#so you automatically had something slightly more depthful to talk about

[jesuisgourde]

yo how the FUCK do people make actual long term close friends in this day and age

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Going Live.

Pairing: Yandere!Nanami x Reader (JJK)

Word Count: 7.6k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Camgirl!Reader, Kidnapping, Physical Intimidation, Long-Term Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, Delusional Behavior, Slight Exhibitionism, and Panic Attacks + Disassociation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You were a lot of things to Nanami Kento – his world, his light, his love – but above all else, you were the reason he looked forward to getting home.

Calling it ‘infatuation’ would’ve been a disservice to the depth of his feelings for you. It’d been love at first sight; instant and wholehearted, a shackle snapped shut around his neck that he had no will or desire to escape. His eyes were on his watch as soon as he crossed the threshold, his coat shrugged off and abandoned along with his tie in the doorway. He didn’t bother turning on lights or taking off his shoes, doing anything to make his empty apartment seem more lived-in, his focus solely dedicated to reaching his home office with as few disruptions as was possible, with Gojo and the higher-ups still attempting to contact him about the curse he’d finished exorcising less than an hour prior. They could wait. You wouldn’t.

He was smiling by the time he collapsed into the leather-cushioned chair, his laptop still on his desk from the night before – the last time he got to see you. The motions were automatic, practiced to the point of reflexivity. One hand glided over the keyboard while the other found his phone, silencing it in the same motion as he tossed it haphazardly onto the desk, out of his view. He checked his watch one more time; 6:59. Good. He was early.

His grin brightened, as did his laptop. Your stream flickered to life a second later and with it, your smiling face. The relief was instant, pure warmth accompanying it. The bittersweet tinge – as subtle as it was prodding – came only a moment later, but Nanami did his best to ignore it.

You were the sole reason Nanami Kento looked forward to getting home. The center of his world, the sole light in his otherwise bleak life. The person he loved more than anything, more than everything.

It was only a shame, then, that you had no idea he existed.

One of his favorite things about you had always been your meticulousness. For tonight’s show, you were splayed out across the foot of a queen-sized bed, surrounded by pastel pink satin sheets and a fleece comforter of the same shade, a matching dormant hitachi vibrator (Nanami’s favorite and, guessing from how often it made an appearance in your shows, yours too) nestled between your thighs. Your outfit was aesthetically pleasing – a set of lacey, baby blue lingerie with white, knee socks – but paired with your set up, casual enough to give the impression that you hadn’t realized the camera you were posing in front of was actually on, as if you weren’t entirely prepared to be seen by a thousand or so strangers just yet. The fact that you didn’t start talking right away, only humming as you idly toyed with your hair, only added to the nonchalance of it all. You would make a good actress, if you ever decided to pursue something more, for lack of a more applicable phrase, legitimate.

Nanami’s attention drifted from you to your chat, slowly starting to fill with impatient viewers. Despite himself, he felt his absentminded smile waver, an irk of irritation momentarily tainting his bliss. He knew you weren’t entirely real, that he didn’t have any right to be possessive over a performer, but he loved you. It would’ve been difficult for anyone to watch someone they loved be exposed to so many prying eyes.

user34333: fuck she’s hot

hotbox420: looking good y/n!!!

lostandconfused: why does she still have her clothes on?

 The only silver lining was how oblivious you seemed to it. Another minute passed before you straightened, yawning slightly as you pushed yourself up, legs hanging over the foot of your bed. “Welcome home,” you started, with a quick stretch and a playful wave towards the camera. “Everyone’s already put the kids to bed, right? I’ve got a very special surprise I want to bring out a little later, so nobody’s allowed to leave early.”

Your tone was light, melodic, saccharine. Already, Nanami could feel his cock beginning to harden against his thigh, straining at the material of his pants. You were always mobile during your shows, prone to flitting from one position to another, but tonight, you almost seemed antsy as you pulled your legs back onto the mattress, tucking your knees underneath you and bowing your head, your neutral smile taking on a shy undertone. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” you admitted, speaking quickly enough for the words to blend together. Then, with more composure, “Who wants to get us started?”

Nanami’s hand was already on his keyboard, waiting for your cue. Somehow, he was still too late.

blueeyeswhitedragon sent 150 credits!

blueeyeswhitedragon: Bra first, pretty please.

You giggled as you raised your hands, leaning forward to give the camera a better view of your chest as you undid the clasp at the nape of your neck. Nanami’s breath hitched as the thin fabric fell away, revealing the soft curves of your breasts and your pretty, perfect nipples – already hard, already enough to make saliva pool underneath his tongue. The lower clasp was next, undone with more effort and more bouncing than what seemed absolutely necessary, but Nanami couldn’t complain, not when he was struggling to undo the fly of his dress pants without ever looking away from you. There was another giggle as the article fell away entirely, then a third as you cupped your chest with both hands, groping gently. “I used to be so shy about taking my top off on camera…” You trailed off, batting your eyes. “But, you guys think I’m pretty, right?”

Your requested affirmations flooded the chat in an instant. Nanami grinned, slumping back in his chair. He could compliment any part of you earnestly, but aside from donations, he rarely let himself participate in your chat. Speaking to you so openly, being one of a dozen people whose username you’d glance over in a second – that wasn’t what he wanted. Anonymous adoration wasn’t the shape his affection took.

Eventually, you collapsed back onto your bed. “Okay, okay, that’s enough,” you went on, as Nanami wrapped a fist around the base of his cock. “What next?”

There was another offer – 300 credits for your panties, 400 if you took them off with your back to the camera. You obliged, bent at the waist, inching the silken fabric down your thighs at an almost sadistic pace. After you finished, you seemed ready to move onto the main show, but another donation cropped up in your chat.

user34232 sent 75 credits!

user34232: for the socks pls

That, as far as Nanami could tell, seemed to catch you genuinely off-guard. He could see you blushing as you leaned towards the camera – or, he supposed, the laptop you had positioned underneath it, as if you’d misread something. “…my socks?”

Nanami stifled a grown, tightening his hold. With his free hand, he reached for the keyboard,

n. kento sent 200 credits!

n. kento: Don’t take them off.

You played your part perfectly, sighing as you let your head lull to the side. All it took was you batting your eye lashes while letting out the sweetest murmur of “Well, I don’t know if that’s fair, but…” for your chat to dissolve into a bidding war, donations ranging from five credits to five hundred. If you were making any earnest attempt to keep track of which side was winning, you clearly had no motivation to call it too early on – pulling your legs onto your bed and kicking your feet out playfully towards the camera. “Some of you guys ask for such weird stuff,” you went on, rolling your left ankle. “If someone doesn’t tell me what to do soon, I think I’m just going to have to change into another outfit.”

Nanami let out a breath of a chuckle, only half aware he was typing.

n. kento sent 1,750 credits!

n. kento: You look beautiful. Keep them on.

You laughed, and this time, Nanami chose to believe it was sincere. “I get it! We’ll move on.” You were already leaning back, rolling onto your stomach, giving your viewers a perfect view of your ass as you reached for something off-screen. “Normally I’d ask for a suggestion,” you said, as you brought what you’d retrieved back into frame – a pale pink rabbit vibrator, the penetrative half of the forked wand ribbed. “But I have something I’m kind of looking forward to. I promise, I’ll try to get past the boring stuff quickly.”

You thought too little of yourself. Arousal drooled from Nanami’s flushed tip as you positioned yourself on the edge of the mattress, legs spread wide and slick, glistening pussy fully on display. You were already wet, but he knew you would be. It was something you joked about often – how sensitive you were, how something as minor as a wet dream would have you soaking through your panties. Normally, he would’ve figured you were just playing it up for the sake of your viewers, but it was hard to deny the evidence in front of him.

A whimper slipped past your parted lips as you eased the head of the toy past your entrance, stretching yourself out on its bulbed tip. Now, now, he started to move his hand, pumping his fist over the length of his shaft in short, slow strokes, matching your tempo as you rocked your toy into your pussy. A dull hum fills the room as your thumb finds the switch built into the handle’s underside, and your expression immediately goes from dazed to pained, your tongue peaking out from between your lips and your eyes fluttering shut as your hips bucked against the vibrator. “It—It feels—” Your thighs threaten to twitch shut, but you hold them open, determined to give your audience the best possible view of your pussy clenching around your toy. “I really—I wanna get some bondage gear soon, so that I can—”

Whatever you might’ve said was replaced by a bubbling moan, and just like that, Nanami was fucking his fist without restraint. He knew how pathetic it was, but it would’ve been impossible not to imagine it was his cock sinking into your dripping cunt rather than an inanimate toy, not to wish it was your pussy clamping down around his length rather than his own fist. He wondered what you smelled like, if you wore perfume, what it would be like to have his face buried between your thighs. He was aware, vaguely, that your chat was the most active it’d been all night, people trying to catch your attention with donations and tips and compliments, but they didn’t matter. They weren’t watching you, not really, not the same way Nanami was. He knew you, well enough to know that you couldn’t think once something had been stuffed inside of your cunt. He loved you, enough to wish he was the one making your mind go so euphorically blank.

There was more moaning, more failed attempts to speak, but you didn’t let yourself cum. You were visibly trembling by the time you switched the toy off, and it took agonizing seconds to ease the wand out of your disappointed pussy – seconds Nanami watched with rapt devotion. More out of sympathy than anything else, he lets go of his cock entirely, gritting his teeth and attempting to ignore the pulsing ache forming in the pit of his stomach. What was next was better. What was next was worth waiting for.

You took a few panting breaths, your voice still airy by the time you managed to speak. “I have a—” You paused, grinned. Nanami smiled too. “I have a surprise for all of you, tonight. I think I mentioned that already, but— oh, right.” You perked up, playing excited. “We have to move to the floor, for this next part.”

You slipped off-screen, and a second later, the camera shifted to follow you – falling onto a corner of your room less staged than your bed, but just as pristine. Abstract, pastel tapestries obscured the walls, but the dark floorboards were left bare. On one side, most of a dog kennel was visible, decorated with string lights and clearly meant for one of your more niche shows, and on the other, he could make out the bottom corner of a poster – not for anything kinky, or sensual, or in any way suggestive, but an underground band, a local band. You probably hadn’t realized it was in the shot, let alone meant for it to be. You were usually more careful about giving away anything even remotely personal, but Nanami couldn’t be mad.

After all, it’d been that poster that’d let him find you.

He could still remember the first time he ever saw you – actually saw you, not through a screen, but in person. After he knew that you lived in the same city as him (the same district, even), it’d only taken a few more days to find your name, your age, your address. Still, he put off visiting you for weeks, telling himself that it didn’t matter, that you wouldn’t recognize him, that you wouldn’t want to see him. And, in the end, you hadn’t seen him at all – you hadn’t needed to.

That night, he’d watched your show from the rooftop of the building opposite of yours, straining to see you through a bedroom window left carelessly open. Even now, the guilt was almost tangibly agonizing, the shame practically unbearable.

Almost as unbearable as the temptation to go back.

But, that part would come soon enough. You were on screen, again, holding something he recognized.

“I have some exciting news,” you chirped, as you kneeled on the floor, holding a pitch-black dildo, a suction cup attached to the base. Despite its color, Nanami could make out defined veins running down the silicone shaft, a noticeable girth to the base. A perfect mirror of the cock currently pulsing for attention in his lap.

He felt himself grinning, as you went on. “I got my first real fan gift!” You held up the toy to your cheek, like a child showing off their first stuffed animal, before planting it on the floor between your thighs. “It��s so big, too,” you said, showing off its size, where the blunt tip rested well above your navel. “Everyone say thank you, Daddy Kento!”

Your chat was instantly flooded with predictable responses, but Nanami couldn’t look away from you. You were enjoying yourself, clearly. You must’ve thought you were so smart, renting out a P. O. box, going on and on about how grateful you were to your dedicated fans when he reached out to ask if you accepted physical donations, and you were smart. It was only a shame that Nanami loved you enough to look past all of your attempts to keep him away.

As you began to move onto your knees, he allowed himself one more intervention.

n. kento sent 3,000 credits!

n. kento: Take it to the hilt.

It was cruder than he usually cared to be, but as your eyes flickered towards your monitor, your lips quirked into a slight smile. You didn’t respond verbally, but you nodded, and sunk down onto his cock.

Immediately, his hand wasn’t enough, but he tried to make do – matching your agonizingly slow pace, imagining what it would feel like to have you lower yourself down onto his real cock, rather than a cheap imitation. Trails of iridescent slick dripped down the dark silicone, your camera positioned strategically to catch every bounce of your breasts as your breathing hitched, to provide the optimal view of your pussy stretching around the tip, then the head, then the shaft as you lowered yourself slowly. “It—It’s so big,” you repeated, bringing a hand up to your stomach while the other remained on the floor, keeping you stable. “I mean, I knew it would be, but—fuck—” Another inch, Nanami’s fist moving over the same part of his cock. You let out an airy laugh. “Just be thankful I’m so tough.”

“I am,” Nanami muttered, his voice echoing off the bare walls of his office. “You’re perfect.”

“I really wanna cum on this one, too – to, like, christen it, or something. Been keeping myself pent up all day for it.” With a pitchy keen, you brought yourself a few inches higher, then dropped. Your free hand shot away from your stomach and back to the floor as you continued to bounce on the toy’s length, getting just a little deeper each time. “Welcome it to family, y’know? Maybe make it a regular, for you sadists out there.”

Nanami stiffened at the thought of you fucking yourself on a replica of his cock in front of thousands of people twice a week; drooling and panting as you told your viewers how big he was, how good he felt inside of you. With his restraint brought to its limits, he fucked his fist carelessly, his attention fixed on the steady movements of your hips as you rode his toy. Your eyes didn’t flutter closed, this time – they clenched shut, and you couldn’t seem to keep your voice under control, little mewls and half-conscious whines bubbling up from your chest as you struggled to take that much more of him with every thrust. When you did manage to speak, your voice was uneven, whiney, so sweet it made him want to dig his teeth into something and tear. “I’m so close,” and then, as you brought yourself back down, so close to bottoming out, “I wanna cum!”

“You will,” Nanami whispered. He knew you couldn’t hear him, but it was true – you would, and if he’d been able to, he would’ve made you. He would’ve let you fuck yourself on his cock whenever you asked, would’ve woken you up every morning coming undone on his tongue and made sure you fell asleep with his cock buried inside of you. If you were with him, you’d never have to think again, never have to feel anything but pleasure – any time you wanted it, every time you wanted it. He’d make sure—

You didn’t moan as you reached the toy’s base, you screamed. One of your hands moved to the space between your thighs, two fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit as you nursed yourself through your orgasm. Nanami didn’t stand a chance, still chasing his fantasies as he spilled over his hand; searing hot cum pooling on his lap, soaking into the material of his shirt, spilling onto his desk. He didn’t stop moving his hand, though, not until you went limp – bending at the waist, bracing yourself on the floor. Finally, you managed to raise your head, flashing that brilliant smile towards the camera. Of course, Nanami smiled back.

In a daze, he watched you ease yourself off of the toy and wrap up your stream, so familiar from your script that he would’ve been able to recite it with confidence. Even after you signed off, the screen going black, he didn’t move, only letting his head roll to the side with a shallow sigh.

It was pathetic, just how much he loved you. It was painful, being so far from someone who made him feel so irrationally happy.

He could only count the days until he wouldn’t have to limit himself to only watching from a distance any longer.

~

There was a man in your apartment.

A man you didn’t want to be in your apartment, just to be clear. You’d heard the front door open, seen a bulky silhouette moving through your living room, and now, you were listening to him riffle through your bedroom as you hid in the en suite bathroom – crouched in the smallest corner you could find with both hands locked over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound of your own breathing. The door was locked, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t want to find out how much a thin sheet of wood would do to protect you. You didn’t want to give him a reason to acknowledge you at all.

As far as you could tell, there was only one intruder. You could only hear one pair of muffled footsteps, with second-long gaps between every little movement. The air caught in your throat as you heard him edge closer, closer, then pause. There was a dull clack, the sound of metal clashing against plastic, and you relaxed, sighing into your palms. Your filming equipment. It was expensive, but nothing you couldn’t replace. If you were lucky, he’d take what he could carry and leave.

And that was what he seemed to be doing, too – more rustling interrupted every so often by a few moments of heart-wrenching silence. Soon enough, you heard the intruder start to move again, his footsteps edging closer to the bathroom door as he moved to leave your bedroom entirely, and—

“(Y/n)?”

Fuck.

You didn’t say anything, holding your breath and digging your nails into your cheeks, willing yourself not to move, not to think. You didn’t make a sound, you couldn’t have, and yet he kept talking.

“I know you’re in there. Please, come out.”

He couldn’t know. He couldn’t know. You’d kept the lights off, and you hadn’t moved in minutes, and—

He tried the knob, and something cracked deep inside of your chest. There was an airy sigh, then a dull thud, like he was leaning against the door frame. “Please,” he repeated, sounding more exasperated than angry. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“Y-you can take whatever you want,” you stuttered, your voice unsteady, just a touch louder than it really had to be. That was fine. You didn’t have to pretend to be brave, so long as you made it out of this alive and uninjured. “I won’t call the police – I can’t call the police, I left my phone in the kitchen. You can take it, too. I… I don’t have a lot of cash, but my camera, it should be worth—”

“I don’t want your camera, love.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought he sounded wistful. “Come out, or I’ll break down the door.”

Honestly, it hadn’t occurred to you that he could.

It took a second to pry your hands off of your face, and another to push yourself to your feet – your legs shaking as you struggled to stand. Almost mechanically, you moved towards the door; unlocking it in the same motion as you pulled it open. Light from your bedroom spilled into the entryway, revealing—

God.

He was taller than you’d expected him to be.

Six feet at least, with a build to match. The sleeves of his dress-shirt were rolled up to his elbow, showing off arms so muscular, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d planned to tear your door off its hinges with his bare hands. He had a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, visibly full, but you could still see your equipment standing untouched behind him, and you couldn’t imagine anything else he would’ve wanted to take. His blonde hair was swept back, out of his eyes, and he was holding a butcher’s knife in his right hand, the blade wrapped in leopard-spotted fabric. Surprisingly, though, his weapon wasn’t what concerned you the most.

He was smiling. No, actually, that wasn’t right.

He was beaming.

“(Y/n),” he said, again. You didn’t let yourself wonder why he knew your name. “I—I’m sorry, I should’ve introduced myself earlier. I might’ve gotten a little carried away – I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“…it’s okay,” you managed, your voice barely audible. “Are you going to kill me?”

His expression dropped. “No. Of course not.” And then, after a brief lapse, “I’d never hurt you. I…” You saw his right hand flex around the grip of his knife, and thought you might black out. “I’m a fan.”

Instantly, you felt the blood freeze in your veins.

Fuck. Fuck.

You knew you should’ve gone into accounting.

“I… You’re a fan?” You tried to smile, but it might’ve come across more pained than relieved. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to meeting people who’ve caught my stream. Should I know what to call you?”

And just like that, his grin was back, any momentary tension assayed. You wished he would’ve put down the knife, too, but beggars can’t be choosers. “Kento,” he said, and for the first time, you noticed the pink hue creeping over his cheeks. “Nanami Kento.”

You grit your teeth as you struggled to place him. After a second, it came to you.

Kento. Right. The dildo guy.

Somehow, knowledge provided little comfort. Still, you soldiered on. “It’s really nice to meet you, Nanami.” You clasped your hands behind your back, rocking gently on your heels. “I—I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting any guests. If you want to step out for a couple minutes, I can change into something more comfortable, and show you how appreciative I am for your—”

“I’m not an idiot.” He cut you off, still grinning. “You’re coming with me.”

You didn’t let your smile waver, either. “And, if I didn’t want to go with you…?”

 “I’m afraid this isn’t about what you want, anymore.”

You meant to say something – opened your mouth and everything – but nothing came out. Your heart tightened in your chest, a not inconsiderable portion of your mind screaming for you to run, run, run. And yet, when he took you by the wrist in a feather-light hold, leading you through your own apartment and out into the hall, it was all you could do to smile and follow after him.

~

The first thirty minutes of the car ride passed in silence. Nanami – because you couldn’t stand to keep thinking of him as ‘that guy who bought you a dildo shaped like his own dick and paid you thousands of dollars to ride it live on stream’ – kept his knife in his lap, his hand falling away from the wheel and onto its hilt whenever you so much as took a deep breath. Eventually, your eyes fell to the clock built into his dashboard, and you broke through your paralysis with a nervous laugh.

“It’s a little funny,” you started, for lack of anything else to do. “I’d actually normally be getting ready for my stream, around now.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him swallow, his jaw tensing. “I know.”

Great. Okay. Whatever. “I don’t mind, y’know,” you managed, before you could let yourself fully consider what you were going to say. “If it means we don’t have to go through with the whole kidnapping thing, I really wouldn’t mind sleeping with you – you can even take pictures, if you’d like that, or record, whichever you’d prefer.”

“That’s not what I—”

“I haven’t tried a lot of hardcore stuff, but I wouldn’t mind if that’s what you’re into. We don’t even have to go back to my apartment, you could just pull over, and—”

“That’s not what I’m interested in.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone left no room for protest. “I’m not going to… I’m not going to just fuck you once and leave you by the side of the road. I’m doing this for your sake.”

As if you’d willingly climbed into a maniac’s car. “I… I’m not following, Kento.”

“It’s for your own protection. Once I thought to look, it took me hours to find out everything about you.” He spared you a quick glance, that same uncanny smile. One of his hands left the wheel and, rather than moving to his knife, found your knee, squeezing gently. It took everything you had not to scream. “Imagine what someone could do with that kind of information. They could blackmail you, if they found your full name, or track you down if they pieced together your address. It’d be a miracle if they were only a stalker. It just wasn’t safe to let you keep going on that way.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him. “They could even break into my apartment and abduct me at knifepoint.”

His gaze narrowed, but his smile only softened. Neither of you spoke for the rest of the journey.

After far too long and not nearly long enough, you reached your destination: a housing complex, leagues nicer (and more expensive) than your own rundown building. Calling them apartments would’ve been a disservice; they were more similar to free-standing condos, or miniature villas slotted just outside of the city’s more metropolitan districts. Without a word, you let him guide you into a relatively generic home, its only notable feature being the absolute lack of evidence of meaningful life within it. You wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a rental, leased exclusively to give him someplace to do… well, whatever he planned to do to you. It’d be more off-putting to know that someone actually lived someplace so vacant.

He led you through the empty halls and up a flight of stairs, keeping you in front of him and in his line of sight at all times. Finally, you reached the door he seemed to be looking for and, with a nod by way of instruction, let yourself inside.

Before you stood, puzzlingly, your own bedroom.

Or – the parts of it you could make out on camera, at least. The bed was the same size, the same model, made with the same sheets and littered with the same pillows, but the floor was covered in a harsh white carpeting, the surrounding walls soundproofed with suffocating black foam. Camera equipment identical to your own had been set-up at the foot of your bed, but an unfamiliar silver laptop replaced your own sticker-covered monstrosity. You didn’t see any chains, whips, or shock collars, which was good. You still didn’t know what the fuck was going on, which was bad.

Confused, you turned to Nanami as he crossed the threshold and rather conservatively, shut and locked the door. “There are clothes on the bed,” he explained, with a tone that made it difficult to tell whether or not he knew how weird this was. “A script, too. Memorize as much as you can.”

So he still expected you to stream. Or, that was what you hoped, at least – considering the only alternative was that he was planning to make an extremely elaborate snuff film. “I’m not used to using scripts.”

“You’ll manage.”

You didn’t bother trying to argue, only moving towards the bed and attempting to forget he was there entirely.

The ‘clothes’ he’d left for you turned out to be lingerie – the nice stuff, too, white and lacey and bridal with a babydoll cut. You glanced over his script (which, disturbingly, didn’t exactly not sound like you) as you got dressed and fixed your hair, doing the best you could without any of your usual supplies. You wouldn’t be able to reapply your make-up, but you’d put some on earlier, and—

You almost laughed at yourself, stifling a chuckle.

You’d been kidnapped, and you were worried about your make-up. If you got out of this alive, you swore, you’d never touch foundation or a ring light or a camera ever again.

He didn’t have to tell you when it was time – you would’ve known by instinct alone. With Namami watching from an armchair pushed against the opposite wall, you clambered onto the bed and took your usual position, kneeling in center frame. He’d never asked for your credentials, and yet, when you glanced towards the laptop positioned just underneath the main camera, you found that your own profile was already pulled up, a miniature timer in the corner of the screen counting down the seconds until you went live.

As it reached thirty seconds ‘till, it occurred to you that you were in a soundproof room alone with the man who’d kidnapped you and was currently holding you hostage, and that no one could’ve possibly known where you were or, more importantly, who you’d been taken by.

As it reached fifteen, you realized you were being held captive and being forced to wear bridal lingerie that your kidnapped must’ve picked out with the occasion in mind.

As it reached five, for the first time that day, you thought you might actually start to cry.

And, as it reached zero, you put on your biggest, brightest smile and hoped beyond hope that you’d stop thinking entirely, eventually.

“Welcome home!” Skipping over your normal grace period only felt right. You didn’t think you’d be able to survive sitting in silent, motionless suspension for another second, let alone a full minute. “Sorry if I seem a little nervous tonight – to tell the truth, I kind of am. I’ve got a major announcement, and I just can’t put it off any longer.”

Reflexively, your attention drifted first to your own feed – you looked perfect, as always – then to your chat, moving quickly despite your sudden start. You caught a few of the longer messages in your peripheral.

secretary.lover: Is it just me, or does she seem kind scared lmao?

blueeyeswhitedragon: yeahhh i thought her room looked kinda weird too lol

justheretowatch: fuck ur pretty

rapidfire: let me guess, another fake dick?

“I know I probably should’ve given you guys more of a warning,” you went on, fighting the temptation to break, to yell for them to call the police, to give up entirely and make a run for it. “But…”  

You forced yourself to laugh, to beam, to clap your hands together in front of your chest like a schoolgirl – excited to tell her friends that she’d gone through with her first ever confession. “I’m getting married!”

You didn’t have a ring to show off, but you tried your best to preen regardless, to not let any amount of fear or discomfort or hesitation show on your shining expression. After a show delay, congratulations and well-wishes filled your chat (some genuine, others more reluctant), and you did your best to go on without letting the sizable knot slowly gaining mass in the back of your throat smother your voice entirely. “This is going to be my last stream – for a while, at least, until we get settled in. And…”

You tried to remember what’d been listed next in Nanami’s script, but your conscious mind was bogged down by a thick layer of buzzing static, your sense of improvisation dulled by a heavy dose of anxiety. Your eyes flickered to where Nanami was sitting behind your equipment, only to find that the chair he’d formerly occupied empty. You didn’t have time to panic before the edge of the mattress dipped under a new weight, and you remembered what you were supposed to say. “My husband actually wanted to cameo on my send-off show. I was a little hesitant—” Another dip in the mattress, this one much closer than the last. “—but he insisted. I thought you all deserved a chance to meet him, too.”

As soon as you finished, you felt a large hand on your shoulder, a sudden presence at your back. Your gaze fell back to your feed, your own image now accompanied by that of your captor – on his knees behind you, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip, the framing positioned so that his head was cut off just above the mouth. The lower half of his face was covered with a black surgical mask, and you had to stop yourself from frowning. You hadn’t expected him to be stupid enough to show his face on camera, but still.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you felt his hand fall away from your shoulder, slipping underneath the lace camisole of your babydoll. You tried not to move, not to flinch, but you couldn’t stop yourself from jerking forward as you felt his hand slip under your bralette, the angular ridges of his knuckles visible through the thin silk. Despite everything he’d said about not hurting you, about doing this for your protection, he made no attempt to be gentle – the calloused pads of his fingers pressing into the curve of your breast with enough force to bruise. You bit back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sincere reaction. If you wanted to go home, you had to put up with this. He’d never said anything about pretending to enjoy it.

(In the back of your mind, you knew he hadn’t said anything about letting you go home, either. Still, you didn’t let yourself dwell on such discontinuities).

 You should’ve known better than to think he’d attempt to follow the normal flow of your stream, and yet, it still caught you off-guard when his unoccupied hand found its way to the waistband of your panties, then to your clothed sex. You weren’t overly sensitive, despite how you might’ve acted in front of your viewers, but you were still on edge, still panicked, and while the adrenaline being held at knifepoint might’ve sparked was beginning to fade, having your kidnapper grope you on camera was enough to bring on a fresh wave. Reflexively, you pressed your back into his broad chest as his thumb traced over the length of your slit, pausing only momentarily to press into your clit with a dull, oppressive sort of pressure, biting down on your bottom lips to stop anything vulnerable and pathetic from escaping. If Nanami was affected by your stoicism, it wasn’t enough to stop him from pulling the flimsy material to the side entirely and slipping two fingers into you, your now-slick cunt providing humiliatingly easy access. In the same motion, the heel of his palm pressed into your clit, the friction immediately too harsh, too much. It would’ve been too much if he wasn’t touching you at all. It would’ve been too much if he was still sitting alone in his dark, empty house – getting off to the idea of degrading someone he claimed to care about so publicly.

It didn’t help that you were wet. Not dripping, sure, but wet enough for there to be an audible, slick clicking-type noise as he pumped his digits into you, never taking the pressure off of your clit. You could feel his cock pressed into your ass, already hard, already too familiar not to be nauseating, but he didn’t seem to be in a rush to move past your exhibition; his pace measured and experimental, his fingers prone to spreading apart and curling inside of you. To distract yourself, you moved your attention back to your chat, trying to pick out the longer messages between donation notifications.

user84343: girl i call dibs when you’re done with him

hotbox420: no seriously y/n are you okay???

bunnygirl69: still can’t believe you’re leaving us for him </3 can’t say i don’t see why tho ToT

absolutely.soaked: Blink twice if you’re in danger lmaoooo

“G-guys, I’m totally—” Your breath hitched as he forced another finger into you, the stretch now a touch past ignorable. His other hand kneaded at your chest, blunt nails scraping against tender flesh, and momentarily, you wondered if it really would’ve been so bad to take your chances and let him kill you right away. “I’m totally fine, I’m just—” His nails bit into your skin by way of warning, and you allowed yourself a single, stilted moan. “I’m just so happy that I finally get to—to—”

You didn’t know what you were supposed to say, but it didn’t matter. Nanami’s hand dropped from your chest to your side, his arm locking over your midriff and hauling you that much closer. You couldn’t stop yourself this time – whimpering as the tempo of his fingers sped up, as tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes. You glanced around the bedroom, searching for anything familiar, anything you could use to stabilize yourself, anything that you could start to find comforting. Instead, your eyes landed on the duffle bag he’d carried out of your apartment, the zipper now partially undone. You couldn’t see much, but you could make out the handle of a pink hitachi. It wasn’t difficult to guess what the rest of the bag’s contents looked like, what he’d spent so long riffling through your possessions to find.

It wouldn’t been pointless to try and hold back the crooked, ebbing sob that leaked past your lips. This time, when you turned to face your camera, it was with tears just beginning to spill and absolute terror written across your expression. “Call the police,” you managed to spit out, making no attempt to be subtle. “I—I don’t actually know this man, and this isn’t my apartment, and—“

It happened too quickly – like he’d been expecting you to do something so obviously short-sighted. You processed that he was pulling out of your cunt as you felt his fingers entangle themselves in your hair, and then your face was being shoved against the mattress, your body folding over itself as he forced you down. You tried to yell, tried to scream, but your voice was muffled by your own fucking comforter as you heard fabric shifting behind you, as you felt something warm and stiff and leaking align with your entrance. You refused to put a name to it, but that didn’t help. Nothing would’ve helped.

His palm pressed into the back of your head, his body slotting against yours as he leaned down, lowering his head so that he could speak directly into your ear. “I’m doing this for your own good,” he whispered, his voice muffled but still painfully audible. “I’m doing this because I love you.”

You didn’t have a chance to response. He was already inside of you – his cock filling you to your breaking point.

You weren’t sure if your viewers could hear you, but you hoped they could. It would’ve been a pity to sob so loudly for the sole entertainment of the sick, sick man currently rutting into you, grinding into your cunt from behind with a kind of animalistic desperation – all desire and no control. It was a struggle to stay on your knees, not to go entirely limp underneath him, but you doubted it would’ve made a difference if you hadn’t, that he wouldn’t have fucked your limp body just as enthusiastically. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could just barely see the monitor – the miniature image of Nanami’s body moving on top of yours, his blond hair still obscuring the other half of his face, and then next to it, your chat. If you’d been thinking more clearly, you wouldn’t have let yourself look, wouldn’t have let yourself fully acknowledge that there were still thousands of people watching you, but you weren’t thinking at all, and you would’ve given anything for someone to say something that made you forget where you were, just for a second.

sniper727: so the bitch likes it rough? hot

callmeanonymous: FINALLY!!! I’ve been waiting for some cnc rp for actual years.

blueeyeswhitedragon: hey i think i might work with that guy

hotbox420: yeah no i’m calling the cops.

Predictably, your efforts were grotesquely unsuccessful.

Nanami didn’t seem as bothered. The weight on the back of your head disappeared as his hands found your hips, pulling up as he straightened his back. For anyone else, it might’ve been an awkward position – holding up your uncooperative form while bouncing you on his cock  – but no amount of unpleasant technicalities could’ve stopped him from burying himself to hilt with every stroke, keeping you in a constant state of mind-numbing fullness. You tried to talk, again, to call for help, but fractured mewls and pathetic whines drowned out whatever you might’ve said, and even those were put to an end as Nanami took you by the jaw, turning you to face him as his lips crashed into your – his mask either pulled down or discarded entirely, you couldn’t be bothered to check. The kiss itself was messy, rough, brutal, his tongue raking over yours as you sobbed unabashedly into his mouth – your connection only growing more chaotic as his hand once again found your clit and ground two fingers into the sensitive bundle of nerves. You knew what he wanted. You knew what he was trying to do.

And you couldn’t do anything to stop him.

With a ragged sob, you came undone around his cock, any strength you might’ve once had flooding out of your body and dripping down his shaft. Nanami groaned into your mouth, drawing back just far enough to bury his face in your neck and mouth meaningless nothings into your throat as he chased his own climax. He thrusted into you again once, twice, and then you felt pure heat pour into you – a new kind of torture that rendered you entirely senseless. You didn’t try to scream, again.

You were distantly aware of him moving, shifting, pulling something out of his pocket as he muttered a mix of ‘you did so well’s and ‘I love you’s into your skin. When you did finally manage to raise your head, you didn’t think to look toward the remote in his hand or your tattered lingerie or the cum slowly leaking out of your entrance. Rather, your attention landed on the same thing it always did during your streams – your monitor.

You’d never know why, but for whatever reason, you could feel your heart break in your chest as you realized that the screen had already gone black.

[distant-velleity]

cat got your tongue?

Summary: Five times Yuhua didn't say what he thought and one time he finally snapped at someone other than Ace (verbally. You don't get the physical beatdown yet). Word count: 3.6k+ A/N: LMFAO okay so. I had this idea like 3 weeks ago but I only got around to writing it recently. It's ... honestly somewhere between serious and slightly crack treated seriously but yk fuck it we ball. No beta. Outsider POV. FloYu crumbs and everything. Let's go. (Also a sneak peek at my new OC :))) ) Taglist (lowk forgot who's on this so uhhhhh. Some people might have been tagged incorrectly): @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @elenauaurs @casp1an-sea @nahelenia

@boopshoops @skriblee-ksk @nemisisnemi @nyx-of-night @scint1llat3

@the-banana-0verlord @beneathsakurashade

~

I. 

One day where he can make it out of the cafeteria in peace. That’s all Florian wants. And yet—

“Hey, freak. Where’s that meal combo you promised to get for me? And the homework you said you’d do for me?”

Eeeek!!!

Florian almost bursts into tears on the spot when someone in his grade, a burly bear beastman, grabs him by the back of his collar. It hasn’t even been two weeks into the school year and this guy, Darren, has made it his personal mission to target the weakest student he could find. 

“Uh—um—I—” Aaaahhhh!! Get me out of here!!!!! “M—My housewarden, Rosehearts, he… He caught me trying to do your homework for you, a-and…”

“Bullshit,” Darren snaps, “You—”

He’s cut off when someone bumps into him—that someone being none other than the magicless assistant, Yuhua. 

Yuhua. Florian’s saved! He’s really saved! Surely, the person who’d suddenly gotten involved with Heartslabyul’s tyranny and pulled off such heroic moves can do something about this…!!

“Whoa… Sorry. What’s going on here?” asks Yuhua.

Darren glares at him, and Florian wilts from second-hand fear. “Nothing, just a talk between classmates. Keep moving.”

Florian gives Yuhua the most pitiful, pleading, desperate look he can in the hopes that it’ll communicate a cry for help.

It seems to work, because the TA turns to the other freshman and tilts his head. “Yeah… That’s definitely all that’s going on? No intimidation or anything?”

“How’s any of that your business?”

“Hey—” Yuhua throws up his hands in a placating gesture, although his expression looks very bothered. “I’m just asking…”

Well, that doesn’t work. Darren lets out a low growl from the depths of his throat. “Who the hell do you think you are, seriously? You think a bunch of rumors are gonna make me afraid of you? Fuck off already.”

Yuhua frowns. “Then… Then maybe you shouldn’t consider doing this in the middle of the cafeteria if it’s private business?”

“Are you kidding me?” Another pissed off growl, and Darren shoves Yuhua. “I could burn you to ashes like it’s nothing. Don’t forget that you’re magicless.”

It’s not directed at Florian, really, but he can’t help but wither and shrink into himself even more on Yuhua’s behalf. Scary… He wants to say something to defend Yuhua, to say that everything’s fine, but—when he looks over at the TA…

Yuhua opens his mouth automatically as if to say something, then closes it. Florian isn’t nearly good enough at reading that kind of complicated expression yet, but he seems to consider something deeply for a second. “Jeez… You know what?”

“What?”

Florian stays silent, eyes wide. He mentally echoes the question—what? Did Yuhua come up with a genius plan to de-escalate the situation? Or to retaliate? Please, please, say this knight in shining armor will do something—

“I just remembered, Crewel needs Florian for something~” Putting on a smile that seems fake even to Florian, Yuhua switches up his mood like it’s nothing. “Sorry. Maybe we can resolve this another time.”

Florian and Darren blurt out, “Huh?” at the same time. 

“Come on. He won’t wait forever.” Yuhua pats Florian on the shoulder and uses that to quickly weave them into the crowd of students, making their escape. As much of an escape as it can be called—they’re really only saved by being smaller compared to the beastman, small enough to get through the lunch line mob.

Sigh…

To be honest, Florian was expecting something a little cooler after seeing Yuhua’s defeat of Riddle, but as long as he’s safe for now…

—

II.

It’s a beautiful day outside, the birds are chirping, and the flowers are blooming… something like that. Meanwhile, Ace could be doing something fun right now, but he’s stuck doing an assignment for potions class. Collecting ingredients in the botanical garden… does it get more boring than that? Someone, free him already.

At least he’s pretty sure Yu’s around here somewhere. So, once he’s done collecting a jar-ful of some plant with a name too long to memorize, he’s off to find his yellow-eyed partner in crime.

Making sure to avoid the tropical zone (Yu had warned him about a… uh, certain lion beastman taking naps there), Ace navigates the garden with the ease of a slightly-familiar tourist. The TA had said he’d be near the entrance, so—

“Well? What are you just standing there for?”

…Huh?

Ace turns a corner on the path and is immediately greeted by a sight he probably should have expected—a fight, or something, a commotion smack in the middle of the botanical garden.

“You—Is there some cue I’m missing here?” asks Yu, and Ace realizes with some horror that he’s holding a very obviously bruised cheek. Umm, what the fuck? “Is this suddenly your… territory, or something?”

The other guy, the one who’d spoken earlier, crosses his arms. “No… but I told you to scram already, so scram. Just seeing a magicless charity case here makes me sick.”

Magicless charity case. It’s not the first time Ace has heard those words directed at Yu, and it definitely won’t be the last. Still, it makes his blood boil, and by the looks of it Yu is getting pretty pissed, too. 

Ace steps forward, finding his place next to Yu. “Uh, who the hell even are you?” he asks the other guy. “Don’t talk to Yu like that.”

“Ace?” Yu blinks. “What are you—”

“See? A charity case.” The other guy tsks. “You even need a freshman to help you out.”

No, seriously, what is this guy’s deal? What did Yu even do to warrant getting hit and treated like this? Ace swears the TA is a magnet for trouble. 

“He’s not—” Yu closes his mouth, and takes a deep breath. “Okay, then. Have it your way. Ace, did you get everything you needed?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Great. Let’s go.”

Even though Yu is a solid eleven or so centimeters shorter than him, Ace finds himself being dragged out of the garden by the coat lapels. He stumbles, but Yu keeps pressing forward, storming away until they’re well out of earshot from that prick.

Finally, Yu lets go.

“What was that?” Ace demands, straightening his labcoat to the best of his ability.

“I don’t know,” mutters Yu. “Some asshole. I don’t even know his name.”

“Okay. And why did we just leave like that? He hit you, didn’t he? And what he called you—you’re just gonna let that slide?”

Ace is, to be frank, nothing short of bewildered. Doesn’t Yu have any sort of dignity, a sense of, what, honor? Yes he does, Ace is pretty sure he’s seen it, so why didn’t he just… you know… let himself be mad?

Yu rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. There were still other students there, you know. I didn’t want to cause a scene.”

Cause a—

“Now, can we go to the infirmary? I don’t like talking to the nurse on my own.”

“You—”

Oh, what the hell. 

Ace doesn’t get it at all, he wishes Yu would have stood up for himself, but fine. That stupid bruise won’t heal itself.

—

III.

To call the Mostro Lounge boring would be inaccurate. With a bustling population of both students and employees at most times of the day, there’s always some entertainment to be had for Jade. Especially when he’s on the job, serving drinks and handling disputes.

But, well… That isn’t to say he minds when there’s a bit of additional drama. Especially on the day when Azul has asked Yuhua to cover someone’s shift.

CRASH!

An Ignihyde student shoves the TA, although it looks like a mere accident—a rush to get back to his well-earned seat after using the bathroom. Consequently, the drinks for their table are spilled… all over Yuhua, who’s been knocked to the ground.

“What the hell?!” demands the student. “You clumsy little bitch—those were our drinks!”

Stunned, Yuhua is frozen, staring at the fallen drinks in shame. “I—”

Oh, dear. There’s a bit of a berth forming around them, multiple people craning their heads to look at the source of the shouting, but Jade can get a good look even from this distance. 

“I can’t believe this.” The student continues to go on a tirade, complaining about the service, about whoever let Yuhua work—and finishes off with, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Oh my—what arrogance. 

Jade is rather certain, actually, that this Pomefiore student was one of many who had been turned into anemones by Azul just a few weeks ago. It seems that he’s painfully unaware of how much Yuhua had sacrificed to save his sorry hide, however.

And Jade is certain that the same thought is running through Yuhua’s mind right now, although he can’t quite see his face. The TA digs his long nails into the fabric of his pants, a clear sign of suppressing anger.

Oh, dear~ Perhaps, it’s time for Jade to extend a helping hand—

Instead of fighting back, Yuhua lets out a soft sigh that blows his bangs out of his face. The action reminds Jade something of a popped balloon.

“Sorry,” the pitiful TA replies, finally raising his head. His expression is neutral despite the remaining redness of his cheeks. “I’ll take care of it. You’ll be rightfully compensated for this.” Said a bit despairingly, resigned. 

It seems to appease the student, who grumbles a little more before sitting back down. 

Yuhua’s lips set into a thin line for a moment. He gets himself back onto his feet, only kneeling down again to collect the fallen drink glasses and tray. The other waiters make a respectful, awkward space around him as they walk by.

How… disappointing. Jade would have anticipated more of a fight, based on not only certain rumors but also what he had seen during Azul’s Overblot, but it seems Yuhua hadn’t quite reached the boiling point just now. Instead, he’d settled for people-pleasing.

If it were me, thinks Jade with a pleasant smile on his face, I wouldn’t have let that ungrateful anemone escape with all his teeth and joints intact.

But in any case—

“Do you need any assistance?” he asks, approaching Yuhua.

He gets a surprised look for his troubles, and a rejection. “No, it’s okay…” Yuhua smiles, laughing it off. “The customer’s always in the right, right? I’ll handle it myself.”

Having been brushed off, Jade simply watches as Yuhua scurries back over to the kitchen counter.

Hmm. I wonder if he’s simply playing the long game, then…

—

IV.

Of all the places that Jamil usually expects to hear arguing, the library ranks last. Generally. Not that it’s always free from arguing, but that’s probably on him for having even the slightest faith in NRC students. 

Speaking of which, that’s exactly what he hears when he enters the library one day after classes: arguing. It’s coming from behind a shelf, so Jamil has to guess who it is based on voice alone.

“Please quiet down.” That’s… Crewel’s assistant, Yuhua. “Crewel needs me to borrow this, okay?”

“Uh, hello? Are you not good enough to be his assistant, or something? I need it more. So just hand it over already.”

Jamil stifles a sharp, stressed inhale. That’s a Scarabia student, no doubt—one of his former roommates. Ugh. And just when he thought he could skirt by without having to get involved. What a way to reflect poorly on our whole dorm…

He creeps around the side of the shelf, and what he sees confirms his well-educated guess. A student with a maroon armband towers over Yuhua, who holds a rather thick textbook in hand. The student’s back is to Jamil, but Yuhua’s expression is still visible…

Wait a minute. What the hell? Is… Is Yuhua glaring at the taller guy?

Jamil recalls a conversation he’d had with Ace just the other day: Ace had been in such a hurry to get out of practice that he’d caused multiple… inconveniences for others.

“Yu’s gonna kill me if I’m late for studying!” was his excuse.

“Why are you so scared of Yuhua?” Jamil had asked. Even though Yuhua had been… present, for his Overblot, he still didn’t quite get the control the TA seemed to have over the freshmen. 

“You don’t get it, man,” Ace had said. “I almost pissed myself the first time Yu got seriously mad at me. You don’t think anything’s happening because he’s just narrowing his eyes at you, but it’s like toggling a lightswitch. He gets violent out of nowhere.”

At the time, Jamil had shrugged it off with his normal amount of skepticism. Even though he had proved himself able to be as two-faced and cruel as any other student in this school (Jamil never, in his life, wanted to be on the receiving end of the full Octavinelle trio’s scheming again), Yuhua still seemed too… docile. Too naturally passive to be like that when angry. It wasn’t the first time Ace had exaggerated, either.

But now, he’s seeing all the warning signs Ace had mentioned. How Yuhua is narrowing his eyes like an irked cat. If he allows this to continue, then—Oh, great. A fight. In the library, no less. Another problem he’ll have to clean up because it’s his dorm’s student who likely started this mess and will inevitably get into trouble.

With a long-suffering sigh, Jamil steps forward to intervene—

“...Okay, fine,” Yuhua concedes, although it’s a bit of a reluctant grumble. He holds out the textbook instead of bashing it over the student’s head like Jamil had expected him to. 

A scoff. “See? Wasn’t that hard.”

“...Right.” Yuhua turns as the student walks away, so his expression is unreadable. 

Huh.

Jamil stares blankly for a few moments. That… did not go as he expected, at all. 

So much for ‘explosive anger,’ really. Yuhua had just given up.

Well, whatever. Jamil will just chalk it up to Ace’s overdramatic nature and think nothing of it. As long as it was resolved peacefully without needing him to risk grey hairs…

—

V.

When Vil calls for a rare water break, Rook takes the opportunity to observe the NRC Tribe’s stiffest fledglings. 

Today, again, they’ve taken on pirouettes in a corner where they can still see the mirror. Certainly, it makes for quite a sight: the normally-withdrawn TA trying to instruct two freshmen who have likely never seen a true ballet performance in their lives.

Rook had known Yuhua had a history in dance and music from the start—there was a clear lift to his chin and in his posture when he didn’t feel insecure, holding himself high and sitting on the edge of every seat. He walked with a slight turnout, and was light on his feet; not to mention the controlled expressiveness of his hands. However, the TA didn’t seem to enjoy flaunting these facts, making moments like these all the more enjoyable. 

“Epel.” Yuhua frowns, a little soft and yet a little frustrated. “Are you trying?”

The Pomefiore freshman bites the inside of his lower lip. “Uh, well…”

A sigh. “That’s about what I thought. Vil and I aren’t asking much: just a clean single so you can master the basics.” Yuhua crosses his arms. “Is something on your mind?”

“I just…” Epel grimaces. “I still don’t get it. What’s so manly about any of this turning?”

Ah, there it is again.

Rook does not intervene, continuing to observe, even though he can see Yuhua’s eyes briefly twitch into narrowing and his lips press into a strained smile. Any dancer would start to lose it after yet another generalization of their field, especially an ignorantly derogatory one. After multiple generalizations, in fact.

Like any trained performer, however, he smooths it down. That self-control is beautiful in its own right, no matter how strained.

“Manly, huh…?”

Epel yelps as Yuhua, deceptively calm, grabs his arm to adjust it.

“Your elbows are too stiff. Don’t interrupt the line; make them look round and effortless.” A tap to Epel’s back. “Don’t lean forward when you plié, you’re not about to break into a sprint; if your pelvis isn’t under you, then you’ll be off-balance when you turn.” And then, a nudge to the underside of Epel’s chin. “Don’t look at the ground. Look at yourself in the mirror. Keep your chin level so you can spot properly.”

The foundational advice is given almost clinically, automatically. Rook watches with keen interest as Yuhua withholds the same kind of scathing strictness Vil would have easily dished out, even though this must be the second or third time he’s had to say these things to Epel. 

“Deuce,” Yuhua asks levelly, “did you hear everything I just said?” To the trained ear, it sounds like a test, an I am on my last straw so there is only one correct answer here.

Thankfully, one of his students is more eager to learn than the other. “Yes!” is the earnest reply from the two of spades, who is already adjusting his posture after listening with the utmost dedication.

“Thank you.” Yuhua turns back to Epel. “We don’t have a lot of time. Just focus on improving for the SDC, okay?”

Epel bristles at being treated like a child, but nods. 

A smile spreads across Rook’s face. Ahh, the liveliness of a dancer and his mentees at work…

“Rook.” Vil’s voice snaps him out of his momentary reverie. “Let’s continue practicing.”

Right. Duty calls.

 “Of course~”

—

VI.

By now, Floyd had noticed, most people were learning to steer clear of starting shit with Yu. On top of him making more friends, on top of the (true) rumors that he’d Overblotted, most people had probably just accepted his presence.

(It also probably helped that Floyd regularly finds great joy in standing behind Yu and scaring off anyone who tried to be a problem.)

But, even then… 

Some people don’t take the hint.

Floyd doesn’t know how or why it started, only that when he walks into the courtyard of the main school building, there’s someone yelling at Yu like it’s his Seven-given right. It’s so loud, like a dog’s yapping. So annoying.

Bark, bark, bark. Floyd doesn’t listen to the full thing because it’s not worth his time, but it feels like it goes on for forever. To the point where people are gathering like it’s some kind of show, heads turning.

What a serious mood killer. Maybe Floyd should get involved, start a fight. Let everyone have a piece of this idiot. It doesn’t look like Yu will: he’s just standing there, silent, suffering quietly like he usually would.

“What’s wrong, cat got your tongue?” taunts the nasally little offender. Of course, he’s the worst breed of coward—only able to say these things once Yu is on his lonesome. “No one’s here to defend you now, huh? Aren’t you gonna say something?”

Silence.

“Well?”

“Haaah…” Yu closes his eyes. “I’m seriously sick of your shit.”

“Huh—”

That’s the only thing the yapper can get out before Yu grabs him by the face. His fingers dig into the person’s cheeks, the palm of his hand conveniently muffling any complaints. If looks could kill, he’d be a murderer. 

“Didn’t you hear me the first time? I said I’m sick and tired of your bullshit!” Yu shouts. He angrily tightens his grip. “Listen, buddy, I don’t know who the hell you think you are—I don’t know who half the people at this school think they are—but someone needs to humble you, desperately. Have you heard yourself?” 

His voice reaches a high, mocking pitch: “Ohhh, no! There’s a magicless person at my school, but I think I deserve to be hot shit because I can make a few pathetic sparks with my magic! I’m gonna pick on him to assert my nonexistent dominance because I think he looks like a weak doormat!

“Yeah, well, womp fuckin’ womp. Being chosen by the Dark Mirror doesn’t mean anything. You’re just a copy-and-paste of every other small fry I’ve met at this school. Ego in the clouds, even though your performance is so bad that you reek of failed contracts and the threat of being held back. Am I right?” Yu scoffs without waiting for an answer. “Grow the fuck up already. Aren’t you embarrassed? Don’t you have any respect for anyone?” 

He lets go with a shove, pushing the previously-confident person to the ground. Yu’s heel finds a nice spot to rest on the student’s chest and send a message.

“Do us all a favor and actually have the bite to back up your bark next time. You’re making a fool out of yourself.”

And even after yelling like that, Yu walks away like it’s nothing.

Oh, Sea Witch. Floyd feels ready and raring to kick ass again. 

That was great.

—

(bonus:

Riddle has no idea how he ended up in this situation, but here he is. Having ended up next to Floyd, watching Yuhua curse a student out.

For good reason, of course. But Riddle didn’t even know that the TA had that in him.

“...Well.” Riddle turns to leave—that’s enough of enjoying the ‘show’ for today. He makes to weave his way out of the crowd that’s gathered, but something makes him pause. He looks up.

There’s a dumb, dopey, lovestruck look on Floyd’s face. That’s the only way Riddle can think to describe his smile, mismatched eyes following after the exiting Yuhua.

…what can he even say in this situation? Riddle stifles an embarrassed grimace and walks away.)

[unwillingtoreachout]

Helloooo darling I'm here to tell you about butcher!Neil 🤭 sorry it's so long omg—I completely understand it takes a while for you to respond dw ❤️ actually your don't even have to respond to it at all if you don't want, I won't be offended :)

So in this au, for whatever reason, Nathan was allowed to keep Nathaniel and train him up as a second butcher, which means that this Neil is a very different Neil to the one we get in canon. He knows his way around a knife. He is a fighter, not a runner, but neither is he the Exy prodigy he would have been if he'd gone to the Nest. His father banned him from playing Exy when it started getting in the way of his training.

He never knew Riko, but he did get know Ichirou very well. I have to say that this au is mostly based on two moments from canon. Number one:

This single throwaway line really struck me in my reread. ‘Your father was someone to me.’ Like oh my god. From most people this would be a nice, if perhaps bland, sentiment. From Ichirou Moriyama, this is a strange and unexpected vulnerability that (the way I see it) betrays something more than a professional relationship. I'm not saying that they were best buds who had sleepovers and confessed all their darkest secrets and crushes to each other but like. I think Ichirou admired Nathan at the very least, and clearly held just enough affection for him that he wanted to talk to Neil and made him more inclined to give him a chance. ‘Your father was someone to me.’ Did Nathan care for Ichirou how he never cared for his own son? Did Ichirou respect Nathan the way he never respected his own uncle? We'll never know, but I'm sure as hell going to think about it. Anyway so this got me thinking about how close Ichirou and Neil would have been if they grew up together, and one potential answer is: very. So that's where this comes from.

In this fic, their relationship is really fucked up, and I have to put a disclaimer before I start properly explaining that I don't condone any of this lmao, I'm just exploring a fictional concept. In this fic, their relationship lies somewhere between brothers, best friends, lovers, and a ‘master and his dog’ dynamic. It's not really any of those things, but it's a weird fucked up combination of elements of them. Nathaniel has been taught from a very young age that the power dynamics in this world are strict. He is better than most people, above them, and he has to know this. He carries himself with a swagger and an arrogance that comes with knowing ten ways to gut a man and the power to make it happen. But he's also hyperaware of anyone who's above him in the pecking order, and it's automatic for him to submit to them easily, never putting up a fight or speaking out of turn (okay he's still not perfected this one, this is Neil we're talking about, but he's more restrained than in canon). This means that, no matter how close he is with Ichirou, and how much Ichirou cares for him, they sre never going to be equals. Ichirou is always going to have power over him, even if that power exists solely in Nathaniel's mind—it's so drilled in, he's never going to get away from it. (Think of Jean and his submissiveness, his need for structure. It's just devastatingly ingrained in him by this point.)

It was always said that Nathaniel was going to be part of Ichirou's personal guard/squad, that's what he was trained for, and he finally took up that position when he was 14/15 and Ichirou was 18/19. For a couple years, he accompanied Ichirou everywhere, guarding him, protecting him, carrying out his dirty work. Falling slightly, obsessively, in love with him. He always knew that he would die for Ichirou without any hesitation. If Ichirou handed him a gun and told him to pull the trigger, he did it, no matter who was on the other end. He usually preferred knives, though. Ichirou accommodated this.

This is getting LONG omg sorry so I'm not gonna go too in depth on Ichirou's feelings for Nathaniel but basically he trusts and cares and worries about him, and he feels a sense of duty and responsibility for him that I think is natural in anyone who has a friend a few years younger than them, yk? But he's not a good person, and he knows that Nathaniel will do anything for him, and he isn't going to not use that to his advantage.

Now on to the actual plot lmao sorry. Here comes in the second canon moment that inspired this:

That got me thinking.........what if Neil actually was a mole?

The summer before Riko breaks Kevin's hand, when Nathaniel is 16, Ichirou grows worried about Riko, and it's partially concern for his brother, but mostly just concern for how his ways (and Tetsuji's) might affect their business. So, secretly, because he doesn't want Kengo to grow worried or angry, he decides to send Nathaniel into the Ravens, undercover, to spy on them. This starts with his year in Millport (though it might make more sense if it was a more well known highschool because this time the whole point is for him to be recruited...idk), where he gets to play Exy again for the first time in years. Here, he becomes Neil Josten. Despite himself, despite knowing that it's immature and he has more important things to worry about, that this is just a game, just a means to an end, Neil is absolutely thrilled. So fucking excited to be back, especially because this year he doesn't have anything to worry about except improving and getting recruited to the Ravens. It's basically everything he's ever wanted but couldn't have, and now he's being ordered to do it. Literally the dream.

Except, Kevin leaves the Ravens, and with him goes Neil's chances of being recruited. They'd counted on Kevin's unorthodox recruitment methods to get Neil on, knowing Riko wouldn't give a shit about a newbie unless Kevin convinced him to give him a chance. Now, they were fucked. They decided to wait out the rest of the season just in case, and were just about to give up on it all when Wymack approached Neil. This wasn't what Ichirou had planned at all, but he realised it was an opportunity he couldn't turn down. Neil wouldn't be up close and personal with Riko like he'd wanted, but this way he could at least keep an eye on Kevin and make sure he wasn't spilling all of their secrets, and it could prove to be useful in a whole host of other ways. So, Neil accepts.

I think the fic would have very similar events to the canon trilogy, but it would feature Neil being even more mysterious than canon (if that's possible lmao) and keeping Ichirou informed of all the goings on, and Andrew would definitely be even more suspicious of him and not let him off as easily, so they'd probably have a much stronger rivalry, but Neil still manages to work his way into the Foxes's hearts somehow. He's very resourceful.

Not entirely certain how I'd end this but I like the idea of Ichirou realising that Neil is much happier like this and (once he becomes the head of the empire) releasing him from his duties, instead allowing him to just spend his life playing Exy.

Jesus Christ, sorry that this is so long, I was certain it was going to be a short explanation but then I just kept going 😭😭😭 I hope it makes sense, at least!!

First of all, sorry if you sent this some time ago and I'm just now replying 😭

Second of all tho, AHHHHHH!!!! THIS IS SO EXCITING, I LOVE THIS IDEA!!!!

Okay so, the whole "your father was someone to me" I did not remember at all but that's really interesting because that could imply so many things, and it makes me wonder if Neil feels like he has to live up to Nathan's standard in a way in order to gain Ichirou's approval (idk this setting is kind of reminding me of how Riko is always trying to get Kengo and Ichirou's attention, so maybe Neil is willing to do anything for Ichirou because he thinks that's how Ichirou will pay attention to him??) maybe I'm reaching but even if that's not the case I'm still really intrigued by their dynamic

I love the idea of Neil actually being a mole and the only person who truly suspects anything is Andrew (and maybe Aaron a little bit), and also Neil trying to act like a normal person when he hasn't been normal a single second of his life. It makes me wonder if he'd fall for the stuff that Neil does in canon, like does he figure out the twins swapped places quicker? Does he suspect Andrew is trying to drug him and he goes along with it to not raise more suspicions?

Alsoooo, Neil getting back into exy and loving it??? I'm gonna cry because I always loved how it's pretty clear that Neil could have always ended up like his father or like Riko but instead he chose to obsessively play a sport with his found family instead of violence. And I feel like, in this case, it's similar in the sense that when he is given the choice he would still choose exy and still choose the foxes

[jpivot]

do you have any tips for makign the pngtuber?! it looks so cute, are they just idle animations or do they actually move when you draw etc?

it's just idle animation, the movement on the drawing/gaming ones just use the blink slots to randomly change between the "normal" pose and the "doing something" pose. i used veadotube mini so the only thing I directly control is the shift between talking/not talking and switching between the different states (standing/drawing/gaming). they're quite simple, it's just the movement of animation giving it the illusion of complexity. I know there's a way out there to map mouse/controller movement to your vtuber thing, but I didn't look into it because... well. I didn't want to lol

things can be as simple or as complicated as you want it to be. I'd recommend keeping the designs simple so it's faster to draw and make variations of. it took me one night to work on this one and I learned a lot about better ways to organize/set up my art/file for exporting as I was making edits. if I had a really intricate-looking drawing to start with, I'd have spent more of my time just drawing a single pose instead of being able to place an image in the program to see how it works and how things look in it. I started with just 2 static images and then went "what if it moved a bit" and then added things as I went. breadth vs depth, I guess.

hmm... as for tips...

the talk mouth is on a layer that covers up part of the face when I unhide it. this was nice because when I made a change to the animated drawing/controller poses, I could export out the talking variation immediately by just turning 1 layer on, instead of having to swap/redo changes between multiple layers (annoying). I also had the parts that moved (the arms) in a separated group, so when I changed the thickness of a line on his vest I didn't have to redo that change over and over again across 3 more frames. I still had to redo it for the 3 poses, but that's just 3 times total instead of 1 + 3 + 3 = 7 times total. if I were to do this again, I'd have things set up in a way where the different variations use as many of the same layers as possible, so changing something in one place automatically works for every pose.

and you can keep your life simple. for the animated frames I didn't redraw the arms from scratch for each frame of movement-- I just used the liquify tool to nudge them slightly and fixed up any small sections that looked weird. it ends up looking very intentional but with less work. it's easy to make it look bad though if you don't keep it subtle, I just had to feel it out by doing it.

...and you don't need to do any animation if you don't want to!! I just think it's cool and also a fun challenge. all the stuff I did on this one is built upon my experience making that older one I linked in my post, 2 years ago. the goofy crying pose i made for that is where I learned you weren't restricted to static images for the stand/talk/blink/blink-talk poses.

the drawing sprite in my new one has the default pose set as a looping "drawing" animation, and the blink is set as a "paused drawing" image. it used to be the other way around but I found a limitation with how setting the random start time and duration of the blinks worked, so I switched them.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Save Fae-ce

Part 1/3

Summary:

3) Do not eat their food. Mushroom rings were made out of mushrooms, right? It was in the name, so you would assume so. Well, what if Tim found a particularly interesting one, showed Bernard, and then took a few mushrooms to make stew? Surely, then, Bernard would have to concede that faeries were fake.

Or: A two-for-one deal!

Tim Drake knew that faeries weren’t real.

The stories didn’t really add up. Why was the faerie able to bring back Dick Grayson’s parents from the dead? Why had Barbara Gordon’s parents allowed her to go into the forest every day? Why was Willis Todd allowed to live, if he had disrespected the fae so blatantly? Why did people just automatically assume that David Cain’s house was empty because he had been taken by the fae? And, if faeries were so powerful, why would they be stopped by something as simple as an iron fence?

And, really, if Bernard was agreeing with something, it should automatically be ruled as nothing more than a conspiracy theory.

And Tim was determined to prove this once and for all.

He wasn’t, exactly, sure how he was supposed to prove it. You can’t prove a negative, it’s impossible. But he was sure that he would figure it out when he got there.

So, he walked through the forest. Holding a sheet of paper, listing all of the town’s rules for interacting with the faerie. Bernard had insisted that, if Tim really had to go out into the woods, he needed to take it with him. Tim really didn’t care for it. If he hadn’t been so vehemently against littering, he probably would have tossed it out.

… actually. He smoothed out the slightly crumpled paper to examine the rules. Maybe it would give him some ideas as to how he could prove that the faerie were fake.

He chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully as he looked it over, and was disappointed to find that almost all of the rules were about talking to the fae, which was kind of problematic when he wanted to prove that faerie didn’t exist.

All of them, except for two.

The more interesting of the two was the one warning people away from mushroom rings. He’d love to use that one, but Bernard would just argue that any of the ones they found and subsequently stepped into weren’t magical. There were plenty of non-magical rings, apparently. Something about how they spread their spores outwards in search of nutrients, and the ones in the middle died when they ran out, leaving a large ring.

Still, that combined with the rule above it made an interesting idea form in his mind.

3) Do not eat their food.

Mushroom rings were made out of mushrooms, right? It was in the name, so you would assume so.

Well, what if he found a particularly interesting one, showed Bernard, and then took a few mushrooms to make stew? Surely, then, Bernard would have to concede that faeries were fake.

Tim smiled to himself as he started pushing his way through the woods in earnest. There was no path, and it seemed like the entire world was fighting against him, but he had a goal now and a few more hours before dark and he wanted to find a ring today so he wouldn’t have to worry about Bernard complaining about them wandering in circles for hours.

But, after a while, he groaned and dropped down into the brush. His legs ached. He had worn long pants, thank god, so he didn’t have to worry about any of the plants scraping up his legs, but that didn’t stop him from growing tired of walking over uneven terrain. He hated the forest. His parents loved it, and often went out exploring the depths of it for weeks on end, coming back bearing amazing treasures that they had found and bartered for in other lands. He had never understood their passion for it, and he was too young for those kinds of expeditions, so he always ended up left behind. Now, he couldn’t bring himself to even be kind of sad about this fact. He eyed the sun warily as he brought a canteen to his lips. This was awful.

Maybe he could use the fact that his parents went out into the forest and came out unscathed regularly. Surely, that had to at least suggest that the forest was safe. Because he was not getting anywhere on the finding rings front.

He sighed to himself, pushing limp hair out of his eyes and glancing around, trying to get his bearings so he could start finding his way home.

His eyes caught on an apple tree.

The apples were deliciously red, but not the deep red that was always hard and kind of sour and had that weird green tint on the inside. They were that perfect red-to-yellow-gradient that was always perfectly soft and sweet. Even better, one apple hung close enough for him to pluck. He wouldn’t even have to get on tiptoes. It was amazing.

He pulled it down without any kind of resistance and took a bite.

It was even better than he’d thought it’d be. He barely even gave himself time to chew before he was shoving another bite in his mouth. He was pretty sure he ate a couple of seeds in his fervor, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the possible damage he was doing to his teeth. Even the seeds tasted perfect, and the crunch was a fun little change of textures that he could appreciate.

His eyes began to droop.

Tim thought, just for a second, that it was in pleasure. The apple was really good.

But then he struggled to open them again.

And even then he wasn’t scared of that. He was scared of not being able to finish the apple. What was wrong with him?

His last thought before he lost consciousness was questioning whether he had messed up.

~

Tim groaned a little. His head pounded, complaining at him as if he were the one to make it suffer. His face was pressed into someone’s shoulder, an almost impossibly soft blanket thrown over him. This, more than anything, was what got him to try and wake up. It was simply so strange to be so close to someone, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

He pulled back just slightly, peeking open tired eyes, wondering why even just the act of picking up his head was difficult…

He didn’t recognize this person.

He jerked away from them. The blanket, made of feathers that had been strung together neatly, fell away, and he was allowed to back up.

The person was… strange looking. Not particularly because of anything about them, admittedly. His hair was streaked with red, but Tim had seen people braid pretty flowers and feathers into their hair before. Their clothes were pretty normal, a black shirt and pants with a deep blue design on their chest that reminded Tim of a bird. The feather blanket draped around his shoulders was thick, and made him look tiny in comparison.

And yet. There was something just slightly off about him in a way that Tim couldn’t quite explain. Something in his smile made his hair stand on end.

“Hi,” they said, still smiling in that almost too-pleasant way. “You should probably sit down. The adrenaline is going to wear off, and you might crash when it does. And you’ve just Changed, so I’d really suggest not staying on your feet at the moment.”

Tim wasn’t sure what to say to that. He definitely didn’t sit down, though, his heart was pounding too hard for that. If he sat down he’d never get up.

“What’s – what’s going on?” He asked, his eyes flitting around, trying to figure out why exactly everything felt so strange. His head was still throbbing painfully in time with his too-fast heartbeat, but surely that wasn’t all that was throwing him off. They were in a clearing. The branches overhead were interwoven so tightly that he couldn’t tell the time, but that didn’t mean that the clearing was dark. A lamp flickered in a nearby tree, the firelight giving off a dim glow, and there were an array of shiny rocks in a vague ring shape that must have been reflecting the lamplight as well. A tree stump nearby was being used as a table for a chess set, and Tim could see that one of the pieces had been knocked over at some point. A swing swayed back and forth despite the lack of wind. There was a birdhouse in a nearby tree, the brilliant reds and greens stood out well against the nearby branches, but he couldn’t see any hints of an occupant. And, while it was strange to find all these hints of people frequenting this place, he wasn’t sure why it all made his skin crawl. This was all normal. The boy in front of him was normal.

And yet.

The boy tipped his head to the side, blue eyes reflecting the nearby firelight just a little too well. “You know, the rules for the fae exist for a reason,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a slip of paper. He unfolded it neatly, and then presented the list to Tim.

He took it with clumsy hands, and found himself staring down at the list that Bernard had given him.

“Because people are paranoid?”

They laughed. “Perhaps, but they have a point. I mean, most faerie would find it insulting that you haven’t yet said hello.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that faerie don’t exist then,” Tim said, raising an eyebrow at him, mentally willing him to get to the point.

There was a few moments as Tim was considered.

And then they sighed and carefully pushed themselves to their feet. But, strangely, the blanket didn’t slip from their shoulders. In fact, it pulled upwards, stretching out until Tim realized that it wasn’t a feather blanket at all.

They were wings.

They… were fake. They had to be.

Tim backed up a step, smiling tersely. “So, do you just lug those huge things into the woods to scare kids? Because that’s kind of lame, not going to lie.”

The ‘faerie’ crossed their arms over their chest. “Well, I have to lug them around everywhere, considering they’re attached to me. I guess I do scare a lot of kids with these – well, two, but I’ve only seen two human kids since I got them so I think that’s a pretty good amount. So, yes, but I don’t think you should describe a faerie as lame.”

“Really into this bit, huh? It’s not working, you can drop the act.”

His smile strained at the edges.

And then a mirror appeared in the faerie’s hand.

Sleight of hand, surely.

Or not.

They held the mirror up, and he quickly discovered the reason for his headache.

Slowly, with careful fingers, he reached up to touch one of the two bumps sprouting from his hairline.

Horns. He had horns.

And, well, the faerie was right. His legs did give out.

“I’ve got to admit, I wasn’t expecting a… ooh, it’s hard to tell. So many things have horns!” They leaned close, a hand out to touch him, as if that would help them figure out what he was, but stopped when he jerked away. Though not without a disappointed little frown. “I guess we’ll have a lot of time to figure it out, though. You’re our responsibility, now, since it’s kind of our fault that you’re a fae, so we’ll have to take care of you… ohhhhh, maybe, I’ll just ask Oracle. She’d probably take one quick look at you and be like ‘Those could only ever be the horns of a goat’ or whatever.”

Wow, this faerie talked a lot. Tim wasn’t even responding, he was just going on and on without stopping. Granted, Tim wasn’t exactly making for a good conversation partner, what with his current mental breakdown, but if anything that just made it more impressive that this guy could keep up his word vomit.

Speaking of Tim’s current mental breakdown. It wasn’t fun. He was having a very bad time, actually. Because if his head started racing any faster he was pretty sure it was going to explode. Or maybe he would get more horns. Could that happen? He sure hoped not, it didn’t sound right, but a few minutes ago he hadn’t thought that faerie were real and wow was he wrong.

Wait! Wait! He was wrong!

 “We can’t be faeries,” Tim said, and he hated the hint of desperation hanging on the edge of his tone. “Because, earlier, I said that you weren’t a fae, and fae can’t lie.”

The faerie snickered. “Not purposefully, no. But… well, let’s say that I thought the world wasn’t flat. It is but, if I truly believed it, I would be able to say that it wasn’t.”

Tim opened and closed his mouth a few times, before deciding that he was just going to let that one slide. The faerie was likely old, so maybe they were just from a time where believing the Earth was flat was normal.

And there were more important things to talk about, anyways:

“I can’t go with you back to your world.”

The faerie raised an eyebrow. “You can’t go back to your village looking like that. They’d know instantly.”

“I can wear a hat!” He argued. “It’s not that noticeable!”

“It’ll get worse as you eat more and more faerie food.”

“Well, then, I won’t.”

The faerie stared at him. And then he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Ughhhhh. Oracle. I know you’re listening. Come here and explain things to him. Orphan, you can come, too. I’m sure the kid would prefer someone that looked more ‘like him’.”

Instantly, two faerie appeared on either side of Tim. It took everything in him not to react by trying to punch them.

The faerie on the left was a redhead, which was already strange for someone who hadn’t seen a redhead in their entire life, but even more strange was the dark green scales dotting her cheeks and the tail creeping out from underneath her skirt. When she gave him a smile, likely an attempt on her part to be comforting, Tim’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the fact that she had fangs.

He wanted to back away, at least a step, because those things looked sharp, but there was a faerie in that direction as well.

The faerie on the right, though… she looked like yet another human. Tan skin, warm brown eyes, jet black hair escaping from her cloth hat in wisps. A baggy black shirt and jeans gave little information as to what her frame looked like, but he would hazard a guess that she looked normal in that regard, too. If he hadn’t known better, hadn’t watched them appear out of thin air, he would have thought that they were just another person that had stumbled across the clearing.

This was what the original faerie had meant when he’d said that Tim would like to see someone more like him.

Instead of being happy, though, he was just annoyed. “Why does she get to look normal?”

The faerie in question laughed lightly, and then spoke in Tim’s own voice: “I’m a Changeling. We are made to emulate humans.”

Tim stared at her. “How did you do that?”

She looked confused.

“Another Changeling thing,” the snake-themed faerie answered for them. “Just assume everything about Orphan is based around the idea of mimicry. You’ll figure it out as you go. Best way to learn is being immersed in the culture, after all.”

“No,” Tim said, finally backing away. The faeries surrounded him on three sides, but he still had one more option, and by god was he taking it. “No.” His back hit a tree, but he didn’t care, as long as he was away from them. “I’m not going with you guys. I will not. I have a family, a friend, I’m not just going to leave because of some weird horns. I can probably cut these off if I need to, it’ll be fine. So, thanks, but no thanks. I’m not joining you.”

“That’d hurt,” Orphan pointed out.

Tim scoffed a little. Both at the obviousness of the observation and the fact that they were still using his voice. “I know. But I’m going to do it. And I’ll only have to do it once, anyways.”

Oracle tipped her head to the side. “Not sure if that’s true, actually. You’ll probably grow it back as you eat more and more fae food. Or maybe not, but eventually you’ll get more features, anyways. It’s a temporary solution, at best.”

“Then I won’t eat more fae food.”

“You’ll starve to death. Faerie don’t actually get any nutrition from human food.”

Tim pressed his lips together thinly.

The first faerie, the one with a bird theme, ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, kid, I wasn’t all that eager to join the family at first, either, but I promise you you’ll get used to the idea of it all soon enough.”

Somehow, this wasn’t as encouraging as he was clearly intending for it to be.

Silence stretched as Tim considered this all. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to get out of this, but he was determined to figure it out. Maybe he could just cut off whatever features cropped up? But what if he ended up with Oracle-like scales or something like that? He couldn’t exactly cut divots into his skin without it being obvious…

“Robin,” Oracle said, finally. “It’s fine. You know Little Wing will get all annoyed if we get another kid while he’s at Talia’s. He’ll complain about how we’re ‘replacing him’ or whatever. If the kid wants to be in denial, then that’s fine.”

“Come back once a week,” Orphan instructed him, and this time she was using Oracle’s voice. It didn’t quite suit her, but it was better than when she had been using Tim’s, and he was suddenly far more willing to listen to her: “We will provide you food.”

Tim swallowed thickly.

It was a bad idea to make a deal with the fae. That was one of the rules. They would always get what they wanted, and they clearly wanted Tim to join them (if only because it was their fault he was like this). Even now, they were only talking about postponing his ‘surprise adoption’, not saying that he wasn’t going to join them. It was a later, not the not ever he had been hoping for.

But what choice did he have? He could try and scour the forest for fae food every day, but would it grow back at a fast enough rate for him to sustain himself? Would they see him not accepting their help as an insult?

He swallowed thickly, a resigned kind of tiredness settling over him.

He gave a tiny nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow for my first batch of food, then.”

And, with that, he turned to leave the clearing.

Orphan giggled behind him, and there was definitely something discomforting about hearing your own laugh come from someone else, and he felt a hand tap him on the shoulder.

Tim turned around and blinked in mild surprise as a hat was thrust into his hands.

… right. Yeah. A good thing to remember, if he didn’t want to immediately get run out of town. He toyed with the cloth in his hands. It wasn’t perfect, he would need something sturdier in the long run – especially if the horns got any larger – but it would have to do for now.

He mumbled a thanks as he shoved it over his head and, finally, left.

The forest was less confusing this time around. He wasn’t sure why, it wasn’t as if a path had suddenly opened up for him, and yet it didn’t take long before he was stepping out of the trees.

Which is when he discovered a new problem:

The town had an iron fence around it.

The words ‘This day just keeps getting better and better?’ sat on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t even say them. It was as if, every time he thought of speaking, an invisible hand would slap over his mouth, and no sound would be able to escape.

Which… that answered that question, he supposed.

He groaned to himself. He wasn’t sure whether praying was the right thing to do, considering he was anything but ungodly at the moment, but he found himself trying. He was really hoping the ‘can not come in contact with iron’ thing was a myth.

He reached out with a careful hand, pressing a finger to the metal. Pain, white-hot and burning, lanced up his arm, and he only just kept himself from screaming as he jerked his hand back. He bit down on his tongue, his breath coming heavy as he looked at the red line that had branded itself into his skin where he’d touched it.

Great.

There were gaps in the fence. There had to be official ways to enter and exit the village. Obviously. But he wasn’t sure how he was going to explain to the guards why he was using them. Most people didn’t bother with finding one of the four entrances, it was much faster to just climb over the side of the fence somewhere close to your house. If you ever ventured out of the village, which most people didn’t even do.

Luckily, he found a hole in the fence, and he didn’t have to worry about lying.

Yet.

Because, when he got home, he found Bernard pacing around in his living room. This wasn’t particularly new, Bernard paced when he thought, and had a tendency to drop by unannounced. However, the moment the door clicked open, Bernard’s head snapped to look, and Tim was almost tackled to the floor in Bernard’s haste to wrap him in a hug.

“Where were you?” Bernard asked, still not drawing back.

This was a good thing. He didn’t see the considering look that came over Tim’s face as he struggled to come up with a decent lie that wasn’t actually a lie because fae rules are dumb –.

“The woods.”

God damn it. Not the stellar explanation that would throw off all suspicion that he had been hoping for.

As if to prove his point, Bernard pulled back to look him in the eyes, and the incredulous look he got almost made him laugh. Maybe, if he was less stressed, he actually would have.

“You were gone for ages, Tim.”

Tim held back a minute flinch as his name was used. His eyes still snapped up to meet Bernard’s, though, as if the very word had quite literally called for his attention. A pressure began to make itself known in the back of his head, getting more and more difficult to ignore the longer he went without answering the question hidden in his friend’s words, and he was forced to scramble for something to say:

“I got lost,” he said.

Which was true. He did get lost for a little bit.

Bernard seemed less than convinced. “Lost? It’s – it’s been two weeks!”

Well, why couldn’t he have said that before?

“... really lost,” he tried.

Again, true, but not at all in the way Bernard thought. He really lost, in that he was now stuck as a faerie and had to pretend to be a human. Which he would probably be able to do, considering he had been a human for the first several years of his life, except for the fact that the main trait of faeries was that they weren’t able to tell a lie.

He was having a fun day, really.

At least he could still be sarcastic in his head. He had to take the little victories, at this point.

Because he sure was losing a lot at the moment:

“I thought you were dead!” 

Was Tim dead? Are faerie alive?

He wasn’t going to think about that too hard.

“I – I didn’t mean to scare you,” Tim said, rubbing the back of his neck. All he’d wanted was to prove that the tales about the faeries living in their forest were fake.

His friend softened just slightly. He wasn’t calm yet, there was still a hint of lingering anger and frustration and (perhaps most importantly) fear and relief warring in his expression, but he seemed less frantic now that he was here and seemingly safe.

“I wasn’t able to go looking,” Bernard said, groaning quietly. “If you died – or – or – got stolen… I wouldn’t even know.”

Out of any one person in the village, Bernard was probably the most knowledgeable about the creatures. After Barbara Gordon, the village had become far more willing to indulge kids in their interest in the fae, as long as they had an abundance of caution as well, lest they go seeking the fae for their answers like she had. And Bernard had always been the most intrigued out of anyone in the village. But, when you know a lot about something, sometimes that makes it harder to confront it. If you can recount several stories about faeries turning people into mounds of sticks or beating a man within an inch of his life, all in the name of ‘divine’ retribution, just off of the top of your head… well, you might be more hesitant to go near the things that did it.

But, despite his wariness, Bernard was considered a ‘high-risk’ case. He was too interested in the fae, and so he wasn’t allowed out of the village. Sneaking out, for him, would have been obscenely hard.

Tim sighed and started to run a hand through his hair, only to pause when he felt the fabric of his hat. He grimaced and shoved his hands in his pockets instead.

For just a moment, he considered telling his friend. Of anyone in the village, he was the best person to tell. He knew of the fae.

But then what? Was there any reason to tell him? It wasn’t like Bernard could fix the fact that he was no longer human. He would be stressing out his friend and for what? It wouldn’t help anyone, all it would do was hurt his friend.

So, he trained his eyes on the ground and said, “I didn’t think of that. I won’t disappear like that again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pt 2

All fae-n and games masterlist

[spainkitty]

Shortest and Final Part of my little show-n-tell, a little time skip to after finding the Grey Wardens and Carver gone with them. Blatantly Handers. Mutual, dumbass pining ftw

Oh Fuck, The Deep Roads Part 3

Part 1 / Part 2

Hawke stared at him. She hadn’t slept in at least 24 hours. She was filthy. She was wearing Varric’s jacket to cover the giant holes in her shirt. She had almost died. So maybe she was dreaming it.

“He lived, Hawke. He’s… well, sleeping is the nice word for it, but he survived. He’s a Grey Warden now, Maker help the poor sod,” Anders reiterated, rubbing his forehead with his hand.

“He’s alive. He’s alive!” Hawke leapt onto Anders, arms thrown around his neck, balancing on her toes so she could put every bit of strength in her hug. “He’s alive because of you, thank you!”

“I just carted him to a bunch of Wardens. I didn’t--” Anders tried to point out, arms automatically around her waist as he smiled tiredly at her enthusiasm.

“No, shut up, he’s alive because of you. Thank you,” Hawke said, pulling back far enough to meet his eyes. She grinned, then kissed his cheek, firmly but briefly. “Thank you.”

“You forgot the part where he saved you, Birdie,” Varric said, smirking at Anders’ flummoxed expression.

“Oh, right!” She leaned up to kiss Anders’ other cheek. “Tell Justice one of those is for him, too.”

“Uh. Okay?” Anders stammered.

“Great. Everyone lived,” Fenris yanked Hawke away from Anders, making her yelp in surprise, and hauled her towards the bedroll she’d never gotten around to lying on. “You need sleep. We still have a long way to go and I don’t want you getting yourself killed again.”

“Is it killed again if I didn’t technically die the--I’ll shut up now,” Hawke said quickly, hands up in surrender, when all three men glared at her. She all but flopped onto the bedroll, groaning slightly when the solid rock beneath her admittedly too thin bedroll made her still tender torso ache.

Carver was alive. She pressed her face into the threadbare lump of a pillow, grinning in relief. He’s alive. He’ll be a Warden, a hero. Maybe he’ll finally find his own feet, and when they meet again one day, they’ll find a way to be better. Better siblings. Better friends.

The other three were talking quietly near the fire behind her as she settled more comfortably. She didn’t bother trying to figure out what they were saying, probably looking at the maps and planning out a course. For once, she didn’t feel like being in the middle of it. She was tired and so so relieved. She wanted to lay there and feel like it was all going to work out.

The murmur of Anders’ voice broke her reverie. Slowly, so they wouldn’t see her moving, Hawke lifted her hand and touched her fingertips to her lips. If she tried hard enough, she could remember the fleeting burn of his facial hair, hear the quietly surprised inhale, and the weight of his arms around her waist to hold her steady. She smiled, small and secret, heart thumping.

He had made it clear that only the thinnest and most innocent teasing was allowed. Even then, he would stop sometimes, pull away, shut down and shut her out.

Maybe a year ago, we could’ve had something…

She pressed her fingers harder against her lips. Her eyes squeezed shut.

At least she could keep this. A few innocent cheek kisses done in sheer relief. She hadn't even really thought about it before doing it, but in hindsight it had her spinning. Aching. There wasn’t anything too bad about it... right? The memory of his voice in her ear calling her 'sweetheart' and that kiss on her forehead were also hers to keep. Stolen moments in the depths of the Deep Roads and terror. She should feel more guilty for treasuring them, for repeating them over and over in her head, for rubbing her fingertips over her lips. But she didn’t.

[membermentmania]

August 16th, 8:30pm-10:46pm 

But apparently there was a way. The stories Kenny told them growing up were true. He often spewed tales of an angel coming to send their current way of technology into nothingness. As he got older, specifically the last time they saw him, he was oddly specific though. He assured them that they didn’t have much, relatively speaking, so this ‘round’ wouldn’t be that bad. The group didn’t think much of it. Or at the very least, Craig didn’t. Kenny loved to ramble. He loved to theorize. He was smart. It made sense. 

Throughout the week, Craig got to see Tweek. He got to know Tweek in a way that felt so personal. It was like he’d never been so connected to someone, and it was some weird blonde that showed up from nowhere. But nowhere wa wasn’t exactly right. 

What really cemented it for him was that night. Tweek said something that sat with him. ‘I’m gonna save us the argument.’ Tweek said a lot of things that really made his mind go into overdrive, but that one really threw him. He automatically assumed that Tweek had obviously had this argument with someone else. But it felt so familiar. 

Tweek made him feel these odd little waves of nostalgia he couldn’t quite put together. Tweek made him feel so many things. They weren’t new feelings, but he’d never felt them quite like that. Craig wanted more. Every single moment after that third night, something deep within him begged for more. 

And then he was sure. ‘He’s a different person now. If we meet again, he’ll be a different person.’ Craig’s heart ached. His chest hurt as Tweek whispered out the depths of his soul. He wanted to know. He wanted to press. But part of him was terrified. This unreasonable, unrelenting part of him wondered if he was that person. He wanted to ask. He wanted to ask if that was the reason why Tweek looked at him like he hung the stars when Tweek was the one creating them. He wanted to ask if in another life, he was Tweek’s, even if it was for a short period. If that’s why no one ever felt right to him. Because Tweek felt so fucking right. 

Tweek insisted the reincarnation cycle was real. Craig thought he broke and asked, but that wasn’t what came out. Instead, what came out was, ‘are you going to be okay though?’ Because more than anything, in that moment, all he wanted was for the absolute angel in front of him to be okay. 

Tweek seemed to want space after that. Craig thought he did something, but quickly realized that wasn’t the case. Tweek was in his head. He showed classic signs of being an overthinker. He bit at the inside of his cheek, brows slightly creased when he’d get quiet for a while. Sometimes he’d go to bite his nails before his hand would twitch slightly and retract, as if he’d been trying so hard to kick a habit that’d been around forever. The way he’d spoken about some things was like he’d had decades to sit on the idea. 

Craig would’ve been willing to give him that. But then he came to talk to Craig while he was steering. Craig surrendered himself to it. Just a little closer. He let himself get close enough to see every freckle on his face. Craig felt like all logical thought went out the window. He’d been fully enraptured by the man he’d known less than a week. And he couldn’t help but love every second of it. He wanted so much more of this. He wanted Tweek to stay. He wanted to say something. Do something. Anything. 

Then Kyle (probably Leo, realistically) felt the need to dock the boat  like an animal. The spell was broken, but not gone. Tweek showed him magic and madness and told him of things he didn’t quite get but also things he felt in the depths of his soul. 

He had to at least try that night. When Tweek told him if he could stay, he would in a heartbeat, it took everything in Craig to beg him not to leave. It felt compulsive. Tweek woke something up in him he didn’t know was there. He wondered if anyone had ever begged Tweek to stay. Something Kenny said hit him hard. It was a simple back and forth. ‘Don’t say anything unless he brings it up first.’ Someone asked why. Craig couldn’t remember who. It was probably Kyle. Kenny gave Craig a sad smile. ‘It’ll break his heart.’ 

A wave of clarity washed over him. He couldn’t have Tweek. He wanted to deny it. He’d spent the whole week, clinging desperately to flimsy denial that Tweek was just a passing stranger. He knew it wasn’t true. But still. Tweek’s last night with them arrived, and all he wanted was to dream just a little longer. They fell asleep together under a beautiful blanket of stars. They ate breakfast together one last time. And then it was time to say goodbye. 

It hurt. Saying goodbye to Tweek hurt his chest in the worst way possible. Seeing the look on Tweek’s face as they said goodbye felt like it was going to kill him. In another life. That was what Tweek said. Craig knew it then. He was Tweek’s at some point. He was Tweek’s now. He would be Tweek’s again. And Tweek would be his. 

Tweek would come back for him. 

But still. Watching Tweek disappear felt like he’d been stabbed. He walked to the inn, the wound bleeding violently, to see the others sitting against a tree outside, all waiting for him. He sat down against the tree next to Kyle. “You really think that was him?” he asked, silently begging to have everything disproven. He saw Tweek leave. He saw how Tweek left. But he didn’t want this to be it. 

“I know it was him.” The wound festered. I know. 

“How?” 

“What did Kenny tell us?” 

“That the harbinger of the apocalypse would probably seek me out. But if we figured it out, we weren’t supposed to mention it to him.” 

“And?” Stan interjected with a laugh. The wound ached. 

“And what?” he responded with an eye roll. 

“Exactly your type.” His heart felt like it shattered. He thought it was a joke. A stupid, offhanded comment Kenny made. He made them all the time. But Tweek was so much more than his type. He was everything. 

“Fuck you.” 

Tweek opened his eyes, lying on the cold metal floor of his ship. His thoughts were moving too fast for him to hang onto a single one. He stood up walking towards the thing he hated more than anything. He glared at the damned button. He hated it. He hated this. He hated everything that led him there. “In another life,” he murmured, gently pressing it. A tear slipped out. Then there was more. Tears poured out as he slid down the cold metal, curling in on himself. His stomach hurt. 

He was pretty sure he cycled through all of the stages of grief multiple times on his two day trip back. When he got home, he’d landed on some contorted version of hope. He’d see Craig again. He’d see Craig again and he’d do everything differently. He’d make Craig his for that one week he got with him. He’d pour every single bit of love he had for him into those seven days. It would be wonderful. He just had to wait. 

Bebe was at the door of his ship when he opened it. He beamed at her. “Why do you look like that?” she asked, clearly thrown off.

“He was there.” 

She made a face. “Who was there?” 

“Craig. And Kyle. And Stan!” 

Her eyes widened with disbelief. “WHAT?!” 

“The reincarnation cycle is real, Bebe! I saw it with my own two eyes!” he whispered excitedly. 

“Woah.” She let out a small exhale. “Okay, let’s talk about this more at home.” The two walked back to his house together in relative silence. 

The second they were inside and away from any potential listeners, he started talking. “I got there. I cooked up a shitty plan to fake rob someone to connect with them.” 

She laughed. “Okay. Maybe try sleeping before you go on a mission next time?” 

Tweek waved a hand. “Long story short, I got jumped and landed on a boat.” He used their term for boat. 

“What the fuck is a boat?” 

“Kay. Remember those weird water cars from Andromia?” She nodded. “Basically those but wood.” 

She made a face. “That’s weird.” 

“Weird as fuck. Anyways.” 

“Anyways,” she parroted in acknowledgment. 

“They were gonna beat me up? Or kill me, maybe? I don’t really know what the original plan was. Cause I robbed one of them and tried to attempt to fake rob one of them.” 

“Wait, you actually robbed one of them?” 

“Pickpocketed his dagger.” 

“Kay. Continue.” 

“Mind you, I still hadn’t connected with anyone. But that wasn’t important, because Stan and Kyle were just there!” She gasped. “Yeah! So, another half cocked plan to connect with someone later. I headbutted this guy Leo. And that was close enough to get me to where I needed to be. And thankfully, the language was close enough to Zaronian to where I wasn’t feeling like my head was going to mush as 

s I tried to figure it out.” 

“Back up. You connected with someone by headbutting them?!” 

“Yes!” 

A giggle bubbled out. “Tweek. That’s insane.” 

“It’s all insane!” 

“Seriously,” she muttered. “Go on.” And he continued to go on. And on. And on. Hours passed as they talked about what happened and what it all meant. Tweek told her what he decided. He told her he would wait. She pulled him into a gentle hug. “Is this good for you though?” 

He let out a quiet laugh. “It’s probably the worst thing for me,” he answered honestly.

“Then why?” 

“Love is real, Bebe. It’s fucked up and horrible and so beautiful. I didn’t know it would feel like this. I can’t give up on it. It’s so,” he paused. “I don’t have the words,” he said, lowering his tone. “But I would gladly endure a thousand years of hell if it meant just spending one more moment with him.” 

“You really believe that?” she whispered.

“With everything in me.” 

She pulled back, smiling at him. “What an interesting thought.” 

-

The first five hundred or so years, Tweek held out. He held onto this blind hope that they would reunite and he would have Craig and things would be okay, even if it was just for a little while. He was distracted. He was constantly learning or working on something, passing the time with what felt like ease. It was hard, but he was managing. Any and all negative thoughts went ignored. He could acknowledge he was refusing to face reality, but he was doing it wonderfully. 

He got complacent though. A lazy day turned into five. All it took was one thought. One day, I’ll never be able to see him again. Everything he was holding onto crumbled. He watched in real time as all the thoughts and hopes he had disintegrated into dread. He’d swan dived from his pedestal of hope and down into the hell that waited below. It was endless. Bottomless. He was immersed in a kaleidoscope of suffering and abject horror. 

The love he held so close to his heart finally broke him. It absolutely ruined him. 

   He stayed ruined for a long time. Bebe and Wendy looked out for him. It took so long, too long, but he finally pulled himself out. Rational thought had finally come back to him. 

He decided when he went back to Earth, he would stay alone. For real this time. No connections. He’d just observe what he needed to observe and go. Finish his job. Come back home to real life and go back to his normal. It was what he should’ve been doing in the first place. Earth was a dream. Sometimes, dreams are supposed to be just that. Dreams. Unattainable for a reason. 

As the time to leave crept up on him, he ignored the embers of hope trying to relight within him. He ignored every bit of longing that filled out the depths of his soul. 

No plans. No connections. No attachments. Survive, do your job, and come home to where you belong. 

[muse-legion]

The jukebox blared an upbeat melody from decades past, resonating with laughter as other patrons danced and clapped along to its nostalgic tunes. He found it amusing how people could so easily get lost within the rhythm, completely forgetting reality in that moment. “I didn’t know that was still running. I used to love that song.” He chuckled, swaying a little to the beat.

“Sorry, I almost forgot you’re still at work. Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble but I can wait and the offer still stands once your shift is over.” Hasani winked at her teasingly, before he took his drink and followed her to the booth, where he made himself comfortable. “Remember when we hid in the utility room and waited until they closed, to have our own little private party in here?” A casual smirk tugged at the corners of his lips at the memories of their high school shenanigans. There was no doubt, those two were trouble and while they did have to face the consequences more times than not, he wouldn’t change a thing, even if he could.

Something flickered at the edge of Hasani's mind—a haunting curiosity that had grown since he’d last seen Cassie years ago. She seemed different now; there was depth in her gaze that hinted at experiences he longed to understand: what adventures had shaped her during their time apart? But he wasn’t going to push it. When Cassie’s playful inquiry twinkled in those same eyes he couldn't quite look away from—the ones tethered to unspoken memories—his heart tightened slightly at mention of a wedding band and he automatically rubbed his ring finger. He’d taken that thing off a while ago. “I wish… but unfortunately I’m still trying to get my ex to sign the divorce papers.” It wasn’t his favorite topic to talk about but there was no way he was going to hide the ugly truth from Cassie either.

Gently stepping around Hasani, Cassie took in a quick breath of air. While this was done to try and sort out her thoughts to properly explain her return, all Cassie got was the delicious scent of his cologne. It almost made her eyes roll back, lids fluttering shut to bask in the smell. But the sound of a patron putting coins in the jukebox and a small group of praising the song choice brought her back.

"I would love to," Cassie started as she began pouring his next drink. "But believe it or not, I'm a sober bartender. I'll still join you. My shift is almost done anyway." Once she placed the glass in front of her old friend, Cass beckoned for him to follow her to one of the booths toward the back.

As they settled in, Cassie gave him another once over, suddenly remembering all teh trouble they'd used to get in back in their high school days. "So, tell me, Hasani - what have you been getting yourself into lately?" If asked, Cassie would deny trying to avert the conversation away from her and her past. That information was not exactly her favorite thing to talk about. "I don't see a wedding band or a tan line. There's no way someone hasn't come and swooped you up yet."

[delimeful]

hold my body down (2)

chapter 2 of this fic!

warnings: arguing, mild violence, cult mentions, mild gore mentions

-

Virgil stared at the man, his mind blank. What?

“That’s-- great?” Roman tried, his voice cracking in the middle with bewilderment. The human beamed, beckoning with his hand. Roman reached out and Virgil slapped his hand back, glowering at him.

“What have I said about accepting help from random friendly men?” he hissed, eyeing the stranger warily. Roman flushed, shoving him slightly, but notably didn’t try to move forward again.

The man-- Patton’s smile didn’t falter, but his hand dropped slightly. Virgil refused to feel bad. For once, he was completely sure that his level of paranoia was necessary for the situation.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Patton said, folding onto his knees to sit on the edge of the bag’s opening. “I can just explain from over here. I would come to sit in the bag with you, but last time I did that I got held hostage and Logan put a ban on interacting with terrified strangers without his direct supervision.”

“That, uh, seems rather fair,” Roman offered, still wildly out of his depth. Virgil rolled his eyes, a hand on the hilt of one of his daggers in case the stranger made any sudden moves.

“Who’s Logan?” He asked, eyes flickering up to what little he could see through the opening.

“Oh, he’s the one who rescued you!” Patton said cheerily. Virgil broke out into a cold sweat immediately.

“Rescued?” Roman echoed in disbelief. “Are you talking about the giant? Because I’m pretty sure he just abducted us against our will.”

“No, no, it’s not like that!” Patton insisted, only confirming Virgil’s theory that he was probably brainwashed and/or had Stockholm syndrome. Or both. Or a variety of other, worse options, such as yet another cult member or another giant in disguise.

“Easy, Virgil.” Roman laid a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. “Uh-- Patton, was it? If we’re not being… y’know… kidnapped and imprisoned, do you think you could back up so we can get out of the bag?”

“Of course!” Patton answered, popping back to his feet. “I’ll be right out here, take your time! I’m sure the last couple of hours have been rough.”

Virgil tried not to snort. Rough was one word for it. His amusement died a quick death when Roman began moving towards the opening. He latched onto the other man’s arm like a steel trap. “I don’t trust this.”

“You don’t trust anything,” Roman retorted automatically before softening. “It’s okay, I’m just checking to see what’s out there. Won’t even get out of the bag, on my honor.”

Virgil reluctantly followed him, grabbing onto him tightly as though he could keep anything out there from hurting him by yanking him back into the bag.

Roman ducked his head back under the cloth a moment later. “Okay. Bad news, there is absolutely a giant still out there. Good news, he’s all the way over across the room, reading a book. He is steadfastly ignoring both us and Patton, who waved at me.”

“What.” Virgil clutched at his hair. “What is going on?”

“I suspect we’ll have to ask Patton that. If we want answers, we’ll have to go get them,” He said, patting Virgil on the back encouragingly. “Don’t worry, my Dark and Stormy Knight, I’ll keep you safe.”

“My job,” Virgil grumbled, not releasing his grip on Roman’s wrist as he led the way out of the bag.

Everything was huge. He should have expected it, seeing as this was a giant’s home, but it still threw him off. They were on a huge table, in a huge living room, and the giant was indeed across the room with a huge book, pretending like they didn’t exist. From this distance, Virgil could actually take in all of him without feeling like he was going to pass out.

Patton was sitting a few feet away, and beamed at their approach. Virgil barely tore his eyes away from the giant long enough to nod distractedly at him. “Hi again! Are you guys okay?”

“We’re… fine,” Roman said, uncertain. “I think we’d just like to know what’s going on?”

“That’s totally understandable!” Patton replied, sympathetic. “I was pretty jittery after Logan first brought me here, too!”

“Oh, great,” Virgil muttered to Roman. “Serial kidnapper.”

Roman shot him a look before turning back to Patton. “He brought you here? Could I ask… why?”

“The same reason he brought you two here! I was in danger.” Patton glanced over to the giant with a fond smile before leaning in secretively. “To be honest, I think he was even more worried than I was! I was sort of stabbed at the time, though, so I guess that makes sense.”

“How were you ‘sort of stabbed’? You’re either stabbed or you’re not!” griped Virgil, who was possibly feeling more snappish than normal after one of the most stressful experiences of his life.

“My goodness, you were stabbed?” asked Roman, who had always been a sucker for a dramatic tale.

Patton tugged up the edge of his shirt, displaying a nasty-looking scar that curved around his side and stomach. In Virgil’s professional opinion, there was nothing ‘sort-of’ about a wound like that; it had been meant to kill. “Yeah, the people you met in town, they’re a cult! And they wanted to do a blood sacrifice for the monsters in the woods, and I wasn’t exactly well-liked, so…,”

“They stabbed you and left you for dead?” Virgil finished, a bit of anger leaking into his voice despite his determination not to sympathize with this guy.

“But I didn’t die!” Patton waved his hands a bit as though in celebration. “All the monsters in the woods had already been scared off when Logan moved here, and so he was the one who found me and helped me recover!”

Roman glanced over at the giant again, a speculative look in his eye that Virgil absolutely did not approve of. He scowled, his grip on Roman’s wrist tightening slightly.

“Right, and he just did this out of the goodness of his heart?” Virgil snorted dubiously. “I wouldn’t believe that from another human, let alone someone with a literally huge advantage over us. If your story is true, why didn’t the cult try to gut us? For that matter, if he’s not into human sacrifices, why wouldn’t your buddy over there just tell them to stop? Or, y’know, not kidnap us in the first place?”

“Well, hold on--,” Patton tried, but Virgil was on a roll.

“How do we know that this isn’t some elaborate setup? If he has the magical capabilities to heal a mortal wound, then wouldn’t it be easy for him to enchant a captive into believing that he’s just doing what’s best for him? Before, you said there were other people brought here-- what happened to them? Do you even know?”

Across the room, there was a sharp clap as the giant firmly snapped his book shut.

“They left,” Logan said firmly, the first words that they’d heard from him. “And if you continue to harangue my housemate, I will ask you to do the same.”

“Logan,” Patton said, a little exasperated.

Virgil felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of those huge, dark eyes locked onto him, but he plastered his best snarl on even as he dragged a protesting Roman partially behind him. “We’d be glad to leave, but someone put us on a table ten times our height!”

“Virgil,” Roman tried, but Virgil didn’t have the luxury of not paying attention to the pissed off giant in front of them.

“There’s a staircase down to your left,” the giant informed him coldly, “so if you are intent on watching your companion die from organ combustion, you have my utmost permission to leave.”

Logan!” Patton chided, a lot exasperated. He turned back to them. “He doesn’t mean it like that, I promise.”

“Really?” Virgil snapped, crowding Roman back further. “Because it sure sounds like he just outright threatened to kill us if we leave.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Logan pinched the bridge of his nose before rising easily from his chair and reminding them all just how big he truly was. “This is why I let Patton handle the talking. I don’t know why humans always insist on making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

Virgil’s heart jumped into his throat as the giant approached, a thousand potential ways they were going to die flashing before his eyes. Behind his back, he flashed Roman a hand sign that meant ‘run for it’, and then released his friend’s wrist to draw one of his knives threateningly.

It was a pointless effort, but he’d known since setting out with his prince that one day he’d die for him.

Sure enough, the giant moved with that same uncanny speed he’d shown in the clearing, and simply grabbed Virgil’s forearm between his fingers as easily as one might scruff a cat, preventing any stabbing.

When Virgil immediately went to grab for another knife with his free hand, he found himself abruptly lifted and maneuvered, and couldn’t help letting out a startled yelp. The giant had essentially flipped him onto his front and settled one hand on his back as a weight, leaving him pinned and the giant firmly out of stabbing range.

More concerning was the fact that he could now see Roman, who hadn’t moved more than a few steps, and not just because he was a stupidly loyal, headstrong idiot. The prince seemed almost dazed, his skin shiny with sweat as he glanced between Virgil and Logan. Something was wrong. “Roman--!”

“You’re beginning to feel it, aren’t you?” Logan said, his cold tone thawing slightly as he looked down at Roman. “The cult of that town has only grown more... inventive with every cruel sacrifice they attempt. Rather than physical injuries, they’ve turned to blood curses, which has made my life exceedingly difficult.”

“Blood-- Blood curses?” Roman managed, looking more pallid by the moment.

The giant set a free hand down, palm up in offering. “I can reduce the effects. If you give me sufficient time, I can unravel the curse entirely, though brewing a countercurse will likely necessitate a drop of your blood.”

“Why go to the trouble?” Roman asked haltingly, meeting Virgil’s frantic gaze for only a moment. “What do you want in return?”

Logan sighed. “If you insist on applying such intentions to my actions, you can call it compensation. It is because of my presence that the cult continues to leave ‘offerings’, and thus your current state is my fault.”

“Then why not just do it?” Roman asked, staring at the offered hand with clear suspicion. Virgil was almost proud.

“Patton has gone to great lengths to teach me manners for interacting with smallfolk,” Logan replied dryly. “The first of which being ‘don’t grab.’”

There was a brief moment of silence as they all looked to Virgil, who was still pinned and sorely wishing he was in biting range of Logan’s hand.

“Manners don’t apply if someone is trying to stab me,” Logan added, a beat late.

Patton waved from where he was half-hidden behind Logan’s arm. “It’s true, my lessons did make an exception for stabbing!”

“Let him up,” Roman requested, his voice lacking its usual bravado. He still appeared concerningly ill. “He won’t stab you, right Virgil?”

Virgil grumbled something uncomplimentary under his breath, before sighing and going limp. “All I want is to protect my prince. If you actually mean to help him, I won’t stab you.”

“Now that stabbing is off the table, I’ve gotta say, it’s knife to meet you,” Patton chimed in, his grin audible in his voice.

“Patton, please,” Logan groaned, lifting his hand off Virgil to instead massage his temples in exasperation. “You’re going to disturb our guests.”

“Aw, are you sure? I think my jokes are stabsolutely hilarious!”

Virgil ignored the ridiculous byplay between the two of them to scramble to his feet and hurry to Roman’s side, ignoring the way Logan moved his arm slightly to be between him and Patton. “Roman, are you okay?”

“Are you? You’re the one who just got gently tenderized by Bignoramus over there for the second time today,” Roman countered, matching Virgil’s whisper.

“Fine, stupid question, clearly neither of us are okay. Are we really doing this, though? We could still run.”

“I’m… not sure we can, actually.” Roman’s hand hovered over his chest, face drawn tight with pain. “They definitely did something to me, and I doubt either of us will figure out how to fix it or get aid in time. … Look. This may be my only option, but you don’t have to--”

“Can it, Princey,” Virgil cut in, dragging a hand through Roman’s hair roughly and ignoring his resulting squawk. “Where you go, I go.”

“Even there?” Roman asked, tilting his head toward Logan’s palm somberly.

Virgil looked over to Logan, watching the attentive way he was listening to Patton speak and contributing words of his own. The giant could have done away with any of them at any point, and he hadn’t. That wasn’t enough to really trust him, it could still all be part of some scheme, but... it had to count for something.

If it was the only thing that could help Roman, Virgil could push aside his fear and his anger.

“Even there,” he answered, and led the way onwards.

[itadorisgf]

YOU MAKE IT DIFFICULT TO NOT OVERTHINK.

note: fushiguro megumi pls reply to my text messages

word count: 1.5k

pairing: fushiguro megumi x gn!reader

warning: takes place after fushiguro gets his shit rocked by tōdō, blood, mention of injuries

The word plagues you the moment it falls from his lips.

“As long as a person is compassionate, then I don’t need anything else.”

What did he mean by that?

You glance sideways at Kugisaki and Maki who are too engrossed in conversation to pay you much mind. Good. You slip your phone, which managed to escape unscathed following your encounter with Maki’s rather unpleasant twin, out of your pocket and unlock it. It’s not as if you’re unfamiliar with the word, but you type it into the search engine anyways to look up its exact definition.

A definition pops up instantly after you press enter. “Compassionate: feeling or showing sympathy and concern for others.” Your brows unconsciously pinch together as you read the definition a second time. You gnaw on your lower lip, hissing when your teeth accidentally come in contact with a cut. You bring your hand up to your lip, tenderly pressing your forefinger against the thin cut, and then pulling it away to look at it. The cut still stings but at least it’s not bleeding anymore.

Your mind wanders back to Fushiguro’s words, and you can’t help but feel unsettled by them. It’s too…simple. How is it that the only quality that Fushiguro desires in a romantic partner is compassion?

It’s simple, but at the same time, it’s not. Compassion is intangible. It’s not a physical quality that you could simply check off if you had it or not. It’s a feeling that one possesses, and can only be seen through the actions that one takes. You kind of wish Fushiguro had said something shallow instead. Even if you didn’t fit his type at least there wouldn’t be any room to overthink it at all. You would be able to wallow in self-pity for a while that your crush on him would go unreciprocated and then move on afterwards.

But, that’s not who Fushiguro is.

“What’s the face for?” You lift your head up to look at Maki and Kugisaki. You answer Maki’s expectant gaze with a shrug of your shoulders while slipping your phone back into your pocket.

“Nothing. I was just thinking about the Exchange Event.” You slightly shrink under Maki’s unrelenting stare before she turns to look forward once more as Kugisaki launches all three of you into a discussion about the upcoming event. You’re thankful that Maki didn’t press you for more information when you both know that you were lying straight through your teeth. She’ll drop the issue for now and wait until you eventually come to her about it.

You mainly listen to the two converse, popping in here and there to add your own comment, but Fushiguro’s words continue to weigh heavily on your mind. You’re lost in thought once more when you hear Kugisaki gasp from beside you. Looking up to see what caused such a reaction from your friend, you release a gasp of your own as you take in Fushiguro’s bloodied state.

He’s holding a piece of cloth, soaked through with red, to the side of his head. His clothes are soiled and blood is smeared across the entirety of the upper area of his face. He looks like shit, but he’s standing up with the help of Panda and Inumaki, who each have an arm hooked under his shoulder.

“Fushiguro?” He raises his head at the sound of your voice. You rush over to Fushiguro’s side, replacing Inumaki, who slips out of your way with no complaint, and slide an arm around his torso to help support his weight. “What happened to you?”

“Tōdō,” he mutters, wincing when Panda jostles him a bit too roughly. You grimace upon hearing the name. You didn’t realize that Tōdō would have roughed up Fushiguro to this extent, but you weren’t too surprised. Tōdō was a fearsome opponent. The mere thought of facing him in battle was enough to send a shiver up your spine.

“I’ll help Panda bring Fushiguro to see Ieiri,” you inform Maki and Kugisaki. Inumaki joins them, standing off to the side of the duo.

Maki waves you off with a knowing glance. You dislike how it feels like she’s peering right into the depths of your heart as if she knows the secrets it holds. You inwardly groan to yourself. She most likely does have an idea and you positively dread the talk you’ll be having once this is all over. You’re unsure if you’ll be able to handle the inevitable teasing that will ensue.

“Do what you like, just don’t be late for our training session tomorrow morning.”

You nod and watch the trio walk off as you readjust your grip on Fushiguro. You remain quiet, lost in your thoughts, all of which center around the male whose weight you’re currently supporting, and listen to Panda happily discuss the Exchange Event that seems to be the topic on everyone’s minds. It’s not long until you find yourself at Ieiri’s door. The room you’ve visited a fair share of times for your own injuries in the past lies empty at the moment. As soon as Fushiguro’s eased into a sitting position, Panda disappears with a hearty goodbye, leaving you and Fushiguro alone as the two of you wait for Ieiri’s arrival.

“Let me get something to clean the blood off,” you mutter when the quiet gets to be too much for you. Fushiguro just grunts in reply as you flounder around the room, searching for the faucet and a clean towel.

You grimace and take the bloodied rag from Fushiguro’s dirtied hand and toss it aside before replacing it with the clean dampened towel you prepared.

“Close your eyes,” you murmur. Fushiguro’s eyes flutter shut in response to your quiet demand. You’re confident that the walls around your heart would have crumbled all too easily if Fushiguro kept his eyes open and trained on you. You swallow down your nerves and ignore the hammering of your heart as you gently swipe the rag over his eyes.

He scrunches his face up and clenches his eyes shut automatically at the cool sensation before relaxing again. The action is much too endearing and you remind yourself that this is no time to be admiring Fushiguro’s profile when he’s injured. Your hands are gentle as you drag the rag over his bloodied face, doing your best to not cause him any more discomfort than he’s already experiencing in his injured state.

“That’s the best I can do right now.” Fushiguro slowly opens his eyes once more as you lift the red-stained towel away from his face. You quickly turn around to place the rag in the sink, unable to face Fushiguro while you’re in such a flustered state. You hadn’t realized how close you were to his face until after you were nearly finished wiping off all the blood and dirt that coated his skin. “I’ll leave the rest for Ieiri to take care of.”

Your heart lurches when Fushiguro reaches out and loosely circles your wrist with his hand. He draws his arm back quickly as if he’s surprised as well with his sudden action when you turn around to face him.

“Thank you.”

The words come out stilted and awkward, and you think you may be more seriously injured than you originally thought because a stark redness paints itself across Fushiguro’s pale cheeks and you are sure that you cleaned all the blood from his face. It takes a moment for you to realize that this isn’t a figment of your imagination or a daydream. That sitting less than a few feet away from you, Fushiguro is blushing. His eyes are averted away from your form, but he does nothing to hide the scarlet hue of his cheeks. Oh. Your heart really cannot take this.

“It’s no problem.” Your voice cracks, and you internally scream because at this rate you’re going to make a bumbling fool out of yourself in front of the boy you like. “I’ll see you later, Fushiguro.” You rush out of the room as quick as you can, hoping that the way your face has warmed up goes unnoticed by him.

You don’t allow yourself to relax until you collapse on a bench far away from Ieiri’s room, all the way on the other side of campus. Your frame sags and your pulse races as the mental image of Fushiguro blushing flashes to the forefront of your mind once more. This is really not good for your heart. At this rate, Fushiguro is going to give you a heart attack whether he means to or not.

“So you and Fushiguro, huh?”

You visibly startle at the teasing tone, scrambling to sit upright and twisting your head to face the owner of the voice. An arched brow and a grin that promises nothing good greets you as you look up at Maki. You swallow in an attempt to dislodge the lump in your throat.

There’s no way you’re getting out of this unscathed.

[fromspringandfire]

how time could change everything, no matter how much or how little had passed. laena began to realize more and more than in a day the world could flip upside down, dragons could reign in the skies and soldiers could march on to war, a seamstress, dragonseed, could rise to become a royal mistress. her world had changed so quickly, it boggled her mind, and at times, she felt entirely out of her element. she knew it were not expected of her to be anything other than who she was, but she was also entirely aware that she still had to be careful in ways that she could be a bit more relaxed, and more outspoken where she may not speak at all.

there was pride in seeing her brother take his rightful place - questionably to others, but to laena he was where he should be. she grinned, talking to some other guests momentarily before she noticed a figure approaching. he were eerily familiar, his features mirroring so many of her own - of course he could be anyone, there were valyrians all about the court of king's landing, but there was something about this man that seemed to click in the depths of her mind.

mouth was slightly agape as she observed him, he spoke her name, not even just her name, but something of affection that only those close to her ever really called her. brows scrunched together and it were clear she were trying to place him. the name were on her tongue, but she feared speaking it. "i thought you dead." she stated, absentmindedly, automatically, and it caused her cheeks to flush. "i mean, you are...rhaegar?"

who: @fromspringandfire where: rhaegar had taken some time to watch what remained of his family from the shadows during his cousin's coronation. it was finally time to approach them

The reunion with Jaehaerys had shaken him. It had been a revelation, and yet simultaneously, Rhaegar felt as though something at the very core of him had been broken loose, the debris left unattended. It had turned the page to a new chapter, the pages still blank and unwritten. The reunion with his family - or, what was left of it.

His father's face was in Braavos, his aunts and uncles dead - but there were still some he had known as a boy. As a boy who'd had a name and a family and almost something akin to love.

Rhaegar had watched Laena for a short while. The way she carried herself now, the way her features had matured. He recognized the past in her, still, and that, oddly enough, served as a comfort. Memories crawling forward from the farthest corners in his mind had his heart squeeze painfully in his chest, a momentary unbearable twing, that eventually convincede him that he would regret not stepping forward now.

He left the shadows, left the comfort and safety, and approached the Lady. "You grew up well, Lae." Rhaegar's voice was hoarse, wobbly in a way it normally wasn't. Nervous, still, even after the ball had been sent rolling.

[let-them-read-fics]

Empress of the Heart (Pt. 1)

Requested By Anon: "Reader is an actress, and she meets Jennie at an event. They have a one night stand afterward, and months later they meet again." (It was a long request so I had to sum it up lol)

Pairing: Jennie x Fem!Actress!Reader

Word Count: ~ 9,351 😳 (Both parts combined)

Warnings / Misc. -- Smut / Suggestive Themes, Angst, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hello again! Guys, I'm actually really proud of this one. It gets better as it goes on. I hope you enjoy it (you'd better, because I stayed up until 8am writing again 🥴😂). I had to split this story into two parts to appease the Tumblr overlords, just so we’re clear.

♡ Happy reading ♡

Part 2

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Who's that?" Rosé asks, leaning in closer to the maknae as she points to a slightly recognizable face in the crowd. 

"I dunno," Lisa shrugs, throwing a thumb over her shoulder, "ask Jisoo." The Australian does as she says, padding over to seek out an answer from their unnie. 

"Y/N L/N, I believe. Her company is supposed to make a big announcement later." Jisoo informs, adding a nod to the end of her statement for certainty. Jennie stands beside them all, taking in the crowd of staff and business people hailing from all of the most powerful entertainment companies in Korea. The big dogs have all gathered here tonight to drop some major announcements for their upcoming projects and set up arrangements for future endeavors. 

"What do you think it'll be?" Jennie asks, eyes still trained on you as you converse with a famous actress. Her breath catches in her throat when you throw your head back, eyes filling with tears of laughter at something the high class woman said. You're absolutely stunning. 

"It could be anything, honestly. Her company's full of talent in every category." 

"Yeah, their newest girl group broke a record for Youtube streams in the first hour after release. Still didn't beat ours, though," Lisa adds with a smug look, holding her head a little higher. She's only playing, of course -- she's one of the most humble people Jennie knows. 

"She's really pretty," Jennie breathes out, speaking the words that have been rolling around in her mind since she laid eyes on you. The other girls adamantly agree, nodding their heads with purpose. 

"Do you wanna go talk to her? YG would probably like that; maybe we can let Jisoo do a little schmoozing." Rosé smirks, playfully nudging the unnie. Jisoo rolls her eyes with an amused scoff, quickly swatting the blonde's hand away. 

"I don't know, she seems pretty busy." Her words are unsure, weary -- her normal confidence is wavering a bit, now replaced with some type of nervousness that she can't quite explain. This isn't like her; why is she so anxious?

"Come on, it'll be fun." Lisa decides for them, leading the way with Jennie's hand clutched in her own; the brunette would surely slip away otherwise. 

They approach you from an angle, caught right in your blind spot as you continue your small talk with a new business exec. The man sees the girls behind you, waiting for their turn, and after a few more moments he leaves you with an office number to reach him by.

"Good evening… Y/N, right?" Jisoo leads politely, smiling as you turn to face them. You look even more dazzling up close, and Jennie's posture stiffens. She's definitely seen you somewhere before.

"That's me," you say sweetly, greeting all of them and committing their names to memory. 

"Jennie," she introduces, stretching a hand out to you. Your eyes flutter down to it before you grasp it within your own, the simple action appearing unbelievably cute to her.

"How're you doing tonight? I hear you've got some big news for us." Lisa wiggles her eyebrows, voice bouncy with anticipation.

You giggle, and Jennie thinks it may just be the sweetest thing she's ever heard. "It's a little hectic, if I'm honest, but I'm enjoying myself. What about you guys? And you'll just have to wait and see what we have in store for you." You end the sentence with a wink that just happened to be directed at Jennie, despite Lisa being the one to ask the question. She tries to fight the blush that soon rises to her cheeks. 

"We're doing well, I'd say. It's actually kind of nice to get out of the dorm and meet some new people." Rosé says almost wistfully, her eyes sending a fleeting glance around the room at her statement. 

"I know how that can feel. When I was first starting out I didn't get many opportunities for roles. But then I met my manager at the café I picked up a second job at, and the rest is history." You smile softly at the memory, recalling the events of that fateful day. You can't imagine where you'd be right now if things had played out differently. 

"You're an actress?" Jisoo asks, sounding like she just put two-and-two together. You nod at her, noticing the way that Jennie looks at you in deep thought. You can practically see the wheels turning. 

"So that's where I recognize you from. You guest starred in that JTBC miniseries earlier this year, didn't you?" 

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner." You smile, bowing your head in praise. It warms your heart to see her face light up, knowing that she finally felt that rush of putting her finger on the elusive thoughts in her head. Pulling knowledge you previously believed forgotten from the foggy depths of your brain is a rewarding experience in itself, and you're pleased that she remembered you. 

"I'm glad I made an impression during my short time on screen," you quirk, leaning in closer to her. 

"With skills like yours? You're unmatched, Y/N." She flirts, finally finding her bearings again. Her confidence is returning now, slowly but surely, and she pats herself on the back for not hiding behind her hands when you send her a tempting smile. 

"Ah, you're too kind--" you begin, only to be cut off by a tap on your shoulder. It's one of your co-stars.

"Good evening, ladies," he bows, "I'm sorry to break this up, but Y/N is needed by management." 

Your shoulders sag at this, his words sinking in. You'd much rather spend the night tucked away with the girls, getting to know them better -- especially Jennie, who makes your heart speed up anytime she looks at you. 

"I hate to go," they nod in agreement, sad to have to part ways. They really enjoyed speaking with you, and they'd be lying if they said they wanted to stop anytime soon. 

"But maybe I'll catch you later?" The question sounds hopeful, albeit a bit unsure as you scrunch your face up. They affirm that they'd "like that very much," and your shoulders relax a bit. Maybe there's still some hope for you all. 

◇◇◇◇◇  2 Hours Later  ◇◇◇◇◇

"Exactly! She shouldn't have forgiven him after that," you rant to Jisoo, talking about some characters from your favorite kdrama. 

"Babo, I tell you." She says dramatically, rolling her eyes. The action garners a chuckle from you, and Jennie finds herself smiling as she follows along with the conversation. She must've made her staring too obvious, because a minute later your eyes meet hers from across the table. She blinks, surprise etched gracefully into her features, and she clears her throat. Both of you have been stealing glances at one another all night, and things have only ramped up since you snuck away from management to see them again. You assured them you wouldn't get in trouble, but that was honestly the last thing on your mind. 

From her seat across from you, Jennie can see the curve of your body, your silhouette highlighted by the lights that shine on the wall behind you. They're dimmed somewhat to give a comfortable, soft glow to the room, and they contrast with the perfect curve of your face. She lets her eyes trail lower, admiring the expanse of your chest and how your fingers rest against the table, mindlessly playing with the expensive tablecloth. 

What you do next makes her choke on the water she had so bravely dared to take a drink of. 

You lean forward slightly, just enough for her to see your cleavage, while still appearing inconspicuous and innocent. The smirk you try to suppress tells her you know exactly what you're doing, and her cheeks grow hot. 

"Excuse me," she mutters to the table, quickly standing and all but running outside for some fresh air. She wants -- needs -- to put some distance between the two of you if she plans to have any self control. 

Cool air immediately greets her as she steps outside, hearing the sleek automatic door slide shut behind her. She can breathe now, and begin to soothe her racing mind. Despite only knowing you for the better part of 4 hours, she's already attracted to you. Way more than she cares to admit, as she presses her thighs together to put out the fire you started within her. 

No more than 5 minutes later, the doors slide open once more. 

"Everything alright?" You ask, tone dripping with amusement as you take in her flustered state. It's obvious that she's okay, just simply turned on. 

"Never better," she mumbles, glancing up at you with a lopsided smile. 

"You know, you ran out pretty fast back there. You sure know how to worry a girl." You fake a pout at her. 

"Oh, you don't say?" She plays along, approaching you with what few shreds of confidence she has left. She tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, whispering into it, "Well, I'm all good." 

"Wanna see for yourself?" She continues, drawing back slightly to take your hands within her own and wrap them around her waist. She smiles as they roam over her body, making sure to be thorough as you "check her out." 

She groans when your hand grazes over a sweet spot on her thigh, causing you to pause and tut at her, "Tsk tsk, Jennie. It looks like I'll have to inspect this a little further." She gulps at your words, mind clouded once again by filthy thoughts of you. 

"Let's get out of here," she suggests, taking your hand to lead you away. You chuckle at her eagerness, only capable of nodding as she basically drags you to her car. 

◇◇◇◇◇

Despite feeling like two horny teenagers, you and Jennie actually opted to slow things down and get to know each other more. She's one of the most interesting people you've ever met, and you could listen to her talk for hours on end. The feeling is beyond mutual, and she doesn't mind that she has to wait a little longer to have you. The promise of what the night will hold for the two of you thrills her, and the anticipation only heightens her feelings.

Takeout containers lay abandoned in her car, long forgotten about as you sit next to each other on the hood. The chilly surface of the windshield presses against your back, making you all the more thankful for having had the foresight to wear a coat tonight. You make a mental note to thank your stylist for the suggestion. 

Stars are beginning to twinkle in the distance, slowly coming out of their peaceful slumber to greet the evening sky. They bring to mind all the nights you spent in your backyard as a child, laid out on a warm blanket as you gazed up into space. Back when only trivial issues existed in your world, leaving you with an unscarred heart and unadulterated outlook on life. Those times were simple, only complicated by whatever drama was going on at school or what new person your friends liked. Back then you had no idea of what the future held for you -- what you'd end up doing with your life. If you had a chance to talk to your younger self, you'd tell her to enjoy those days as much as possible; to not take them for granted for even a second. 

Everyday you're reminded that fame is truly a blessing and a curse -- you miss the days that you could roam the streets freely with whomever you wanted to, not having to worry about paparazzi or the media, but you're thankful for where you are now. You get to do what you love, everyday, and make money from it -- it's what everyone wishes for in life; and although you've worked your ass off to get here, you owe a lot of credit to the fans. 

"It's so beautiful up here," Jennie says, voice stuck between a whisper and sigh as she lays her head on your shoulder. 

"You see that building over there, with the orange lights and trees around it?" You ask, pointing in the direction of the building. Her eyes follow the invisible path your finger makes, and she spots it, nodding for you to continue. 

"My mom used to work there; it's a daycare. I always loved helping out. The kids were so adorable." A bittersweet smile plays on your lips as you look down at your lap, clearly reminiscing. Jennie notices, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as she says, "I bet you miss it." 

"I do," you sigh, clenching your jaw briefly, "those were the days. Seoul's home, but sometimes it feels so distant."

"I know how that feels." You don't miss the way her eyes cast down, a hint of sadness behind them, her fingers toying with yours on her thigh. Life in the spotlight isn't all it's cracked up to be, and neither of you are strangers to that all too familiar pang of longing. 

"I'm happy to be here with you tonight, though," you try to turn the conversation cheery again, and Jennie's thankful for that. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time." 

Your plan works, and soon she's pepping up. "Me neither. Being with you feels...different. In a good way." Your smile widens exponentially when she adds, "A very good way." 

"Don't get too cheesy on me, now," you roll your eyes teasingly, wrapping both of your arms around her and pulling her flush up against your body. She lays her head on your chest, reveling in the scent of your perfume and the warmth radiating from you. Her hand comes to rest against your ribs, lightly rubbing patterns against them as the two of you continue star gazing. She can feel your heartbeat pick up when she slides her hand downwards, playing with the hem of your shirt innocently. 

Does she have any idea what she's doing to you?

Yes, yes she does. After all, your body is basically selling you out at this point. 

"Y/N?" 

"Mmm?" You hum, eyes closed and head leaned back against the windshield. Her skin is soft against yours, and your shared warmth has put you at ease.

"Do you wanna go somewhere? I really don't want the night to be over yet." Your heart flutters at her words; the fact that a woman such as Jennie is so reluctant to leave you is baffling in itself. 

"I'd love that, Jennie. What did you have in mind?" 

For a moment, Jennie's mind takes it there. She allows herself to imagine what it would be like to feel your skin against hers, connection unrestricted by clothing; how your kisses would feel against her lips, her body; what beautiful sounds you would make as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge. She can't deny how attracted she is to you, nor does she want to; but she also doesn't want to ruin the innocent moments you're sharing. She doesn't want to taint them with the lustful ideas that flood her mind anytime you give her that look, or caress her thigh absentmindedly. 

"How does the park sound?" 

"With you? There's nowhere I'd rather be." 

Despite her efforts, Jennie blushes at your statement, feeling that embarrassing warmth creep up the back of her neck. You've made her blush more in the span of one night than she previously had in her entire life, and that boosts your confidence tenfold.

"Who's being cheesy now, huh?" She asks, pinching your side playfully as she sits up. Her legs swing around until she's fully facing you, sitting criss-cross as the two of you smile at one another. 

Neither of you move for a while, both content with just admiring each other's beauty. Her fingers lace with yours, and after a moment she brings your hand up to her lips to lay a kiss to it. The action -- more so, how soft her lips are against your skin -- catches you off guard, and your breathing hitches. All at once, you're acutely aware of how badly you want to kiss her. 

As if things couldn't get anymore tempting, her tongue darts out of her mouth to soothe her lips, making them glisten in the dying light of the evening. 

She sees your eyes dart down to them, and her body leans closer to you ever so slightly, seemingly having a mind of its own. You meet her gaze again, silently asking for permission as you glance back down at her lips. She responds by giving one single nod before leaning in close enough that your noses almost brush against each other. 

"You're stunning." The compliment sounds breathy as it slips out of your mouth, but you're beyond caring at this point. Your pride was thrown out the window the second Jennie showed interest in you. 

"Don't look at me like that," she says, gently biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from closing the distance. She wants you to be the one to do it.

"Like what?" 

"Like you're undressing me with your eyes." Her gaze casts down to your lips again, seemingly glued there as she watches them move when you speak your reply.

"You act like you weren't doing the same thing at the event." Her confidence falters momentarily, but she fights to hold her ground. "My colleagues even noticed it, babe -- you've gotta get better at hiding your attraction." You say with a chuckle, watching as Jennie's eyes grow wider. Had she really made it so obvious?

"We wouldn't be here right now if I was good at hiding it, so I think you owe me one." 

"Touché," you say, quirking an eyebrow in thought. She's right, as usual. "How can I ever make it up to you?" Your voice wiggles dramatically, face contorting in a mock apology. 

"I know a way," she says lowly, smiling as your hand finds its way to her knee a moment later. You hook your fingers in the crook of it, drawing a surprised gasp from her as she falls forward and into your arms. 

Here goes nothing. 

You raise your left hand to her cheek, brushing the back of your fingers against it gently as you build up the nerve to kiss her. Your other arm is wrapped securely around her waist in order to hold her steady above you. 

Her palms are pressed to the glass behind you, and her hair falls gracefully around you, creating a little curtain to shield you from the outside world. Finally gaining enough courage, you press your lips to hers in a soft kiss. It's slow and mild as you set a sensual rhythm, growing accustomed to the taste of each other. She sighs into your mouth as you reposition her so that she's straddling your lap. 

"Y/N, we're never gonna make it to the park if you keep kissing me like that." She warns, though her words hold no real threat at all. She wants this just as much as you do. 

You lay a trail of light kisses up her neck, all of them far too gentle for her liking right now. "Is this better, your highness?" You ask smugly, smiling against her throat as a frustrated sigh leaves her lips.

She places a hand on your chest to push you up against the glass, letting her fingers skim over your collarbone. Just as she's about to pounce, the sound of your phone ringing interrupts the moment. It vibrates in your pocket, right between Jennie's thighs, and you stifle a giggle at the reaction it would've drawn from her had you not quickly retrieved it. 

"Hello?" You ask, realizing you hadn't even bothered to check the caller ID. Jennie sits back on your legs, allowing her hands to rest on your hips and draw soothing circles.

"Y/N, I hate to tell you this on such short notice, but you have a new interview scheduled for tomorrow morning at 10AM. I'll send you all the details later." 

You sigh at your manager's words, running a hand over your face to relax yourself. The announcement party was supposed to signal the end of your busy week, but of course life just couldn't work in your favor for once. Now you'd be stuck in some random line of questioning, unable to give them any real answers for the sake of keeping spoilers from getting out. You can think of about a million things you'd rather be doing tomorrow morning, and one of them is sitting on your lap right now. 

"Yeah, okay. I'll talk to you later." You wait for him to say his goodbye before ending the call and turning back to Jennie with an apologetic look. 

"Sorry for ruining the moment." 

"You didn't ruin anything. But luckily for you…" she leans forward again, pressing a kiss to your lips that makes your heart stop for a second, "I can be very merciful." You nearly melt at her words, paired with how she whispers them in your ear. Her warm breath fans over your neck, rendering you speechless as you pull her back to your lips. 

This kiss is different -- full of passion and desire as you grow more used to each other. She raises up on her knees, towering over you as she stares down at you. You look so beautiful right now, your eyes appearing big as you look up into hers, waiting for her next move. She runs her hands through your hair before settling them on your cheeks, cupping the smooth skin and rubbing the pad of her thumb across it. You drag your nails up and down her exposed thighs, and you pat yourself on the back when you notice the trail of goosebumps they leave behind. 

"I actually do wanna go to the park with you, if that's alright. There's something I want to show you. I definitely want to continue this later, though." You say.

She nods at that, a smile making its way to her face that can't possibly be wiped away. As much as she wants to have you writhing underneath her, screaming her name, she can wait. She's content with making as many memories as possible with you tonight, and she's intrigued by the surprise you're hinting at.

A few gentle kisses later, you slide off the hood and help her down before going to open her car door for her. 

"Such a gentlewoman," she praises, pursing her lips at you. 

"Only for you," you wink, making her giggle. 

You quickly make your way to the driver's seat, set on getting to the park ASAP in order to spend as much time as you can with Jennie. After all, you can only stay up so late tonight if you want to be functioning for that interview tomorrow… and let's just say that you plan on being busy later. 

---------

"Voila!" You declare, motioning to some playground equipment in the kid's section of the sizable park. Of all the things she was guessing at, Jennie did not see this coming. 

"What, you came to show me monkey bars, Y/N? I've seen plenty of them--" She asks incredulously, looking around the area filled with miniature tables and chairs to go along with the equipment. 

"What? No, no. I used to play here when I was growing up, and my friend's and I had a secret hiding spot. We always stashed our favorite little knick knacks in it, and we promised we'd only show it to people we deemed worthy."

Jennie watches as your eyes light up at the recounting of such a dear memory, and she grins widely. You truly are a five year old at heart. 

"This is the first time I've been back here, since…" you trail off, realizing just how many years it's been. Being at such a different point in your life while standing in a place you frequented as a child is a weird juxtaposition that you weren't prepared for, but you push it from your mind.

"Anyway, I think you're pretty worthy." You joke, sizing her up. She laughs at that, and you revel in the pleasant sound. You know you probably won't see her again after tonight, so you're determined to ingrain the little things -- like her smile, her laugh -- into your brain. 

"Now, let's see… where did Ashley put it?" You whisper to yourself, scanning the length of the playground. Your eyes travel across the slides, over the swings, and around the monkey bars before you spot that little dip in the siding that you'd recognize anywhere. Jennie soon finds her hand slipping into yours as you lead her over to it, a childlike sense of giddiness on your face. She likes seeing you like this. 

"I hope it's still here," you say to no one, bending down to press your fingers against the old wood. It's far more worn down now, and you're worried that someone has already come by and cleaned out the hiding spot. Putting your doubts aside, you continue. 

"Okay, so don't laugh, but there's a special way you have to open it. Ashley showed it to me one day and it's the only way we could get it to budge after that."

She smiles her gummy smile at you, and you can't help but return the gesture and even steal a quick kiss. She's a bit taken aback when you ball your hand up, using the side of it to deliver a couple blows to the wood in two different spots. Next, you stand and line up your foot, remember exactly how your friend taught you, before executing a calculated kick to the other side. 

At first, Jennie wants to laugh at you; but upon closer inspection, she sees that in fact, a small opening is visible in the wood now. You smirk cockily, knowing full well that she hadn't expected that to work. 

"Told you so," you tease, now bending down again to work the panel free. You wiggle it back and forth repeatedly, being careful not to go too quickly and damage anything else, and eventually it pops out. She watches as you reach in and pull out a mini jewelry box -- the kind that can fit in your hand, mainly meant for rings or other small items. 

"We stole the box from our other friend, Janelle. Had to pay her our allowances for 2 months afterward. Can you believe that?" You ask, shaking your head with another smirk on your lips. Jennie laughs at you in full, loving how carefree you are right now. In a way, she's happy that your manager called earlier; otherwise the two of you most surely would be locked away in your bedroom right now. This experience is definitely one she'll cherish. 

"Unbelievable," she sighs, shaking her head and going along with it. 

You click the latch on the small box, it's material now weathered and rusty as it creaks when you open it. Jennie steps closer to you to examine its contents, and you fight to contain how hard your heart starts beating at the feeling of her hand on your lower back. 

"No way…" you utter, voice full of disbelief as your eyes land on one of your most prized possessions from childhood. 

"What?" Jennie asks, genuinely on the edge of her metaphorical seat. 

"This butterfly hair clip," you inform, slipping the small contraption between your fingers as you hold it up for her to see, "I won it at a fair with my mom and I always wondered where it went…" 

"It's beautiful, Y/N," she says, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the details etched into it. For something so small and seemingly unassuming, it's actually very unique. 

"I want you to have it." You say, taking a step away so you can look at her. She instantly goes to refuse, saying, "I can't! You just found it after all this time--"

"And I went all that time without it. If you take it, I'll know it's safe with you. And you can use it to remember me by." You say, your gaze softening as you watch her debate with herself. 

"Okay. But if you ever want it back, call me." 

"Roger that." You say dorkily, earning yourself a roll of those dark eyes you find yourself getting lost in. 

"And for the record, Y/N, I could never forget you. Pretty hair clip or not." Her confession makes you feel happy on a whole new level; knowing that you've left an impact on her is truly a wonderful thing. 

"So, what now?" She asks, breaking the happy lull your conversation found itself in. 

"We can walk around the park for a little while, or…" you start, waiting for Jennie to prod you further. Both of you know exactly what game you're playing, but it's still fun nonetheless. 

"Or?" She inquires, stepping closer as she wraps her arms around your shoulders. She nonchalantly gives you a once over, knowing what power her darkening gaze holds over you. 

"We can go back to my place. Maybe play a little footsie, who knows?" You say, shrugging your shoulders with a stupid grin. Even while seducing someone, you can't resist being a geek. 

"Footsie?" Jennie gasps, raising her eyebrows, "What kind of girl do you take me for? That only happens after at least 2 dates in." 

"Such a prude, Ms. Kim. How can I change your mind?" 

She presses a finger to her cheek, pretending to think, before getting an idea. Her lips flirt with the shell of your ear as she whispers obscenities into it, turning you to mush with every new scenario she puts in your head. 

You stiffen as she kisses your jaw, the action catching you off guard as you continue reeling from her words. 

"I can do that, I think," you cough out, stumbling over the words a little bit. She laughs at the effect she has on you; seeing your confidence waver is a nice role reversal, and it's something she could definitely get used to. 

"Let's go." She commands, now taking your hand to pull you after her, just like you had done before.

◇◇◇◇◇

It's painful, how hard Jennie has to restrain herself from touching you as you fumble with your keys. She told herself she'd keep her hands to herself until you got inside, just in case any stray paparazzi managed to catch you two together. The last thing either of you need is some new scandal, especially with your careers in a vulnerable spot as they're really beginning to take off.

"If you don't get that door open within the next 10 seconds, then I'll just take you out here in the hallway." 

You audibly gulp at the image she just conjured up in your mind, and you speed up your movements. The prompting worked, evidently, because soon she's practically shoving you through the doorway.

"Finally," she breathes against your lips, pressing you up against the door once you've locked it back. 

"I've been waiting to do this since we met earlier." She indulges you in that little secret, smiling at the way you whimper when she pulls your leg up to wrap around her hips. 

"I'm all yours," you say, making Jennie's heart flutter at the sentiment. For the night, you're hers and she's yours. "...now kiss me," you command, growing more impatient with each feather-light kiss she presses to your jaw. 

"So bossy," she toys, making you roll your eyes. 

"You have no idea, babe." 

She bites her lip as your husky voice makes its way to her ears, thick with the desire she's been steadily building within you all night. You tug her forward, your fingers bunching up the material of her shirt with little care as her lips meet yours. 

Her tongue swipes across your bottom lip, asking for a permission that you granted the second she touched you. You pull her chin down slightly, allowing the kiss to deepen as you tangle your other hand in her hair. 

After an especially bruising bite to her lip -- one that thrills her to her core -- she pulls away, breathlessly asking, "How're you so good at this?" 

You cackle against her, taken aback by how genuine the question sounded. "Practice for the kdramas, of course." 

"I haven't had to do this," you slide a hand between your bodies, smirking at the gasp that sounds off deep in her throat as you make contact with her, "yet though. That might be a little extreme for the screen." 

"You think?" She scoffs softly, bringing her hands up to gather your hair to one side. She presses gentle kisses to your neck, prepping the surface for the dark marks she'll most certainly be leaving there later. 

"Ready?" You ask, making sure she wants to go through with this.

"You have no idea, babe." She copies your statement from earlier, garnering another smile from you. She swears she can never get enough of that sweet look on your face.

"Follow me," you say, giving her another peck to last until you reach the bedroom.

◇◇◇◇◇  The Morning After ◇◇◇◇◇

Warm, glittering rays of sunlight sneak past the curtains of your apartment window, shining gently through the light material. A dream-like haze befalls the room, serving as a wonderful greeting once you peek your eyes open. The only thing capable of rivaling such a wonderful sight is the woman beside you, her soft breaths keeping your shoulder warm. 

As you turn your head to look at her, careful not to wake her, your heart flips. Having her here next to you is the only reason you even believe last night happened; it was magical -- the stuff of fantasy. The two of you did everything: acted on every desire, every impulse -- you truly made the most of the night, determined to make it unforgettable. 

A few blissful minutes later, she stirs beside you. "Good morning, Y/N." Her eyes remain closed, still safe from the bright light of the morning as she smirks at the memories replaying in her mind. 

You lay a small kiss to her lips, simply missing how they feel against your own. "Morning, beautiful." 

A content sigh slips past her lips as she presses them against your neck, cuddling further into you. "Last night was fun." 

You decide to tease her. "Eh, I've had better." 

If there's one thing that Jennie knows, it's that she's good in bed -- great, even -- and you definitely seemed to be enjoying yourself last night, just as much as she was. Still though, a bit of insecurity runs through her as she raises up on her elbow to look at you through her lashes. 

"Really?" She stills her fingers on your arm, stopping them from continuing the trail that they had been blazing just seconds ago. Her eyebrows furrow subtly, the action almost unnoticed by you. 

Deciding the joke isn't worth it, you cup her cheek and raise her head so she can meet your eyes. 

"No, I'm kidding. Last night was… something else." You chuckle, smiling as your eyes move around the room in an attempt to find the right word for it. When none come to mind -- no words capable of conveying how great it was -- you look back to her.

She has a knowing grin on her face, "I couldn't agree more." 

Sneaking a glance at the clock propped up on your bedside table, you get an idea. "You know, Jennie…" you start, purring her name out as you had last night, garnering that achingly familiar groan from her, "...we still have a few hours before either of our schedules start." Your suggestion hangs in the air as you roll her over onto her back, hovering over her and brushing your noses together. 

"Hmm, you don't say? Well you're in luck; I still have some things I wanna try out." She plays back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of your lips as her hands wander over your body.

Your eyes widen in shock, "What the hell could you POSSIBLY be thinking of?? We tried just about everything." She laughs at your reaction and pulls you down closer to her body to whisper in your ear. Jennie can feel you tremble with every new image she puts in your head, just like she had in the park, her lips dragging you further under as she sneaks little kisses to your skin here and there. 

"Let me get this gay straight: you want me to do that on the balcony? What if my neighbors see?" 

"They won't, we're on one of the top floors. And even if they do… would that really be so bad?" She lets the question hang in the air; she'd be lying if she said the idea of getting caught doesn't thrill her. Thinking of your lips on her neck as she rocks against you, pinned to the railing while out in the open for the world to see, sends a rush of warmth through her. 

"I wish you weren't so good at convincing me to do things. You're dangerous, Jennie Kim." You warn, pointing a disapproving finger at her. Your eyes nearly pop out when she kisses it, taking the digit in between her lips while looking up at you innocently. This woman will be the death of you. 

◇◇ Back At The Blackpink Dorm ◇◇

"Yah, I know! The new update looks so weird--" 

"There she is," Lisa says, motioning to the doorway, interrupting Jisoo and Rosé’s conversation about whatever new video game the unnie had downloaded.

Jennie leans on the heavy door as she locks it behind her, lazily spinning around on her heel with her lips drawn back in a huge gummy smile. 

"Somebody's happy…" Jisoo teases, shooting her a smirk. She's still riding the high you put her on, and it's no wonder her members are noticing. It's not like she's exactly trying to hide it, either. 

"How was your night? Have fun with Y/N?" The maknae wiggles her eyebrows while propping herself up on her elbows to see Jennie's reaction.

"LISA! She wasn't supposed to know!" Rosé shouts, letting out a disappointed huff. The younger girl only shrugs, a stupid smirk on her lips. Some people just wanna watch the world burn. 

The brunette's daze is momentarily broken at this, and she asks what they're talking about. 

Jisoo lets out a hesitant breath before explaining, "We saw you two leave together, but we agreed to not bring it up until you did." She shoots some daggers at Lisa before continuing, "Somebody can't seem to keep her mouth shut, though." 

Jennie only chuckles now, not really caring if they knew or not. Her night was too wonderful to keep to herself; she would've ended up telling them anyway. 

"Gather round, girls; I'll fill you in." 

◇◇◇◇◇ Months Later  ◇◇◇◇◇

"Why exactly do we have to go to this premiere again?" Jennie grumbles, looking out the window of their limousine. She'd much rather be back at the dorm, snuggled into her cozy heap of pillows and blankets with Netflix playing on her tv. 

"Some of our colleagues are starring as background characters, so YG wants us to attend and show our support." Jisoo informs, always seeming to have more knowledge than all of the other girls combined. Jennie nods; the reasoning is sound, but she'd still prefer to be home. Mingling with business people for god knows how long doesn't seem all that enticing to her. 

"What's the movie?" Lisa asks, throwing the question behind her to the other girls as she searches the cubby for some complimentary snacks. 

"Empress of the Heart," Rosé answers, finally knowing something that Jisoo doesn't. 

"Let's watch the trailer for it. If we have to sit through it then we might as well see what we're getting ourselves into." Lisa suggests, her fingers busy opening the bag of chips she chose from the assortment. 

"Yeah, okay." Jennie says, her statement followed by words of agreement from the other girls. Rosé takes her phone out to search the title, pepping up when she spots it. She whispers something to Jisoo and Lisa, Jennie paying no mind as she watches the buildings pass by. Her favorite thing to fidget with is secure in her grip, occupying her mind. It's familiar design feels good in her hands -- like it's right where it belongs. (Yes, this is what you think it is).

The other girls put their acting skills to use as they hit play, keeping straight faces when your voice comes through the phone speakers. Jennie's head snaps over to them, recognizing the sound in an instant. "Y-Y/N's starring in it?" She asks, voice coming out as a stutter. The thought of seeing you again thrills her, but she doesn't know if she can do that without falling even deeper. Your night together left her with lasting feelings, none of which she was prepared for in the slightest, and she knows they'll be reignited the moment she lays eyes on you. 

"Mhm." They nod sympathetically, all knowing how much she's thought about you the last few months. 

Their driver knocks on the partition, requesting to open it. They give him the all clear, and soon he's rolling it down to inform them, "We're here, ladies." 

"I'll be okay," Jennie tells them, attempting to stop their worries from growing anymore than they already have. She plays the statement back in her head, whispering it to herself as she exits the limo; tonight could only go one of two ways, and it depends entirely on you.

☆☆ Part 2 Linked Up Top ☆☆

[mae-gi-writes]

Jealous | Kevin Moon (The Boyz)

Your mission is to get your boyfriend jealous. What better way to do this by fawning over Stray Kids?

Genre: slight nfsw? Idk its kinda hot? And female reader insert.

A/N: inspired by my convos with @seraplantery and @chaoticdeobi Kevin would be about me thirsting over Chan. Also idk what I wrote im sorry TT > TT

-----

Jealousy had never been in Kevin Moon’s vocabulary. And you were damn certain it would never be.

That doesn’t mean you never try pushing his buttons every time you can, though.

“How can he be so hot?” You mutter to yourself, loud enough that it reaches your boyfriend’s ears. It’s a late lazy Sunday afternoon and you two are taking this time to unwind and relax, mentally preparing for the full week of work ahead. While Kevin is busy doodling across his sketchbook like he normally is, you take this time to catch up on the multiple kpop performances you’d missed earlier this year. 

And boy, have you missed out.

“Oh my god,” your lips go round as your eyes widen as big as saucers, gaze permanently fixed on the screen giving way to eight hot men dominating the stage with their fiery charisma and strong choreography, “Oh my-- holy shit I think I fell pregnant.” 

Kevin’s voice permeates through the hot summer air, “What you watching?” 

“Stray Kids,” you say absentmindedly as your eyes follow one particular member’s every moves. While you had fallen out of touch with the kpop world -- and you blame this on the concept of having a job and actually now going through adult life like anyone should be -- that doesn’t mean that you don’t get your phases, especially with one of your favourite groups you’ve been following since their debut.

“Stray Kids?”

“Yeah, jesus christ Kev-- Chan’s arms are to die for.” 

Admittedly, you wouldn’t have been so vocal about admiring other men if it’s not for your silent experiment of whether Kevin Moon will finally bite at the bait jiggling before his face. He’d be an idiot not to. 

But considering he is never even aware when other men look at you, you doubt that this time is going to be different. So you continue on:

“He’s not even my type of guy you know? I usually go for the tall skinny ones but somehow--he’s just so charismatic onstage. And did I tell you he’s Australian? I mean I’m not fond of Aussie accents but I don’t know I find it really sexy on him--”

“Woah Y/N, look at you. Talking as if you don’t have a boyfriend,” sarcasm drips from Kevin’s alto, causing your head to slowly turn with surprise, an eyebrow arching slowly at the way he seems hunched and rigid over his blank piece of paper, pen held so tightly in his grip it might snap in two.

“Kevin,” you draw out slowly as you try to hide your grin, “is that...jealousy I hear?” 

He scoffs, “I don’t get jealous."

"Sure could've proved me wrong."

Reverting your attention back to the screen just in time to catch a glimpse of Bang Chan's smile, you sighed in bliss, "his abs, though."

There is silence from Kevin's part, causing your lips to tilt into a small smirk of victory as you click on the next video that follows. You know him all too well that you assume he will probably sulk for the next hour that follows, and you're content with that, considering that you're not at fault.

You're too engrossed in your video that you barely realize that a shadow hangs behind your shoulder, before an arm shoots out to close your laptop.

You whip around with a scowl, "hey! What--"

But no sooner are you protesting that you feel Kevin's arms haul you up, turning so quickly you can barely register anything but the soft mattress welcoming your figure as you are plopped onto it, Kevin's frame hovering over yours. His face is all but amused.

Laughter bubbles up your throat, "what the --"

It cuts off into a gasp upon feeling his arms hooking around the back of your thighs to pull you closer, lips mere inches above yours and dark orbs gazing down at you with a thunderous depth. It halts any further comment you are about to make, takes your breath away.

Something warm coils within your stomach.

You are a little breathless when you say, "y-yes?"

"You want me to be jealous?" His lips curl slightly, eyes narrowing down at you while fingers ghost over your thighs, his touch igniting a series of sparks in his wake, "I'll show you jealous."

And then he's kissing you. Hard mouth on yours, intense. Demanding.

That's not the Kevin you know but somehow desire pools through you. He's never been this...aggressive.

He is holding your frame against his, fingers so firm and pressing on the back of your thighs before slowly slipping up to cup your ass. You gasp in response, hands automatically lifting to grab his shoulders only for his to grab them instead and pin them down by your face. His head tilts, lips moving to your rhythm and dominating your tongue the moment you gasp into his mouth.

The softest grunts rumbles up his throat when your hips buck up on instinct. He murmurs against your mouth, "not so chatty now, are we?"

"I--"

And then his mouth is latching onto your jaw, peppering a trail of warm kisses that makes your heart beat twice as hard, your body writhing with the delicious sensation of wanting him. He devours your neck, growling with satisfaction when he urges your fingers down onto the mattress to stop any attempts of escape. That's hot.

You're practically seeing stars at this point, the sounds of his soft suckling evocating a sensation of heat deep within your belly that your legs wrap around his waist on their own accord to pull him closer. And the moment his firm length presses onto your heat, he lets out a moan that has you trembling.

"If I knew how you'd react--" you stop to moan softly as he grinds his hips into yours. Lord, "I would've done it more often."

"What, that's your kink?" His breath ghosts over your skin at your collarbone now. You struggle against him wanting nothing more than to run your hands through his glossy raven locks and to scratch your nails down his back. But his fingers squeeze firmly nibbling at the skin of your shoulder, "you like seeing me jealous?"

"Hm, I won't say the contrary," you breathe out.

Ensuring that one of his hands cage your wrists together, his other slips down to trace your neck, the dip of your breasts, ghosting over your side before trickling down the inner side of your thigh. You take a shaky inhale. Waiting.

He's looking at you now, gauging every reaction that you gift him with like you're a fascination he can't quite make out and the intensity makes you squirm.

Slowly, oh so slowly that it makes your toes curl, Kevin starts a slow, sensual path of kisses down the middle of your chest and air gets stuck in your throat the more you watch him, practically holding back a whimper with every searing touch he imprints upon your skin.

He kisses down your navel, nipping and biting as he does while his heated breaths send waves of heat up your spine. At some point he releases your hands to grasp your waist and they instantly tangle in his hair, emitting a grunt from the said man.

He continues his sensual search using his mouth, hot breath fanning against your skin down the sides of your thighs, landing on final peck to your knee, before rearing back up to hover above your pelvis and finally tilting his face up to yours.

And that makes your breath catch in your throat. For in Kevin's eyes you read the dark desire, the craving he holds for you, the longing.

Your heart jolts to a stop. You swear you stop breathing as your gazes lock.

A beat passes. You swallow hard. Suddenly vulnerable under his hooded stare.

Then, before your brain can scramble for coherence, the raven-haired man leans over. He presses a kiss.

Right on your sex.

A sound between a mewl and a whimper escapes your lips.

You gape at him. He smirks back, thoroughly satisfied.

Slowly, he hoists up until his lips hover yours once more and at this point, you're pretty sure you're dead. What with the speed of your heart rate practically vaulting out of your chest.

"Well," he murmurs while one of his hands keep tracing up and down your side, "I guess I can leave you to ogle at your kpop boys--"

His words are interrupted by you shooting out to grab his t-shirt, pulling him down to kiss him. And oh, does he kiss back like a starved man, grunting and growling as your fingers tangle up in his locks to pull him even closer as your teeth sink upon his bottom lip. He gasps.

You pull away slowly then --merely coming up for air -- and gaze into his dark, bottomless orbs, "the only one I'm gonna ogle tonight is you."

His breath halts for a minute. He stares at you, eyes darting back and forth between your eyes and your lips.

And then, a crooked grin spreads across his face.

"I like the sound of that."

[gohyuck]

smoke and cherries

or, alternatively, bonnie & clyde

pairing: criminal!jeong yunho x criminal!reader

genre: fluff (between yunho & the reader), some suggestiveness

warnings:  mentions of smoking cigarettes, armed robbery, guns, theft, what is literally cold-blooded murder actually (minor character death of a convenience store clerk), reader and yunho are definitely like… screws lose in a murdery way, reader sucks blood off of yunho’s fingers for a second (i’m so sorry it’s kinda fucked up), yunho blows his smoke into the reader’s face but it’s like consensual, littering

word count: 1.4k

“since when d’you keep suckers on you?” yunho lets the question escape out the side of his mouth in tandem with the smoke of his cigarette, and when you look over at your other half, his expression is as amused as his words are inquisitive. his eyes are already back on the road ahead of you, though you don’t doubt that he’d been gazing upon you a second ago when he’d asked about your new vice. you swirl your tongue around the bright red candy one more time for good measure before pushing it into one of your cheeks, stick jutting out the very corner of your slightly chapped lips.

they hadn’t had cherry back when you’d been growing up, the concept of it only having been introduced during your high school years. you find that it’s your favorite flavor now. perhaps novelty doesn’t wear off.

“since this mornin’,” you respond after a beat, your lips pulling into a teasing grin while you allow your words to sink in. once the meaning behind your words has settled, yunho can’t help but laugh softly but genuinely, removing the Lucky Strike from between his lips before resting his hand, cigarette between two lithe fingers, over the edge of the window. it’s a sweet moment between lovers; a shared secret.

between the soft mirth in your eyes and the red stain on your tongue, between yunho’s rounded features and good-natured gaze , there’s not an outsider in the world that would guess just what the two of you find so funny.

you’d grabbed a bag of lollipops at the Southland Ice Company store the two of you had hit up in the morning. there’d been a sign - hand-painted, by the looks of it - on the wall above the candy bin, something or the other about a discounted rate. free is a discount, right?

the two of you may seem sweet, unassuming, even kind in this stolen moment, but if anyone knows better, it’s you. then again, not many people have seen you with red stains on your clothes and lived to tell the tale. even less have survived yunho when his eyes switch from soft and loving to a cold, steely glare. he never looks angry, no: just soulless. you have never seen your lover feel remorse.

this thrills you. birds of a feather.

you let your tongue wrap around the lollipop once more, wrapping a finger around the stick to pull it out of your mouth for a second to savor the flavor that now coats your tongue. there’s a torn-open package with other cherry candies in the back somewhere, hidden under piles of other things that were free-but-not-really. the clerk had been too busy cowering under your boyfriend’s sneer - and the barrel of his Browning Automatic - to notice you swiping the suckers.

on one hand, you can’t imagine a better image to see before dying: there’s something undeniably sexy about yunho with his finger against a trigger and a lack of soul behind his eyes. on the other… it’s just a little fascinating, you think. working day in and day out at a shitty job must be the most awful, crushing thing possible, and yet the fool behind the Southland counter still wants to live. he’s still sobbing, snot running over his lips and a wretched, choking noise bubbling up from the depths of his throat as he begs for his pathetic little life, hands shaking as he drops stacks of bills into the bag in yunho’s other hand. 

 you stuff the lollipops into your own oversized bag, scouring the shelves for things of more worth. there’ll be a shady dealer or two in a neighboring city that’ll be willing to take most anything off of your hands, you’re sure of it. at first, the man’s hysterics don’t really bother you: this is fairly run-of-the-mill. still, your patience wears away over time: there’s only so much caterwauling you can take before your eardrums beg for release. 

“baby,” you call from one end of the store, dropping a few bottles of medicine into your bag, not bothering to read their labels. the bawling rises in volume at the sound of your voice. before you can say anything else about getting the collateral to be quiet, yunho beats you to it.

“shut the fuck up,” he growls, voice loud enough and low enough that you can hear him clearly despite being across the cramped building. there’s a dull thunking noise, followed by a soft whimper, and you know that the barrel of yunho’s rifle is now against the clerk’s forehead. you can’t help the giggle that escapes you: you love this part. your boyfriend lets out an airy chuckle in response to your laughter, because what makes you happy makes him happy. 

“you done?” yunho calls, and by how light his tone is, you know that he’s talking to you. you take a moment to sift through what you have, and, upon realizing that you’re done for now, you call out an equally pleasant ‘mhm!’.

“go ahead and get the car started for me then, darling,” your lover responds. the clerk lets out a wet gasp, not knowing if this means life or death for him. poor, naive, still-hopeful little thing. yunho pushes the cool metal into his skin with a miniscule amount of heightened force as he speaks to you with the casualness of a white picket fence couple in suburbia. “i won’t be but a minute.”

the bang had been muffled, but you’d heard it nonetheless, even from the car, just as you’d grabbed a couple of lollipops from the package before throwing the whole thing back into the back seat. just as yunho’d stalked out, bag full of cash and dirtied gun in hand, you’d slid into the passenger seat. he’d dropped everything into the back alongside your stuff before hitting the gas, making you fear for your life for one beautiful moment before regaining control of the car.

he’d raised a hand up once he was sure of his place on the road, placing two fingers against your lips. you’d tasted the clerk’s blood then, sitting heavy against your taste-buds as you pulled it off of yunho’s skin. you know his process well: even after putting a hole in the poor man’s head, yunho would’ve wrapped one of his hands around the victim’s throat, mostly to ensure his death. you can never be too careful, after all. 

you could see it clearly, the blood dripping down the side of the dead man’s face and over your boyfriend’s fingers. there’s something surreal about it. always is. yunho had pulled his fingers from your mouth with a pop, laughing softly when you’d nipped at his fingertips for a moment before pressing a kiss to his knuckles. he’d dropped his hand to your thigh just as you’d lit a cigarette for him. the same hand is currently wrapped idly around the top of the steering wheel. 

“thought you were gonna use the candy to try ‘n quit cigs for a second there,” yunho states at a stop light, taking a drag of his own cigarette before turning towards you. you don’t turn towards him, knowing full well that he’s going to playfully blow smoke at the side of your face. 

he does so. you can’t help your smile. 

“you’re the one that needs to quit,” you respond easily, rolling your eyes solely for good measure. you aren’t lying, not really: you smoke maybe once or twice a day. your lover goes through a pack in the same time. the smoke wraps around you like an old friend. nobody in the surrounding cars knows who you are, what you do. you feel safe. yunho drops the cig stub out the window onto the road, and you realize he’d blown his last smoke cloud at you. your smile grows. 

“i need to quit, hm?” he raises an eyebrow, though his eyes smile just as his mouth does.

“you’re the one that’s addicted.” you affirm your own claim, words a little slurred around the lollipop in your mouth. yunho laughs, real and loud, before reaching over to pinch the end of your lollipop’s stick, tugging on it gently. you realize that he isn’t trying to take it from you; rather, he’s simply pulling you closer to him. you oblige. 

he pulls harder once, and you part your teeth to allow him to pull the sucker off of your tongue. yunho leans close, lips brushing over yours, before he speaks again.

“the only thing ‘m addicted to is you, sweetheart.”

he tastes of real smoke, and you taste of fake cherries. it doesn’t get any better than this.

[sunjaesol]

because your kiss is on my list

alternatively: four times juke snuck up on each other for affection and the one time they didn’t have to | based on the achingly beautiful fanart by @lovelyrugbee

1. 

Luke was being manic again. And not in a cute: “Oh my God, he’s so passionate about music!”-way, but in a: “He might actually tear his eyes out from these infuriating lyrics that aren’t working”-way. Every once in a while, songs didn’t flow out as easily as they usually did. The topic was a bit trickier, or the instrumentals didn’t mesh, or something was just off. Julie wasn’t too stressed about it. They had plenty of time to rework and fix things before the gig in two weeks. 

Unfortunately, Luke didn’t have the same mindset. 

He has been holed up in the studio all day, cramped on the windowsill to the point of submitting himself to a hernia and scrapping writing scrapping scrapping scrapping. The sound was infuriating, Alex being the first to poof out and Reggie following soon after when Ray became far more interesting than a guitarist going haywire. Which was sad, cause her dad was just unloading groceries. 

Alright. She had to do something. Standing at the doors of studio with a somewhat amused expression, she took in as her boyfriend was oblivious to the world and her. In any other situation, he’d notice and compliment the orange dress she was wearing. She thought about calling his name, maybe singing or jamming her fingers on the piano, but then a better idea came. A fun one.

Quietly slipping closer, a mischievous grin crawled on her lips. Thank God she was barefoot, or else her sneakers would’ve squeaked against the cement floors. He still hasn’t noticed her, the pinch between his brow so deep and lost in thought. 

Three, two, one... 

“Ah!”, she cried out like a warrior, snapping her arms around him from behind and snatching the damned songbook from his grasp. Before he could react, she smacked a wet kiss on his cheek and added a “Mwah!” for good measure. 

The startled Luke began chuckling, trying to get his book back, her peppering more kisses on his cheek in retaliation. He had to get out of this funk! Breathe a little! Turning his cheek to look at her, he smirked. “Sneaking kisses now, Jules?”

Julie hummed against his skin, eyes sparkling. Whispering in his ear, she said: “Stop breaking your head over these lyrics and relax. We have time.” 

His smile softened, gaze tracking the way she hugged him and then- “I like the dress you’re wearing.”

Ah, yes. There he was. 

2. 

Julie Molina truly made the afterlife less boring and a whole lot more bearable. Which became really apparent whenever she had an avalanche of homework and couldn’t hang out. Luke loved his boys, but damn did he miss his girlfriend a lot now. If the situation were different (you know, had he not been head over heels in love with her), he’d poof up to her room and annoy her until she came to the studio. Alas, he respected his girlfriend and her interest in getting good grades, so he had to deal with it. 

Bleh. “Dealing with it” was like a curse word to him. 

He hasn’t seen her all day though. She left early for school and didn’t pass by the studio when she got back. All he needed was a quick look and talk and maybe a hug and then he wouldn’t be so antsy. 

(What he’d give to wrestle her into cuddling right now. He was honestly blessed he found a girl who saw all of his need for affection and then gladly gave triple the amount.)

Yup. Screw homework. He had to see her. Without telling the boys, he stood up with a huff and poofed out. The offended “hey!” from Alex he ignored. 

Dropping into Julie’s room, a smile instantly bloomed on his face at the sight of her. She was on her bed, textbooks and notes splayed out in front of her while her curls danced with each breath she took. Even when tired, his girlfriend was pretty as hell. 

“Hey,” he grinned.

She didn’t look up and mumbled: “Hey.” A page turned. “What’re you doing here?”

Luke sat down on the edge of her bed, far enough so her pens wouldn’t roll away. “Haven’t seen you today. I missed you.”

This time she did look up, her weary eyes softening and smiling. “I missed you too. I have homework though, so...” The implication was there: please leave so I can finish. His hope for a hug quickly dwindled.

“Yeah,” he muttered, not ready to go back and get slapped by Alex. “Uh...” His eyes fell on her right hand, slightly more outstretched then the other. It just... laid there. Teasing him. Freaking tantalising him when he knew how good it felt whenever those fingers brushed his cheeks or raked his hair. 

It happened before he thought about it. Crawling onto the mattress, he snatched her hand and pressed soft kisses on the knuckles. Julie caught his gaze again, that smile he loved so much melting into an adoring puff - like she couldn’t believe this idiot was her boyfriend.

He didn’t mind being her idiot.  

3.

Sometimes, Julie was just that more adorable. Like now, with her hair spread around her shoulders and that small smile stuck on her lips and her eyes that seemed impossibly soft today. All for him, only for him. 

Sure, it was probably because they were working on one of their personal songs, but the fact remained that his girlfriend still left him rendered speechless months into dating.

“What if we try it in a lower key?”, Julie proposed, nodding at his guitar. 

The song in question was a song about them. It wasn’t so lovey-dovey that it would turn the guys off, but it was still blatant. Only they would write about ‘the sea glass green of his eyes’ and ‘the smile that put Mona Lisa to shame’. 

He did what she asked, her singing the same verse again. It held more depth now, soulful and lively. The rasp in her tone made it playful and egged him on to join, like it was truly banter between lovers put to music. It was them. It was her. It was-

Luke abruptly stopped playing, pushed his guitar aside and grabbed onto her. She hardly had time to chuckle as he pressed his lips onto her forehead and held her as tight as possible. Warmth filled his chest, that strange sensation of being loved and loving back twice as hard, as she clutched his body. He almost got choked up. Here he was, in the sundrenched studio with the girl he adored playing the music they created together and she was singing it in such a quintessentially ‘them’ way. No one but them would ever truly understand the magic they conjured. How it was only explained through grins melting on skin and the giddy skip in his heartbeat. 

“What’s that for?”, she smiled. 

His hand trailed from her back to her cheeks with an elated shrug. How could he explain to her her ‘Julie-ness’ was dialled up to two hundred without sounding insane? Caressing the skin, he murmured instead: “I guess you’re just irresistible today.”   

Her eyes squeezed shut at his words, like she was embarrassed how much delight it brought her, and pressed her face back in his shoulder. 

Letting that giddy skip in his chest kiss her again, he gently pulled away to sent her a wink. “Let’s finish ‘Wicked Love’, yeah?”

4.

“So, Flynn’s been thinking-”

“Mh-hm.”

“-about a new poster for the gig we’re playing. The old one is a little amateur and she made some new concepts. Wanna see?” Julie held her phone at his face, his hand leaving the strings of his guitar to gently push it back. Falling back on the bed, she frowned. 

“Maybe later, I’m figuring out this progression...” His back bend over his guitar again, only giving her a view of the black muscle tee. 

When Luke told her he wanted to hang out that Saturday afternoon, she had hoped it would be a bit more ‘Julie and Luke’ and not ‘Luke and His Guitar’ - alas, the girlfriend was competing with a piece of wood and some metal. While texting Flynn about graphic design was fun, it was time for Luke to start doing what he promised her.

Then again, she was a sucker for music talk. “Why don’t you try switching up the chords? Start with G instead of C.”

He tried it out, a grin crawling on his cheeks. “Yeah... yeah, that works. Thanks, Jules.”

“So?”, she sang. 

“Hm?”

With a sigh, she grabbed onto the strap of his guitar and gave it a tug. Luke’s neck rolled backwards in surprise, catching her playful smile.  

Chastely pecking his forehead, she said: “Your head is in the clouds.”

The teasing look of his matched hers. “You’re kissing my head right now.”

“Mh-hm,” she mumbled, loving the way his hair had that perpetual scent of apple and something inherently Luke. Kissing the locks, she added: “And you’ll be getting a lot more if you actually start hanging out with me.”

His book and instrument slid off his body just like that as he speared her into hug. Luke collapsed onto her body with the cutest grin and she knew she caught him. Their laughs chimed throughout the house for the rest of the day. 

+5.

Luke poofed onto her bed with a grin, his girlfriend automatically snuggling into his side and finding each other’s lips with ease. For a beat, they’re cherished the quiet passion shared between them. They didn’t need to do a lot to feel loved by the other. 

He pressed his nose into her curls. “How was school?”

“Good,” Julie whispered against his neck. “How was the studio?”

“Chill. Reggie scared a spider.”

She giggled, the sound making his grin widen and hide his face so she wouldn’t see how ridiculously giddy she made him. Turning her head so she’d see him anyway, her nose scrunched. “I know you’re smiling.”

“That’s my line, Molina,” he huffed, the teasing glint shimmering in his eyes. 

A signature brow quirked. “You got that on paper?”

He didn’t miss a second. “I love you.” He didn’t need to ponder or linger or rewrite or scrap or workshop the thought. It wasn’t even a thought. It was a truth and he’d repeat that truth over and over again until the universe knew it too and kept it in their books for centuries to come. He loved her, he loved her, he loved her. 

The smile that came was worth the truth, how her love for him broke through without a moment of hesitation. Now she’d say the same, over and over and over again, so the universe knew they were talking about each other and would always keep their names together in said books. 

Julie kissed him again, long and sweet and as easy as breathing. Her utters were barely audible, but his heart caught it. “I love you too.”

Locked in their embrace, they shared earphones listening to their favourite music until they fell asleep. (How Luke could fall asleep, but only when in her loving touch, he wouldn’t question. Some oddities of the universe were best unsaid.) 

@blush-and-books @unsaid-emily @bluefirewrites @willexx @ourstarscollided @alexjulies