball into a fist. "To think you insist on being formal with me but have nicknames for other guys."

Aya giggles before grabbing his hand, pulling them both to a stop. "Ryou."

“Now you call me that?”

Aya opens his fist to intertwine her smaller hand into his. And then she brings their joined hands to her lips to lightly kiss each of his knuckles.

Ryousuke freezes, his own lips parting open.

"Don't be jealous, please? Just think of it like this. Since we're laying low for a while, I'll call you 'Ryou' when it's just the two of us." She steps closer to him to look into his eyes. "Isn't that more intimate?"

He gulps and looks away. "Just drop his nickname."

"Permanently? But he's one of my best friends."

Ryousuke sighs, looking back down at her. "Then at least when you talk about him to me." Not like you should even be, though.

"Okay." She stands up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Are we good now?"

Ryousuke feels like his soul had flown out of his body. He takes a deep breath to calm down, and then touches his forehead with hers. “You know, you missed.”

Aya pushes back from him with a laugh. “And you know what? I’m finally here!” She takes her bag from him and walks backwards to her apartment building's entrance. “Thanks for walking me home again, Ryou. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He could only chuckle in reply. The afternoon sunlight now falls on the side of his face, but this time, it makes him glow with joy.

"Ryousuke!" Isashiki's voice rings through the team's own mess hall the next day at breakfast.

"So loud in the morning," the pink-haired teen mutters, taking his seat at the seniors' usual table.

"You disappeared again after practice. Don't tell me you were out with your girlfriend!"

He picks his chopsticks up. "I was."

The place falls silent. A tray even falls to the floor.

"Th-that joke's old!" Jun replies. "It won't work on me anymore!"

He swallows his first bite. "Oh? But I'm not kidding this time."

Heads turn to the next best source of information: Kominato Haruichi.

The poor boy startles and looks to his brother for help. "A-Aniki…"

Ryousuke chuckles. "She wants to stay low-key, though. Maybe you're scaring her off, Jun?"

"Shut up! I won't believe it until I see it!"

He shrugs. "Suit yourself."

From the other table, Kuramochi asks, "But Ryou-san, won't your favorite artist get jealous?"

'Mochi.' Ryousuke had expected he'd be annoyed when he sees his underclassman, but now he realizes the nickname's a bit funny. He gives a strained smile to stifle a laugh. "Why would she be jealous of herself?"

"Who?" Jun asks.

"Just shut up." Ryousuke resumes eating, but continues to watch Aya's classmates from his peripheral.

Kuramochi laughs heartily as he nudges the bespectacled catcher sitting beside him. 

Miyuki loses his smile.

 Jealousy, Aya discovers, comes unexpectedly in different kinds.

She had heard that dating someone from the baseball team is hard because he'd have almost no time for you. And that being in a relationship with someone from a different grade often leads to clashes in schedule.

Now, Aya has to deal with both.

They can’t meet after morning practices. The boys have to freshen up before proceeding to morning classes, so the best interaction she and Ryousuke would have are discreet smiles whenever he would spot her watching outside the field. 

They can’t meet during lunch breaks. Recently, Miyuki has been ordering from her more often, and because that’s the only time she could sit down and talk with her cousin now, she stays and eats with him.

And during weekends, it’s either they are both studying for finals or Ryousuke has extra practice.

Aya would always have to wait for afternoon practice to end. It’s either she could be found sketching on a bench outside the practice field, or in her club room every other day when the art club is scheduled to meet. Then, they would take a detour to non-crowded streets on the way to Aya's apartment building, just to avoid getting seen by anyone from school as they hold hands or simply walk closer than normal friends would.

This has gone on for two weeks.

We’re nearing a month into this relationship now. Aya presses closer to Field A’s fence. I did say I want him to focus on Nationals, but now… She heaves a deep sigh to temporarily get rid of her thoughts and refocus on the morning practice. 

At the moment, Haruichi is on a roll in a batting cage while his older brother watches.

The competition for the jersey numbers is still fierce, especially with the second baseman brothers. Haruichi's progressive skills make him a likely candidate for the roster. But as long as Ryousuke is in the team, Haruichi couldn’t play unless Ryousuke gets subbed out. And would Ryousuke even allow that?  

But looking at her boyfriend's back, Aya could sense a faint yellow aura. The color of caution, of warning signs. Even if he hides it well, she knows Ryousuke is threatened by his prodigy brother.

Alas, Ryousuke picks up his bat to head towards another batting cage. But not without stopping in his tracks to look straight at Aya.

Again. He knows I've been here all this time. This has been happening more often now.

Ryousuke then breaks into a grin.

It's like… a sunflower drawn to his sun. Feeling her cheeks warm up, Aya smiles back and gives a shy wave.

Ryousuke nods as a silent morning greeting before continuing on his way.

Time may be Aya's enemy right now, but she has to admit that these limited moments they share, no matter how small, leaves her glowing with happiness that's as bright as the summer days. 

The next day, the students receive the results of their final exams.

“As expected!” Aya almost shoves her graded papers in Miyuki’s face. “You can never score higher than me. So I still won’t make your lunch for free!”

Miyuki sighs defeatedly. “Aren’t creative people supposed to be creative only?”

Aya gasps. “Then sporty people should only be sporty too!” She smirks. “Then again, you suck at other sports besides baseball, so I can’t really call you a sports guy.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m surprised, Aya,” Kuramochi says with a teasing grin. He distributes among their trio the lunchboxes Aya had made for them. “Having a boyfriend aside from being busy with your commissions still doesn’t stop you?”

Aya suddenly turns back to her desk to put her papers back. She mutters, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, Kuramochi,” Miyuki says quietly, opening his lunchbox. “She doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kuramochi scoffs. “Maybe if you let her go on lunch dates every once in a while…”

Aya freezes and looks up at her cousin.

Miyuki gives their friend a deadpan stare.

“Wow, Kazuya,” Aya says. She smiles mischievously. “So that’s what this is all about.”

He turns to his food and picks up his chopsticks. “No. I just wanted to have good meals this season.”

“Sure you do~”

He looks up at her. “What am I keeping you here for, Aya? You don’t have someone else to meet during lunch, do you? You said you don’t have a boyfriend, right?”

Kuramochi nudges his arm. “Hey.”

Aya blinks. “R-right. Yeah. I don’t have one.” She lightly hits Kuramochi’s arm. “Stop making issues.”

Kuramochi rolls his eyes. “You two really are a family.”

 “You got the no. 4 jersey!”

“Yeah.”

“And I got the highest test results in our class!”

“Really? Congrats.”

“And Haruichi got included in the roster! What’s his jersey number?”

“…19.”

Aya squeals. “This is really a good day!” And then she sighs. “Except for Kazuya being too weird again.”

Ryousuke stifles his own sigh. “Really? I haven’t heard about this yet.”

She purses her lips. “Did you tell him something?”

“No. We don’t really talk outside of practice.”

“It’s just… whenever Mo-" she clears her throat as Ryousuke lightly scoffs, "whenever Kuramochi would start teasing me about having a boyfriend, Kazuya would suddenly get annoyed. He’s not even subtle about it, which means he must be really pissed. And I don’t understand because he used to always tease me about you! But now that we’re actually a couple…"

Ryousuke hums in thought. “I didn’t take him to be the overprotective type.”

“Overprotective?” Aya frowns. “But he already knows you, so what is there to be fussy about? Would you be the same if Haruichi gets into a relationship?” 

"I wonder. But it's not like that's on his mind right now, though."

"Yeah, because you could totally tell." And then she stops walking. “Wait, is this a new detour? I think this is the opposite way from my apartment.”

“Yeah, it is. I’m not taking you home yet.” 

Aya gasps in fake horror. “Is this what Kazuya is protecting me from?”

Ryousuke chuckles before taking her hand as they round the corner. “If he doesn’t want you to be happy, then I guess it is.” 

They stop in front of a café Aya had once mentioned wanting to visit. 

Now, Aya gasps in actual shock. “Ryou…”

“It’s a weekday so I don’t want us to be out late, but we’ve been together for one month now. I at least want to celebrate that.”

She tears her gaze away from the establishment and up towards Ryousuke. “You remembered.”

“Of course I would.” He tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “Especially since you’ve been really pouty these past few days. Are you sure you still want to keep this a secret? Because this prevents you from spending all your free time with me, so now you’re missing me too much.”

Aya feels her cheeks warm up, though she’s not sure if it’s out of embarrassment for being too obvious, or because she suddenly finds that cockiness… attractive.

He gestures with his head towards the door. “Shall we?”

Aya nods. “O-okay.”

As Ryousuke leads them inside, only one thought crosses his mind. Now, please stop talking about other guys when we’re together.

 Today is the last day of school for students without club activities this summer. It is also the day after Seidou had triumphed over Maimon West in their first qualifying match.

The sun shines bright through the windows, seemingly giving spotlight to the third-year starters - Yuuki Tetsuya, Masuko Tooru, Isashiki Jun, and Kominato Ryousuke - as they walk through the hallways. Their fellow third-years crowd around them, congratulating them and promising to watch the next games.

Aya smiles proudly. Aside from the resounding cheers from upstairs, she had also spotted freshmen cheerleaders peeking into Class 1-B earlier, most likely spying on the two of the three first-year players yesterday. 

This game had not only showcased Seidou’s powerful batting lineup, but also officially debuted the first-year players - Furuya Satoru, Sawamura Eijun, and of course, Kominato Haruichi. 

If they get fangirls, that would mean more commission requests, right? 

But then she reaches a classroom that apparently has another kind of commotion.

Kuramochi is once again shouting at Miyuki's face as he holds the catcher by the collar, while Miyuki only laughs off everything the enraged boy says.

"They're fighting again?” a female classmate asks. “But they're always together."

"They don't have any friends," another replies.

"They have Makoto-san, though," a third classmate adds, following it with a giggle.

"I can hear you, you know," Aya says from the doorway.

"Oh!" the same classmate exclaims, and then smiles sheepishly. "Good morning, Makoto-san! Do you think you could break them up again?"

Aya sighs. This is certainly a sad reputation. She marches up to the two. "Hey, Mochi! I see you’re still overflowing with adrenaline from yesterday’s game."

The boys look at her in sync.

"But I need to take my seat now, so please…?"

"Tch." Kuramochi's frown stays, but he lets go and walks away without another word.

"What is it this time?" Aya asks, hanging her bag on the hook at her desk. 

"It's nothing," Miyuki answers with a chuckle, fixing his uniform.

Aya sits down sideways and props an arm on her backrest to keep slightly facing him. "Sure it is. Good thing you have me, the saving grace of this trio of loners."

"I don't know, Aya." Miyuki props his chin on his hand as he leans forward on his desk. "Are you sure you're still one?"

Aya raises a brow. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Miyuki heaves a big sigh and sits back on his chair. "You're really gonna keep that act up, huh?"

“Oh, Kazuya. You’re just like me. You're in denial.” 

“Of what?”

“Of being jealous of someone taking your cousin’s time away from you. Not like there’s much to begin with, though.”

“So you’re basically admitting.”

Aya shrugs. “No point in lying to you now, so you might as well come clean too.” She smirks.

Just then, the bell rings. The students start to move back to their desks.

Miyuki smirks back at her. “Whaaat? I can’t hear you over the bell!”

Aya rolls her eyes before sitting properly, just as the teacher enters the room.

 Seidou plays against Murata East the next day, and it ends as another called game after Captain Yuuki hits a homerun.

Outside, Aya waits among the crowd to catch a glimpse of the team exiting the stadium.

“Miyuki-kun~!” a group of girls calls out when the famous catcher comes into view.

Aya does her best not to cringe. She understands why he has so many fangirls, but it just feels weird to hear people gush over someone she knows not just by looks, but as a person - insecurities, quirks, habits that may not be easily understood by others.

Is this what Kazuya feels now when he thinks about me and Ryou?   

The coach walks over to the team to give them instructions before they watch the next game.

But since Aya did not buy tickets for that, she has to leave ahead of them. As soon as she starts to walk away, her phone vibrates, so she stops to pull it out of her uniform skirt's pocket.

It’s our second game already and I still don’t hear you calling out for me? Isn’t Aya supposed to be my biggest fan?

She looks back at the team to see Ryousuke staring at her from afar with an obvious smirk. She types back: Am I supposed to? It’s enough that I came to watch!

Ryousuke chuckles when he sees the message, and then looks back up to wave goodbye to her. 

Of course, some of his teammates see that. But before they could spot her and connect the dots, Aya turns around and speed-walks toward the bus that would take her back to the school.

 With classes finally out of the way, Aya now has more time to watch practices. But even if Seidou had two practice days before their match against Akikawa Academy, Aya could only watch on the second day, because the media had hounded Field A the day before to cover Seidou first.

However, instead of practicing, everyone is lining up in front of the coach. 

Aya walks closer to the fence.

“To prepare for the game tomorrow,” Coach Kataoka says, “we’re wrapping up practice.”

Aya almost drops her sketchbook. So much for waking up early.

The coach finishes his instructions and dismisses the boys.

Aya remains standing there, her eyes trailing her boyfriend who is picking up his equipment from the dugout. Should I ask Ryou to eat lunch with me? But what if he has plans?

Ryousuke goes back out in the field, but stops a few ways away from his friends. “Haruichi.” 

She gasps. Did he just…?

“Join me when I hit off the tee later,” Ryousuke continues.

The younger Kominato gasps. 

Even his friends - Masuko, Yuuki, Isashiki, and Kuramochi - stop talking among themselves to watch them.

“Are you sure I’m good enough?” Haruichi asks.

Ryousuke chuckles. “What are you saying? You can hit, too. So, later!”

Now, if Ryousuke's friends are fondly dumbfounded, Aya squeals and jumps in giddiness. Now this makes it worth waking up early.

 “You finally talked to him!” 

“To who?”

“To Haruichi!”

“Of course I talk to him. He’s my brother.”

Aya nudges his arm. “You know what I mean! You talked to him in front of the others! It’s so cute.”

“Shut up.” Ryousuke takes another bite of his lunch.

Aya giggles. “I really like this shy side of yours, Ryou. It's so adorable.”

Ryousuke almost coughs up a lung. 

“Whoa, are you okay?”

“Stop attacking me like that!” He coughs harder.

Aya hands him his water bottle, biting her lip to avoid laughing.

“You always do this," he says when he calms down. "Maybe you need to pay for it.”

“This better not be…”

Ryousuke smirks. “Cheer for me tomorrow.”

“Ryou!”

“Aren't you inspired by me? I apparently overcame my hypothetical shyness to talk to Haruichi in front of the team.”

"Nope." Aya purses her lips, and then instantly brightens up. “But I do know how to pay you back.”

“And how…” Ryousuke trails off as Aya suddenly moves closer to him.

She raises a hand to cup one side of his face. She leans in, making sure to lock eyes with him. Her thumb brushes his lower lip slowly... until she wipes off a stray rice grain. And then she merely pecks his cheek before moving away so fast. 

Ryousuke’s mouth now hangs open.

“You had something on your face. I didn’t want you to go back to the field with it.”

“Why do you keep missing?” Ryousuke whispers, turning away to hide a smile.

 Unlike in practice games, more and more people are now finding time in their summer schedule to attend the increasingly intense official games.

Bottom of the first inning, one out. With Kuramochi failing to get on base, Ryousuke steps up for his first at-bat against Akikawa’s clockwork pitcher, Shunshin You.

"Ryou-san!"

Unlike in practice games, Ryousuke's fangirls are now also here. Closer to Aya. Sitting around Aya.

She has always been aware of them, and it definitely isn’t her first time to hear them cheer him on. But why does it make her feel unpleasant now? Besides, it’s the team’s third game already, and Ryousuke has been playing very well. It’s understandable that he would gain more support.

"Ryousuke-san!"

Yet a little spark in her stomach starts up and threatens to grow.

"If you're so annoyed with it," her art club senior, who had come to watch the game too, leans on her shoulder to whisper, "why don't you just publicly lay your claim on him?"

Aya keeps her eyes on the field. "That's pretty vulgar, senpai." She clears her throat. "And I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're not his only fan, Makoto-chan. He's amazing, and girls in our batch have always known that." The third-year lightly pinches Aya's cheek to make the younger girl look at her. "You can't blame them for calling him appropriately." 

Aya swats her hand away and sighs. "I'm going to get bullied for it."

"No way. You're the only masochist to develop romantic feelings for him."

"What?"

Her senior laughs. "Just go greet him outside. Today would be the best time, because we're finally out of our school uniforms. And nothing says 'cute girlfriend' than your look today."

Aya consciously touches her hair before looking down at her sleeveless yellow dress. Because the weather has reached 30° today, she had styled her hair into a braided ponytail and picked out the lightest dress she could find in her closet, not taking into account its knee-length frilly skirt. She shakes her head. "I just think it's unnecessary and childish…" she mutters, turning back to the game.

Ryousuke uses his signature strategy: rack up fouls to tire out the pitcher. The eighth pitch is thrown high, so Ryousuke does not swing anymore. Because surely it would be called a ball, which would give him a free pass to first base.

Except it isn't.

"Strike!" the umpire shouts just as the pink-haired batter steps forward.

“What?” Aya exclaims. "But how?"

"I think the umpire's impressed with the pitcher," her senior answers. "He does keep throwing into the catcher's mitt."

"No…" Aya frowns. "Is that why they call him 'clockwork?'"

Ryousuke remains standing there, disbelief clear in his stance.

“Hey, Makoto-chan.” Her senior pokes Aya's arm. “Is he seriously thinking of fighting the umpire?”

She gulps. “I – he can’t be, right?”

Alas, Ryousuke straightens up and walks back to the dugout.

To beat Akikawa's clockwork pitcher, Kuramochi's speed and Ryousuke's strategic batting would be keys to put pressure on him. But now it had failed right on the first try. And that unlucky streak only continues.

Isashiki got on base, and Yuuki was able to hit the baseball far. Their left fielder desperately goes after it, only to fall flat on his face… but the ball lands straight into his glove.

A miracle. Aya slumps her shoulders. If Akikawa continues to make lucky plays like this...

At the bottom of the third inning, the batting lineup goes back up to Kuramochi. But because Shunshin is also great at fielding, he prevents Kuramochi from even stepping on first base.

And now, Ryousuke is back in the batter's box. He does not swing at the first pitch, but…

"Strike!"

"Again?" Aya almost shouts. "But that was so close to outside!"

Shunshin throws the next pitch.

And apparently, it's a breaking ball that pushes Ryousuke to swing and hit the baseball… straight back to the pitcher. A deciding out to end the third inning.

Once again, Ryousuke remains standing in place. He now glares at Shunshin, who stares him back down.

“Makoto-chan,” her senior says, “your boyfriend’s seriously pissed today.”

Aya crosses her arms. “Well, who wouldn’t be? That clockwork pitcher has gotten the umpire on his side! Ryou can’t even bully him now!”

The third-year raises her eyebrow in amusement. "Wow, I guess that makes you compatible."

The gloom finally lifts at the fourth inning when Coach Kataoka switches Furuya with the southpaw first-year, Sawamura (though it had still caused quite a scene when Furuya refused to give him the ball at first), because his presence ignites a fire in the team. After he gets the last out of the inning, Seidou starts the fifth with the cleanup batters, where Miyuki takes Isashiki and Yuuki home and finally ties the game. Defense has become sharper too because he is pitching with confidence.

But the batting lineup goes back to Kuramochi, and he strikes out. Ryousuke hits the baseball, but it goes straight to a fielder's glove once more, ending the fifth inning.

“Mochi… Ryou… what’s happening?” Aya bites her nails in worry.

The game then enters a standstill as both teams keep failing to score a run that would break the tie. That is, until the bottom of the seventh inning.

"Seidou High School has called for a substitution," the announcer says.

Aya gasps as she spots the new jersey number in the on-deck circle.

"Replacing Number 8, Sakai-kun: pinch hitter, Kominato Haruichi-kun!"

Aya immediately stands in her seat and shouts, “Let’s go, Haruichi!”

Her senior pulls her to sit back down. “How could you be so enthusiastic over your boyfriend’s brother than for your boyfriend himself?”

“Are you kidding me? Ryou is most likely as proud as I am right now!” She points to the younger Kominato taking his position. “Just watch.”

The thing with Haruichi is that pitchers tend to get haughty when they see a small boy using a wooden bat and stepping over the plate. What they don't know is that they are walking right into the bait.

Like today, for example. To attempt to intimidate him, Shunshin throws an inside pitch to Haruichi’s knees.

And like usual, Haruichi steps in just as the ball is released. And then he expertly hits it far towards left field. Taking advantage of the fielders’ bewilderment, Haruichi reaches first base and raises his arm for a fist pump as a blush overtakes his cheeks.

Cue Haruichi’s fangirls screaming over it. Including a certain brunette.

Sawamura, who has a history of not hitting any pitch at all, loudly steps into the field next. But he silently and professionally bunts to advance Haruichi to second base. And the crowd gets amusingly amazed.

“Wow! Perfect!”

“Why is he only good at bunts?”

“Nice one, Bunt Master!”

And now, Kuramochi is back in the batter's box.

The atmosphere grows tense as the Seidou bleachers and dugout cheer him on.

Aya fidgets with her hands as she mutters, "Fourth chance, Mochi. Please don't get shut down again."

Shunshin throws the first pitch, and Kuramochi smashes it to the right. Without wasting any time, he uses his cheetah legs to take him to first base.

The Akikawa fielder snatches the ball from the ground and gets ready to throw to first base. But Akikawa has run out of miracle plays.

"Oh, his hand slipped!"

"Akikawa made an error!"

And Kuramochi steps on the white bag.

“Finally, Mochi!” Aya shouts along with the wild crowd. She then clutches her senior's arm. "We're on a roll! We totally shook Akikawa up!"

Her senior chuckles. "Yeah, and now—"

"And now Ryou's up to bat!" Aya interrupts with a giggle before looking back at the field, her eyes zooming in to her boyfriend.

Just then, even without a lead, Kuramochi takes off again. Haruichi runs too, and Seidou takes second and third base.

Aya suddenly pauses, her eyes flitting from Ryousuke standing readily in the batter's box to Haruichi crouching on third. She gasps. "Oh my god!"

"Yeah," her senior says, "Kuramochi's taking revenge!" 

"The brothers!"

"What?" 

"The brothers are playing in the same field! In an official game!" Aya inches forward right then, drowning out her senior’s response as she focuses back on the field.

As soon as Shunshin moves to pitch, Kuramochi starts to run again, and Ryousuke changes his grip on his bat for a squeeze play.

In that split second, the Clockwork pitcher throws the baseball outside the strike zone.

But at this point, Ryousuke has been backed into a corner by Shunshin and the umpire enough. He would not give this up now. In his race against the catcher to get to the ball first, Ryousuke lands on his side, but successfully taps the ball away from home plate. And in an instant, he is up and running towards first base.

And Haruichi is right behind him to score a run for Seidou!

The ball rolls toward the mound, and Shunshin quickly picks it up. He throws it to first base to stop the older Kominato, not noticing Kuramochi already on third base and sneakily racing towards home plate.

But it's too late. The ball is in the air just as Akikawa desperately shouts over each other.

The first baseman catches the ball and throws it to home just as Kuramochi slides in.

"Safe!" the umpire shouts.

The crowd goes wild.

"Wow, two runs!"

"That's some super fast sliding!"

"His speed is like cheating!"

Aya, meanwhile, covers her mouth as if she could be heard among the crowd. Because her heart continues to beat so fast as her eyes continue to follow Ryousuke still advancing in the field.

The first baseman recovers from the shock to call out to their catcher still holding the ball.

But Ryousuke already reaches second base. 

"Nice run!"

“Nice run, Ryou!” Aya screams along in celebration, small tears of joy at the corners of her eyes. 

The Kominato brothers and Kuramochi combo starts an onslaught. Since then, Seidou continues to shut Akikawa down, scoring 3 more runs in the inning. Kawakami gets sent out to close the last two innings, and he does not allow Akikawa any more runs. 

With a score of 7-2, Seidou advances to the quarterfinal.

 The sun is shining brighter now, bathing the field with more light and warmth as the day approaches noon. It boosts Aya's happiness as she walks out of the bleachers along with the rest of the crowd.

"Oh, I still can't stop thinking about earlier!" a girl walking in front of Aya says, nudging her companion.

For some reason, this catches Aya's attention. She recognizes the two girls as Seidou students.

"Do you mean the seventh inning?" the other girl asks with a big grin.

Say no.

"Yes!"

The two friends squeal together. "Ryousuke-kun!"

And just like that, the spark in Aya's stomach reappears.

The girl in front continues, "The little brother and Kuramochi may have scored those runs, but they wouldn't have done it without him!"

The spark grows and spreads throughout her whole body, warming her up. She steps out of the stadium and meets the bright sunlight, but she knows it's not just the reason her eyes are stinging.

Yellow.

Ryousuke wears it like a brand.

Kazuya's aura spikes up in it quite often now.

And it's what she's currently coated in.

Jealousy because of people, as Aya had found out from those two, is the kind that is most irrational and all-consuming.

The kind of jealousy she never thought she would experience.

"Makoto-chan!"

The sudden shake on her shoulder makes Aya jump.

"Are you okay?" her senior asks. "I've been talking to you for a while now."

"S-sorry."

"Are we going back to the bus or do you want to wait for the team to come out?"

Refocusing on her surroundings, Aya sees Miyuki's fangirls right outside the stadium. They are getting ready to shout his name in an attempt to get his attention. To lay their claim…

"Woah, Makoto-chan!" her senior exclaims.

Aya drags her to the front of the crowd, right next to the noisy bunch.

"So I guess this answers my question. But why here?"

"I uh, want to see him right away…"

Just then, the names of the coach and the players ring out above the cheers and applause. 

The first set of players are exiting the stadium. Among them is Ryousuke, glowing with joy because of the victory. He is walking in between his friends, and as usual, is discreetly searching the crowd for her.

This is it. Aya's heart pounds. He would see me right away and I have to—

"MIYUKI-KUN!" One of the fangirls suddenly blocks her from view as their group starts to call out and wave frantically.

"Seriously?" Aya frowns as she watches Ryousuke pass by obliviously.

Her senior giggles. "Guess you don't have to try hard in hiding today… hey, where are you going?"

Aya weaves carefully, but with urgency, through the cheering crowd. Being short makes it hard for people to notice her – it’s  good for moving about, but it puts her at risk of getting elbowed in the face. Alas, she finds a free space in front again. 

Ryousuke finally spots her. He gives her a small smile before passing her by.

She suddenly hears giggles behind her, so she looks over her shoulder to find the two girls from earlier, as well as some schoolmates, looking at the players. This would be good. Aya takes a deep breath and calls out as loud as she could, "Ryou!"

The pink-haired third-year whirls around in shock.

Masuko, Isashiki, and even Yuuki who are walking with him also stop and turn, their eyes settling on the short brunette.

"Aya?" Ryousuke says cautiously.

She smiles brightly and waves.

His confused expression instantly turns into a happy grin. He then hurries back towards her. 

His friends stand still in shock, especially the usually loud Isashiki who now stares with his jaw hanging open. Meanwhile, their teammates coming up from behind them give Ryousuke a curious look. 

He finally stops in front of her. "Hey, Aya."

Seeing his excited smile, and the way he does not care at all about the people around them just to get to her, almost makes her swoon forward. She holds onto the long sleeve of his undershirt for balance. "I… I watched the game," she almost whispers.

Ryousuke chuckles. "Yes, I can see that."

She grins. "And I want to congratulate you! You were so amazing back there, especially when you caused the runs in the seventh inning!"

He chuckles again, now with a hint of embarrassment. "Don't say it like that. They got on base and I followed through."

"But still, you were very cool."

His grin grows wider. "Thank you, Aya." Then he drops his voice so that only the two of them can hear. "And it is a bit refreshing to be with you like this in public."

"Well…” She steps closer, enough to smell the mix of his natural scent and after-game sweat. She takes both of his hands in hers. "Maybe I don't want to keep it a secret anymore?"

"It's because she got jealous," someone suddenly comments beside her, breaking the moment.

They step away from each other, but do not drop their linked hands.

Recognizing Aya's club senior, Ryousuke asks, "What?"

"You've got fangirls, Kominato-kun."

"Ohhh."

Aya tugs at his hands to make him look back at her. "No, that's not it! Don't listen to her!"

"Of course, Aya!" Ryousuke lets go of one of her hands to pat her head. "I would only believe my girlfriend."

Her mouth hangs open.

Ryousuke now smirks, as if asking, Isn't that what you want to prove to them? "Anyway, I'll see you later. We have to watch the next game."

"Oh, right! Sorry."

"Don't mind that." He squeezes her hand. "This made my day better."

When Ryousuke finally reaches the bus, his fellow third-year teammates who are waiting for him outside greet him with teasing punches on the shoulder and pats on the back. Even Captain Yuuki gives him a thumbs-up sign. And Isashiki shouts in mock outrage when Ryousuke says something to him.

"Makoto-san, you're scary."

"I didn't know you had it in you!"

Aya turns around.

Ryousuke's fangirls are smiling at her.

"Congratulations! Though, everyone saw it coming."

"Yeah, it would have sucked if you two didn't end up together."

"And you two were not very good at hiding it, either!"

Aya is reeling from all the comments, but only manages to respond to the last one. "We aren't?"

Her senior pats her back. "What did I tell you?"

Aya sighs in relief. "Yeah, that felt good.” Her eyes then widen in realization, and she hides her face in her hands. "And embarrassing! I can't believe I just did that!" 

The fangirls coo at her, and her senior had to lead her to the bus that would take them back to Seidou.

On their way, Aya finally recovers enough to glance at the team's bus… just in time to see Miyuki watching her with a non-amused expression.

 Previous: Ryousuke and Aya

[hideawayintheimaginationworld]

Hmm, what about something for parenthood? Maybe charlies first date??? Possibly with a girl??????

A date didn’t have to be a fancy dinner, wearing dresses and styling yourself like a doll.

Yes, it could just be going to a café at one in the afternoon, wearing the concert theme hoodie you got three months ago with the khaki pants you wore frequently on lazy days.

Charlie brushed away her hair from her eyes, she debated getting her hair cut, but didn’t know, as she thought about the time in her life where, before picture day in the second grade, one of the older girls used scissors to snip off her ponytail and ruined her hair, essentially forcing her father to drop everything so he could take her to the salon to salvage it.

Charlie took out her phone, messing around, watching a video of kittens, she didn’t mind kittens but preferred dogs more.

It was actually good to prefer dogs more, as her father was allergic to cats.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

Charlie looked up and saw her date, Daniela had arrived. She looked more dressed up admittedly, she wore a green shirt which contrasted against her naturally tanned skin, she had wrangled her tight curly hair into two buns on the sides of her head, which looked like bear ears in Charlie's opinion, which made her look more cute, especially when set against her big brown eyes.

“No, you're not late... you're right on time,” Charlie nodded.

Daniela sat down across from her, she shook her head, “I’m a few minutes late.”

“Oh! That doesn’t matter...” Charlie responded, “Have you ever been here before?”

“No I haven’t.., have you?”

“I actually had my first hot chocolate here when I was five... admittedly I made a big mess knocking it over and my poor father had to clean it up.”

Daniela gave her a smile, “We all did silly things as kids...”

“What about you? What silly things did you do?”

“My Uncle had to get me down from a tree once when I climbed it.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“The tree was ten feet tall, I got to the top, he had to get a ladder to rescue me.”

“Oh dear...”

“Still, he said I’m his favourite little niece.”

Charlie nodded then said, “So... what would you like? I'll pay for it.”

“Oh Lottie, I brought my own money, I’ll pay for my own things.”

“Are you sure? I mean I was the one who offered this.”

“You're a kind soul Lottie, but I will pay for my own items,” Daniela answered.

“Alright then... I'll get a hot chocolate and a chocolate muffin.”

“You really like chocolate?”

“My father isn’t a fan but my Uncle Toby is, he use to give me chocolates when I was little...”

“Well could you just order me a hot chocolate too? And maybe a pastry... like a éclair?”

“Sure!”

She knew Daniela had some crippling anxiety talking to strangers, worried she was interrupting them and making a fool of herself, Charlie was more than happy to accomodate to her.

She considered this more a date than friends meeting up, she was trying to figure some stuff out, like her feelings and she didn’t want to concern her father with it.

Why would she? When this was appearing to go perfectly well? She could figure some stuff out for herself.

“How much do I owe you?” Daniela asked her, pulling out her wallet and looking through the bills she had tucked away.

Charlie was tempted to tell her that she didn’t need to pay her back but she knew Daniela wouldn’t go along with that, as she had seen the time Michael brought her a bottle of water at the park and she was panicked because she couldn’t pay him back at that very second, it nearly induced a panic attack for her.

“Eight fifty,” Charlie answered.

Daniela pulled out some bills and coins and placed it down on the table, “For you Charlotte.”

It was weird how Daniela went between saying Lottie, Charlie and Charlotte. Lottie was the one most used for an affection name, Charlie remembered one of the nicknames her father gave her like Charlie Bear and Little Lottie.

She could argue now she wasn’t little, considering she was sixteen.

When the drinks and items arrived, they talked more about memories and experiences.

“I once ate Alec's rainbow bead pride bracelet because I thought it looked really pretty... my dad panicked and called 911, he did say I was choking on something but he didn’t know what.”

“Aww poor Alec,” Daniela was swirling the spoon in her mug around. “Did he ever get it back?”

“Well it was thrown out, he got a ring later and he didn’t take it off again... I actually did a lot to Alec that makes me wonder how the hell he stands me so much.”

“Ohh?” Daniela seem to lend closer, “Tell me more.”

“Well I vomited on him. Three times. Once when I was a baby, another time when I had the stomach flu, I also vomited on him. Worse part? The last time I vomited on him was suppose to be the night he was going to get engaged... but his partner decided to do it another day, about three months later, and I wasn’t invited.”

“Maybe the sight of him makes you sick?” Daniela joked.

Charlie responded, “I hope not... he comes around a lot... my dad's a great person and only a few people know it.”

“Probably to keep a low profile...”

“Probably.”

“If it helps... I vomited on my cat once...”

Charlie laughed, “How? How do you puke on a cat???”

“She was laying on my bed... I felt unwell... he hated me for a while after that.”

Charlie nodded, “I understand that, imagine getting puked on by a child.”

“Let's stop talking about being sick...” Daniela then took a sip from her drink, “New topic... music...”

“I cannot play an instrument to save my life... but everyone I know is musical, my father can sing, play piano and saxophone and a bunch of other instruments, Alec can play drums and guitar, Toby plays the flute... I feel left out... I just watch everyone else play an instrument and I can’t join in, I can only listen.”

“Have you ever tried singing?”

Charlie didn’t know if that was a joke, she answered, “I sound like a beached whale when I sing.”

“I could never sing... I feel it would draw too much attention to me.”

“And you are content just existing.”

“Essentially... yes.”

[lov3nerdstuff]

could you please make a loki x reader where he finds out how good she is at drawing/ art and it’s all just fluff?

Imagine: You just wanted to draw a beautiful stranger in a coffeeshop when suddenly everything goes pearshaped.

A.N.: Thank you @marvel-ous-buckyy for being the first one to request something! I did my best to put this prompt into action and I really hope you like it! It kinda turned into a coffeeshop AU but only a little bit :) let me know what you think!

Beautiful stranger

You were sitting in a small coffee shop downtown, shortly after 10pm, with a nice hot cup of steaming brew in front of you. It was your favorite spot in the whole city, all kinds of people came in for their daily caffeine fix. Some even came into the shop more than once a day. Especially this late at night, people came here more frequently than one might expect. As usual, you were sat on a small table in the middle of the room, your sketchbook in front of you along with a couple pencils and watercolors. No eraser, as you didn't believe in erasing when sketching. Whatever came out of your hand and onto the paper was worth to be kept or worked around. Other than that, there were hardly any huge mistakes in your drawing anyway. You had practiced your art all your life and nothing filled you with greater joy than sitting in public, drawing strangers or nature. 

Today was no different. You sat in your usual spot and after a few warm-up sketches you decided it was time for a larger and more detailed piece. So you looked around yourself, taking in the surroundings while taking a sip of your coffee. It was too hot still and burned your tongue, but the smell it emitted was just too delicious to resist.

Your eyes wandered from the seemingly daily-changing staff to the customers. Most just ordered to go and were out and about again at this time of night, but then your eyes fell upon a tall man with raven hair who was sitting on the opposite side of the shop. You blinked a couple times, trying to get your eyes to fully focus after having stared at your sketchpad for an hour. 

He was astonishingly gorgeous, almost surreal in his appearance. You coughed, awkwardly trying to swallow your own breath. Had you seen him here before? You were sure you'd had remembered seeing him.

You could see a little more than his profile from where you were sat. He looked down onto a journal he held in his hands. Blinking a few more times, you noticed how graceful and elegant his hands were, his whole physique. He looked out of this world, even if he wore a casual dark grey suit and a green dress shirt like most business people working late. His raven hair hung loosely around his beautiful face, framing it perfectly. 

What was a person like him doing at such an ungodly hour in a coffee shop? Well, you were also sitting here, touche, but for the sole reason that you wouldn't be able to sleep at home anyway. If the heavy insomnia you suffered from kept you up all night, at least you could use the time to draw in peace and be happy for once. 

Back to the beautiful stranger. The energy he radiated seemed to draw you in like he had his own gravity, only working on you. He was so focused on his journal, he didn't seem to notice your staring. His high cheekbones and sharp jawline were just screaming at you to draw them. 

So you started with delicate but certain lines, making sure to capture every detail of his being. Drawing the hair, you suppressed the urge to just walk over and run your hands through the black locks. It looked so soft… you tried to do it justice in your work.

Exactly there lay the problem you saw in your drawings. You wanted to capture the most magnificent and the most beautiful the world had to offer, but in your eyes you often failed to truly reflect their outer beauty. Instead, it turned into both, a structural and aesthetic representation of the emotions they conveyed. This time… there was so much sadness radiating off this man, but also so much passion and the pure intensity of it made your skin crawl with excitement. This drawing would turn out a masterpiece, you just knew it!

For a little more than an hour you drew and sketched, only then wondering why on earth he hadn't finished his coffee yet and left. Maybe he was here for something different after all? You didn't know and as long as he remained sitting in this same position for you to draw, you also didn't care why he was here. 

Once you finished the rough sketch, you went on to inking your work. Why hadn't he left yet? Usually the people you drew only remained sitting still for no more than the time it took them to finish their coffee or maybe the news feed on their phones. He was so different…

You finished inking a while later and he still hadn't moved. Not believing your luck, you went on to color the drawing, keeping everything in cool tones and rough textures. Except for his face. That, you drew with the utmost care and delicacy. Just as you were about to finish the piece, time seemed to stop for you, as a bulky and seemingly drunk man stumbled against your table and poured the contents of his to go cup all over your sketchbook. Immediately the ink and the colors started running together and off the page, replaced by black hot liquid. You let out a yelp, jumping up from your chair and knocking it over in the process. No, this couldn't be happening… It had taken you months to fill this sketchbook and now the whole thing was ruined. After a second of utter shock, you jumped into action and grabbed the first thing available to try to save what you could from the mess. 

"S-ssorry…" The man slurred, bumping into you on his way to the door, fleeing from the situation without another word. 

Using the hem of your shirt, you gently patted the book dry, but it was by far too late. A young barista came rushing to your side with a bunch of napkins, cleaning the table and offering some to you. Only now did you notice that your jeans were drenched as well as your shirt. But you simply stared at the heavily smudged, crinkling book in your hands. All these memories kept in there, all the emotions you could never have explained outside of their colorful visual representations. Gone. You felt tears stinging in your eyes and your vision became blurry as you suppressed a sob. The barista finished cleaning your tabe and apologized for the hundredth time to you, but you were lost in your own mind, tears running down your face even though you willed them not to. You hated crying, hated emotions and most definitely hated people in this very moment. Without any more care for your surroundings you slumped down on your damp chair again, starting to slowly gather your drenched supplies. You just wanted to leave, go back to your tiny apartment and cry in the shower until there wouldn't be any more tears left. 

Grabbing your bag, you pushed the chair back under the table and bid the staff goodbye. Outside, the cold but fresh air hit your face and you felt a little calmer. The night just happened to have this effect on you. 

Just as you were about to saunter down the street, a smooth voice addressed you from behind.

"Excuse me, Miss, but I believe you forgot your book." 

The voice made you shiver slightly, it was deep and calming, yet very in control. 

"It's a sketchbook, but it's of no use anymore. Some douche emptied his…" You stopped mid-sentence once you turned around and saw who the voice belonged to. The beautiful stranger stood so close to you that your breath hitched and you took a step backwards out of instinct. 

He was even more intriguing from up close. Your gaze shot to his face. He had green eyes that could've swallowed your soul if you kept looking at them. To your surprise, he seemed just as taken aback when he looked into your own orbs. 

A blush crept up to you cheeks in no time and you quickly looked down to the book he held out to you. It looked nothing like the drenched and wrinkled thing you had just thrown into the trash. Instead, it looked almost like new. 

Frowning, you took it from him. "This can't be mine, mine is all damaged…" 

You flipped it open in the middle, staring at one of your drawings from a few weeks back. Completely and utterly intact and beautiful as ever. Incredulous, you flipped back and forth, but every drawing in the large book seemed to be completely fine as it had been a few hours ago. 

"What…?" You breathed, your gaze shooting up to meet his once more. "How did you do that?" 

A slow smirk played on his lips as he watched your irritation with great amusement. 

"I noticed that you were drawing me." He simply said in this incredibly soothing and yet dangerous voice.

You blushed an even deeper shade of red. "When did you notice?"

"Oh, just about right when you ogled me for the first time." He grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "When that guy dropped his coffee on your book, I was quite furious."

"And why is that?" You asked, gaining control of your body once more. Something told you to stay away from this man and something else, something much stronger, told you to learn everything you could about him.

"Well, I wanted to see how your drawing turned out. If you got the best angle, you know…" He winked at you, making you chuckle slightly. 

You took another look at the book and twisted it in every direction in your hands. "But how did you restore it completely, I mean, all the ink had started running and…"

You were cut off once more when, with a slight wave of his hand, the moisture and stains in your clothing started to simply float out of the fabric, before vanishing into thin air. Your eyes widened and you stared at him open mouthed. "Who are you?" You finally managed to ask.

"My name is Loki. Of Asgard. Or of Jotunheim. Depends on my mood, really. It's a pleasure to meet you, my dearest." He grinned at you, his hands in the pockets of his pants.

You snapped out of your awe rather quickly. He was the infamous Loki, a literal god?! That explains the magic. You hadn't heard all that much about him other than that he was the brother of one of the Avengers and capable of magic

You smiled at him. "I'm Y/N. Thank you so much for saving my book! It means a lot to me, really. Can I buy you a coffee or something as a thank you?"

He let out a small laugh. "Oh dear, I had so much coffee while waiting for you to finish your drawing, I don't think I can take another cup." His smile turned into a grin once more. "But you could let me take a look at your drawings. If they are only half as intriguing as you, then they'd be very much worth saving."

You let out a shy laugh. "You don't need to flatter me to take a look." But then, when you were about to hand the book over to him once more, you felt insecure. It contained so many memories and emotions you hadn't ever shared with anyone. And now you'd show them to a beautiful stranger? YES, part of your mind screamed. So you let him take it out of your hand and simply hoped for the best. 

He noticed the shift in your mood immediately and kept the book closed in his hands. There was something in your eyes that reminded him of his own and he felt the sudden urge to comfort you. That was new… he never really cared about the people he met and so he would always put on the charming facade everyone seemed to expect of him. With you however, he suddenly felt like he could try something new, something… true.

"If you are not comfortable showing these drawings to me, you don't have to, you know..." He said quietly.

"It's silly, I just… feel so vulnerable showing this real life imprint of my soul to a stranger." You laughed nervously and looked into his eyes once more. There was no trace of his previously cocky expression left and all you could see was sincere worry and… hope? Hope for what?

"Maybe… would you…" He seemed rather introverted now, as if someone had switched his personality for a different one. "Would you like to take a walk with me?"

You smiled, a real and happy smile this time. This man right in front of you, this version of Loki, you liked much better than the previous one. It just felt more real fo you. 

"I would love to." You answered gently and the two of you took off down the street. 

For what felt like hours the two of you wandered the streets of your city, talking about everything and nothing. You warmed up to him quicker than you could believe for yourself and you felt like he opened up to you too, if only just a little for now. 

It was already about sunrise when you yawned. That hadn't happened in a long time.

"I'm sorry I kept you up all night." Loki apologized with a small laugh.

"Nah, it's fine. I suffer from insomnia almost every night, it's a surprise to me that I'm still able to function." You brushed it off with a shrug, realizing only now how much you had told him about yourself in the past hours. And how much he had told you. It felt like you'd known him for such a long time, it was ridiculous. But something had just clicked with you and Loki and you could feel a serious crush developing. You were not sure if you minded it though, as he seemed to be quite enamored as well.

The two of you were still a block away from your apartment and yet you already felt sad. You didn't want to leave him just yet, but it was getting rather difficult to keep your eyes open.

"Do you want to come in? I… I could make you coffee or…" You turned to him once you stood in front of your building, hope all over your face.

Loki shot you his amazing smile in return. "I would love to, but I think that wouldn't be very appropriate." 

You looked down to your feet. He was standing so close to you, you could feel his warmth on your skin and even smell his cologne and it all made you want to just lean against him and let yourself dwell in his sweet embrace. But you didn't dare to just hug him, so you slowly reached out and first touched his hand with a single finger, gently brushing against his thumb. He got the sign and took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers and gently brushing over your knuckles.

"Do you… do you still want to?" You asked in a breath.

"Pardon?"

"Do you still want to see the… the drawings?" 

He nodded in return and you let go of his hand to find the book in your bag and place it in his hands. 

He looked into your eyes once more and you nodded, so he flipped the book open on page one. 

Slowly, one by one, he looked at every single page and all the while remained standing mere inches away from you. You didn't dare to look at his face, fearing to see a reaction you weren't ready to cope with. Time seemed to stand still for you; you heard nothing but his breathing and the flipping of pages. 

When he reached the last page there was utter silence. The electricity and tension in the air finally made you look back up again.

He was watching you with huge eyes, with an intensity you had yet to comprehend. 

Gently, you took the book out of his hands and placed it back inside your bag without breaking eye contact. 

"So…" You breathed. "What do you think of the…"

You were cut off by his chilled lips crashing against your own, passionate and capturing. 

There was nothing you could think, nothing you could do but kiss him back and let him push you against the wall behind you. 

This was right. So so right and you didn't doubt it for a second. The kiss was gentle, yet passionate and oh so sweet. His soul was reaching out to yours and worshipping it in every way possible.

"Y/N…" He growled when you broke apart, not daring to open your eyes for you feared this dream would come to an end. "How… how did you do it?"

You frowned against his forehead, which rested against yours. "How did I do what?" 

"You… you captured their soul. Every living thing you drew, it was just… as if you had taken their very essence and poured it onto the pages. The drawing you did of me, it's… I have never seen something like it. It's not mere beauty, it's the soul that…" 

You cut him off with another gentle kiss. "I dearly promise: your soul is safe with me."

___________

Tags:

@its-remy-not-ratatouille

(fyi this is my other account besides @nightrose64 )