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imorynn · 1 month ago

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── ᯓ between fleeting moments and significant interactions ᡣ𐭩

ᯓ pairing: alice wu-gulliver 〆 fem!reader

ᯓ genre : fluff, mentions of alice’s family trauma , emotional struggle and alice discovering her feelings for you, descriptions of internal conflicts, anxieties, self-doubt coming from alice , mild workplace tension

ᯓ word count : 3.7k

ᯓ author’s note : i’m between contemplating if i like the way this turned out and actually loving this very much — i adore alice so much — she deserved the world i freaking swear ohmygosh — those reading this piece and carrying that same strong love for our girl, alice, lol, i hope you enjoy this ! I look forward to writing for different characters within the coven <33

── IF ALICE WU-GULLIVER were to attempt recalling every interaction she had with you — a task she had long since lost track of after the first 25 — the most probable outcome would be likely to find herself flabbergasted. It was as though she'd never truly thought about how often paths crossed with others until you came into the hers. The majority of those encounters had been trivial, almost forgettable, their significance lost in the blur of everyday routine. But some of them, the ones that lingered just under the surface, held a weight she was not entirely ready to acknowledge. Those moments, though seemingly casual, seemed inevitable — after all, you shared the same workspace, the same environment. But even so, there was something more to them, something that stirred her in ways she couldn’t quite put into words. She told herself they were just a product of proximity, of the placement. Yet, deep down, Alice knew — if only subconsciously — that there was more to it. She was not ready to admit it, but she found herself looking forward to those fleeting exchanges, a little too often, and a little too much.

The first, perhaps, was the day when she had, much to her dismay and recommended to, submitted an application for a rather favored clothing store by this generation. That clothing store being none other than Hot Topic.

“You start next week. Mall opens at 10, so get here an hour early, sharp. You greet, and you make sure no one shoplifts. Don’t screw it up, got it? I’m gonna be checking in on ya, but the one who’s gonna be showing you a bit around should be here any minute. Don’t screw that up, either.” were the words the store’s manager ( and security guard who stood mere feet outside the store ) had curtly uttered to her the second the employee’s uniform came into her hold. ‘Don’t screw it up.’ A phrase she collided with too often, if she was sincere. Screwing up came with the misfortune of the curse that had become a part of her. And it seemed that misfortune had been set in motion the second you came entering those open doors, and the words, “Ah, there she is.” came tumbling out of his mouth.

A screw-up (— if not incidental such as pretty much all the ones that came with the consequences of the curse —) had come across her midway through her fast-paced walk — with the slight determination to get to the shop because she indeed needed this shop — before she had officially received her employee shirt. It had been a minor, unintentional act on her part, it being her bumping into you on her way past the escalator. Alice has had her fair share of people not liking her for the simplest of reasons, and she rather not have another person apart from them being a stranger not liking her — just to play it safe. She had inhaled sharply — involuntarily drawing in a fragrance enriched with something floral and sweet clinging to this person’s sweater — wanting to be proper with her apology towards the person her shoulder had just jabbed, and she could not help pausing midway as her head tilted up. That was the first time she had laid eyes on you; your wide eyes were, to put it frankly, very pretty and shockingly bright despite the furrow of your brows, and hair styled in a way that framed your features. She was a bit mesmerized, not sure if it was an under or overstatement, until you cleared your throat, cheek hoisting into what seemed a tiny — distasteful like all the other ones she’d received ?Odd? — smile, about to walk in the other direction. Though, now that she thought more about it, you were most definitely walking towards the similar destination — if only she acknowledged you more than she already had, yet that would have been a tad bit demeaning. So she averted her gaze, muttered a swift “sorry” as she passed, and that was that.

Or so it seemed about 10 minutes ago or so, and then right on came the second interaction.

She inhaled sharply at seeing you. She had recognized the sight instantly regardless of the fact that she had seen your face only for a split second. Warm colored eyes and soft contour of your cheeks glowing slightly beneath the store’s dim radiance as you walk deeper within the store, murmuring a polite greeting before your curious gaze lingered on her, followed by that little smile you had given her earlier. It was then that she had a name to put on you as the manager introduced you to one another, nodding every now and then and letting out a quiet ‘yes’, ‘okay’, and ‘got it’ to whatever he said. And when she departed from the building she was bound to come back to in a few days, she found herself unconsciously gripping the employee shirt in her hands which shook little enough for her to ignore it, and continued with her day. However, she could not avoid the unrelenting memory of you with those eyes and smile, unaware that, before long, the precise thought of you within her mind would become inevitable.

At nine am on a Monday, she arrived, shirt slackly tucked into her cargo trousers, the manager was juggling a handful of boxes, each one marked with the familiar logo of the store, without much more than a glance in her direction, head nodding toward the back, voice barely rising above the sound of cardboard shifting in his arms as he briskly informed her of the employee room in the back and something along the lines of you arriving momentarily. A few minutes later, she walked out of the staff room while inwardly stating she could have very least stayed in bed instead of taking a pointless job until a particularly semi-familiar presence with bright eyes came into view, and she found herself grumbling less about where she was — more so questioning how does a single person come to have eyes like that this early in the morning — as you walked over to her. A warm ‘good morning’ had left your lips, and all she could find herself offering you was a thin-lipped smile and curt nod (you had yet to understand how rare her smiles were, forced or otherwise), and you proceeded to assist and guide her through the workplace. Patience was something you easily possessed as you demonstrated essential tasks such as greeting those who entered, offering assistance if needed, being aware of the store’s layout, and answering questions she may have, which were not many, though you did not seem to mind that she didn’t.

“So,” you had given her a smile, similar to the first two ( or eighth that you've given her the past hour, she could not recall — ) though this one was warmer and lopsided, as you were across from her, both of you standing in front of the store’s window display. “Do you have any questions for me, Alice?”

Her lips subtly pursed at the way you said her name, and once again she found herself freezing except for her blinking. That was the first time she had heard you say it. She stayed quiet for a while, staring at you, at the way your smile became a bit wider until her eyes dragged to the side, clearing her throat with a shake of her head, a quiet “no, thank you,” leaving her.

She heard you hum, your steps slowly and quietly descending backwards. There was a bit of disquietude in her head that perhaps her action may have drawn you away from her, internally cursing at herself, her gaze then fixed on the ground while waiting for you to fully walk away.

“Okay then. I’ll be behind the register, in case you have anything to ask … or if you just want a bit of conversation, you know where to find me.” She looked up at you again, and she was taken aback to see your smile remained, the spark in your eye unwavering. And with a soft “good luck”, you turned and made your way behind the counter.

And so, that was when it all began, the few of many interactions to come. Over time, Alice learned that you were always patient and kind. Two adjectives were an understatement to the entirety of what, and who you were, yet they seem to fit you to perfection. Kind enough you were to always greet her with a warm ‘good morning’ and question ‘How are you?’ when she walked early into the store or you were the one to arrive only a handful of minutes after her. And you did not just do it in the sense of just making formal small talk – you engaged in conversation with her. Whether her response was small, at times remained the same, or she let herself truly speak for a moment, you actually listened, acknowledged her in more than what she believed herself to be, and responded. Kind and patient you were when it seemed her entire world felt like it was against her. Kind you were when something wrong occurred that she believed was her fault, like the other day when she had tackled some rebellious teenager for shoplifting, and the store’s supervisor was about to get onto her case until you jumped into her rescue. You always had something kind to say to and do for her.

Long boring hours of settling near the entrance and faintly greeting those who entered ( which most of the time went unanswered, but what did it matter when you’d glance briefly at her and give her one of those lopsided smiles she grew to like ), you found a way to make it entertaining for her. Interactions were both fleeting and lingering with you, but they were all significant nonetheless — warm, familiar, at ease for the reason that you did not push her into any more than what she gave, and for a moment she did think that would push you away from her, yet it didn’t. You had found a way to make her look forward to the next shift and every single one that came after that.

There were times when, while sitting at the front of the display window bright and early, it felt tedious for the very reason that you had not arrived. It had been ten minutes, and you normally arrived at the very least five minutes after she would. ( and if it was the other way around, she arrived three to four minutes after you ). How did her mind jump from finding itself waiting for you to arrive to wanting to leave the building if you did not? She was not certain, nor did she allow herself to think much more of it than what she already did. Two minutes passed and her dark-polished fingers drummed impatiently against the ‘Queen’ button pinned to the pocket of her joggers ( a pin that you had gifted her with when you briefly learned the band was one she favored. Alice convinced herself it was a simple gesture of friendship. She then learned that apparently, this was the longest form of friendship she had had in a while). Three minutes had her knee bouncing relentlessly, and when it nearly came to four it had her considering the idea of ruining her 3-month streak in keeping this job.

Just as she was about to get up and gather her items, you tumbled into the place, wisps of your hair rebelling against its standard styling, chest heaving, your attire rumbled, your beaming face being met with her hitched-up brow.

“The escalator to go up was broken, so I had to go up the one that goes down …” A soft giggle bubbled up your throat as you stood in front of her, and her heartbeat could not avoid the continuous jitters it created. “Very chaotic experience, you should try it someday, Ally.”

Alice was not accustomed to … whatever this was with you — if there was even anything to label with you besides a decent friendship. Her life had been built on discipline, on maintaining a steady grip over her emotions to keep both herself and those around her safe. The curse she carried and tried to keep away, an inherited darkness bound to her by blood, had obligated her to draw thick boundaries, separating herself from anything or anyone that might break her focus. She believed anything tied to dating, being with someone was a luxury she could not afford— too perilous, too unpredictable. That was before you.

The idea of liking you had lurked within her in quiet, unexpected moments, moments that threw her off balance. It had occurred though in this moment, striking her when you — in a disheveled state with that lively grin of yours ( not to mention, you took habit in calling her Ally, something she never let anyone really call her besides her mother. Yet it didn’t feel so bad when you called her that ) — softly laughed at her expression, truly laughing in a way that illuminated your entire face, the sound vivid with warmth, those vibrant irises piercing right through her defenses when they met her brown ones. She could feel the stir of something unfamiliar, something that frightened her more than any spell or demon she had ever faced. Her pulse quickened, her carefully crafted composure wavering. She found herself wanting to see you smile in that way again, to be the reason for it — and that terrified her.

At first, she resisted the feeling, brushing it off as a fleeting, irrational notion — just another trick of false hope her mind fabricated, she told herself. But now that she looked back at every interaction experienced, she found herself lingering in your presence a moment too long, her eyes randomly but purposefully fixated on you throughout the day. Such as when you worked behind the register when customers were doodling with that black pen you always used, strands of your hair brushing your forehead as you tilted down to focus on the little sketches upon the stacks of sticky notes you kept tucked into the counter’s small storage spaces. ( the times she stood behind the register, which was pretty rare, was when you had gone to help the manager with something and she was entrusted to be back there — she caught clear sight of what you did with those doodles; they practically decorated and brought the dark colors of the shelves to life. she may or may not have tucked one very endearing doodle into her pocket, one she recognized to be the pattern of the jewelry she wore being drawn upon an endearing cartoon character .)

During break times or the time you and she had gone down to the food court, she found herself tracing the gentle lines of your face, the warmth that radiated from your eyes, the politeness in the manner you spoke as you ordered both for you and her, already knowing her preference by heart. And every time, her chest would constrict, a subtle but unmistakable tension rising within her, unsettling in its unfamiliarity. Her stomach would twist, an agitating excitement she could barely recognize, let alone comprehend, creeping into her thoughts. She would force herself to look away, to stifle the sensation as if quelling a spark before it ignited into a flame she feared she would not be able to control. It was both maddening and intoxicating, a quiet chaos beneath her skin that she did not dare admit to herself.

Her reactions continued nearly involuntary. That protective nature she contained honed when around you, almost instinctual. If customer was disrespectful, or if someone tended to cross a boundary, a limit with you, she was there to check on you, to interfere with whatever issue that person was giving you. She would catch herself worrying over small things — if you had eaten enough, if you were conscious to your surroundings when you went to the food court or anywhere that was not near her, if you were sleeping well when she’d catch you dozing off, or when she’d go on break, she’d bring you back a water bottle just to make sure you’re hydrated. She would find reasons to ensure your well-being, offering her assistance in ways that were tenuous but frequent. She grew excessively aware of you, attuned to each movement, every gesture, every change in your tone. The times you would sneak away from the task you were supposed to be doing to sit with her and talk about everything or nothing at all, or when you would stand so close to her to the point where that sweet scent of yours lumbered and your shoulder brushed hers — the pressure increasing just so very slightly, or when your fingers grazed hers — even if the proximity was coincidental, it felt odd. Odd but comforting, and she found herself wanting to live in that feeling just a bit more before she would pull away. Her breath would catch before she forced herself to steady it. She could not remember the last time she had been so rattled, so affected by someone’s presence. And the more she tried to dismiss it, the more inevitable it became.

And then there were interactions that followed with the remnants of quiet weariness and sorrow Alice let herself feel when it came to her life, her mother. She came to reveal only pieces, admissions of herself to you, and of course, you being you, you remembered every bit of it and wove them together. This specific moment was given when it was near closing hour, shops emptying while employees got ready to start heading home, yet while fixing the place up a bit, a recognizable melody Alice wished to forget played filled the atmosphere. You noticed the shift in her demeanor, a partial reason for it, and when she sunk to the floor with her back against the wall, her pounding head clutched between her quivering palms, a silence suddenly replaced the song — your doing.

She still had not lifted her head as one of her hands fell over her knees, yet she felt it. She felt your presence descend beside her, that floral fragrance of yours wavering and blanketing her aching soul. That familiar pressure against her shoulder, and the light curl of your fingers around hers. An ease, a steadiness flowed through the familiarity of this contact, alleviated the silence.

“Rough day, no?” you murmured quietly. There was a hint of gentle mirth woven within your voice, she detected. It was light enough that it did not press though let her know you were there, ready to bring a bit of levity if she it was what she needed from you. It was then a light laugh rose from her, aerated, barely perceptible, but she was certain you heard it.

“Guess you could say that,” She watched as pads of your fingers took action in lightly tapping up against the back of her hand before going down, repeating the action once or a few more times, and it felt as if you had done it countless times before. It came natural when her own fingers unconsciously spread apart, just a bit, as your touch soothed up and slid between them. “it feels just a bit better now, though.” Because of you.

Your thumb then swept over the outer lining of her thumb in a quiet rhythm, allowing her the space to sit with her thoughts, to simply be as she was without needing to mask anything.

Closing hour was near within seconds, and she did not bother looking up at the manager as he threw a questioning look at you both but said nothing of it, simply pointing out for one of you to close up in a few minutes before he left you to sit there in silence . You set her at ease in moments similar to these. Perhaps part of the reason she liked you so much was that you made her feel comfortable with herself, if only momentarily.

“You … you don’t have to stay here with me, y’know. You can go, I’ll be fine.”

You hummed lowly at her words — words she always repeated and knew she didn’t mean for the reason being that she hoped you could stay with her just a moment longer — her skin searing beneath the touch given, whether it was done out of a friendly gesture, of possibly reciprocating what she tried avoiding, it did not matter. “I’m not going anywhere, Alice. We can just stay here until you’re ready to go, okay?”

Her lips parted, gaze focusing on the gentle movement of your hand. Allured with the way your complexion blended with hers beneath the golden glow the store provided. The way that this felt right — when was the last time something felt right in her life? Everything she came in contact with, she believed it all turned to shit. But the more she looked at your joined hands, the more she found herself feeling that maybe she could make an effort in turning it all around. And when she glanced up through her strands of scarlet and black, her vulnerable brown gaze met your intent one, she had her response, finally let herself acknowledge that pestering feeling.

She liked you. It was more than perceptible, of course. Another truth she tried pushing herself to avoid, yet it was one did not want to anymore. Not when this truth brought her contentment as much as it brought fear.

Under the wires of anxiety and the tangles of pessimistic thinking of this, of truly putting the effort in making this part of her life work, there was a piece within her that was positive this would all be okay. That all of this will perhaps work. She trusted you far more than she could ever imagine trusting another person besides herself — hell, not even herself. Not with the concept of the curse crawled within her mind and interfered with her every action.

Yet with every interaction with you — just you alone gave her reason to hope, even if it was false that could waste her energy in hoping for something more with you that may not happen. She wanted to clutch onto that twinge of hope you prospered, of light you carried, of founding motivation for every day you brought into her life.

#𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 ── 🎐ᝰ.#alice wu gulliver x reader #marvel #marvel studios #agatha all along #alice wu gulliver #Alice Wu-gulliver x reader #Alice Wu-gulliver x fem!reader #Ali ahn #jac schaeffer

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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 3 months ago

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Part 20: I speak in tongues

"I'm not like you, I speak in tongues. It's a different language to those of us, who’ve faced the storm against all odds and found the truth inside." -can u see me in the dark? by Halestorm, I Prevail

Regent Masterlist Part 19 AO3 Mundane Macabre (Main)

When Ellie first began traveling, she’d (rightfully) assumed that she would never stop being surprised by humankind. Humans are curious creatures, capable of both kindness and cruelty in equal measure.

(The Fentons were prime examples of cruelty)

(Cruel towards the living, dead and those who lie in between.)

(Their children suffered, maybe even more than the ghosts they tried to hunt)

With time, Ellie had decided to create her alter ego of Wraith, the quiet being of shadows that was just eerie enough to pass as something other regardless of what form she was in. Wraith was Ellie’s favorite mask to slip on, to hide from the living world as she tried to help where she could.

Ellie Nightingale was a nomadic medium with a preference for punk rock, bleached hair and her leather jacket.

Wraith was the opposite in ways that mattered, was created to help with the violence the halfa was witness to, fists bruised and weapons bloody.

Ellie was not.

Perhaps she’d broken herself into too many pieces, too many identities, for a solid visage to form. Cracked like a mirror, dirty and covered in old marker messages from friends long gone. Messages she’d carry with her no matter what name she went by, or style of hair, leather jacket or denim- halfa or not.

That’s what made her unique.

(Clone.)

(Failure.)

(Danielle.)

(Ellie.)

(Wraith.)

Vlad had been her origin story, her beginning, but he was no longer her master. Slave to no one, daughter of nobody.

But she was a sister to good people.

Sometimes Ellie caught herself thinking ‘what would Danny do?’ when confronted with an extraordinary problem, trying to channel his brilliance despite their distance. He might not consider himself very intelligent, but Danny was the cleverest (and kindest) person she’d ever met. He loved her, his clone made as a violation of his bodily autonomy and by his fruitloop of a godfather.

(Superman had not treated his clone the same.)

(She understood his feelings of violation)

(Kon was a living being and needed support too.)

However, Jazz was her idol.

Many people would’ve written off the woman as a know-it-all golden child, but those in the inner circle knew the truth. Jazz was the first child of the Fentons, who had nobody but herself to teach or to guide her. When Danny was born, Jasmine devoted everything to caring for him, to raising him as their parents should’ve.

(His first words, his first steps)

Jasmine Fenton was a woman who loved fiercely and so, so very deeply that she’s willing to sacrifice her own wellbeing to ensure the happiness of the ones lucky enough to be given her love.

With the rise to Regency and the subsequent downfall of her progenitors, Jasmine Fenton was left to rot in the basement with Danny’s grave, just like the yellow flowers she so fondly left in memorial.

(Ellie would forever grieve the loss of Jasmine Fenton, the mother she so desperately wanted.)

Yet, the Lady Nightingale arose from the grave, ash and blood staining her name, a ghost in an inhuman shell, ready to remake the world should she have to burn it down.

(Jazz carried so few regrets, but they weighed her down like anchors.)

(One day they might drown her in the dark depths.)

(Her template’s younger visage admist the spectral mist spoke volumes.)

(Maybe one day the faces of the elder Fentons would fade away.)

(Ellie could only hope.)

The Regent, despite having staked her territory in the Ridge alongside Phantom, was unofficially claimed as one of the Crime Alley’s own. Defending the working girls, helping kids with homework or getting them away from ner-do-wells, the Regent had not hesitated to reach out a helping hand even after being targeted by those who would break her will.

Black Mask, for instance, had put a bounty on the woman’s head with an eagerness that disgusted many others. People knew what a man like him would do with powerful woman, what enjoyment he’d receive breaking her.

It was also no secret how much the Mask wanted to get his hands on the Red Hood.

The helmeted vigilante had been a frequent pain in the ass ever since his debut some years ago, destroying his black market operations and getting the Big Bat involved. Sionis wanted little more than to rip off the fucker’s head- helmet and all.

However, Sionis had tried his hand at subtly for once- he’d hired freelance to take out Hood’s second-in-command while the guy had his guard down with his girlfriend, a pretty red-haired civilian Sionis wouldn’t mind a turn with. The idea was to throw Hood’s gang leadership into chaos so Black Mask’s men could sweep in. Jason Todd was high in the ranks that his death would do just that.

Figures the guy would survive.

Jason had been seen with his girlfriend in the Ridge only days after the failed assassination attempt, no worse for the wear. Red Hood had come sniffing around his operations, with Regent stalking his men and the Phantom destroying his latest shipment of merchandise. Though, with the under-the-table job he’d hired out for, Hood found nothing linking him to the attempt on his second-in-command.

It was time to change tactics.

The Regent was confirmed to be in a romantic relationship with Hood, if the various Gothamite twitter posts and the sub-reddit r/RedHoodRegent dedicated to commemorating their obvious status, was to be believed.

There wasn’t many problems with targeting the older sword-wielding vigilante; unlike Robin, Regent didn’t have the Big Bat for backup, but did have the Phantom. The ghost-like meta (or actual ghost, Sionis wasn’t sure how much he believed the rumors) was the biggest obstacle between him and Regent. If Mask could distract (or get rid of) Phantom, then his men could sweep in and eliminate Regent when the vigilante inevitably falls to his numbers. Sure, Sionis was sure he would lose quite a few men, but it's Gotham. The numbers can always be recouped later.

Perhaps when Red Hood tries to save his girlfriend, Mask could finally get his hands on him.

Two birds, one stone.

Oh yes, Sionis liked this plan.

He had some calls to make.

A/N: I'm back! This was supposed to be posted on my birthday back in August, but I wasn't in the best headspace for writing or even being on any social media. I have several pieces waiting in the wings to be finished and edited, but I'm back and ready to write again! (Famous last words.)

(To those who guessed Black Mask had something to do with the bomb, kudos.)

Also, for those who might be uncomforable with Sionis' thoughts about Jazz, just remember- he's a bad guy, deranged and over all not the kind of morally upstanding person you want in charge of anything. Things get really dark where it concerns Sionis and what he plans for the future. Just a warning, because those who've read my other works know my penchant for angst.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc au #dc x dp crossover #jazz fenton #regent!jazz #hardcover ship #jason todd #anger management ship #jazz x jason #ellie nightingale #black mask #roman sionis

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slothpower-central · 2 months ago

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Here's my super early before everything Canto 8 bingo card

You all asked for it so I shall hand it over, keep in mind this is subject to change massively based on things like the intermissions, I want to be the first person to make a Bingo card for way in the future, call it a....long term investment Here is my super early Canto 8 Bingo card!!

Okay so I kinda wanna explain the board choices for funsies!

Hong Lu is a rock-.....obviously the big theory is on here!

Mothershu crumbs-So my friends and I refer to like character moments and hints as crumbs and mothershu is what we refer to as Ryoshu being a mother or like alluding to that(like with smth like Spider Bud)

Sinclair snaps-We get another moment similar to his shut the fuck up moment in Canto 7

Freak Lu- uhm this one is more of a silly one since with the number of times that man is tied up or smth and is chill with it (What do you mean it was a unique and fun experience?!?!) my friends and I think he's into it, so we included it for fun

No romance plotline-sigh. Wishful thinking on the part of a Hong Lu yume shipper(me) one of the original novels main plotlines is a whole romance love triangle thing goin on with Baoyu. My friend an I were going back and forth on if/how they could adapt that madness so to subvert expectations,we said no romance

We go to the Land of Illusion-Look if Baoyu goes there in the original, who's to say we won't go in Limbus

Outis Family crumbs- Outis saying anything about her family or home or Penelope or any of that

Uhm the Lin Daiyu space is self-explanatory aside from the descriptors, it's more in reference to my friend's bingo card she made for Canto 7, and it had "Dulcinea is a baddie" on there so I had to carry on the joke

That Grey Bastard appears-uhm.... that's in reference to Demian. My friend group is not a fan of him (I'm literally close friends with the real reincarnation of Emil Sinclair, of course we have conflicting feelings on Demian)

Levels copy the style of chapter names- So the names of levels last canto matched up with the way chapters in Don Quixote are titled and it was the same way in Canto 5 so Amia and I thought it might carry over to Canto 8 ^^

Heathcliff crumbs-We kinda threw his one in here but y'know more Heathcliff family moments or more Heathcath

Baoyu name reveal-Okay before you say, "But Sloth, they did reveal it to the sinners!" uhm no, look at who was in that convo. It was Wei, Xichun and Hong Lu, the other sinners do not know, or they just really decided to not comment on that

Chapter with the most npcs-This one is a prediction because guys. The original novel has like 400 characters in it.

Story Dungeon in Canto-So I always like to ask whether we'll get one since in Canto 6,we didn't get a dungeon,so we put it on there

Hong Lu is a "Charon situation"- I proposed some kind of crazy idea that Hong Lu was like overwriting Baoyu's personality/old self or smth and Amia responds with "Charon situation" since in Leviathan Lapis gets herself overwritten by one of her mirror worlds, that being Charon. So maybe something of a similar nature happened to Hong Lu (Yes this is different enough from rock theory to me)

Hong Lu doesn't distort- Ha you thought! Amia and I are like *convinced* the Hell's Chicken line is a red herring meant to throw us off. Like Quixote distortion was a big theory for a while and she didn't distort (Can bloodfiends distort? Idk) I know we're in the minority but like unless something changes my mind, I'm gonna keep being in the minority

#slothpower #limbus company #hong lu #canto 7 spoilers #limbus company spoilers #canto vii spoilers #I win the contest for earliest bingo card for a canto #Let me know what you guys think but be nice to me.#I beg be nice to me #Thank you to my friend Amia for some of the board ideas #I know a lot of the blocks aren't Hong Lu related but I like to speculate on everyone

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builtbybrokenbells · 2 years ago

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Picasso

after months of silent pining over the boy across the hall, y/n finds herself face to face with the one person she can’t seem to get off her mind. a friendly dinner and a night spent in the art studio leads to more truth being revealed than either bargained for. a profession of attraction leads to an opportunity for an unconventional hookup, where Sam gets to make her first time unforgettable.

COLLEGE DORM AU

Read aftermath here

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it, folks), virgin/virginity talk, losing virginity (sam the v card thief 🫣), praise kink, pet names, sexual anxiety/performance anxiety, soft gentle sex (fuck me up fr), fluff, swearing, anxiety, embarrassing crushes, sorry if I miss any!

😮‍💨 sorry this took so long folks. it’s a lengthy one, so prepare yourself. i got a bit carried away. soft Sam fucks me up real bad. hope you enjoy this as much as i loved writing it!! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!!

You weren’t sure who he was. You had no idea where he was from, what he was studying, or if he even knew you existed. Still, that didn’t seem to stop the awkward staring, or the blushing cheeks, or even the speeding heart rate every time he came into your line of vision. You hated yourself for the uncontrollable longing you felt for the boy across the hall, knowing that you would forever be too nervous to approach first. The first few months of your university experience were relatively normal; meeting friends, studying relentlessly, and trying to navigate a brand new life that was so foreign from the last. Then, after the novelty of freshman year wore off, and the hallways were routinely more empty than you’d grown used to, you started to run into him.

The first time you saw him, you almost missed him. You only noticed the back of his head as he disappeared around the corner. But, almost as if fate was playing a sick trick on you, he happened to forget something in his room. When he came back around the corner, giving you the opportunity to see his face, it felt as though you’d received a punch to the stomach. Thankfully, he was in too much of a rush to notice your staring. His long, brown hair looked messy, yet perfectly styled around his slender face. His jawline was sharp, angled gracefully into a perfect chin. The space just above held his lips, a permanent upturn in the corner adorned on them, although barely noticeable in passing. His brown eyes looked inviting, a colour you could spend all day lost in. Once he passed you, you knew it was too late; you’d already fallen for him, and there was no escape.

Perhaps it was because you came from a small town, one where all of the boys looked like the same person, just in a different font. You’d never met a boy who caught your eye quite like he did. He had a charming aura without even speaking, which was impossible to attain, according to your standards. You never really wasted time on dating, more or less finding it pointless. You were well aware there was no person to find in your town that would work out long-term. You were never a date for heartbreak type, understanding that there was no need of having a relationship if you start it with a pre-existing condition that it will inevitably end. You had a few bad experiences with the boys you’d given a chance, and never tried again. It wasn’t worth the hurt, or the trouble, so you kept to yourself. But, whatever it was about the boy across the hall, you were certain if you ever got the chance, you’d want it to last a lifetime.

After the initial shock of seeing him, you seemed to notice him everywhere. Every time you left your room, his door was open, or he was in the hallway talking to his friends. He was always running into you at meal hall, taking post in your favourite spots in the library, and even in some of your classes. You had no idea how you’d gone so long without noticing him, because now, he never ceased to exist in your mind and your life. You’d never managed to get the nerve to speak with him, or even muster a wave when he passed by. The most the two of you shared was a smile each morning; which admittedly, made your day a whole lot better every time. As unfortunate as it was, the two of you had mastered the art of remaining strangers despite the constant desire to be more.

You never verbalized your feelings to anyone, not your friends, or even yourself. You thought it was a bit ridiculous to be infatuated with someone solely based on looks. Yet, you found yourself creating a fabricated version of him, one that you deducted based on what you noticed over the passing weeks. One where he was funny, in a sarcastic or a goofy type of way. One where he was very laid back, but very involved in the lives of the people he loved. And the worst one of all; one where he was fantastic in bed. You thought it was alright to daydream, even if you would never know for certain in this lifetime.

Despite your mostly quiet pining, everybody around you was well aware of how you felt about mystery boy. Your friends seemed to take extra measures to point him out in a public setting, or ‘unintentionally’ cross paths with him. They never admitted it, but you knew what they were doing. Instead of fighting about it, which would only give them the answer they so desperately wanted from you, you laughed alongside them at the ‘strange coincidences’. Although, one thing inherently positive that came from the whole ordeal, was that you’d made acquaintance’s with his best friend, Danny. You’d found out that he was also in a few of your classes, and lived on the floor above you.

He occasionally stopped by your room for a quick chat, or some help with projects. He was friendly, and tall, and quite attractive, too. You never mentioned his friend that lived across the hall, and he didn’t, either. As far as you were concerned, your friendship with Danny would remain just as such, with no hidden implications about the beautiful boy he spent most his time with. Never once would you ever want to make him feel like you’d become friends with him just to get closer to his best friend, because you didn’t. Any hello, or how are you, or any of the conversations you’d shared had always been because you wanted to talk to him. You liked him, and just so happened to find it much easier to strike conversations with him, too.

You walked down the hallway, pushing your way through the swarms of people preparing to leave for spring break. That Friday marked the end of classes for a week, meaning that lots of people were either packing up to return home for a few days, or headed somewhere much warmer to drink themselves into oblivion. You had opted to stay for the week, finding no real desire to visit your family, and having no available funds to travel the world. All of your friends were leaving, presenting a fantastic opportunity for you to catch up on some schoolwork. You keyed into your room, dropping your bag on your bed and kicking your shoes off. You threw on your slippers and took your hair down from its clip.

You walked into your bathroom, seeing a note stuck on the mirror. You pulled it off, reading over the scribbled words. Your suite mate had left for the week, wishing you a good time and telling you she’d see you soon. You smiled, slipping it into your pocket to add to your collection of first-year memorabilia. You had an elaborate final project planned for your introductory art class, and you were collecting as many pieces to add to it as possible, wanting nothing more than to make a showstopper. You fixed your makeup in the mirror and combed through your hair with your fingers, trying to sharpen yourself up after a long day of classes. As you returned to your room, you heard a knock on your door.

When you opened it, you saw a familiar, smiling face. “Well hello.” You said, pulling the door open fully.

“Hey, Picasso.” Danny greeted. “What are you up to?”

“Just got back, actually. I stayed late at the studio. Trying to get my practical piece done for my painting class.”

“I see. Have you started the essay for poetry?” You shook your head, stomach sinking at the thought.

“I was going to start that this weekend. I just picked my topic. I’ve got a couple years worth of Shakespeare sonnets to read.” Danny was an English major, and you were an arts major, but your classes seemed to cross due to your minor in writing.

“That’s such a cop out topic,” He teased, leaning against the door frame. “And it’s spring break, aren’t you supposed to be having fun?”

“Fuck you.” You laughed, waving your hand to invite him inside. “Spring break is only fun for rich kids taking business majors.” You joked.

“Us arts kids know how to have fun, too, you know. We don’t have to get on a plane to do that.” He reminded you, walking inside and taking a seat on your bed.

“Well, what about you, then? Any big plans?”

“Frankenmuth.” He said, trying to make it sound more exciting than it was. You raised an eyebrow at him, expecting something more to the statement, but that was all he said.

“Enthralling.” You laughed, taking a seat in your desk chair. You watched the people pass by in the hallway, no real thoughts in your head. “Just you going?” You asked, eyes falling on the door closed just across from yours.

“Yeah, my friends are gonna stay here. Just thought I’d go back and visit the parents for a few days. Don’t think I’m staying the whole week.”

“Nothing wrong with that, Danny boy.” You said, flipping your laptop open that was sitting on your desk. “When are you leaving?”

“Tonight, probably. I like driving at night.” You were okay with that, completely agreeing with his statement. There was something very peaceful about driving in the dark, especially when the roads are mostly barren. It was almost like time stood still. You knew the drive wasn’t too long for him, so you had faith he would be alright. “That’s why I came to see you.”

“You’re so sweet,” you grinned, opening Netflix and throwing on the most recently watched show. “Gonna miss me?”

“Of course, Picasso.” He said as if it were obvious. “Come with me, if you want.” He offered.

“You wouldn’t want me to tag along, your parents might like me too much.” He laughed at your words.

“And that’s a problem?”

“You wanna listen to them ask about me for the rest of your life?” You teased.

“Doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.” He shrugged.

“You’re too nice for your own good.” You chuckled. “As much as I would love to spend reading week with you, I very much need access to an art studio and shitty, free coffee refills from the library.”

“I know,” he assured you. “If you change your mind, offers there.”

“Thanks, Danny.” You said, more sincerity in your tone than before.

“The reason I came down here though, was to see if you wanted to grab dinner with us before I leave.”

“Us?” You questioned, cocking your head to the side.

“Yeah, me and Sam. I know you told me your friends already left, so I thought maybe you’d like some company.”

“Oh, so it’s a pity invite?” You smirked. He rolled his eyes.

“No, I want you to come. Thought that was kind of obvious.”

“Just pulling your leg.” You assured him. “Uh, who’s Sam?” You laughed, feeling a little ridiculous for not knowing. He watched you with confusion, waiting to see if you were joking.

“Sam? Kiszka? Like, the guy who lives across the hall?” He asked, completely baffled. “You don’t know Sam?”

“Oh!” Your cheeks turned crimson. “Yeah, I know who he is. That’s your best friend, right?” Danny nodded. “Yeah, I know him. Just didn’t know his name. Never really spoke to the guy.” You laughed, trying to pass off the awkwardness.

“Fuck, y/n, I thought you guys knew each other! I’m sorry I didn’t introduce him to you.”

“No! Don’t be sorry, Danny.” You waved it off. “I never brought it up, either.”

“That’s weird though, cause he definitely knows you. He knew who you were when I mentioned we were working together on that last poetry assignment. I was under the impression that you guys were neighbourly.” He shrugged, confusion still lingering in his features.

“Oh, uh… I guess my names on my whiteboard. Maybe that’s why. He’s definitely seen me around. We smile at each other and stuff in the halls, but that’s about it.” Danny eyed you almost as if he didn’t believe you.

“Well, he seems pretty fond of you for someone he only smiles at in the hallway.” You felt the blush rise to your cheeks again, embarrassed even at the thought of him mentioning your name. “You do know him, don’t you?”

“No, I swear I’m telling you the truth.” You raised your hands in defence. He watched you, scanning your face for a hint of a lie. After a second, his expression lit up.

“You have a crush on him!” He bellowed, feeling accomplished for finally solving the mystery. Your head whipped to the open door, making sure nobody was in the hallway.

“Shut up!” You hissed, making a move to shut the door. “I do not!” You said once you protected the privacy.

“That’s a lie, Picasso.” He let out a disapproving tsk.

“I don’t even know the guy.” You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, he’s attractive, but I can’t exactly like someone I don’t know.”

“Sure you can, and you do.” He grinned. “And you’ll like him even more after dinner tonight.” He decided.

“So now I don’t have a choice if I go or not?”

“No, not at all. I’ll leave you to get ready. He should be back around 6.” Danny stood, not willing to hear any protests.

“Danny, if you say anything to him, I swear to god I will kill-“

“Lips are sealed, Picasso. See you at six.” He sent you a wink before disappearing out the door. You felt your stomach twist in knots, nervous that Danny was going to mention something to him.

You distracted yourself by scouring your closet for something acceptable to wear. You cursed him for leaving so soon; he didn’t even tell you where you were going. You had no idea if you should dress nice, or casual. As you checked the time, you decided that somewhere in the middle would be suitable. A nice shirt and a pair of black jeans, just to dress it down a bit. You went to the bathroom and quickly ran your curling iron through your hair with no real effort, just to give it a bit of volume. You brushed your teeth and touched up your makeup again, spritzing on some perfume before you walked back to your room. You threw on some jewelry, deciding if you were going to properly meet mystery boy, or Sam, rather, you were going to make a good first impression.

When the clock struck six, there was an insistent knock on your door. When you opened it, Danny was beaming down at you once more. “You clean up good, Picasso.” He complimented. Rarely did he ever see you out of your studio clothes; you were always covered in paint, or plaster, or some other sort of artistic expression. You spent more time in the studio than you did anywhere else. Of course, the workload was heavy even for first year, but you spent a lot of free time there, too. It was great for your mental health, and aside from your projects, you made smaller pieces to sell on the side. Unlimited access to art tools was a huge benefit to going to the university you chose, and your talent allowed you to make some extra money. Making a living off something you loved to do made your university experience a million times better.

“Thanks, Daniel.” You laughed. “Ready to go?” You asked.

“Yeah, you?” You nodded. You threw on a denim jacket, finishing off the outfit. You joined Danny in the hall, looking around to spot Sam. When you didn’t see him, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment.

“Where are we going?” You asked, distracting yourself from the feeling.

“There’s this little Italian restaurant downtown. I’ve been meaning to try it, but never got around to it. Figured tonight was as good as any other night. Is that cool with you?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m not picky.” You assured him.

“Awesome.” He breathed, making a move to the other side of the hallway. He stood before Sam’s door, sending a knock echoing through the air. Within a few seconds, the door swung open to reveal the boy you couldn’t seem to get out of your head. His hair was slightly damp, and the smell of his shampoo hit you almost instantly. He pointed at you without a word, causing you to shoot him a nervous look. He got a small laugh at your reaction.

“You copied my outfit.” He accused, a goofy smile etched onto his expression. You looked down at what you were wearing, then back to him. You were both wearing Jean jackets with a black base layer. After a second, you laughed, too.

“Guess so.” You shrugged, trying to ignore the incessant butterflies running rampant in your stomach. “I’m y/n,” you held a hand out to shake.

“Sam.” He said, reciprocating the gesture. “I guess we’ve never properly introduced ourselves.” He noted.

“Not very neighbourly of us, was it?” You chuckled. His eyes lingered over you, taking in the whole sight before humming an agreement. You desperately tried to fight away the blush rising to your cheeks, but failed miserably. You hoped he didn’t notice.

“I hear from Daniel that you’re quite the artist.” He said, the smile never leaving his face. At his words, the redness on your cheeks completely took over, leaving no doubt that he could see it.

“Modern day Picasso, actually.” Danny corrected.

“You’ll have to show me, sometime.” Sam’s tone was soft, no tone of sarcasm present.

“Maybe I can sneak you into the studio someday.” You offered.

“It’s a date, then.” He said it so effortlessly, like the words meant nothing, but it set every nerve in your body on fire.

“G-guess so,” you tried to cover up your stutter, but they certainly noticed. You were thankful they didn’t comment on it. Sam stepped into the hallway, closing his door behind him. The three of you ventured towards the exit of the building without another word.

The evening was cool, but not unbearable. By the time you’d walked to the restaurant, you had managed to shake some of the nervousness off. The small chatter and jokes eased the tension by miles, allowing you to enjoy the company rather than fear embarrassment. Danny went inside first, Sam holding the door open for both of you. You muttered a small thank you, disappearing inside of the building. The smell of the food was fantastic, and the decoration and atmosphere was incredibly inviting. Danny noticed a ‘seat yourself’ sign, taking it open himself to lead the group to a booth. He slid in one side and you sat across from him. Sam looked between the two seats, ultimately deciding to sit next to you. The booth was tiny, and as he settled and got comfortable, his leg was gently resting against yours. You felt your heart speed, trying not to focus on the constant contact.

You all ordered after taking a good look over the menu. As you were waiting, Sam turned to you to speak. “So, Picasso,” he started. You turned your head to look at him, strangely pleased at the way the nickname sounded on his tongue. “Any travel plans for the week?”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “Love them, but my family drives me crazy, and I have too much work to get done to go anywhere else.” You admitted. “You?”

“No, I thought it was best to stay, too. I get what you mean about the family thing. Love them to death, but peace and quiet is nice, sometimes.” He chuckled. “Daniel will have to go on the journey alone.”

“So you guys are from the same town?” You looked between the two. They both nodded.

“Yeah, best friends since, what, middle school?” Danny laughed.

“Pretty much.” Sam agreed.

“That’s cool, actually. Nice that you guys have a piece of home here with you.”

“What about you? Any piece of home here?” You shook your head.

“No, and thank god there isn’t. Wanted to get the hell out of my hometown and start over. It’s worked so far.” You explained.

“Where are you from?” Sam asked, now intrigued.

“Arizona. Small town in the middle of nowhere, where everybody looks and acts the same and you get chastised if you’re any different.”

“Mind-numbing.” He replied. You nodded, unable to agree more. “Everybody needs originality.”

“Not them, apparently. I couldn’t wait to leave, and I never want to go back.” You almost shuddered at the thought.

“So where after this?” Sam never let his eyes leave you, as if he wanted to engrave every detail of your face in his mind.

“Uh, wherever, I guess. I haven’t really thought about it. I may travel for a while if I can before I commit to anywhere.”

“Smart woman,” he gave a small smile. “Know your options before you settle down.”

“Yeah, I suppose you could look at it that way.” Your conversation was interrupted by the waitress bringing drinks and setting them in front of you. You sipped from your straw, pondering what to speak about, next. “What are you taking, Sam?” You suddenly remembered you hadn’t asked him, yet.

“Oh, music theory.” He said. You eyed him in shock, not expecting that answer.

“What instrument?”

“Piano, on the paper at least.” He laughed. “I like playing bass and guitar more, but I figured they’d be more likely to accept me with piano as my focus.”

“Smart move.” You pondered the information for a moment. “Listen to this one,” you caught both of their attention. “So, Picasso, Shakespeare and Billy Joel walk into an Italian restaurant,” you started, causing a chorus of laughter from both boys.

“You play a piano once and you can never escape the Billy Joel jokes.” Sam shook his head, ghost of a laugh still lingering on his lips. You couldn’t help but admire him, feeling the overwhelming curiosity of wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

“You’ll be alright, piano man.” Danny assured him.

“Yeah, you can even sing us a song, if you want. That might make you feel better.” He shot you a look of warning, but there was visible humour laced in it. The both of you were feeling the nervous tension melt away more by the second.

The time passed too quickly for your liking; the meal was fantastic and the company was even better. When the time to leave came around, you were begging the clock just for another minute. You had spent the whole night beating yourself up for not getting over your fear and speaking with Sam sooner. Aside from him being incredibly attractive, he was funny, and charming, and quite sweet, too. You felt like you’d missed out on a lot. Even if nothing romantic happened, you’d could consider yourself content just being his friend. When the waitress brought the bills over, Sam took it upon himself to ensure you couldn’t get your hands on the debit machine. As you all filtered back outside into the cool night air, your feeling of nervousness returned. Looking at Sam, how the glow from the street lights casted over his face, how his hair flowed in solidarity, messy but perfect all in one, made you realize that knowing him only made the desire so much stronger.

Somewhere deep down you hoped he was an asshole, so you could finally shake the hopeless feeling of need for him. The more you talked to him, the more you fell for the goofiness of his aura, the humour he wore so proudly, or the kindness permanently anchored behind his words. He was more than just a pretty face, and to you, it was devastating. The last thing you wanted was to fall for someone, but you were well aware that it had happened long before your night of pasta critique. “You headed back to dorm?” Sam asked, his hand on your upper arm breaking you from your thoughts. You swallowed hard, trying to shake off your brains’ incessant reminders of what it felt like to be touched by him.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“I’m headed out, now, I think.” Danny said, looking between the two of you. “Packed the car earlier, so I should hit the road.”

“Oh,” you breathed, trying to keep your eyes on him, and him only. “Which lot are you parked in?”

“The one by our building. I’ll walk back with you guys.” You nodded at his words, feeling a sudden rush of relief knowing you wouldn’t have to walk alone with Sam. Not that you would mind being alone with him, more of a fear of embarrassing yourself somehow. The three of you started the short walk with few words exchanged in the process. When you reached the entrance to the parking lot, you all stopped to bid a farewell.

Danny pulled you into a quick hug, thanking you for going to dinner. He hugged Sam, letting him know he’d text him when he was back home. “Might text for poetry help.” You smiled at him.

“You could text me just to say hi, too, you know.” Danny reminded.

“That is my way of saying hi.” You laughed. “Too nervous to be upfront.”

“No need for that, Picasso. I’ll see you guys soon.” He promised. You and Sam waved goodbye as he parted from the trio, leaving the two of you to yourselves. You kept your eyes glued to the ground, wanting to look anywhere other than his beautiful face.

“You have anywhere to be?” Sam eventually spoke. You found the courage to meet his eyes, feeling the butterflies erupt in your stomach once more.

“I was thinking about heading to the studio, actually.” You very much enjoyed your 24/7 access to the art building. It made your usually boring weekends a bit more enjoyable.

“Care for some company?” He smiled.

“You trying to get me in trouble, piano man?” You smirked.

“Nobody will ever know I was there.” He promised. You pondered the idea, realizing that it was more than likely nobody would be there, anyway. It was usually quite barren in the evenings, even more so considering the week-long holiday.

“Okay.” You nodded, holding your hand out for him to grab. “Come on.” He wasted no time slipping his hand into yours. You took off in a run back to the dorm with him following closely behind. You both made it to the front entrance of the building, keying in and immediately running to your rooms. “I just have to change.” You told him before disappearing into your room. You quickly changed into your work clothes, realizing how embarrassing the new outfit was. There was old paint stains on the t-shirt and jeans, years worth of artistic memories begging to be washed away. You didn’t waste too much time dwelling, too eager to be back in Sam’s company.

You were nervous to be alone with him, but the thrill of seclusion with him was overshadowing anything else. You thought maybe you’d be able to unravel some of the mystery, to get a chance to hear about his stories and memories that were hidden away. When you went back into the hallway, Sam was waiting for you. He had also changed into different clothes, a pair of sweatpants and a tattered old band shirt with the logo worn down to just a shadow. He had a sly smile graced his lips. “Ready?” You breathed. He gave a nod, silently hoping you’d reach out for his hand again. When you started walking down the hall, he followed after you, only momentary disappointment taking over.

You walked side by side to the art building, buzzing with unspoken excitement. When you reached the doorway, you scanned your access card on the reader and the lock clicked open. As you pulled on the handle, you looked back at him and pressed a finger to your lips, signalling for him to stay quiet, just in case anyone else was around. Regular students were allowed in the art building during office hours, but art students were the only ones granted access outside of normal school times. You were sure you’d only get a slap on the wrist if someone realized he wasn’t an art student, but you still didn’t want to take the chance. He nodded, ensuring he wouldn’t make a peep. You took his hand again, leading him inside and directly to the stairwell to the basement.

You took a sigh of relief when you let the studio door close behind you. You went right to your small locker where you stored your paint supplies and brushes. You unlocked it with a tiny key you kept around your neck. You pulled out your belongings, nodding Sam in the direction of the main room. The bright fluorescent lights were nothing new to you, but it seemed like it almost caught him off guard. You set your stuff down on a desk and grabbed an easel, carrying it over to where you were planning to sit. “I’ll be right back.” You told him, walking off to a side room. You opened the door, flicking the light on in the small storage space. You grabbed your large canvas, careful not to bump the front of it, worried it still may not have completely dried. You took it back out to the main room and propped it up on the easel, pulling a stool in front of it.

Sam moved a second chair over, sitting beside you. His eyes drifted over the artwork, scanning it intently and drinking up every detail like he needed it to survive. “I see why Danny calls you Picasso, now.” He mumbled, still looking over all of the details. You felt the redness creep up on your cheeks again, flattered at his compliment. “This place anything special to you, or just a stock photo?” There was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Well, the cabin is. It’s my family’s. We spent a lot of time up there when I was a kid. The background is pretty dramatized, cause my inspiration pictures were a little bland.” You chuckled. “We’ve been working on landscapes, so I figured I would paint something meaningful.” The large oil painting had the image of the aforementioned cabin nestled in a plot of trees. The leaves were radiating the colours of autumn, and the neutral mountains in the background made the colours stand out. A small stream flowed through the mountain valley, and birds floated through the air. There were patches of flowery grass and bushes covering the ground. The outline was finished, and you’d been working on the intimate details of the piece. You were estimating only a few more hours of work, eager to have this finished so you could move on to the next project.

“It’s stunning.” He said, moving back to look at you again.

“Thanks,” your voice was soft, full of gratitude.

“Have you always wanted to be an artist?” He asked. You thought about the question, pondering the appropriate answer.

“I always loved art, but don’t think I actually decided to study it until late into high school. I never thought I’d be able to make it, but then I entered a few contests and won, and I guess it kind of kick started the process of getting here. At first, my parents weren’t super supportive of the idea. I think they’d rather me be a doctor or a lawyer, but they knew it would only make me miserable. Now that they see what I’m doing, and how happy it makes me, they’re a bit more on board. Their encouragement really helped me feel like I was supposed to be here.” You explained. “Deep down, I probably always knew I would do art for a living, but I fought it for a long time. It’s not really regarded as a ‘profession’, and I think that discouraged me for a long time.”

“Don’t ever feel that way again.” He shook his head, looking back towards the canvas. “Someone with talent like this should never second guess themselves.” You swallowed hard, having a difficult time digesting such a compliment. “This is the type of stuff to end up in galleries.”

“You’ll have to let me design your album art when you release your EP, then.” You smiled.

“You haven’t even heard me play yet.” He brushed the comment off, a small laugh lingering in his words.

“Don’t have to, I just know.” You said, pulling out your glass palate. You sifted through your bag of paints, choosing the colours carefully. You squeezed small amounts on the surface, looking back towards the large painting. You started to work, unsure of where the conversation would lead to next.

“What music do you like?” He asked, watching your hands as you painted.

“Everything.” You said, never losing your focus. “Not picky.”

“You have to have a favourite.” He inquired. A smile tugged at your lips.

“Well, yeah.” You rolled your eyes.

“What is it, then?” He laughed, eyes moving to your face.

“Guess.” You thought if he wanted to get to know you, he could work for it, first. At least a little bit.

“You’re a classical person, aren’t you?” You looked at him through the corner of your eyes, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

“Insulting,” you replied. “You think I’m that boring?” You teased.

“Worth a shot.” He shrugged. “Rock?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I like metal, too, but I mostly stick with rock.”

“Never would have guessed the metal part.” His surprise was showing in his expression.

“Yeah, well, I have lots of tricks up my sleeve.” You chuckled, wiping your brush on your apron.

“Can’t wait to figure them out.” His words were smooth, concise, even, as if he was waiting to deliver the line the whole night. Your stomach fluttered with the thought of him wanting to know more about you. You both fell into a silence, eventually playing music off your phone to fill the stale air. You were fine without words exchanged; you enjoyed him sitting with you while you worked. He didn’t seem to mind either, enthralled in your technique. “What’s your favourite thing to paint?” He eventually disturbed the quiet.

“I like nature. It’s always so calming to recreate. So many different options, and imperfections don’t cause an issue, because nature isn’t perfect. I think that’s what makes it beautiful.” You explained. He nodded along, hoping you would keep talking. You noticed, feeling less reserved about your ramblings, realizing you wanted to share them with him. “Nature is the only constant. It was here from the beginning, and it will be here long after we die, even if it’s changed million times. It carries infinite memories from every era, and it’s our only consistency in this lifetime, and the ones previous. I like the idea of a timeless art piece. If someone looks at this a hundred years from now, they’ll be able to appreciate it the same way we can. Nobody will have to wonder about the origins of the picture. People die, animals pass, but the earth always outlives us. When the day comes and it dies, too, we go with it.” He nodded again, studying your face. He had been for a while, although you hadn’t really noticed. He was watching the way your eyes focused when you were doing delicate work, or how your lips pursed when your brush wasn’t doing exactly what you wanted it to. He also noticed every time you let out a minuscule sigh, content with the flow of the paint, or when you smiled when a familiar song came on the shuffle. He’d been studying you just as much as you did, him, admiring you just the same. He was enthralled in your presence, also never expecting to have you this close to him.

The art of your silent admiration had left little room for belief of a chance for it to happen so intimately. He was basking in the moment, in you. The smell of the paint and your perfume was embedding the memory in his brain forever. The beauty in your passion was electrifying, and he was certain he could watch it all day. He also felt the same when he passed you in the hallways, and caught himself peeking into your room when you had the door open. He felt the same fluster when you smiled at him, and awaited the conversations when Danny spoke your name. He also struggled with the idea of talking to you first, worried about rejection or embarrassment. From what he’d seen, you never showed an inkling of interest, and he didn’t want to come off in the wrong way. When Danny brought the idea of inviting you to dinner, he nearly jumped at the opportunity. Sam’s feelings had also remained quite silent, although his childhood best friend was quick to catch on to the situation. Now with a promise to both of you that your emotions would be kept a secret, it was up to both of you to figure things out. All Danny could do was cheer you on from both sides. “You’ve got a beautiful way of seeing the world.” He noted.

“If you don’t love the earth, you can’t expect it to love you back.” You said, finally turning to look over at him. You were caught off guard at his proximity, noticing he had definitely moved closer since you’d started working. He was sitting a little ahead of you, but his body was turned to be angled towards you. When he caught your surprised look, he gave a small smile.

“I thought you wanted to come and see the art, Sam.” You teased, finding the confidence to make a quick pass about his position.

“I’m looking at it.” He quipped back without a moment of hesitation. You opened your mouth to reply, but couldn’t find any words, flustered at the proclamation. Without another word, he turned to look back at the canvas, leaving you to wonder if his words were satire, or if they had meaning. You took a few seconds to recover, but ultimately pushed the statement to the back of your mind. You continued on, dabbing blots of paint onto the picture and blending it gently. “You know, if you’re looking for a customer, I’d be happy to take this off your hands when you’re finished.”

“You couldn’t afford me, Kiszka.” You joked, using the tip of your finger to get a better blend on a saturated area. You fixed it up with a brush afterwards.

“You think so?” He hummed, not bothering to turn and face you.

“I know so.” You told him, wiping your hand on the apron. You weren’t sure if it was the months of tension catching up to you, or the exhaustion, or the smell of his cologne, but you were desperate for him to turn and face you again. “If you want it, it’s yours.” You breathed, deciding to drop the facade. “Once it’s graded, I have nowhere to put it.”

“How much do you want for it?” He asked, still facing away from you.

“Free, for you.” You said softly, a smile creeping up on you.

“Absolutely not.” He turned now, finally meeting your eyes. “You worked hard on it, you used your own materials. I’m giving you something for it.” He said, finality dripping in his tone. You couldn’t help but shift under his gaze, the authority sending a pleasant jolt of electricity through you.

“Think of it as a token of friendship.” You whispered, unable to stop yourself from looking over his features. The admiration in your eyes was impossible to overlook.

“Friendship?” He questioned after a moment of silence, a new sense of confidence washing over him. “Ouch,” he said, the same cocky smirk playing on the corner of his mouth. You bit the inside of your lip, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You weren’t so willing to fall for the idea that he may have felt the same way. Instead of turning away, he watched you, hoping you’d make a notion of reciprocation. After the shock wore off, you started to understand that he was being serious.

“Courtship?” You corrected yourself, feeling your heart drumming against your chest.

“I think I like that better,” he whispered, eyes falling down to your lips for a second before correcting himself. “Do you?”

“I certainly don’t have an issue with it.” You admitted. He watched you carefully, almost as if he was nervous to advance the situation any further. After a moment of deliberation, he reached his hand up and cupped your cheek, using his thumb to wipe off a smudge of paint.

“Some paint,” he informed you.

“Oh,” you breathed, eyes never leaving him. “Did you get it all?” He inspected further, tucking some hair behind your ear as he did so.

“Mm, I think I missed a spot.” He deducted. You set your palate and brush on the table, not wanting to miss a moment of him. He advanced further, but only slightly, pretending to look harder. You couldn’t fight back a smile. “Want me to get it?” He looked back up at your eyes, hand never moving from your cheek.

“Okay,” you nodded, playing into his act.

“You sure?” He asked again, mostly to tease, but he also wanted to ensure you were comfortable.

“Positive.” You promised. Without wasting any more time, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

It was soft, but his lips felt like they were burning into your skin. You reached your own hand out, letting it fall to the back of his neck. You pulled him closer, careful not to get any paint on his clothes in the process. He ran his tongue across your bottom lip, practically begging for more. You were quick to respond, parting your lips and allowing him to deepen the kiss. His other hand slipped to your hip, letting his fingers gently sink into the skin. When he pulled away, you were both breathless and craving more. He let his forehead rest on yours, dreading putting any more distance between your bodies. You gave a smile, unsure of what else you could do to express how you felt. It was like months of torture finally derived into pleasure. No more watching him as he walked past, wondering about his name or what it would be like to say it, or hear him say yours. No more wondering what it felt like to be kissed by him, because now, you knew, and it was way better than you ever imagined. “I’m not sure if I got it.” He admitted, causing a giggle from you. He pulled you in for another kiss, this one shorter and more lighthearted.

“Is it gone?” You asked, intoxicated from the feeling of his lips.

“If I said no, would you believe me?” You could hear his smile in his words.

“Yeah, just because I’d like to kiss you again, though.” His thumb trailed over your cheek as he rested his hand on your jaw. He placed a small peck on your lips, causing you to hum in satisfaction. “I wanted to do that for a really long time.” You said. He pulled back a bit, taking in your expression.

“Me, too.” He chuckled.

“Really?” He gave a nod.

“Since the first time I saw you.”

“Me, too.” You copied his earlier statement. “It’s been a long couple months of admiring you from a distance.”

“Why’d you never say anything?” He questioned, hand still keeping a delicate hold on your face.

“I was scared. Thought maybe you’d think I was weird, or you’d be an asshole. You’re too pretty to be nice, too. It’s not fair.” You laughed. “I didn’t even think you knew I existed.”

“How could I not?” He was almost offended at the thought. You shrugged your shoulders. “You��re the only person I’ve been looking at.” You felt your cheeks heat up again, angry that you couldn’t hide your emotion. “Danny’s been begging me to talk to you for weeks, but I guess I was scared, too.” It clicked in your brain, suddenly making sense why he was so excited when you told him you thought Sam was cute.

“Doesn’t matter,” You told him “We know now.” He nodded, agreeing silently. “Did you want to go back to my room, maybe?” You realized your statement was a bit forward only after you’d said it, but you didn’t really care. You were too caught up in the moment to worry about moving too fast, or any what-if’s. Your small amount of worry was subsided when he immediately stood, holding his hand out to you. You took it, letting him help you stand.

Both of you made quick work at cleaning up the mess you made, buzzing with excitement at the idea of being alone together. Within a few minutes, you had his hand in yours, and you were guiding him back through the unfamiliar building. You checked the main floor before you emerged, making sure there was no security checking out the place. You knew they could be assholes, and almost always asked for an access pass. When you deducted the coast was clear, you pulled him through the lobby and out the front door. You were both in a fit of giggles by the time you reached the dorm building, fumbling with keycards to let yourselves in. The hallways were barren, almost all of the students already gone for their spring trips. It made your journey all the faster, allowing you to make it to your room in record time without any interruption.

You opened the door for him, motioning got him to go inside first. He did so, eyes immediately taking in the sight. He’d caught glimpses of your room, but never got the chance to really see it. There was artwork plastered over the walls, some yours and some from your friends, or even reprints of famous artists. There were ambient lights bordering the ceilings, set to a constant colour. There were paintbrushes and textbooks littering your desk, along with a few empty coffee cups. There were a plethora of Polaroids hung on your bulletin board, a receipt book of memories from the lifetime he wanted to so badly know about. The smell of your perfume lingered in the air and your bed, although messy, looked extraordinarily inviting.

You gave him a small smile, nervous about what he was thinking. “I love it in here.” He said, almost like he could read your mind. You let out a small sigh of relief. His eyes drifted towards the small clay sculptures you’d been messing around with. He leaned closer, smiling at the intricate detail.

“You should come over more often, then.” You smiled.

“I think you’re gonna have a hard time getting rid of me, now.” He laughed. The sound was more beautiful than any you’d heard before.

“Fine by me.” You admitted. “I’m gonna change out of these. Just give me a minute.” He nodded, watching you as you picked some clothes from your closet. You brought them to the bathroom, changing into the shorts and t-shirt. You looked at yourself in the mirror, nearly wincing at the sight. You quickly fixed your makeup with your fingers and brushed your teeth. You sprayed a bit more perfume on the new clothes, and rejoined him. He was still standing awkwardly by your desk, unsure of where to sit. “You can sit on the bed.” You smiled, finding the timidity cute.

“Oh, okay.” He said, looking towards the mattress and sitting down.

“Did you want to watch a movie?” You asked.

“Sure.” He grinned. You went to your laptop, quickly logging in and pulling up Netflix. “I don’t care what we watch.” He admitted. You put on one of the first recommended movies, turning the volume up slightly. You climbed into bed next to him, propping a pillow against the wall and leaning back. He did the same, settling next to you, much closer than anyone else would normally sit.

The intro credits rolled for the movie, giving you a moment to relax from the close proximity. You leaned into him slightly, but not enough to make it obvious. You pulled your comforter over your legs, snuggling into the warmth. You let your hand rest on top of the blanket as you eyed his sitting in his lap. You’d been on dates, but not once since you moved away from your hometown had you felt so adolescent in romance. It felt like you were going through the motions for the first time, completely blind in knowledge. You had no idea how to approach him, how to initiate any of the intimacy you’d been yearning for. You hadn’t noticed you were staring at him, but he certainly did. He looked over to you, giving you a small, soft smile. In response, it made your heart skip a beat.

He took the opportunity to reach over and slip his hand into yours, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. The contact immediately subsided your anxiety, and you finally felt the ability to focus on the screen. After a few moments, you even found the courage to rest your head on his shoulder. The both of you watched the movie in silence, his thumb rubbing small circles over the back of your hand while you did so. As the film progressed, so did your comfortability. By the middle of it, you both had shifted dramatically. He was laying down, and you were resting atop of him, head nestled in his chest. His palm was firmly planted on your lower back, and his other gently tracing shapes into your arm. If you weren’t so energized from being so close to him, you were certain you could fall asleep in that position.

His hand that was on your arm moved to your face, fingers gently pushing your hair away. You closed your eyes, revelling in the feeling. He gently combed through the knots before settling his hand back on your cheek. He guided you to look up at him, sending a smile your way. You returned it, thinking that you would be fine if his face was the only one you could ever see again. “Thanks for inviting me over.” He said, admiring every feature. He knew that you were beautiful from every time he’d seen you before that night, but he realized that he’d been missing out on the best part. Having you laying with him, sleepiness laced in your eyes, made him realize that there was never a time where you were more beautiful. The innocent intimacy was overwhelming in the best possible way, leaving him to believe he could die happy as long as he got to hold you.

“It’s crazy, you know.” You sighed, propping yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at him.

“Hmm?” He replied, fingers dancing in the ends of your hair.

“I spent so long with this stupid little crush. I think because of it, I kind of put you on a pedestal. I forgot you were a person, too. I never believed that I could ever be with you like this. It always felt impossible.”

“I did the same thing.” He admitted, feeling better about it knowing you felt that way, too. “It’s weird. Dating in college is so much different than high school.” He chuckled. You nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

“It feels more… adult. In high school, I had to ask my parents permission to go on a date. Now, I can just invite you over whenever I want.” You thought aloud. “But I don’t feel any different. I still feel the same as I did a year ago.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “It’s strange, knowing that we’re supposed to be adults, now. Especially when I still feel like a kid.”

“I think it’s a good buffer period,” you shrugged. “Pretend to be adults, get the experience, but still be able to make mistakes and learn from them. We get to practice living alone and being responsible, but still get to do stupid shit.” He laughed at your comment, but understood your point.

“I like you, Picasso.” He said, his hand landing on the back of your neck. You smiled at the words.

“I like you, too.” You admitted, eyes trailing over his face in admiration.

“I think it would be cool if we could do stupid shit and learn from our mistakes… together.” He mumbled, gaze focused only on you.

“What are you saying, Billy Joel?” You smirked as he rolled his eyes at the nickname.

“I’m saying,” he paused, eyes flickering down to your lips for a moment. “I would like to do this…. more often.” He articulated his words carefully, a bit nervous to say them.

“I think that would be quite alright.” You deducted. He visibly relaxed at your confirmation. “I… uh, I’m not good at this stuff.” You admitted.

“That’s okay.” He said, tangling his fingers in the hair at the base of your skull. He gently massaged his fingers over your scalp, causing a slight hum of pleasure from you. “That’s part of the making mistakes and learning from them, right?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, entranced in the feeling of him touching you. “I’ve never really had a boyfriend, or anything like that. Been on a few dates, but they ended pretty terribly.” You admitted. He cocked his head to the side, studying you as you spoke. “Like I said before, all of the boys from my hometown are all the same. I learned my lesson, and I realized nothing meaningful would ever come from it, so I just… didn’t.”

“You can talk about it, if you want.” He offered.

“There’s really not much to talk about.” You told him, remembering back to your high school years. “I don’t know if it was just the type of people that lived in the town, or if it was a teenage boy thing, but they just cared about getting laid and nothing more. It was unbearable, and I fell for it a few times, but nobody ever cared about me past the surface. I’ve never met a boy who wanted to know me like you do, or would even admit that they liked me out loud, for that matter. Nobody has ever asked me questions about myself, or my art. It was nice being seen as a person rather than a body.” You muttered the last part, hating saying it aloud.

“They have no idea what they missed out on, then.” He said, bringing you closer and placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’ve only known you, well, really known you, for a day. I already know that I’d be more than lucky to have a chance with you.” Your cheeks turned red, luckily covered by the darkness of the room this time. “They didn’t deserve you. Nobody should make you feel like you can only be loved in privacy. You’re worth more than that.” Your eyes fluttered up to meet his as your brain wondered if the interaction was real, or a grandly fabricated dream. You leaned forward, unable to satiate the need to kiss him again.

He accepted the gesture enthusiastically, using his hands to pull you impossibly closer. You brought your hand to his face, cupping his cheek. After a moment, you couldn’t help but want more. You shifted, trying your best not to break the kiss, placing both of your legs on either side of him. He broke away for a second, just long enough to prop himself up against the wall so you wouldn’t be uncomfortable. He wasted no time, capturing you in another kiss. His hands found your hips, fingers holding you firmly but delicately all at once. You snaked your hand to the back of his neck, holding him like you were scared he would get away from you. When you pulled back, you were both breathless with stars dancing in your eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” He said quickly, mind still occupied with the thought of kissing you. “I’m okay if we just lay here and talk.”

“I want to if you do.” You assured him, finally feeling the months of tension reach the breaking point.

“Are you sure?” He asked, searching your face for an honest answer.

“Positive.” You promised, making sure he saw you were being genuine. “I just… I’ve never…yeah.” You trailed off, suddenly a bit embarrassed. He watched you, trying to piece together what you were saying. “I’ve never had sex.” You blurted out, realizing he wasn’t fully understanding you. “I mean, I’ve done some stuff, but never…” you breathed, your face burning for a whole new reason.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He reached his hand to your face, keeping your head straight so you would look at him. You were a virgin in all technical terms, only having awkward sexual experiences and moments with failed flings in high school. It wasn’t a virtue thing, more of a feeling of never finding the right person. With him, you felt comfortable, and were certain that it would be enjoyable. You didn’t have to have experience to assume that. You could tell just by looking at him, by how he spoke to you. He cared about your comfortability, and that was a major green flag. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” His tone was firm.

“No, I want to.” You said quickly, making sure he knew. “I just… I want you to have a good time, and I’m just nervous, I think. I don’t want to… disappoint.” He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at the blasphemous idea.

“Yeah, that’s not even a possibility.” He shut the fear down almost as soon as it sprouted. “I’m gonna have a good time because I’m with you.” He promised. “I don’t expect anything, or anything like that. I’m more concerned with you having a good time.” He said, bringing your face down to place a soft kiss on your lips. “We’ll take it slow, okay? Make sure you enjoy yourself.” He mumbled, his mouth only millimetres away from your own. “That sound okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, giving a small nod. You could feel his smile from as he kissed you again.

“You can tell me to stop, or slow down, or whatever you need at any point, okay?” He explained when he pulled back. You nodded. “You can tell me what you like, too. Don’t be shy.” You nodded again. “I need to hear the words, baby.”

“Okay.” You verbally confirmed. He tapped your thigh, silently letting you know he wanted you to get up. You did so, allowing him to move over to the side.

“Lay down for me,” he said, his tone had authority but it was incredibly soft, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. You laid back, eyes locked on his face. You were still anxious, but he was easing it more by the second. He turned onto his side to face you, guiding your face to his once more and connecting your mouths. You kissed him back with more neediness than before, excited by the idea of his hands on you. He slipped his fingers under the hem of your shirt, letting them dance over your skin so you could grow accustom to the feeling.

As he became familiar with the feeling of your body, he took his chance to deepen the kiss. You couldn’t help but let a few small moans of delight out, only fuelling him further. He went slow, working you up to speed. He didn’t want to rush you, or push you too far. He let you take the lead with progressing any further, waiting until you made a move to take an article of clothing away. When you tugged at the hem of his shirt, he moved back from you so he could pull it over his head. You let your eyes fall over his exposed torso, feeling your stomach flutter at the sight. He smiled at your expression, but didn’t say a word in fear of you feeling embarrassed. He made a move towards your waistband, watching your eyes intently as he did so. You gave him a nod of encouragement, letting him know you were okay. He hooked his fingers through the sides and slowly pulled the shorts from your body. You sat up and removed your shirt, too.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you in just your undergarments, having to do for a moment just to appreciate the view. “Gorgeous,” he hummed, lowering his head to you once more. He left a trail of gentle kisses across you collarbones, letting his hands trail over your exposed thighs. The minuscule touches were driving you crazy; you had no idea it could feel so good to be admired by someone. His lips moved downward, skipping over your chest and landing on your sternum. He started to get sloppier the further he progressed downwards. By the time he reached your navel, you were practically a mess. He looked up at you, eyelids heavy, taking in every detail of you. The way your chest rose and fell while you breathed, the way your lips stayed slightly parted, the way your hand felt tangled in his hair. It was driving him crazy.

He moved up again, motioning for you to lift your back from the bed. You did as he wanted, allowing him to snake his arms around you and unclasp your bra. He pulled it from your body, discarding it carelessly on the floor. He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth when he finally saw the full view. He was nestled between your legs, one hand planted beside you on the mattress, holding him up upright. His other hand returned to you, resting on your rib cage as light as a feather. He looked to you for permission before doing anything else. “I’m okay, I promise. I’ll tell you if I’m not.” You appreciated his consideration, but you were beginning to feel a bit desperate for more. He didn’t say anything, just brought his hand to your breast and brushed his thumb lightly over your hardened nipple.

The feeling was new, but very welcomed. The small touch sent a jolt of emotion through you. You watched him intently, anticipating his next movement. He brought his mouth to your nipple and pulled it into his mouth. You let out a shaky exhale at the sensation. He flicked his tongue over it a few times, really becoming familiar with you. When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed at the loss of contact. He smiled at your sigh of discontent. “Feel good?” He hummed.

“Yeah,” you breathed. He sat upright on his knees, bringing both of his hands to your hips and hooking his fingers through your underwear. You bit the inside of your lip, enthusiastic but still a bit nervous. You lifted your hips from the bed, allowing him to pull them off with ease. He tossed them to the floor, not caring where they landed. He was only concerned with you, now fully naked and laying beneath him. He caught sight of your face, noticing that your eyes were looking away from him.

“Hey,” he whispered. You finally found the courage to look up at him. “You okay, beautiful?” You were glad he disregarded your earlier statement, finding it much easier to communicate with him if he initiated it.

“Yeah, just nervous. It’s nothing you’re doing.” You promised.

“You want to stop?” You shook your head, unable to think of a worse idea. He didn’t immediately jump back to action at the expression, but spoke again after a few moments. “We’ll go slow, okay? This is for you. I wanna give you a good time.” You felt a smile growing on your lips at his words.

“Okay,” you affirmed. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You felt like you could live in that moment forever.

“Don’t have to be shy, or nervous. Promise I’m gonna take care of you.” He said as he pulled away. “Just tell me to stop, or slow down if you need to. You’re in charge.” You managed another nod as he sunk back between your legs. He laid on his stomach, head inches from your heat. You felt the anxiety lingering, but it was rapidly overtaken by excitement. He placed a few kisses on the inside of your thighs, one arm snaked under one of your legs and gently caressing the outside of your thigh. He brought his free hand to your cunt, fingers ghosting over the area. He looked up to you as if to ask permission. You gave him another nod, assuring him it was okay.

He slowly advanced, wanting to give you ample time to change your mind if you needed to. When you stayed quiet, eyes watching him with anticipation, he took it as a good sign. He ran his fingers through your folds, letting you get used to the feeling before doing anything else. You bit into the inside of your lip, trying to wrap your head around the unfamiliar sensation. It was definitely different when someone else was touching you, you noted. He gathered some of your arousal on his fingers. He spread the wetness to your clit, bringing his thumb to the sensitive area and slowly rubbing light circles into it. Your breath caught in your throat, the feeling taking you by surprise. His eyes flickered to your face, feeling a bit of satisfaction at the sound. You looked down at him, meeting his gaze and feeling a different type of pleasure at the sight.

“How’s that?” His voice was quiet, barely noticeable if not for your intent focus on his every action. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, less enthralled in the movement of his hands than you were at the look on his face. He had a small smile playing on his lips, but the admiration for you he held in his eyes was worth more than words. He didn’t speak again, but kept his focus on the pattern of his thumb. He applied a bit more pressure, watching your face for a reaction. You let in a sharp intake of breath, feeling the sensation change from unfamiliar to pleasurable. His jaw clenched slightly, the sound running straight through him and settling in his bones. It was small, barely there, but it was blissful to his ears.

He worked at you for a few moments, gentle and loving with every move. It felt good, the nervousness almost completely gone, but there was enough there for you to hold yourself back. Your noises were limited, mostly from fear of embarrassment. You were so caught up in the worry of looking dumb that you were almost overlooking the scene before you. It didn’t deter him, though. If anything, it only drove him further. He was aching too hear the beautiful sounds begging to be let out, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t get them out of you. You watched him closely, not wanting to miss a moment of his presence. He leaned forward, letting a line of spit fall from his lips onto his fingers. You swallowed hard, the small action sending a rush of pleasure through you.

He ran his fingers through your cunt again, making sure the lubrication didn’t go to waste. His middle finger slowed and eventually stopped just before your entrance. “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” He asked, but his tone was more of a demand. You nodded, too caught up in the idea of his fingers almost inside of you to worry about anything else. After a second, he slowly sunk his finger into you, studying you for any sign of discomfort. When you went without protest, he fully pushed his finger in, letting his thumb fall back on your clit. He continued his circles, now adding the stimulation of pumping his finger into you. You let a breathy moan out, unable to hold it back anymore. “That’s it baby,” he practically groaned, ecstatic to hear the noise. “You’re doing s’good.” The praise, although unexpected, was very well received. Knowing that he was enjoying himself solely by pleasuring you was a fantastic feeling. Knowing that he was only concerned with you feeling good was enough to satiate the anxiety.

He continued his pace for a while, eventually adding another finger when you felt you were ready. You were a mess, caught up in the pleasure but worried, too, because you hadn’t felt the creep of an impending orgasm. His hand was steady, never wavering, and his eyes were locked on you. Every so often, he pressed his lips into the skin on your thighs or your hipbones, just as a small act of affection. “Sam, I-I don’t know if I’m gonna cum.” You admitted, voice shaky and a bit defeated.

“You will,” he promised, unfazed by the statement. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I just…” you let out a sigh, frustrated with yourself. “It’s not you, it’s me.” He pulled back, halting his movements.

“I can stop if that’s what you want, baby.” His words were coated with sincerity. “Or are you just worried you can’t cum?” He inquired.

“I don’t want you to stop, I’m having a good time. I just don’t know if I can.” You explained, feeling embarrassment settle in your chest.

“I’ve got all night.” He said, shrugging off the worry. “Can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing.” He gave you a smile.

“I want you to have a good time, too, though.”

“Oh, I am.” His tone changed from gentle to firm. “Don’t worry about that.” You watched him with uncertainty, but the look in his eye was nothing but affirmative of his statement. “Don’t worry about anything. Just lay there and focus on how it feels, okay?” You nodded. “No worries about if you’re gonna cum or not, no worrying about me having a good time, just relax and enjoy the feeling. If you don’t cum, we’ll try again next time.” Your heard sped at the realization that he was planning on this being more than a one-time thing. It was comforting, knowing that he was learning about you so intimately, but wasn’t planning on running. He didn’t want to get your clothes off and never speak to you again like the majority of boys you’d ever known.

“Y-yeah, okay.” You replied. He cocked his head to the side, wondering why the hesitation was so present. “You, uh… next time?” He couldn’t help but grin at your question.

“I mean, yeah, if you want that, of course.”

“Yeah, I do.” You rushed out, hoping you hadn’t made him feel otherwise.

“Then it’s settled.” He hummed. “Not just the sex part, though. The dinner and the hanging out was great, and I’d very much like to do that, too.” You let out a small giggle at his words, finding the explanation cute.

“Me, too.” You assured him.

“Breakfast tomorrow?” He asked, a smirk on the corner of his lips. He started to move his fingers again, taking you by surprise. You let out a gasp at the suddenness, immediately feeling the pleasure return.

“S-sure,” you breathed, giving him a nod. He decided to stop messing with you, wanting to ensure you were as comfortable as you could be. He worked himself back up to his earlier pace, making it nearly impossible for you to think of anything else. He let another trail of spit fall onto his fingers, making sure it wasn’t too dry for you.

After a few moments, you did start to feel a little less insecure. His eyes were watching you, studying every minute detail. He noticed the rise and fall of your chest speed as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you, the way you occasionally pulled your bottom lip between your teeth in attempt to silence yourself. He watched how your eyebrows furrowed slightly when he brushed over your clit just right, and how your eyes stayed almost permanently shut. He thought you were the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Eventually, a blissful moan slipped from your mouth as his fingers hit the perfect spot. His eyes rolled back slightly, soaking up the sound. “That’s it, baby.” He encouraged you, fingers never stopping.

The words of motivation helped ease your tension. Your stiffness dissipated, your shoulders relaxing back on the pillows a bit. Your neck let your head fall back, leaving you completely at ease for the time being. A few more short-lived moans fell from your lips, all hitting him with a stronger force each time. “Doing so good, princess.” He said, noticing the effect his words had on you last time. “Cum for me, baby. You can do it.” He whispered. The demand went straight to your core, and you started to feel a sensation grow in the pit of your stomach. It was a feeling you’d only ever given yourself; it was way more intense when produced by another person.

“Fuck, Sam.” You whimpered, a gentle warning that you were getting closer. His heart drummed against his chest, clearly excited at the obscene proclamation. He took a risk, removing his thumb from your clit and lowering his head until his lips were touching you. You didn’t realize what he was doing until his tongue darted over the sensitive nerves, causing an involuntarily buck of your hips. He used his hand that was hooked under your leg to hold you down on the mattress.

Your fear of not being able to cum was quickly diminished with the new, even more unfamiliar feeling. It was heavenly. You let a low groan out, feeling the knot in your belly tighten. You slipped your hand down and tangling your fingers in the roots of his hair. He pulled his mouth off you only for a second, just to get one more praise in. “Taste so good, princess.” He said, slipping his thumb back in place of his mouth. You could only whimper in response, already missing the feeling of his tongue. “That’s it, baby. Look at you,” he whispered the last part more to himself than anything else. He only let his eyes hover over your expression for a moment longer, returning his tongue to you.

It didn’t take long to get to where he wanted you to be. Within a few minutes, you were gripping at his hair, panting and moaning, your orgasm begging you to let go. His tongue was moving at a steady pace, and his fingers curled with every re-entry, hitting a spot inside you that nothing ever had before. You let your head fall back, feeling the pressure reach its peak. A wave of pleasure overtook you, setting every nerve in your body on fire. You managed his name through the slur of moans, clenching around his fingers as you came. He only tapered his speed when the intensity began to die down. He removed his mouth first, then slowly pulled his fingers from you. His eyes flickered towards your face, lust clouding his eyes as he did so.

He slowly moved upwards, placing a few kisses over your collarbones and up onto your neck. You finally found the strength to open your eyes and look to him. He caught your gaze and gave you a dopey smile, eyelids heavy and your arousal glistening on his lips. “That’s my beautiful girl,” he hummed, wiping his chin with the back of his hand before leaning in for a kiss. “I’m so proud of you.” He whispered as he parted from you. He placed another kiss on your lips, sweet and full of emotion. The anxiety that had been plaguing you on and off was now gone, replaced solely by a desire for him that you’d never felt for another person before. “Did that feel good?”

“So good, Sammy.” You said, your lips still ghosting over his. You could feel his erection straining against his sweatpants, pressing into your leg.

“My name sounds so good when you say it like that.” He sighed, one hand roaming your exposed torso. His touch was light, tickling the sensitive skin over your rib cage as he did so.

“Thank you,” you whispered, resting your cheek against his, basking in the affection.

“Don’t have to thank me, princess.” He replied. “If anything, I should be thanking you.” You let out a small laugh at his words, finding his gratefulness charming. You reached up and cupped his cheek in your hand, lifting your head to pull him into another kiss. He was hesitant to let you go when you pulled away.

“Do you wanna…?” You trailed off, feeling a bit too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

“Do you?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed, never more sure of yourself in your whole life. He gave you a smile, making a move to stand. He undid the drawstring on his pants, then pulled them down, ridding himself of them and leaving himself clad in only his boxers. You couldn’t help but stare at him, eyes wandering but eventually settling on the bulge barely contained by the fabric. He noticed your stare, a smirk making its way back onto his lips.

“Condoms?” He asked, catching your attention. Your eyes widened, realizing that you didn’t have any.

“Oh, I uh- I didn’t really expect… I don’t..”

“That’s okay,” he chuckled. “I have some in my room. I can go get them.” You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy, realizing that he’d been keeping them for a reason. You pushed the thought away, not wanting to focus on the idea of him being with someone else. He was here with you, and that’s what mattered.

“I, uh, I am on birth control, if you’re clean.” You squeaked, slightly embarrassed at the statement.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He said, his tone firm.

“Yeah, I am.” You assured him. “Like I said, as long as you’re clean.” You repeated the earlier comment, just wanting to be sure.

“I am,” he promised. “It’s been a long time since… yeah.” He let out a small laugh. You couldn’t help but feel better knowing he hadn’t been sleeping around, either.

“Then yeah, I’m okay with it.” He gave a nod, making a move to take off his boxers. You watched in admiration, excited to finally see him the same as he was seeing you. He kicked the fabric with the rest of the growing pile of clothes. He stepped back towards the bed, noticing your eyes never leaving him. “You’re… very pretty.” You whispered, unable to find any better words to describe him.

“I think you’re very pretty, too.” He smiled, nestling back between your legs as he grabbed a pillow from beside you. “Lift your hips up, princess.” You did as he said and he slipped the cushion underneath you. “Should make it a bit more comfortable.”

He guided your legs up slightly, not enough to bend you in an awkward position, but enough to make it easier for both of you. “Will it hurt?” You finally blurted out, the question begging to be spoken all night.

“May be a bit uncomfortable at first, but I’m gonna try my best to make sure it doesn’t.” He said, catching your gaze. “We can take it as slow as you want. If you want me to stop, just tell me.”

“Okay.” You replied, voice quiet. You were nervous, but very aware that you were in good hands. It was his only intention to make sure you enjoyed yourself. You watched as he spit on his hand, rubbing himself for a moment.

“You okay?” He asked, wanting to be sure.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be scared to talk to me, baby.” He reminded. You nodded, eyes only focused on his hand that was he was stroking himself with. He moved a bit closer, letting the tip of his dick rest against your entrance. He let you get used to the feeling before going any further. “You tell me when you’re ready.”

“I am.” You weren’t lying; the anxiety and nervousness was fully expected, but you were more than ready to have sex with him. You were sure of that before you’d even spoken with him, and it was only solidified further when you saw how accommodating he was being with you. He waited for any hesitation, but when none was given, he slowly pushed his hips forward.

You closed your eyes, trying your best to stay relaxed. He only pushed in a few inches, wanting you to adjust before continuing. “That okay?” He asked. You nodded, reaching out for his hand. He took his own from your leg and accepted the offer, intertwining his fingers with yours. He thrusted forward a bit more, studying your expression for a hint of discomfort. When he bottomed out, you let out a small sigh of relief.

“Not as bad as I thought it would be.” You noted. He laughed quietly, happy you thought so.

“You’re doing so good.” He whispered. “You feel so good.” His words sent a jolt of arousal through you, enjoying the praise more than you imagined you would. He slowly built up a pace, moving his hips with caution. Once you’d fully realized the sensation was less than uncomfortable, you relaxed against him. After a few more moments, you began to enjoy the feeling.

“You can go faster,” you sighed, a ghost of a moan in your words. He was hesitant to do so, but he gradually sped his thrusts, admiring your expression. When he clued in to the fact you were enjoying yourself, he couldn’t help but let a groan escape his lips. Your eyes snapped to his face, thinking that was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. His pleasure ridden expression was enough to induce an orgasm on its own, you deducted.

He reached his hand between your legs, letting his thumb find your clit again. He continued his pace, now applying light pressure onto the sensitive bundle of nerves as he circled his thumb. The combined sensations caused a moan from you. Your fingers tightened against his hand, a silent expression of pleasure. “Fuck, Sam.” You sighed, letting your head fall back onto the pillows.

“Look so pretty like this, baby.” He mumbled, trying to keep the speed of his hips and his hand the same. The pet names were unexpected, but you loved hearing them come from his mouth, especially when they sounded like that. “Wish I could have you like this forever.” He sighed, losing himself to the feeling a bit. It didn’t take long for another knot to form in your belly. With the consistency of his movements, it was much easier to get there than it was the first time. Sam noticed the slight change in your demeanour, the increase in the noises you were making. He focused on your face, wanting to watch you this time, feeling a bit cheated out of the moment the first time. “You think you can cum again, princess?” He asked, eyes burning into you.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, looking up at him. “Feels so good, Sammy.”

“Come on, baby.” He sounded as if he were begging you. “Doing so good for me.” With his encouragement, you felt your orgasm creep up again. You tried your best to keep your eyes on him, wanting to appreciate him as much as possible. He sped his thumb slightly, causing your breath to catch in your throat. His gaze never wavered, an unspoken plea for you to let go. It only took a moment before you came the second time. Your head fell back again, eyes screwed shut and mouth permanently agape. His jaw was clenched, holding himself back from his own release at the sound of you crying his name. “That’s it,” he moaned, wishing he could engrave the picture in his mind forever. As much as he wanted to cum, too, he was hoping to get one more out of you before the night came to an end.

The pressure from his thumb lightened, but his thrusts sped. You didn’t have time to recover, unlike the first time. The sensitivity was overtaken by the pleasure of him inside you, making it the only thing you could focus on. You looked back at him, realizing your mistake as soon as you did. He was still staring at you, eyes now a bit feral. The muscles in his jaw were taut, and he was quite unfamiliar to you, now. Although different, not in a bad way. It was intense, but far from menacing. You were captivated in the details of his stare, finding yourself unable to look away. He was breathtaking, and you couldn’t believe you were lucky enough to have him in such a way. You couldn’t believe that you had the power to drive him to such a feeling.

“You can give me one more, baby, I know you can.” His motivation was clouded with a bit of dominance, giving you the impression that he wouldn’t be pleased with himself if he couldn’t give you another orgasm.

“I don’t know, Sammy.” You groaned, unsure of yourself but still fully immersed in the feeling of him inside you.

“You can, princess. You can do it.” His chest was heaving with every breath, partially due to his movement, but more to do with desire. There was a glisten of sweat on his forehead, illuminated by the dim light flooding through the window. You didn’t think you’d be able to cum for the first time, let alone a second, or a third. The only anxiety you had left in your body was one fearing you’d leave him disappointed. Rationally, you knew he’d be content with whatever happened, but the louder part of your brain craved to give him exactly what he wanted. It wasn’t out of fear, but solely because you wanted to. From the minute he’d given you that first stupid smile all those months ago, you knew you wanted to be exactly where you were at that moment, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give it your all.

His patience and gentleness with you the whole night was endearing, but for you, the novelty of it being your first time had worn off, and the months of sexual tension was reaching its peak. You were both completely starved for each other in the best way possible, neither of you wanting to disappoint. Sam kept his pace steady, his thumb pressing into your clit again. To both of you, the idea of another orgasm not being reached was out of the question. “I can, but you have to cum with me.” You begged.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he grunted, letting out a long exhale. He knew that wouldn’t be an issue, he’d been holding himself back from the minute you’d started fucking. He rationed with himself as another string of moans left your lips, forcing himself to believe that waiting would be far more satisfactory than finishing before you. “Cum for me, angel.” The new term of endearment was unlike the others; this one hit you violently, such a graceful term for such a filthy display. You let out a cry of pleasure, your third climax hitting you without warning. It washed over you with necessity, as if you needed it to survive. He finally let go of your hand, fingers finding your hips to hold you on him as he came, too.

The room echoed with sounds of pleasure and obscene words, the essence of the moment settling into the walls and solidifying its place. The memory would never leave, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. He let out a sigh, finally losing his composure and resting gently atop of you. He placed tender kisses along your collarbones, small gestures of affection and appreciation to let you know he still meant everything he said to you. After you both came back to reality, he slowly withdrew from you. He tried to keep the mess minimal as he did so, wanting to keep the cleanup simple so he had more time to hold you before the night was through. “You should go pee, don’t want you to get a UTI.” He mumbled. You managed a nod, sleep calling to you like never before. Your mind and body were beyond exhausted, unable to keep up with the whirlwind of events.

He helped you up and to the bathroom, leaving you to your business. You cleaned yourself up and removed what was left of your makeup before returning to him. He gave you a dopey smile and a kiss on the head before going to do the same. You took a seat on the bed, mind still buzzing with excitement at the thought of what happened. When he came back out, he pulled his boxers back on and picked up his t-shirt from the ground. He handed it to you, almost nervous of rejection. You took the piece of clothing and slipped it over your head, more than happy to be wearing his clothes. “Did… did you maybe want to stay with me tonight?” You asked, nervous he’d say no. He took a seat beside you, pulling you into his arms and laying you both down on the mattress.

“Was hoping you’d ask.” He mumbled, pulling your back to his chest. He nuzzled his head into your neck, not caring about the tickle of your hair on his face.

“Thank you,” you finally said after a few long moments of silence.

“What are you thanking me for?”

“I don’t know,” you laughed. “That was… fantastic. You were fantastic.”

“I’m just happy you had a good time. That’s all I wanted.” He hummed, hand snaking under your shirt to rest on your stomach.

“I really did. I.. uh, wanted to do that for a while.” You said, rolling your eyes at your own awkwardness.

“Oh, yeah, me too.” He said, as if it were obvious. “All year I felt like I was in middle school again, crushing on the prettiest girl who didn’t know I existed.”

“I knew you existed.” You whispered, calmed at the knowledge you’d both been feeling the same way. “I thought the same about you.”

“Seems like we were both a bit dumb, then, Picasso.” You could hear his smile in his words.

“Guess so, piano man.” You both fell into a silence again, but like all the other ones, it was nothing short of comfortable. You felt yourself melt into his touch, sleep begging you to close your eyes.

“You’re okay, though? You’re not sore, or anything? You’d tell me if you were, right?”

“Yeah, I am, Sammy. Promise.” You reassured him. He’d done an excellent job at taking care of you and ensuring you were comfortable. It was the best possible scenario you could have imagined for your first time.

“That’s good, I just want to make sure.” He whispered. You settled into the mattress, prepared to go to bed. “So, if we’re talking experience wise, like a three star review?” He broke the quiet once more, causing both of you to fall into a fit of laughter.

“Mmm, I was thinking more of a five star, actually.” You pretended to ponder.

“Don’t stroke my ego, Picasso.” He dismissed the compliment.

“Maybe we’ll have to try it again sometime, then I can give a proper review.” You moved your hand under your shirt, too, resting it on top of his. He laced your fingers together, more than accepting of the contact.

“I think that would be quite alright.” He placed a kiss to your neck, just below your ear. It sent a shiver down your spine. “So it was good enough to make you want to do it again,” he noted. “I’ll have to put that one on my resume.” You laughed, shaking your head at his antics.

“Goodnight, piano man.” You said, finality in your voice. He propped himself up, trying his best to lean over you for another kiss. You turned your head back to meet his lips, much more confident in the action, now.

“Goodnight, Picasso.” He settled back in behind you, closing his eyes, too. “I can’t wait to take you to breakfast in the morning.” No more words were exchanged, but you both fell into a slumber with a permanent smile stuck on your lips.

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golden-racoon · 8 months ago

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How to do character parallels (Acheron & Aventurine) Spoilers for 2.1

It's pretty evident that the writing team for Penacony has knocked it out of the park and they've been getting better by patch. The best part of this patch has probably been the use of the switch POV to show between the two protagonists of this quest.

I mean it's pretty obvious that they're parallels. They're the last survivors of their people, destroyed by an invading force (the Avgin by the Katica and Izumo by Takamagahara). Both survived through their own skill and support from other people and then suffered horribly through the aftermath of survival.

Acheron becomes a Self-Anihilator and loses parts of herself, like her memory (and sense of taste). She has to use emotion to navigate the world because she can't keep a hold of her memory. In The Pioneer Diver of Dead Waters set it's implied that she was Freebas' friend, and if you read the description of the set it's pretty evident that Freebas died journeying into the black hole that is the Nihility.

Aventurine loses all of his people in a single day (his birthday!!!) and then becomes a branded slave forced to participate in a Hunger Games-style tournament for his survival. It's implied that his only weapon for this entire twisted game would have been his chains, which would have been horribly traumatizing for him since every death he committed would be up close and personal.

Throughout this quest we follow each of them as they carry out their own personal agendas and how each of them come to the same conclusions. They even have a single companion for their quests who helps them carry out bothering Sunday (which is pretty funny in retrospect, since five different people broke into Suday's house in the same 24 hours).

And then Aventurine pulls his closing gambit and Acheron is the only one who understands why he's doing this. Because both of them have loathed themselves and wanted to die, and found something they so dearly want above all of this.

Aventurine needs the power of an Emanator to break down the walls of Penacony and he knows the only person in Penacony who can carry out his ends is Acheron.

And then this happens.

Aventurine understands Acheron's version of Nihility more than anyone. He understands what it means to keep holding on, even when you should be rightfully dead. Acheron understands all too well what it means to lose so much of yourself just to survive, and their conversation about Aventurine's scheme is full of nuance and many, many layers.

My favourite recurring motif for these two is Rain. Aceron says that she weeps "like rain" when she activates her Emanator powers. When she "slashes" Aventurine, she creates rain, something that should be impossible in the Family's dreamscape. Aventurine is associated with rain constantly from birth, something his people consider a blessing. However, now he can't even bear getting his outfit wet in the rain, something that may be a rejection of his past. But when Acheron fulfils his wishes and he finally accepts his past, the rain pours.

In conclusion, I'm losing my mind, and Shaoji is responsible. Probably.

#honkai star rail #honkai: star rail #acheron #hsr aventurine #hsr acheron #2.1 hsr #shaoji when I catch you *shakes fist*

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twst-kumi · 8 months ago

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Weeping Maiden

[ACT I]: CHAPTER 3

The weekend surprisingly came fast, mainly because the teachers were going easy on them for their first week in class. [Name] waited for Neige at the Tree rooms, she looked at the feminine face smiling tenderly at her.

“_Good morning, Princess! Oh? What a surprise we matched our outfit.”

She turned to see the young Idol running toward her. She wore a mint-colored plaid skirt, matching jacket, and white shirt. To her surprise, Neige’s outfit matched hers. He wore white and mint clothes instead of his usual color palette. [Name] smiled at the “coincidence” before going with him.

The young idol smiled happily as he held her hand firmly. They were so soft in his hand, that he wished that he could always keep her. Just like the mirror was used as a portal in NRC, they had to pass through the door at the tree's bark.

“_Wellcome to Shaftland, my homeland.”

[Name] looked in awe at the beautiful city. It had a very European style, a gorgeous mix between rococo and modern architecture that showed the rich history of the place. Neige smiled as he studied her face.

“_There you are Neige. And this is?

_Oh, right! [Name] this is my manager, if you need anything just ask him.”

The young girl greeted the woman politely. She looked quite sharp with her cat-like eyes. The woman looked at her up and down with a long hum, before turning toward Neige.

“_What agency is she from? I never heard of her.

_Ah, she’s a freshman in my school.

_In an all-boys school?

_It’s a special case”

She looked at her critically, almost like she was a pest. Neige put himself between them, trying to disperse the situation. The Manager still glaring at the young girl, huffed before walking to the car waiting for them.

“_Whatever, I believe I told you to be careful and avoid getting a girlfriend. What do you think will happen when your fans learn about it?

_I’m sure I can-!

_Oh no, we are not together. We are truly just friends.”

[Name] interjected quickly and ignored Neige's slightly hurt expression. An expression that didn’t go unnoticed by the manager’s curious eyes. The boy had a crush on the girl. It was obvious, so much, that the woman felt pity toward him. The drive was only punctuated with talk between the young idol and [Name]. The young boy talked excitedly about the movie and Vil. It's mostly about Vil. Once at the set, the young girl followed Neige and the manager inside the studio. It was surprisingly quite a normal set. Since it was a world full of magic, she expected them to work with many magic objects. Much to her surprise, they weren’t that different from her world.

[Name] tried her best not to be a bother to the crew who accepted Neige’s request. She tried to be as helpful as she could. The young girl was carrying a small cable box that was supposed to be given to the tech crew when she felt a strong hand slip the box from her grasp.

“_Seriously, who makes such a weak girl carry such heavy loads?”

[Name] could feel the warmth on her back. The man's presence against her back was making her conscious of herself. She looked up, her eyes met with familiar light-purple eyes. His pale blond hair fell around his face to highlight his beauty. Seeing it in person was far different than looking at an art book.

“_Good morning, I’m Vil Schoeneit. I don’t believe I saw you during the crew meeting. Are you new?

_Ah uh… I’m just helping around. I’m not…

_I see, so you are a newbie actress! Helping is good but you shouldn’t overexert yourself.”

Before [Name] was able to get out of her stupor, it was too late. Vil had already taken the box and walked ahead. Meanwhile, the Pomefiore dormleader was in turmoil. He could feel his heart beat uncontrollably. It was strange, he was sure he wasn’t one to act on emotion like that but the girl had a familiar warmth he couldn’t forget. And how could he? It was the same warmth Yuu gave off some time, before that incident. Vil couldn’t but feel attracted to the unknown girl. Now that he thinks about it, the Ramshackle prefect looked way too different from what he remembered, like he was always surrounded by light but not anymore. It was almost like something was preventing them from seeing the boy's unhinge personality before.

“_Where should we put this box?”

The young girl was a little startled reminding the young actor of a little rabbit. She hurried to catch up to him.

“_It’s for Kelvin.

_I see, it’s for one of the sound techs.

_Yes.”

Both walked to the crew as the others greeted Vil.

“_By the way, I didn’t get your name.

_It’s [Name] Yamada, nice to meet you Senpai.”

“[Name] Yamada”... Vil couldn’t help but test her name on his lips and tongue. He couldn’t help but feel illicit with how it deliciously rolled on his tongue. Until it dawned on him, Yamada was Yuu’s family name.

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@cocomollo

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twst x reader #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere vil x reader #neige leblanche #vil schoenheit #yandere neige leblanche #neige le blanche x reader #yandere twisted wonderland

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mmmkaybye · 10 months ago

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Why Zutara Shippers are Wrong (JK, You can ship who you want lol)

(Although, I don't care if you do actually ship Zutara, that's your prerogative, I'm just waiting for better arguments for the relationship and for people to stop negatively viewing Kataang)

First of all, I'm premising this with the fact that I don't think that ATLA should have ended with Katara and Aang kissing. I think it would have been fine to just end with a slightly more intimate-than-friends hug/cuddle. I would have personally preferred that two children who survived being literal child soldiers get the chance to be kids before they delve into a more mature relationship with one another, but they didn't exactly have adults of the modern culture there to guide them a different way, now did they?

BUT! I am a firm believer that Zuko and Katara would never have worked out romantically and that Katara and Aang's relationship 1. makes more sense and 2. is actually healthier in the scope of trauma and trauma responses.

First of all, I don't understand how the creators of ATLA managed to craft literally the MOST traumatic childhood backstory ever with incredible detail and nuance and everyone just fricking glosses over it like WTF??? Not to mention, the creators did an amazing job diversifying trauma responses to similar trauma experiences.

Let's discuss Katara's childhood trauma, which was not healed magically after a little side quest with Zuko. Katara carries immense survivor's guilt over her mother's murder. Katara understands very well how and why her mother was brutally murdered in their family home. She has been deeply aware of this since the day of her mother's murder - and she fully blames herself. Katara understands that a fire nation soldier killed her mother, but he killed her because of Katara - she said so herself. Then, Katara, who was the last person to interact with her mother, discovers her mother's body, and it is insinuated that Katara might have even witnessed her mother's brutal execution-style murder. This forever alters Katara down to her core personality traits. Katara is 'bossy' because of her trauma. I work with kids from pre-k through graduating american high school. It's pretty normal for girls to do what I call 'mothering' to their peers and to kids younger than them. It often is described as being 'bossy' and some girls are in fact bossy, but for the most part, they are roleplaying a caretaker mentality as they are most familiar with. In Katara's deep guilt of being the reason her mother was murdered, her trauma response was burden herself with the role of mother. This is further antagonized when her father leaves with the rest of the adult men to fight against the Fire Nation. He might've well as died too due to lack of communication for many years. Sokka does not allow Katara to mother him for very long, so she doesn't get to have a chance to work through her personal trauma response to her grief because she has no one to safely and consistently direct these mothering tendencies towards. The other children in the village are not orphans, their mothers are most likely very alive and very involved with them, so they would be temporary fillers at best. Sokka has stepped into the role of village man and definitely would reject Katara's mothering, which often led to tension between the siblings. Toph had the very reaction to Katara's mothering tendencies as I expect a young Sokka had to them. He lost his mother, too, he didn't want a replacement, nor did he want to lose his sister to the role of mother.

Zuko, in the same fashion as Sokka, had a mother who he loved, and lost, and was not looking to replace. Zuko's mother was also a topic that is deeply rooted in a lot of Zuko's personal trauma as well. Zuko did not get to spend much time with Katara for her mothering tendencies to be extended over him, but he definitely would have aggressively rejected them as Katara's trauma response would have negatively triggered his own. Their trauma would have deeply and negatively impacted any romantic relationship they could have developed because of how they would react to each other. Their relationship would have crashed and burned very quickly.

On top of that. Katara would have never left the South Pole indefinitely - that is her home, and she consistently returned to it throughout her life. That is an effect of her cultural upbringing. Zuko couldn't leave the Fire Nation, and as we saw in the graphic novels that followed, Zuko's personal welfare suffered greatly because his whole world was upended and now he was responsible for the one nation that didn't get peace at the end of the war. It's incredibly naive and slightly delusional for people to desperately push romantic wishes upon a sixteen-year-old boy who was burdened with the responsibility of healing an entire nation, one that fought him every step of the way in many aspects. He did not have the emotional energy to expend upon a frivolous relationship. That's why Mai and he broke up, not because they didn't love each other, but because Zuko simply could not have personal relationships until his reign and nation had stabilized - that alone would take upwards of 10 years. Plus, Zuko may have helped others work through parts of their trauma, but he had to address his trauma too, which we saw the beginnings of during the graphic novels. Simply put, by the end of ATLA and all of the graphic novels, Zuko was in no place emotionally, mentally, and even physically and politically to seek out a relationship that was meaningful and healthy. And I know that Zuko would have changed the tradition of political marriage, at the very least he deserves to have married for love at the end of everything he suffered through. Zuko is a great opportunity to normalize waiting until you're in your mid-twenties -thirties before seeking out romantic relationships. Logistically speaking, I don't think there would have been much opportunity for romantic feelings to develop between the two of them. I especially don't think Katara would have easily been able to live in the Fire Nation because the Fire Nation was directly responsible for her trauma, and that is also why I don't think she would have every pursued a relationship with a Fire Nation man, Zuko or not.

Now onto Aang. Everyone always jumps onto this idea that Katara and Aang had a very mother-son relationship - which is wrong. Aang comes from a culture that literally does not have mother and fatherhood. There are NO mothers and fathers in the Air Nomad Nation. Sure, kids had birth parents, but parenthood was not part of their culture, nor did Aang ever seek out that kind of relationship. Aang may have been kid-like, but he was the most adultified kid in the group. He was incredibly independent and confident in his ability to travel internationally by himself at 12. Katara had never thought to leave the South Pole to seek out a waterbending master in the North Pole because she didn't have that confidence or training. The Air Nomads thrived on a mentorship-based village raising of children. So, Aang never thought of Katara as his mother. He literally couldn't, because he had no scope of reference for such a relationship, same with fatherhood. He never had a parental relationship with Monk Gyasto. It was more like a fun uncle mentorship. I think that's why everyone thinks Aang was a bad father, but he was an outlier in the Air Nomad nation because there was no Air Nomad nation when he had children. The village that raised the children in his culture was gone. He was actually a fairly decent father and the two older children probably felt bitter because Tenzin was the only other air bender in existence so it obviously Aang is going to spend a lot of one on one time with Tenzin in the scope of mentoring Tenzin in the way of Air Nomad culture. Aang was not an absentee father like how many people assumed from the very one-sided and brief explanation given by the two older, jaded siblings. Was he perfect? No, he literally had no clue how to be a father. Did he and Tenzin leave to get milk and never come back? Also no. That being said, Aang was the only individual who was comfortable with Katara mothering him, he never felt threatened or overburdened by her trauma response, which allowed for Katara to genuinely work through her grief and mature out of the extreme bossy mothering we first saw in book one. If you pay attention, yes Katara does retain that 'bossy' kind of personality, but that was permanent fixture due to her childhood trauma and a little bit of cultural influence as well. I think, if Katara had never been traumatized, she would have always leaned towards a very soothing and nuturing type of personality, which we began to see in the middle of book three. Her bossiness/mothering trauma response gradually lessened the longer she 'mothered' Aang. Once again, neither of the two saw each other as Mother-son. They were simple too close in age and Aang also had the added sense of duty-boundness due to being the Avatar. Katara was always going to be a caretaker archetype personality, trauma or no, and that simply wasn't the type of person that Zuko would lean towards for a romantic relationship due to his own personal upbringing and culture. Aang is a much more gentle and playfully empathetic personality that works with Katara's firm care and sassy disposition.

In the graphic novels, I personally saw a great deal of healing and maturation in Katara in relation to her trauma. She was less mothering towards Aang, too, and I think that had a lot to do with the fact that Aang matured a lot as well and the change in their once platonic relationship to a more romantic-leaning one. Was their relationship perfect? No, they are kids who survived a horrific war and many many trauma-inducing situations. However, once Katara fully leaned away from the mothering habit, we get to see that Aang allows Katara to relax and be more playful. She genuinely was just happy with Aang. He pushed her to be a little more child-like and to have child-like fun even as they grew up into adulthood. Katara helped Aang mature and face a lot of adult burdens that were placed child.

In the end, Katara and Aang always brought out the best in each other. Katara and Zuko didn't have enough time together in ATLA to develop an individual relationship outside of the group. There simply isn't enough time outside of their little side-quest in which Katara and Zuko interact solo- which was definitely NOT Katara's best, and in fact was Katara lashing out aggressively towards people who loved and cared for her and she them. Zuko was also not his 'best' in that time either as he was also being triggered emotionally. In fact, during ATLA, there's way too much negative tension between the two of them that leads to really intense disagreements and emotional outbursts more often than not until Katara begrudgingly accepts Zuko into the group, they don't even positively interact until Ember Island which is what, two weeks? She's not exactly nice when she pretty much demands him to help her hunt down the man that murdered her mother. Zuko is all gung-ho about vengeance too. Of course, they both have a lesson learning moment, but that episode cemented in my brain that Aang is the better partner for Katara than Zuko. Aang, once again the most mature in the Gaang, fight me on this, has a deep, empathetic understanding of the world, he doesn't do a great job trying to explain to Katara, but I think that's because no one in the Gaang understands how Appa is not just an air bison, and Aang never views Appa as an air bison like how everyone else in ATLA do. To everyone else, Appa's an animal, but to Aang and Aang's culture that is deeply offensive, Appa is an individual with emotions and value outside of what he can offer the group in terms of transportation and that's never really explicitly clarified to the audience either (because despite being a kid's cartoon, the creators knew their audience well and did not treat the audience like we are stupid and can in fact infer and read between the lines). If Katara had killed that pathetic worm of a man, it would have absolutely destroyed her as a person. She would not have been able to heal from her trauma and would probably suffer even more trauma and guilt. This side-quest was a plot point to lead up to the big debate of killing Ozai, and not many, in fact I don't know if anyone has talked about that fact. I have no doubt that Zuko has probably killed people, at the very least, he's deeply desensitized to people dying as I think he probably at some point did experience or witness some form of warfare battle before he began chasing Aang down.

Once again, I don't really care if you do ship Katara and Zuko. In fact, I think that's a-okay. But, with the Netflix live action adaptation's take on the Secret Tunnel scene, I've seen a lot of people speculating and even hoping for it to become canon and there have even been some opinions of Kataang that have resurfaced that really rub me the wrong way because it feels like many individuals are just looking at the surface level of ATLA. There's so much nuance to each individual character in terms of culture, societal norms, age and gender, and most importantly, trauma and trauma responses. The creators did an amazing job world building and story telling that a lot of what I put up in my opinion in preference for Kataang over Zutara is information that I inferred from the show and graphic novels due to my personal experience and education in familial relationships and childhood trauma. My thoughts are not the end all be all to this debate, nor do I think they should be, I've seen some really solid opinions in favor of Zutara that I can understand and somewhat agree with. I think a lot of those details and moments that people look to as indicators of romance between Katara and Zuko were remnants of the creators' previous intention, but I think that the change to Aang and Katara as end game was logistically and realistically more accurate. I never thought that Katara and Zuko were meant to be, and I always struggled to put to words as to why until I had pursued my psych studies in college that focused on child development, childhood trauma, and marriage and family counselling. I think that the creators instinctually were seeing the red flags that would have occurred naturally within Zutara and changed course accordingly. There were just a lot of details and nuances that I noticed personally that I wished more people would discuss.

Anyways, thank you for coming to my TedTalk, I'd love to hear some of your opinions about this.

#ATLA #avatar the last airbender #atla netflix #katara #zuko #aang #trauma #childhood trauma #kataang #zutara #katara x zuko #katara x aang #long post #debate

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kyywritess · 3 days ago

Text

CHAPTER 5: KNOW ITS FOR THE BETTER

pairing: aged up!katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

summary: After six intense years in Japan, YN LN has firmly established herself as a renowned gym owner. She's known by many pros for her charm, strength, and boxing abilities. She has a strong support system and amazing friends... her life in Japan was everything she dreamed it would be.

But everything changes one fateful night when a mysterious package appears on her doorstep. No note, no return address—just a plain box wrapped with a single pearly pink ribbon. As she unravels the contents of the box, she’s drawn into a dark, twisted mystery that seems to reach deep into her own past—a past she thought she had buried when she left her old life behind.

wc: 2.8k

---

Staring out at the skyline of Musutafu, Bakugo sat at a conference table with other pro heroes, the atmosphere heavy as grim photos flashed on the screen.

“There’s been another casualty,” a senior hero announced, their voice grim. “A young woman, found in her home last night. However, we managed to recover some security footage.”

Bakugo’s attention snapped to the screen, his heart skipping at the mention of a young woman and camera footage. His mind immediately jumped to you, but the knot in his chest loosened when he saw the images—it wasn’t you.

Still, he hadn’t seen or heard from you in days. He’d stopped by your place during patrol the other night to check on you after you’d taken a bad fall and hit your head.

When you hadn’t answered, he’d let himself in with the key you’d given him, scanning the apartment for signs of forced entry. Nothing seemed out of place—until he called you, and you finally answered.

The sound of another man’s voice in the background had caught him off guard.

Bakugo wasn’t one to get jealous. He didn’t chase after anyone. But you? You were different. You weren’t just anyone.

From the moment he met you—the sharp-tongued gym owner who could spar with him almost as well as you could trade barbs—he’d been hooked. There was something about the way you carried yourself, the spark in your eyes, your effortless strength.

Over time, his admiration had deepened. He noticed the little things: the slight change in your perfume, the way you’d stopped wearing your hair in a certain style, the way your laugh could disarm him like no villain ever could.

You were the exception, the one person he’d chase to the ends of the earth if he had to. And he wasn’t about to lose you to some extra who probably couldn’t throw a decent punch.

Snapping back to the present, Bakugo narrowed his eyes at the screen. Something in the footage caught his attention—a detail others had missed.

“Zoom in on that image,” he ordered, his voice cutting through the room.

Deku, holding the remote, adjusted the image, focusing on the man in the footage.

“More. His wrist.”

The screen zoomed in, revealing a tattoo on the man’s wrist. The word Omertà was inked in bold, an unmistakable symbol of the mafia’s code of silence.

“He’s flaunting it,” Bakugo growled. “The bastard knows we’re watching.”

Todoroki frowned. “It could be a coincidence.”

“No way,” Bakugo shot back. “He made sure the camera caught it. He wants us to know.”

Deku suddenly pulled up an old news report on his laptop. “This might be connected. A few years ago, an abandoned warehouse in the U.S. was blown up. They only recovered a few bodies, but every one of them had that same tattoo.”

“If this is an American mob, why are they here?” Todoroki asked, his voice steady but curious.

Deku shook his head. “The report didn’t give many details, and when I searched, there weren’t any follow-ups. Officially, they called it an accident.”

“Someone buried it,” Endeavor said, his tone grim. “The question is, who?”

“We need intel,” Bakugo said, his fists clenching. “Get the American Hero Committee on the line. If they’ve been dealing with these guys, they’ll know something.”

“I’ll handle the calls,” Deku offered, already typing.

Bakugo pushed his chair back, rising abruptly. “Do that. I’m not sitting around while these scumbags think they can move in on our turf.”

“Where are you going?” Endeavor asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Got somewhere to be.” Bakugo muttered, heading for the door. “Keep me updated.”

The team exchanged glances as Bakugo stormed out.

He couldn’t shake the thought of you, though. Whatever was happening, Bakugo knew one thing for sure: no one messed with his city—or with you.

---

YN’S POV

The past few days had been a blur of caffeine-fueled frustration as you and James worked tirelessly to gather intel. Despite countless hours and far too many coffee breaks, the pieces of the puzzle still didn’t fit together. Meanwhile, life didn’t slow down for your obligations outside the investigation. Running the gym meant you couldn't rely on your employees to pick up the slack—it wouldn’t be fair to them.

Tonight’s task was a children’s class, and your special guest was nowhere in sight.

You glanced at the clock, the start of the class just five minutes away, while kids eagerly laced up their gloves, their excited chatter occasionally turning to questions about your promised guest. Anxiety crept up your spine as you called him yet again, only to be met with voicemail for the umpteenth time.

It wasn’t just about tonight—you hadn’t spoken to him since the night you hit your head. Something about his silence gave you the nagging suspicion that he was mad at you. But you hadn’t expected him to be petty enough to completely ditch the class.

“You didn’t think I’d show, did you?”

The voice startled you, low and full of smug satisfaction. Spinning around, you found yourself face-to-face with none other than Katsuki Bakugo himself.

“Katsuki! What the hell?” you exclaimed, punching him in the arm with more force than necessary.

“Oi!” He winced, rubbing the spot with an exaggerated glare. “What was that for?”

“You were supposed to be here ages ago!” you huffed, arms crossed. “Do you know how many voicemails I left you?”

“I dunno, ten? I didn’t count,” he shot back, the smirk creeping onto his face only fueling your irritation. “Relax, I’m here now.”

“Barely.” You gave him your best stern look, though his lack of concern made it feel like you were trying to lecture a brick wall.

He quirked an eyebrow, his crimson eyes sparkling with mischief. “A meeting ran late, okay? I came as soon as I could.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, still not entirely appeased. “Help me grab these pads. We’re working on defense today.”

As you handed him a few pads, you retrieved the rest from the tote and launched into your explanation. “The kids can throw decent punches, but their defense is still pretty weak. I figured we’d give them a proper demonstration to help it click.”

Trailing behind you to the mat, Bakugo’s expression softened when he noticed the kids’ wide-eyed stares and excited whispers. The realization that Dynamight was standing in their gym had lit a fire of enthusiasm you hadn’t seen in ages.

“Alright, everyone,” you began, clapping your hands to gather their attention. “As promised, we have a special guest today—Dynamight himself!”

Gasps and cheers erupted, the kids practically bouncing with excitement. You spotted one in the corner nearly vibrating out of their shoes.

“Dynamight is here to help us with defense drills,” you continued. “And if you’re lucky, you might even get to fight him yourself.”

The kids collectively lost their minds, one of them outright shouting, “I’m gonna destroy you!”

Bakugo snorted, muttering under his breath, “Bold of ‘em to assume.”

“Dynamight, do you want to say something?” you prompted, nudging him lightly.

He stared at you, clearly out of his depth, but the silent plea in your eyes pushed him forward. “Can’t wait to see what you’ve got,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

You raised an eyebrow, your expression screaming that’s it?

Groaning under his breath, he added begrudgingly, “If you do good today, I’ll let you throw punches at me.”

The kids exploded in cheers, their excitement reaching a fever pitch.

Rolling your eyes, you motioned for them to line up against the wall. “Alright, me and Dynamight are going to demonstrate some basic defense moves. You’ll practice with pads while we suit up with gloves.”

Tossing a pair of gloves at Bakugo, you slipped yours on and got into position. “The first move is head defense. Dynamight, take a shot at me.”

He threw a slow, controlled hook toward your head, the smirk on his face daring you to mess up. You blocked it effortlessly, your arm shielding your ear, temple, and chin with practiced precision.

“See? Tight guard. Make sure your arm is tucked close to your face. Now, let’s see you all try!”

As the kids practiced, Bakugo leaned closer, his voice low. “You’re not half-bad at this.”

“Not half-bad?” you echoed, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I’m a great teacher.”

He smirked, leaning back shrug. “Yeah, yeah. Guess I wouldn’t mind havin’ you as my teacher back in the day.”

“Oh?” You quirked an eyebrow, intrigued. “What about Aizawa? You’re always singing his praises.”

“Tch, he was good. But I mean before U.A. Back when I was a little punk, maybe I’d’ve turned out different if I had someone like you around.”

You nudged him playfully. “Don’t dwell on it. I was a punk too, y’know. Besides, your personality is one of my favorite things about you.”

He turned to you, his expression softening. “You mean that?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

The rest of the class flew by, and true to his word, Bakugo let the kids take turns throwing punches at him. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him interact with them, his usual sharpness giving way to a surprising warmth.

“Thank you again.”

“Yeah.” Katsuki’s response was quiet, almost uncharacteristic, as he stared off to the side, his brows slightly furrowed like he was wrestling with his thoughts. You could sense there was something else he wanted to say, but hesitation hung in the air between you.

“Katsuki?” you prompted softly, tilting your head.

He shifted, exhaling sharply through his nose. “I wanted to ask ya somethin’.”

A nervous energy settled in your chest, your pulse quickening. His seriousness was rare, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was coming. Before he could continue, though, a hand on your shoulder snapped your attention away.

“Y/N.”

Turning around, you found James standing there, his expression calm but purposeful. He had been stationed in your office throughout the class, a constant shadow ever since his arrival, clearly intent on keeping an eye on you.

“I have a business call to take,” he said with a polite nod. “I’ll be outside when you’re ready.”

He gave a slight bow of his head toward Katsuki before turning on his heel and striding toward the exit. You barely had time to process his departure before Katsuki’s voice cut through.

“Who's the old bastard?”

You blinked, turning back to him. His ruby eyes narrowed slightly, and there was a flicker of something—irritation, curiosity, maybe even jealousy—etched into his face.

“That’s James,” you explained, adjusting the gym bag on your shoulder. “The ‘friend’ I was with the other night.”

“You like em' old?” he quipped, arching a brow.

Your eyes narrowed, and before you could think twice, you punched him lightly on the arm for the second time that evening. “He’s a family friend from America, you idiot. He and his wife are visiting, and I’m showing them around town.”

“Oh.” His response was clipped, almost sheepish, though he tried to mask it with a shrug.

“Yeah, oh.” You shot him a pointed look, your tone laced with mock exasperation. “Anyway, what did you want to ask me?”

It was clear his train of thought had been derailed. He seemed flustered now, his confident air wavering as the faintest pink dusted his cheeks.

“Nothin’,” he muttered, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “Forget it.” He made to turn away, but you weren’t about to let him off the hook so easily.

“Just ask me,” you said firmly, grabbing his hand and tugging him to a stop.

He let out a frustrated breath, looking anywhere but at you. “The hero gala is comin’ up,” he began, his voice gruff, almost like he was annoyed with himself for even bringing it up. “I need a date.”

“And?” you prodded, your brows lifting in encouragement.

“Was wonderin’ if you wanted to go with me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “Me?”

“No, idiot,” he shot back, rolling his eyes, though his flushed face betrayed him. “I’m talkin’ to the wall.”

A laugh bubbled out of you as you lightly swatted at his arm. “Why me?”

His lips pressed into a tight line, and for a moment, you thought he might backtrack entirely. But then he huffed, “Forget it. If you don’t wanna go, just say it.”

“No, no, I want to,” you blurted out quickly, a smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll go with you.”

“Yeah?” His gaze snapped to yours, a flicker of relief crossing his face.

“Yeah.”

As you smiled up at him, a wave of unease churned in your stomach, clashing with the butterflies that danced at his gaze—a gaze meant only for you. You were falling for him, and the timing couldn’t have been worse.

---

Bakugo had been riding a rare high ever since leaving the gym. For weeks, he’d been working up the nerve to ask you to be his date to the hero gala, and now that you’d said yes, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. The corners of his lips twitched into a small, satisfied smirk as he arrived back at the agency, heading straight for his office.

“Kacchan, wait!”

The familiar voice of Deku cut through the hallway, and Bakugo turned to see him hurrying over, a sense of urgency written all over his face.

“What is it now?” Bakugo asked, raising an eyebrow as Deku thrust a vanilla file folder into his hands.

“We got more information. Look at this.”

Flipping the folder open, Bakugo scanned the first page. A detailed report stared back at him, the name Anthony Moretti printed in bold letters at the top alongside a grainy photo of a middle-aged man with sharp features and cold, calculating eyes.

“Who the hell is this?” Bakugo questioned, his voice low and sharp.

“Anthony Moretti,” Deku explained, his tone grim. “He’s a Mafia boss from America. That warehouse that blew up? It was an underground club he was running.”

Bakugo frowned, his crimson eyes narrowing. “Why the hell was this sealed from public records?”

“The explosion was caused by a group of pro heroes,” Deku said, his voice dropping lower. “Not only did the blast kill everyone inside the building, but it also took out civilians nearby. The higher-ups didn’t want the general public knowing that pro heroes were responsible for innocent lives being lost.”

“Tch,” Bakugo scoffed, his grip tightening on the file. “They’re trying to cover their asses.”

“Exactly,” Deku said, handing over another folder. This one bore a picture of a masked hero, her face obscured but her stance confident and commanding.

“Do you remember her?” Deku asked.

Bakugo’s eyes darkened. “Yeah… Nova. She died a few years back.”

“She was the only hero assigned to the case,” Deku continued. “Apparently, all her work was undercover.”

“If she was the only hero, who the hell was she working with?” Bakugo asked, his tone clipped.

“She was partnered with two federal agents assigned by the Hero Committee—Lila Macontash and James Tucker,” Deku said.

“Do we have any way of getting a hold of them?” Bakugo pressed.

“Lila died in the explosion that night,” Deku explained, his voice heavy, “but I’m working on finding James Tucker. After Nova and Lila’s deaths, he went off the radar and stopped working with heroes for a while.”

“Find him. He’s probably the only shot we’ve got at figuring out what went down that night.”

“I’ve already got Todoroki tracking him,” Deku said.

“And what about Moretti?” Bakugo asked, his sharp gaze cutting to Deku. “Where is he now?”

“It’s unclear,” Deku admitted. “Apparently, after the explosion, they arrested him, but he escaped prison a few weeks ago.”

Bakugo let out a low growl, his irritation bubbling. “If his team’s here, then he has to be close. But why the hell would they come to Japan?”

Deku shook his head. “That’s what doesn’t make sense. It seems like they wanted us to know they’re here, but why target innocent women?”

Bakugo’s jaw clenched, his mind racing. “It doesn’t add up. The only two women who went after him—Nova and Lila—are dead. Even if they were alive, Moretti wouldn’t risk being in Japan just to send a message.”

“I’ll dig deeper,” Deku assured him. “I’ll see if he has any ties to Japan. And once we track down James Tucker, hopefully, we can piece together what really happened that night.”

“Good.” Bakugo’s voice was sharp and resolute. “Let me know the second you hear anything.”

---

TAGLIST: @emmaafinchh

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