#they’re going to excuse all these just because the god is female presenting

[johnny-depplyloveyou]

I know there are many bad takes about Gale on this site, but the worst takes I’ve seen on another social media site in another language are much more abhorrent than anything here tbh, the recent one I’ve seen even gets some popularity among his “fans”... They were basically saying it’s Mystra who made him the humble man he is now, without her influence on him he would be as egotistical as in his god ending, and more than a hundred of reblogs are all thanking Mystra for “training her lapdog so well” for them🤢

Did we even play the same game? Isn’t his god ending a direct result of Mystra making him think he will never be enough as he is, and he can only find his self-worth through gaining more power? Didn’t Tara say he’s not himself anymore and she would no longer be his companion in his god ending, she knew him long before Mystra made him her chosen, he was powerful enough before his relationship with Mystra, if he’s anything like god!Gale at the time wouldn’t Tara just leave him? I’d imagine he would have been more confident and had a more stable self-image if Mystra had never contacted him, therefore he didn’t even need the Gale of Waterdeep persona. He would always have been Gale Dekarios in that timeline. And people glorifying Mystra’s grooming and abuse towards him and unironically calling him “her lapdog” is just... I have no words. But what do you expect from an online space that’s infested with terfs and radfems? They just won’t recognize or acknowledge any abuse from women towards men...

[thrashkink-coven]

okay I don’t love ranting about Christians on this page because I try to keep this space free of religious shenanigans but I need to rant about this because it’s actually SO irritating. This is coming steaming hot right off the top of the dome so excuse my grammar and all caps.

Lately my instagram page (thrashkink_art check me out I’m awesome) has been getting a lot of attention from Christians for some reason, and I’ve been getting dmd by people wanting desperately to debate and/ or convert me. They all come at me with the assumption that I’m either an extreme atheist that’s just super mad at God or a complete dumbass that’s simply never read the first few pages of Genesis. I must either be angry or stupid. There’s no way I could have read the Bible and known the story of Jesus without subscribing to it. Anyone who isn’t Christian must not know the story! “Have you heard about JESUS? DID YOU 🫵 KNOW He died for your sins? 😃” Whatever

The thing that is so frustrating is that, EVERY SINGLE TIME I share some information with them about the Bible or religion that they didn’t know, they immediately BLOCK ME. EVERY TIME. And it’s like??? If you want to have a debate and go bar for bar then I’ll humor you. Hey, who knows! Maybe I’ll even learn something new and convert! I’m always open to new information! I love learning about religion! But apparently it doesn’t go both ways because the second I present information they can’t grapple with, they IMMEDIATELY BLOCK ME. AAAAAA

Some Christian dude: If you read the Bible you’d know that doing witchcraft will land you in Hell!

Me: well if we’re really going based off of the Bible, the entire concept of Hell doesn’t originate in the Isrealite religion. Actually, there’s no mention of a Hell in the OT at all, Hell is a Greek concept and so is Lucifer.

Christian: What? No?? That can’t be true it completely distorts my worldview

Me: You… don’t have to believe me just look into it yourself

*You can no longer message this person*

LIKE WTF.

Some Christian dude: Women are just naturally subordinate to men, if they weren’t then we would have worshipped a female Goddess alongside YHWH.

Me: Well… They did. The Israelites worshiped Asherah alongside YHWH before her worship was abolished

Christian: This is blasphemy *you can no longer message this person*

RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAA. I have countless examples like this! A dude called me evil because I told him Jesus was Jewish. I’ve been called a degenerate for explaining how YHWH originated in Canaan. Im so tired of ignorant Christians shitting my pants because they’re too lazy to do any research on tHEIR OWN RELIGION!! IF YOU NEED TO HAVE AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS BECAUSE YOU JUSG LEARNED ABOUT THE HISTOY OF YOUR RELIGION THEN THATS ON YOU BITCH! DONT GET MAD AT ME BC YOUVE BEEN FED A LIE !!!!!! THATS NOT MY PROBLEM !!!!!!!!!!

There have been so many times when I’ve taken the time to go through all this bullshit with people because I really don’t want to be close minded. But holy shit it’s like they’re allergic to conflicting information. They immediately accuse me of trying to push blasphemy onto them. and when i’m like hey dude don’t take my word for it, please I encourage you to do your own research, they’re immediately so offended and appalled. How dare I tell them something about the Bible that they didn’t know.

Listen bro, I’m fully supportive of your Christianity, live your life, worship your God, I honestly do not care. But if you’re going to try to convert me at least be somewhat prepared for an actual discussion. Don’t block me because you can’t handle the reality of the situation mother fucker.

LIKE LISTEN IM USUALLY NOT SO PRESSED AB SHIT LIKE THIS BUT THE THING THAT DRIVES ME UP THE WALL IS THAT I USUALLY TRY TO IGNORE THESE PEOPLE BUT THEN THEYRE ALL LIKE “Aha! 😌 You don’t want to hear me out because you know I’m right! You’re afraid of the truth!” SO THEN IM LIKE

*SIGGGGGHHHHHHH*

OKAY! Let’s go! Let’s hear it! We can debate because you’re so desperate to change my mind! ILL WASTE THREE HOURS OF MY LIFE GOING THROGH THIS SHIT WITH YOU SO YOU CAN JUST CALL ME A BLASPHEMOUS WHORE AND BLOCK ME. I LOVE WASTING MY TIME I LOVE GOING IN CIRCLES I LOVE POINTLESS DISCUSSIONS I LIVE FOR THEM

DO NOT!!! DM ME IF YOURE A CHRISTIAN !!!!YOU WILL NOT COME OUT THE SAME AFTER HEARING THE THOUGHTS FROM MY EXPANSIVE SEXY SLUTTY BRAIN YOU WILL NEVER BE THE SAME!!!!

RRRRRAAAAAAAAA

ok. I’m better now. Merry Venus Day! Ave Lucifer! 🔱 💀

[acefaun]

Hello!

I know you've got a bunch on your plate, but I was kind of in need of some comfort. Don't pressure yourself to write this if you don't want to though! Basically my thing is that I've been told many many times that I'm annoying every single time I share something that makes me happy. (Ex: a new hobby I picked up, a new movie I watched, heck! Even a meme that made me laugh!) I'm always told to "chill", "ew, that thing is gross" "wtf are you showing me?", to quiet down my happiness and/or "you're basically feeling it alone". I know that some people don't like the same things as me, so it's a given that they won't be that excited, but idk if it's selfish or not, but I just want someone to just... Because happy that I have things in my life that make me happy. I'm seriously on the verges of closing off from people completely, because I feel like my very existence is a bother. So to close this, cause I've been rumbling. Can I have a comfort fic with Scorpio comforting a female!MC? (His girlfriend if possible). I just want to feel someone being happy about me for once in my life. I'm terribly TERRIBLY sorry for how depressing this request turned out to be and I also wanted to let you know, that I admire you a lot! You make people happy with what you do and that's truly wonderful. And your blog is so comforting too. It's one of the only plebes I feel safe in and that I won't he judged for being happy and/or for the things that make me happy.

Scorpio~ Passion

Synopsis: Ever since you got rid of his mark of sin, Scorpio has been trying to figure out how to act around you and the other gods. But one thing he was certain of… was how protective he was of your smile. 

✨Masterlist✨ Female goldfish!

A/n: I actually think it’s cute when people get so passionately excited over something they love. The thing I like about tumblr is that you can get excited about a hobby and others will just get excited with you. That’s how I started writing SCM fics! I was like “I don’t know if anyone else will like these… but I like them. ☺️” And then it was the same thing with my art… because irl people were so awkward about my fanart like “O… Weird. An anime dude.” But now I have friends to talk about the gods with! You’re here talking to me, so I’d say things worked out just fine! So, you don’t have to worry here! I like you! And I like to make others happy so I’m super glad I’m doing my job! (I’m gaining work experience by granting wishes on Earth now so when I go to the Heavens I’ll be able to work in the Department of Wishes. 😋 I’ll have a pretty good resume for Leo and Karno to go over.) I’m glad my blog is a safe space! 🥰 I never want anyone who comes here to feel like they’re not welcome.  I also couldn’t help myself, but I made this one of those angsty slow burn fics where it’s like “Okay, so are you going to date or not?” Scorpio’s just such a hard-headed god who doesn’t know how to do feelings. 

–Word Count: 5,550–

“Scorpio!” A friendly voice called from beyond the door of the living room. It was sometime just after lunch and this was becoming a regular occurrence in the house of the gods. You were always so easily excitable when you found something interesting. Your passion knew no bounds and, by all means, you had to share it with your new god friends—for some reason, that especially meant Scorpio.

Though… Scorpio didn’t have to stay on Earth and deal with you. You had gotten rid of his mark of sin so he could return to the Heavens. But part of him was glad that he had the excuse of watching over Dui and Ichthys. Not that he wanted to hear your loud mouth every day… He just wished you’d pick better times to show up—such as any time he wasn’t working.

When the door of the living room burst open, you were beaming at Scorpio so brightly that he could have mistaken you for the sun. Only, as you swiftly approached him and no other god present, he put on a face of displeasure as he snapped, “What the hell are you yelling for?” He sounded aggressive, but the last thing he wanted was for those other idiots to think he was getting all soft for you. 

His vicious attitude didn’t faze you—you were used to this from Scorpio at this point. With a smile, you presented a plate to him. “I made a new snack!” 

Gesturing to the cut up apples, his eyes narrowed before shooting up to glare at you. “What the heck are you showing me? You didn’t make anything. These are those stupid apples.”

You hummed, tilting your head. The last time he ate apples, he seemed to really enjoy them. Or was that just because he was feeling ill at the time? But these weren’t the same. You thought he might like them if you made them different. Now they were in cute bunny shapes! “But I cut them differently this time. I was going to make one of those pretty fruit bouquets, but I still need a little more practice with cutting fruits before I can make them into a beautifully yummy arrangement. So, I took the apples that I had and cut them into cute little rabbit apples for you. These came out better than the first batch I made… But don’t worry about that! I ate the ones that lost their ears.”

Stealing the empty seat between him and an unfamiliar white haired god, you held the plate up for Scorpio as if you were some kind of servant desperate to please their master—this wasn’t an unusual occurrence for you. You just wanted to see Scorpio happy—whether it was being happy with you or being happy for you. It was a personal goal you made for yourself since promising to help the man. 

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice called out—but it wasn’t the white-haired man beside you. On the opposite sofa sat a man with a ponytail. You remembered him coming to visit Scorpio a few times before—this was Zyglavis, the man in charge, and Scorpio’s boss. He had the same rank as Leon… and he was staring at you. “We’re in the middle of work.”

“This is fine,” the man with pink hair said, a laugh escaping. “I didn’t imagine coming to Earth would be this interesting. Besides, you’re not just going to send Scorpio’s girlfriend away when she came all this way with a snack, are you?”

“That’s not my girlfriend!” Scorpio snapped suddenly, his accusatory hand-motion knocked the plate out of my hands. The shattering of glass made the room fall deathly silent. 

You pulled your hands back to you awkwardly, unsure of what to do with yourself since Scorpio quite cruelly rejected you. You wanted to believe that he hadn’t meant to nearly hit you and knock the plate out of your hands, but it shook you up. Not to mention, the shattered plate scared you enough. If it hadn’t shattered, then you might have tried to rectify the situation by collecting the fallen apple slices and taking them to wash in the sink. But… that wasn’t going to happen with all of them just staring silently. 

Quietly, you apologized, “I’m sorry… I came in at a wrong time.” 

“Yep,” the white-haired god beside you finally spoke, mercilessly agreeing with you. “You’re in our way.” Well, wasn’t he pretty straight forward…?

“Sorry for the mess,” you added, just about ready to flee in embarrassment. 

“No mess,” Partheno denied you, snapping his fingers to get rid of the shattered plate and fallen fruits. Though, you could only take this as a sign that they didn’t want you in there for any longer than you needed to be, despite how Partheno added, “See? There’s no need for you to apologize. No harm done.”

Your eyes flickered to Scorpio, but he was stoically staring at the ground. Why wasn’t he saying anything? You couldn’t help but apologize once more, “I’m sorry… I’ll… get out of the way.” 

As soon as you were out of the room, the conversation picked up again. Krioff’s eyebrows remained furrowed as he asked, “What were those things? They didn’t look edible; they looked gross. The skin was still on them.”

Scorpio scoffed, averting his gaze from the floor. “Humans eat weird shit all the time. Doesn’t matter. Let’s get back to work.”

Partheno snickered, hiding his smirk behind his hand as he commented to Dui, “Someone’s getting defensive over his girlfriend.”

“You better cut it out,” Dui warned, not wanting to get into trouble because of Partheno and his big mouth. “You’re just going to piss him off. Besides, (Name)’s nice. I think you really freaked her out.”

Scorpio tuned out his subordinates, recalling how distressed you looked as you fled. He hadn't meant to startle you; he especially hadn't meant to knock a good plate of apple slices out of your hands. 

He wouldn't have brushed you off so harshly if those guys from the Heavens wouldn't have been there. Didn't you know how to read a room? Whatever… He'd just deal with it later. He had work to do.

***

Scorpio was quite the dedicated god, you've always known this about him since you first started working with him. Ever since the first time you met, he always considered you strange, but he never… truly got angry with you like how he seemed to get back when you accidentally interrupted them. 

If anything, you hoped this wouldn't put a rift between the two of you. Your relationship was an odd one, but it was one you cherished. 

Shaking your head, you brushed those negative thoughts out of your mind. What you needed to do was find something to get your mind off of Scorpio for now. In the meantime, you figured you should be getting better acquainted with the Wishes gods who were next to need your help…

“...What do you call a lion wearing a fancy hat?” Leon stared, unresponsive to your question. “A dandy lion!” There was an abundance of silence in the living room. Both gods in the room shared unreadable expressions. You pursed your lips, waiting for something, but seeing as neither he nor Huedhaut were saying anything, you tried again, “Get it? Because you’re a lion zodiac and when you dress nice, you look dandy. And then a dandelion is a kind of flower, so…” You gestured for them to understand you. 

Huedhaut sighed before he asked, “Is there a point to this?” 

You hummed, tapping your chin as you looked Huedhaut up and down. He was pretty logical, so his reaction wasn’t unprecedented. But this made you think of a joke that was sure to make him crack a smile. “Gee, are you sure you’re an Aquarius?”

He faltered, suddenly unsure of what his sign had to do with this. “I’m certain of it…”

“Really?” You lifted your eyebrows questioningly. “Because Aquarius is the water-bearer constellation but you don’t laugh at my jokes. You only seem to be a fan of dry humor.” A grin crept up on your face, waiting for them to understand your new joke. “Get it? Because you’re like water… but you… seem to prefer your dry jokes over mine.” 

After an exceedingly awkward moment of silence, Leon bluntly replied, “Your goldfish jokes aren't entertaining. Did you come here for something?” 

You nodded, averting your gaze from theirs. “Well, I figured since Scorpio’s working more with his department now that his mark of sin is erased, that I could break the ice between us. I'll be helping the Department of Wishes next, right?”

Leon grinned, finally, for the first time since you stepped foot into the living room with your lame attempt at making friends, you said something worth his time. “Then you're finally done being that scorpion’s lapdog,” he commented, his head tilting in interest. “You'll erase my sin first so I can return to the Heavens. But we'll begin our work tomorrow.”

“O- Okay!” You weren't expecting him to so readily agree, but clearly he wanted to leave Earth as soon as possible. You were just excited because you'd gotten a taste of what Punishments was like. To have the opportunity to work beside the Wishes minister was something else entirely. “I can't wait to see what the Department of Wishes is like! Am I just going to need to be nearby while you grant Wishes? Wishes must be soooo different from Punishments. Does this department do its work differently from Punishments?”

You had a billion questions you were rattling on to him without giving him a chance to answer. It tempted him to ignore you until you ran out of questions, but he wasn't like Scorpio. He didn't want you prattling to him all day—about work, no less. If you wanted to ask questions about Wishes, Karno was your guy. Leon barely wanted to deal with work as it was. 

Sighing, he finally snapped, “Goldfish!” That made you fall silent rather quickly as your innocent eyes gazed at him for an explanation to his shout. “Granting Wishes isn't that exciting, calm down. The wishes that come to us are just things that goldfish are too pathetic to work for themselves. They have no shame in asking a higher being to solve their problems for them, so wipe that grin off your face.” You were shocked into silence as he turned away from you. “If you even think about rambling to me while I'm working, I'll shove you with Huedhaut or Teorus.”

The corner of Huedhaut’s lips twitched slightly as he uttered, “How thoughtful…”

Based on how Leon had described the Wishes Department, you were a little less enthused about working with them, but it was fine. As it was a new experience; something was bound to work out.

Only… You’d underestimated the Department of Punishments. As soon as Scorpio caught wind of your plans to join his biggest adversary, he was barging into the living room the next morning with a scowl. 

You were waiting patiently on the sofa for Leon to meet with you so you could help him. Unfortunately, Leon and Scorpio shared matching glares as they looked each other up and down. 

You awkwardly glanced away, trying to ignore the tension that was steadily building. But before you could say anything, Scorpio hissed, “The hell? Aren't you supposed to be taking care of Dui and Ichthys?”

You could tell you were going to be in for it if you said the wrong thing, so you honestly explained, “You guys seemed like you had it under control the other day… I felt like I was just in the way.” 

Scoffing, Scorpio turned away from you, gesturing for you to follow him. Catching onto your lost confusion, he muttered, “You're in the way if I say you're in the way. C’mon. I don't have time for these Wishes idiots.” Your heart stuttered in excitement. Did this mean Scorpio wasn't kicking you out of his department? 

As if catching onto your indecision, Leon mocked, “Fickle goldfish. Make up your mind.” 

As soon as you glanced at Leon, you regretted making eye contact with him when he was just glaring at you. Of course he would be aggravated with you when you agreed to work with him only to end up abandoning them yet again for Scorpio. It didn't help that Leon thought of you as Scorpio’s loyal pet—this was just further proving his point.

But… Still, Scorpio didn't hesitate to take you back with him. That was evidence enough for you that he didn't hate you. Something in your relationship was still there and unchanged. You'd just try harder this time to stay on Scorpio’s good side. 

***

A few weeks later…

You were sitting alongside the reflection pool, gazing strictly at the stone floor as Dui continuously snapped his fingers, handing down various types of Punishments to various types of people. 

You weren't sadistic enough to want to really watch the Gods punishing fellow humans, no matter how much these particular humans deserved it. 

Besides, your mind was more on the movie you'd recently watched. You were sure Dui was at least somewhat interested in what you had to say as he quietly listened to your summary of the plot. “So, you see? The main character is amazing. I don't know how anyone could hate them. I think you'd like that kind of movie. You should come over sometime and we can watch it together.”

You were eager to have Ichthys and Dui as friends. Only… Maybe part of Dui resented you for that. Shadow never had much patience for anyone, especially some annoying human. 

Shadow was irritated with you too quickly and spun around to glare at you. “Shut up,” he hissed. “Either leave or shut. up.” His expression told you he was more than willing to shut you up himself if you didn't heed his implied threat. Pleased at your silence, he muttered, “This is why Scorpio’s always handing you off to someone else. No wonder. You're so freaking annoying.”

Scorpio… thought you were annoying? He never said anything outright; he never denied your company. So, what about your quiet relationship? What were all of those soft hand holds and gentle touches? Was he like that in gratitude for you removing his sin? 

…that made sense. Otherwise, why would he show interest in you at all? He did seem to find it hard to express himself; maybe those touches meant nothing more than a simple “thanks”. It was you with your hopeless crush that thought things were more than they seemed. 

Scorpio could read your mind by touching your hand… It was no question that he knew of your feelings for him. But he never rejected you, nor did he openly share his feelings. How were you supposed to know Scorpio was aggravated with you?

Following a quiet apology, you sat beside Dui silently, keeping your saddened thoughts to yourself. It occurred to you that things might be better if you were completely closed off from people. You could always enjoy things that make you happy in solitude. If you did, then others wouldn't become upset with your positive emotions. But that was fine, right? At least then… your existence wouldn't be a bother to anyone else.

 It wasn't like you had to stop doing what you loved. It was only a matter of keeping your passions to yourself. How hard could that be? If it meant you weren't being a bother to Scorpio, then you were willing to do your best. Even if you were mistaken about the quality of your relationship with him, you weren't going to ruin what was there.

So, you developed the habit of keeping the bare minimum of contact with them, only discussing things that pertained to them like work. From what you could tell, there was no point in opening your mouth if you didn't have something important to say. 

***

Aside from his tedious punishments work… Scorpio was getting impatient. It seemed too abrupt that you stopped showing up randomly to the mansion to show him your latest passion—something he woefully grew to look forward to. You were the only one he knew that could get so excited over seemingly nothing. But you were so happy… Something he wasn’t overly familiar with until you showed up. Your feelings were almost contagious—especially when he made contact with you. You could make the most mundane human creation seem like it was the most ingenious thing that man had ever created. 

But why had you stopped showing up to his room at random hours of the day? This all started shortly after the incident with the apples in the living room, so he had every reason to believe that your lack of spirit was his fault. He took your energy away from you with one simple gesture. 

Not to mention… he wondered how harsh his denial was. How much did it hurt you for him to avidly deny that he wasn’t in a relationship with you—it probably sounded as if the concept of you being his girlfriend repulsed him.

He couldn’t stand this feeling that built up in his chest every second you stubbornly stayed away from him. It really almost felt like you were avoiding him—especially his touches. He wondered what could have been going on in that stupid goldfish brain of yours.

Worried, he connected the mansion’s door to your apartment, wasting no time to get to you. Only… he found you doing exactly what you always liked to do. You didn’t seem bothered by anything, so was he just overthinking the situation? You seemed to enjoy whatever was on your phone just as much as you used to in his presence. Then again… you also seemed like you lacked the energy to be doing anything at all. It was as if you were mindlessly scrolling without any thought at all.

He wasn’t good at reading emotions without touching others, but your eyes looked sad. He wondered how he could tell that…

Unfortunately, he lingered silently for too long, startling you once you finally laid eyes on him in the door of your apartment. Your eyes widened as you stuttered, “I- Ah… Scorpio?” You wanted to ask more, not just say his name. But the words were caught up in your throat. You made a vow to yourself that you wouldn’t bother Scorpio with anything unnecessary. He was clearly only here because he needed something, if his expression was anything to go by. 

He stared at you, observing your curled up form on your sofa with your phone in your hand. The bored look had left your face, but you seemed no more comforted to see him. Where was your usual excitement? Though, he thought that not being thrilled to see him was something understandable—he deserved it since he was the one to scare you away. His expressions were understandably scary as he fiercely apologized, “I’m sorry.” The apology didn’t match his face at all… He clearly didn’t know how to do this sort of thing. 

You only seemed to falter, your eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. Scorpio had never apologized before… “Sorry… for what? I- If it has something to do with how Ichthys accidentally knocked me in the head yesterday, I promise I’m fine! You don’t have to apologize for him. I’ll still be able to show up tomorrow.” 

“I don’t want you to show up,” he replied bluntly, making your heart stop for a brief moment. He was a rude god, but this was new. However, the cruel expression didn’t last long as he continued in a softer tone, “Not with that face. Not until you can look at me the same again. I can’t stand seeing that expression. You used to smile and never shut up.” 

You hummed quietly, taking his words with a grain of salt. Was he trying to be considerate or something else? “Sorry… I… don’t really know what to do. I’ve always been like this.” 

“No, you weren’t,” he corrected, now displaying anger at your ignorance. “You were fine before I knocked those things out of your hands. But now… What the hell do you keep making that face for? And you started avoiding everyone. Can’t you just take my apology and get over it? Damn it! I’m trying my frikin best!” 

Your eyes flickered back up to him once more, noting how genuinely upset he looked. Was all this over the rabbit apples? You blinked. “You’re apologizing for knocking the plate of rabbit apples out of my hands?” That happened a while back, you didn’t even have that thought in your mind before he brought it up. That was the last thing you expected him to approach you for. 

Scorpio scoffed, crossing his arms. “That’s what you’re avoiding me for, isn’t it? Are you gonna accept my apology, or what?”

“I… That's not why,” you timidly responded. “I mean, I really wanted you to try them, but… that’s not why I haven’t been seeing you. The other gods have been getting aggravated with me. Dui said you were dumping me on them because you were annoyed with me too. So I thought if I stopped bothering you that you’d be happier. But you’re still upset with me and I don’t know what to do!” Dui said you bothered him with your idle chatter, but it seemed like avoiding him was causing the same problem. What did he even want from you? 

Clear that he was only upsetting you as well, he sighed, looking away. He didn't show up to scold you or anything. He just wanted to know what was keeping you from seeing him. It seemed the solution was much simpler than he had anticipated. “Those brats don’t know what makes me upset. If they had a single clue what got on my nerves, they wouldn’t be so troublesome all the time.” Fixing his eyes on you once more, he added, “But I know there’s more to it than that. You’re being vague. Either let me touch you or tell me how you feel; either way… I want to know what’s on your mind.” 

You stared awkwardly down at the floor. There was a decent amount on your chest, but you weren’t sure where to start or if he even really had the time to be loitering around your little hovel listening to your woes. It didn’t look like he was budging from your home however, and you lightly gestured for him to sit beside you on the sofa. 

Scorpio accepted your silent offer, sitting beside you, almost touching your leg, but not quite close enough. He watched you as you carefully picked out what you wanted to tell him. Whether you told him or touched him, he was going to find out what was bothering you and fix it. 

“I know not everyone likes the same things as me,” you admitted, glancing at him to warily check on his expression now and then. “That’s how life works, everyone likes different stuff. Gods are the same way. But… am I being selfish to want someone to just… be happy that I have things in my life that make me happy?” You couldn’t seem to find that one singular person to be happy for your joys in life, and you so desperately wanted to. You wondered if Scorpio could understand what you were saying. Could he even relate to these feelings? “I… don’t really know how to describe how it feels… But you’d understand it all… even if it was just a feeling. Wouldn’t you?” Turning slightly toward him, you timidly stuck your hand out, wondering if he would accept. 

Your eyes flickered toward him in surprise when his knuckles brushed across your palm, his fingers curling to almost envelop your hand in his larger one. “I know,” he uttered, his eyes staying trained on your connected hands. “Doesn’t everyone have this desire… even slightly?”

Your grip tightened around his hand. He knew. Inhaling, you tried, “I’m happy you like rabbit apples.” He didn’t outright deny them, after all. He loved apples, after all. “I’ll make you more.” You paused, adding, “I’m happy you found a place to exist peacefully in the Heavens. I’m happy you could return home after I got rid of your sin.”

“I’m not,” he abruptly admitted, making you fall silent with a tense stare. Had you upset him again? He was refusing to let go of your hand if he was truly upset with you. “Not having a mark of sin means I don’t need to be on Earth anymore. When you get rid of Ichthys and Dui’s marks then I’ll be in the Heavens again… It’ll be quiet again. I won’t have someone happy for me anymore. I won’t have a loudmouth woman around.” 

Silence filled the space around us as you contemplated his words. Scorpio was always bad at communicating and saying what he meant—especially when such a conversation was about feelings. You couldn’t help but wonder… if this was him lamenting your short time together. If it was all the same, you didn’t want him to leave either. You wanted him to stay with you. You didn’t have someone to be happy for you, but neither did Scorpio. You wanted to be happy for him… You loved him. 

Scorpio physically flinched, but it was too late to back out, you had already decided on what you were going to tell him. “Scorpio, I-” 

“I’m happy with you,” Scorpio interrupted you, making your heart jump to your throat. You weren’t expecting the sudden proclamation, and you weren’t sure what to say in response. Was he really saying what you thought he meant? “You’re so freaking loud, even in that head of yours. It’s not selfish to want a place to belong. You’re weird… You’re always coming to me with the weirdest human things you can find and I don’t freaking understand any of it… but it makes you happy.” He paused. “I’ve never felt that before and I never knew what it was supposed to feel like. But ever since you got rid of my sin I’ve been able to feel everything. I know what being happy is supposed to feel like… and I know what it feels like to be loved.” 

You gaped at him, but the small smile on his face was something that you couldn’t bring yourself to complain about. He knew you loved him through your contact with him, but he wasn’t teasing or tormenting you because you had feelings. But he sounded like he was grateful to experience these things because you got rid of his mark of sin. 

Still, as much as he might have been able to feel your emotions, you weren’t expecting anything in return. So, you replied, “I’m glad I could do that for you. I think everyone deserves to know what it feels like to be loved. In the end… I guess not having you push me away when I was being annoying really captured my heart all on its own. I know you’re a god and you could never return those feelings for an insignificant goldfish like me, but I want you to know that even when you’re back in the Heavens, I’ll always have these feelings.”

He huffed, making you too nervous to bring your gaze to him. However, feeling his opposite hand caressing your hair surprised you. His touch was… soft, just as it had always been. You’d always shared gentle touches and the like, but this time it felt different. 

“I love you,” he admitted, no doubt feeling the way your mind was screaming in excitement at him. A quiet, yet amused, snicker made you try to look at him, but he was quick to keep your head turned from him as he pulled you against his chest, holding you tight. “I like how quirky human things excite you… but I think I like this more. Feeling how happy you get because of me… I always want to feel this. I don’t care if those worthless humans or those other gods don’t understand or accept what makes you happy. The only thing I care about is that you are happy. So, be happy for me, be excited. I don’t want you to close yourself off from me again. I’ll punish anyone who tries to make you feel like shit. Your existence is not a bother and if you ever start to get those ideas in your head again, I’ll have to lock you up in my room and serve me rabbit apples until you realize that your existence is necessary.” 

The beginning of his speech was quite the heartthrob for you, but… the end was kind of making you feel like he was losing his touch. Maybe he wasn’t that great with romance, but he was trying. Still, you couldn’t help but make fun of him, “Are you saying my only use in life is cutting rabbit apples for you?”He flinched, almost pushing out of your arms as he fiercely argued, “That’s not- You stupid woman! That’s not what I was talking about!” Heaving out a sigh, he nuzzled his nose into your hair. “You know exactly what I was saying… Stupid.” Scorpio wavered, his lips barely brushing against your forehead, as if scared of kissing you. “Be as happy as you want, just like you are right now. I want to share this feeling with you, even if it means traveling between Heaven and Earth to do it. So… always be happy for me, and when you can’t, rely on me… because I love you.”

[yanderenightmare]

yandere bully ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, heavy dubcon, bordering on noncon, profanity, manipulation

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

SEVEN MINUTES IN HELL - PART TWO

TRUST ME

It's safe to say that Bakugo had gotten used to a certain lifestyle. 

Being top three in all years in the Hero-course, girls fawning, falling at his feet left and right, drooling, begging him to fuck them. 

Or… begging him to take them out on a date. 

But let’s be honest… no girls want to date him, they just want to ride his dick once a week. They just want to know what it feels like to be taken by a real man before halting, limping back to their clueless vanilla-boyfriends, all made up of soft smiles and warm hugs and nothing like Bakugo and how he spanks their girlfriend’s ass until blood leaks from popped veins and his name comes falling from their lips like tearful prayer.

Nowadays though, he’d had to kick more girls to the curb than he could count on both his hands without as much as getting his dick wet from the girl he’d picked for himself, the star that was once so bright and shining like a wild sunflower before he forced himself into her life. 

She seemed to have wilted, as she wouldn’t even spare him a second glance until he forced it from her.

Or… that was unfair. She was perfect, doing everything he asked, but… it wasn’t really willingly, now was it? 

All he needed was ask, but he knew she didn’t try to make him happy because she wanted to, she didn’t try and make him laugh because she wanted to, it didn’t come naturally as it did with others, she did it because she was scared shitless of what he would do if she didn’t.

It made him so unbelievable angry to see her laugh with others. Wrathful, vengeful even, when she buckled over and nearly fell, rolling on the floor in the pit of her humor, crying with how painfully she was wheezing. So furious because he couldn’t even blame her. He couldn’t blame her for preferring other people over him, other smiling laughing idiotic people, pleasant people as opposed to him and his aura of grumpiness. 

Some insouciantly greedy, almost evil, part of him whispered to him those times he saw her smile that genuine angel-bright smile, never with him, that perhaps if he simply took her, took her away, tucked her away more so than what he had already, that perhaps she’d have no choice but to share that light with his darkness, because supernova’s like her need things to shine for, they crave lighting people up, they’re just so fucking eager to please, and if he were the only one around to absorb all which she had to give, then she’d have no choice but to share.

It shouldn’t have been legal for him to demand more of her. 

She did everything he asked. 

She worked out with him, pushing herself to limits and extents she didn’t even know existed, almost until she barfed, almost until she collapsed, then praising his teaching-methods instead of admitting it was too much. 

She watches his movies, where she would contort the scary imagery of whatever horror or action movie Bakugo would put on the screen into the finest goriest comedy, cough up her lungs at the guts and brains leaking from sliced abdomens or cracked skulls, burry her face in his shoulder as she cried out laughter, instead of jumping into his arms like the scared little lamb she was supposed to be, begging him to turn it off and giving him an opportunity to slide his hand up her shirt. 

She studied with him, again gushing about what an amazing tutor he is instead of being honest by letting him know what an absolutely aggressive jerk he is, saying words she’d regret and have to find a way of apologising for, making it up to him in so many ways Bakugo lusted for, fantasised about when he laid next to her at night. 

She joined him with his friends, let him sleep in her bed, she even ate what and when he told her eat, dressed how he wanted her to dress, changed if he didn’t approve, cheered like his own personal perfect cheerleader at his battles, being probably the loudest person in the bleachers, making all the boys jealous of him, doing everything and more, and still, still it just wasn’t what he wanted, wasn’t what he needed.

And no, what he needed wasn’t her pussy served on a platter. 

What he needed was leverage. He needed reassurance, he needed her trapped, locked down, glued to him. He needed to know, to believe, to trust that he had her not just for now, but for as long as he wanted, forever. 

And having her in the most primal shameless way, showing her what he could give her, show her that he isn’t just a god on the battlefield but has those same godlike skills when it comes to making her see stars was how he intended to make her need him. 

Granted, he’s never actually made love like how she’d probably want to, but he’s fucked plenty of sluts to have confidence in saying that he knows the female body like the back of his hand. 

If he could just feel her melt beneath him, just make her unravel, wrap her around his pinky, just once and he would know, she wasn’t leaving him anytime soon, she wasn’t ever going to leave him, not unless she wanted her pretty pictures leaked.

Not that he would ever let anyone see her like that, that was just for him, but he doubted she would think too much of what he was willing to do or not. That’s the beauty of threats, they don’t need to be true for the outcome to be fruitful. 

Though, he really wished it didn’t come to that. 

No, once she gets a taste of what it feels like to be taken care of the way he would take care of her, when she wakes up from what fever-dream he’s given her with a mouthful of honey and the newfound realisation that with him is where she belongs, where she’s always belonged, where she’ll always belong.

Or...

Perhaps it was about the sex. 

He had been good, loyal, patient, understanding, boyfriendly. 

She wasn’t the only one making sacrifices. 

It’s unfair of him to hold that against her, and he knows that… most of the time… but no one can blame him for forgetting it when he sees her sitting next to him in that short school-skirt, so in-reach, so grabbable, with his bed taunting them from right behind his back, how easy it would be to just pick her up and throw her down on it, watch her bounce while looking up at him in a giggling fit. 

He can’t be expected to focus on doing algebra with that in his mind, he can’t be expected to tutor her when she looks at him with that apologetically hopeless clueless expression, laughing that nervous laugh that every time warns him about how completely lost she is to what he’s talking about.

Granted, it was him who told her he would be tutoring her, because god and every teacher along with him knew she needed it, what with how she daydreams or pranks each and every class away like the ditzy klutz she is.

“I… I- I don’t know?” Was her answer to yet another equation he’d poured out from between his grit teeth.

Plan A revolved around her wanting to repay the favor, give him a little present for helping her out. Tit for tat, eye for an eye, sort of thing. And usually she would, give him a little something in return, a chaste kiss to his cheek, a frisky make-out session that always ended just a bit too early, never fully what he wanted.

Plan B was to tire her out, creating an opening for him to suggest that they do something that requires less thinking. She usually gets distracted, sometimes she’ll even initiate it in hopes he’d let her off the hook with studying, she’d pout her lips, look at him with those large pretty puppy-dog eyes, coax him into cuddling, but she’d always fall asleep just a minute later.

Plan C was a spin off plan B. Where in hopes of making her the bad guy, he would be sweet, he has been sweet, offering his help to tutor her, she would grow tired like she always does, only this time he wouldn't allow her to rest, therefor causing her to snap, resulting in her saying something she’d regret, again resulting in her apologising, something he could mold into her owing him a favour, something that would end up with having her splayed out on the sheets of his bed, ready for the taking. 

He just needed an opportunity to hold something against her, an excuse, a favor to cash in, he needed her backed up into a corner.

Plan C wasn’t working though, unfortunately.

She never grew fed up with him, she never said anything foul. 

He was stupid to think that an opportunity like that would arise. She isn't like him after all. In fact, she’s the farthest thing from him.

Well, time for plan D then. Another spin off plan B.

Don’t hold it against him, but he’d been spouting bullshit for the last three minutes in hopes of making her frustrate over herself, where the former plan had evolved into something a bit more crucial. 

But, she’s insanely tolerant, reminding him of Kirishima’s sturdy quirk, though he had to admit finding her unfaltering confidence and dedication way more mind-blowingly impressive. 

He had been chipping at that composure of hers for the last two hours without breaching the surface. 

But there was still hope. 

Everyone has a breaking point after all, and he could sense she was getting fed up. Fed up with his tone, fed up of him treating her like a moron, fed up with him. 

It would only take one last blow now and she’d break.

Or so he thought.

He had impressive amounts of patience, but he was also nearing his breaking point and finally after one more of her soft-natured laughs, he was the one that had enough, he didn’t want to wait any longer.

And plan E was looking way more opportune by the minute.

“You think it’s funny that you’re an idiot?”

Her eyes widened and turned instantly glossy at his harsh words, looking like a kicked-puppy, before it contorted into an expression of something akin to anger but not truly as vicious. 

Yet, obviously taking offence, huffing as she got up to leave, proving how she too was done with playing their little fantasy, uncaring, or rather forgetting, that she wouldn’t be going anywhere without his permission.

“I think so too, I think it’s fucking hilarious.” He mocked, hand gripping her shirt and pulling her back between him and the desk. 

Already she was pushing at him, as he leaned in closer gripping her hips and gliding her onto his desk, wanting to feel her thighs and legs cradle around his torso. 

“But, you know what I find even funnier?” 

She opened her mouth to speak, but she was given no room to let her protest out as he raised his voice in warning. 

“What I bet you laugh your ass off at behind my back?!” 

Her annoyance turned ashen, faltering into that meek fearful look he didn’t realise until know that he’d missed. 

“Is how much of an idiot I am.” 

Her brows scrunched, hands placed on the thick stiff muscles of his arms as she felt him start to rub circles into her midriff where his fingers where digging into her soft flesh through her shirt. 

“I’ve been so fucking patient.” It was barely above a whisper, almost sounding broken, like a cry or a plead or an apology, but then his face split into a snarl as he leered at her, teeth flashed at her face making her jump slightly where she sat planted on the desk. “So fucking patient with you that it’s ridiculous.” 

His nose touched hers where she slightly bowed her head. His eyes were blood-shot, or perhaps it was just how they always looked. She wouldn’t know as she made it her unrelenting mission to never look directly at him. 

But now she couldn’t escape his stare, the stare she’d feared so much, pushed tight up against her, so tight she smelled his breath when she inhaled, so tight she felt the thin hairs on her upper lip dance as he huffed out his own growling breaths. 

“And no, I’m not talking about math.”

Her hands had moved to his chest as he hunched further and further over her, pressuring her to lie down on the desk. 

“Please, Baku-” She tried, adding slightly more pressure to her hold on him, but honestly... no amount of her strength would be able to fend him off, especially with the mood he was in.

“No!” He cut her off with a growl, finally forcing her down on her back underneath him, as he palmed the doughy flesh of where her hips connected to her ass, greedy and so very hungry, still keeping a firm hold on her with a thumb hooked on her hip, keeping her in place. “No more please, and I told you it’s fucking Katsuki.” 

She flinched as he spit the correction in her face, feeling something bulging slot and rub itself up against where her skirt had hiked up and exposed her thin panties. 

“No more pleas, no more excuses, no more teasing, no more jokes.” 

He spotted a tear dripping down her cheek, escaping with how hard she was squeezing her eyes shut to avoid his gaze.

She whimpered before she spoke. “I- I’ve do- done every- everything you- you asked.” She blubbered, her hands removed from their insignificant standoff with his chest and shot up to cover her face as she began crying, wiping at them as they fell, pathetic and broken and so pretty his balls hurt with how much he wanted to bury himself inside her no doubt tight cunt.

Desperate now, he bumped his erection into her heat. Trying to steal her focus away from the action by gripping her chin between his rough finger-pads, his lips brushing up her jawline, inhaling her perfume, the scent making another pleasurable shiver spring to his cock, again humping into her. 

“So, what’s one more thing?”

Her heart would have sunk by his words if it weren’t for the building intensity that spiked it to beat faster, hammering in her chest as she felt what she now had no doubt was him pushing into the scared place found between her thighs. 

She could feel her panic bubble up where she was pushed against the cold wooden desk, with her boyfriend’s unwanted heat radiated and seeping through her clothes to tickle her skin. 

She didn’t want this. She wasn’t sure if she ever would want this. 

Bakugo had told her so many times that this was something she needed, everyone needed, but as her heart kept pumping so profusely in her chest, as though it were some blaring alarm, she wasn’t at all sure if she liked the way the stubble on his shaved chin scratched as it rode up her neck when he planted soft open-mouthed wet kisses there, she wasn’t sure if she at all wanted his large calloused wandering hands to stroke and tamper with her soft skin as he pulled her shirt out of her skirt to touch and feel up her stomach and squeeze the soft flesh of her tits, and the more and more his threatening clothed cock continued in rubbing desperately against her own teased sex she fell short of understanding just what it was she didn’t want, if it was the intimacy or just him.

Her panic built like bile in her throat, wanting to burst, which it did. 

“I’m not ready- I don’t- can’t we just…” 

He captured her chin between his thumb and index finger, lips coming to shut her up, cut off whatever protesting excuses she was about to splutter out. 

She tried getting her words out, trying ever so timidly to shake from the kiss, yet however which way she tried turning her head, Bakugo simply followed to deepen it, turning more bruisingly passionate by the second.

Her hands were kept unsurely in their delicate touching on his chest, again in her fear of souring the mood she only barely pushed at him to get off, whereas his hands grasped and groped up her thighs, feeling her soft flesh up like dough, squeezing and kneading and just touching her, all of her, despite her small hums of discomforted surprise.

Large encompassing hands took a break from their pioneering and easily pried her smaller ones off his chest, interlocking his fingers with hers and pushing them down to her sides where they wouldn’t get in the way. 

The kiss then turned rough, hungry as he yet again rocked himself into her, a rugged groan escaping from deep within his throat as her struggles met him with her own type of delicious friction, kissing his sensitive bulge with little caution.

He was so sensitive from having to have held back his primal urges for so long, especially after being teased daily by the soft grabbable little mouse he slept next to throughout every night without being allowed to do more than simply hold her, being teased with her ass slotted against his crotch as they spooned. 

If she wasn’t careful with her movement he might just become a pathetic mess and cum in his pants with how pent up he was.

His other hand made to slip under her skirt to feel up the lace of her panties, wanting nothing more but to slip his finger inside her no doubt tight little hole and work her up until she’d be dripping drenching his hand with wetness, wanting to hear those panicked whimpers turn into ones of pleasure instead, but she was making it impossible with all her troublesome wiggling. 

His fingers forgot their quest between her thighs in favor of picking her up and moving her to the bed instead. 

She tried pushing, but it was so weak that he could pretend to not feel it. 

He wouldn’t be stopping unless she flat out screamed at him, and even then, she’d have to be brutally clear or else he’d take it for screams of pleasure.

He made sure the fall was soft, placing her down on her butt first before his hand cusped the back of her head as he pushed her down onto her back with him hovering on top, deep kisses aiding his quest in pressing her and keeping her beneath him.

She jostled under the entrapment of his weight when his digits stroked up over her panties, rubbing and dipping into the warm tender skin found beneath. 

Her hands pushed at him then, only a little, though it should have been enough to get her message across, but as she realized it wouldn’t she turned her head to the side, freeing her lips from his attacking ones and allowing her to speak her protest, or… more whine than speak.

“Katsuki…”

He shushed at her from where he was nuzzling in her neck, seeming almost lovesick like a frenzied pup as he began to lightly hump into the mattress, his teeth nibbling at the thin skin of her throat. 

“Don’t worry… I’ll make you feel good.” It was a drawled-out mumble, but it told her of how he had no intention of stopping.

“But-” She tried, but was quickly made to shut up as her chin was once again captured and dragged to make her look up at him, his lips again pressing into her, seizing all words.

Soon his antagonizing finger hooked under her underwear, rough-textured fingertips quickly making their way to rub over the sensitive lips found at their disposal. 

Her struggles grew then, her chest jutting forward to try and lift him off her, to allow her to speak, but it was as though he was glued to her, his fingers nearly marking their presence into her cheeks as his wet mouth and even wetter tongue continued exploring the insides of her mouth. 

She whimpered at the feel of his fingers pushing through her folds, gliding up and down the slit. Jolting once too violently, Katsuki laid all his weight down onto her, trapping her there completely, quenching the harshness of her struggles and subduing them to what felt like she was trying to meet his desperate humping.

“Trust me.” 

He should have whispered it, he should have tried making it sound less aggressive as he cuddled with the lips of her pussy, sticking one finger inside her warmth, followed by her squealing in surprise against his lips. 

Her fingernails marked their presence into his skin as she held onto his arm, still not allowed to protest, still only barely allowed to breath.

He couldn’t help but growl at the feel of how tight she was, or… at the feel of how unprepared she was. 

She whimpered as it was no doubt uncomfortable being skewered onto his thick finger without being at all wet, but he was determined to make that change. 

His thumb pushed into her clit, starting to rub slow carful circles into the hooded and hidden pearl, wanting it to pucker out to meet him. And soon, at the hands of his experienced fingers, and perhaps encouraged by her virginal thrill of having something touch her for the first time, his wishes were met. 

The finger buried inside her began squishing in wetness, allowing him to add another one at the expense of her gasping against him, her hands relenting slightly in their need to push him off, a soft uncertain hum simmering against his lips, making him smirk, gloat and bloom with cocky bliss.

Working her tightness with his digits, coating them in slick, he began curling them, feeling the waves of her tensing and melting beneath him. Parting them, scissoring them inside of her plushie walls, his thumb rubbing tight patterns into her bead.

Encouraged by her struggles subsiding he began pumping the digits in and out, feeling her wetness coat his hand. The actions finally earning him a moan, a sweet trembling breathy moan, one that got right to his head as his grin widened against her lips. 

“You see?” He asked, lips still barely detaching from her, breathing the words into her. “You were just scared…” 

Their eyes locked and he was happy to see her orbs large and glossy yet cotton-flavored and blissful as she looked up at him. 

“You don’t need to be scared with me, just let me do this for you, trust me…” 

He kissed her softly now, no brutality or forcefulness, but lightly and sweetly and tenderly, so much so she almost forgot it was Bakugo. 

“I’ll make you feel good.”

But it was Bakugo. 

It was Bakugo. 

Bakugo who’d forced her into a relationship. 

Bakugo: her self-proclaimed boyfriend, her self-proclaimed roommate, her tutor, her guard-dog, her warden. 

Bakugo, who was now persuading her into giving him her virginity.

She was about to answer, but as though he precepted her growing trepidation he met it all with a sharp hooking of his fingers, making her arch her back up into him, her knees trembling where they were pushed up over his thigh next to his hips. 

“Just relax…”

An open-mouthed uncontrolled moan escaped her then. “Katsuki~” 

She felt her hips buck back into his hand, letting him know that he had her completely wrapped around his finger, just as figuratively as it was literal.

“That’s right…” He spoke softly, maintaining the aura of safety, wanting to keep her exactly like that, all soft and sweet and vulnerable for him. “You just focus on me, babe.” 

He placed a tender kiss to her jaw, contrasted with how he now rubbed vigorously onto her swollen bud, feeling her tremble, quake at his hands. 

He knew he had her right where he wanted her, chasing that high he was giving her, her legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his torso, reminding him of his own arousal, but he couldn’t pay himself any mind. 

Right now all he needed to worry about was sealing the deal.

An excited jumpy hitched breath left her lips, precious as it was sweet, chest rising above the bed and pressing against his own in such a soft expression of gratitude, just as her legs squeezed tightly around his waist, keeping him close, pussy clenching around his fingers so tight he could only dream of what it would feel like wrapped around his cock, as her eyelids started to flutter, squishing to a close, but not before he saw her eyes cross, reaching towards the light, a light he ignited for her.

She was left a panting mess, her walls fluttering around his digits, happily sucking on them as she spilled.

But she wasn’t left blissed out for long as she hurriedly scurried back to herself, hands covering her face as she hung her head in embarrassment, feeling that dreadful feeling wash over her, that draining shame feeling like death’s embrace. 

“I’m sorry.” She squealed, words muffled beneath the cover of her hands.

His brows scrunched as he perceived her, trying to spot her face from beneath what shield she’d made with her hands.

“I- I made a mess…” 

It sounded as though she were about to cry, so ashamed her body began to shake, her thighs pressed together, hiding where she cocooned herself in the bed in front of him.

His hand trailed soft fingers up her forearm to wrap around her wrist, gently prying her hand away from her face. 

He sighed, heart clenching at the sight of her glossy shameful eyes. 

“You’re so fucking adorable…” 

There was a slight chuckle attached to the statement, his lips kissing her temple before they brushed against the shell of her ear. 

“Why don’t you make a mess on my tongue next?”

The question left her shell-choked, her lip quivering at the promise of his mouth kissing her down there in the same manor he kissed her lips: brutally, passionately, with teeth. 

“M-Mn-No…” She spoke bashfully, still anxious.

Too cute for her own good.

His hand, the one soaked with her essence, ascended to his face, his fingers disappearing into his mouth, lips enclosing around them as he sucked the juices clean off, giving a groan at her taste as well as her shocked but curious expression, smirking once he let his finger go with a kiss.

His hands moved front and centre, beginning to tamper with the buttons to her uniform. 

“You’re safe with me.” He repeated, knowing it was something she needed to hear, especially as he began opening button after button, revealing her precious pearly-white bralette, where under was found glory in the shape of soft warm pillows. “Trust me.” 

He shoved her shirt off her shoulders, bringing it out of her reach, not allowing her the freedom of covering herself if she were to change her mind and snatch it back from his hands. 

She hummed in unease as though to ask if he had to go any further, to which he answered by kissing her forehead, a gesture that made a shiver run up her spine, unsure if it was of pleasure or something more eerie. 

His finger running, dancing around to her back, tickling the skin where her bra was held together. 

He felt her tense up, but ignored it and continued in his quest, pinching the clasp and taking hold of the straps to pull the annoying thing off, leaving her bare and beautiful.

Taking a second to admire her as her nipples perked at once at the hands of her embarrassment, he held back the urge to pinch, forcing himself to be soft, soft and sweet and safe, something he needed to remind himself of. 

Hands moving carefully to hold one of the mounds, a careful squeeze followed by a careful rub of the nipple between his thumb and index finger.

“Lay back down.” His voice was so warm, so warm it left her perplexed, unable to tell that the words shaped a demand as he placed one large hot hand in the space between her breasts, adding slight pressure to ease her back down into the bed, all the while her curious yet terror-wide watery eyes looked up at him, falling prey to his dominant crimson ones. 

His head followed hers, lips pressing one soft kiss to her wet ones.

There is something about being bare in front of someone fully dressed. Something so dominating, something so frightening. But, surely the fact that he looked at her as though she were the world made everything safer, surely it evened the scales, surely… she wasn’t completely powerless.

“Let me prove just how much I love you.”

He could feel how terribly fast her heart was beating as he kissed down her neck, over her collar bone, careful to not bite too harshly, giving into simply nibbling or grazing his teeth, fighting the urge to mark her up so prettily. 

Mouth moving to suck at the exposed sensitive skin of her tits, forgetting himself as he made to grind the protruding nib between his teeth, being met with a squeal from the girl beneath him, her hands instinctively pushing at his shoulders. 

But again, her racing heartbeat and impulsive struggles were subdued, Bakugo making to squeeze her cheeks between his fingers, squishing her plump bloated reddened lips together, whispering upon them as he leaned in close. 

“Don’t worry, babe, you know I won’t hurt you.” 

She nodded, but still he felt her shiver, heard the tremor in her breathing, the soft sniffles she couldn’t keep at bay, just as pathetic as they were adorable and mouthwatering for him to hear.

Once he reassured himself she wasn’t about to roll out of bed and stagger towards the bathroom, running like a spooked hare, he placed a chaste kiss to the side of her mouth before peppering a dozen more down her neck, over the nipples he’d played with, going further down and lower and lower until he was all the way down to kissing the space found just beneath her bellybutton, his ears shifting to listen to how the bed creaked upon her shuffling, yet those anxious movements where seized when his hefty arms wrapped beneath her thighs, pulling her all snug and personal, lining her up perfectly with his face, all for him to see what gorgeous mess he’d made of her, all glistening and blushed with arousal. 

He couldn’t wait any longer to give her a taste, feel her melt on his tongue, hear her moan as he buried his face into her.

He flicked a light kitty-lick over her budding clit, felt her quake in his arms, looking up yet still down at her where he couldn’t quite place what emotion terrorised her face the most, whether it was mostly anxiety, discomfort, shame, embarrassment or pleasure. 

It didn’t discourage him though as he made the same movement again, only now twirling his warm textured tongue around the pearl, swirling around it, circling it like a shark, before his entire mouth enclosed it, devoured it, sucked on it, his tongue placed flat on top of it as he dragged it over the sensitivity again and again, sucking fervently, feeling her panic at the intrusive pleasure, yet being held steady in his arms with no way of getting away.

He let up, letting go with a wet pop before running his tongue deeply down the slit, plunging into her weeping hole where it wormed its way inside. 

She wiggled as his nose bumped into her ravaged clit, all sensitive with tender swelling.

She was all shaky breaths, no sound too loud, no sound too brazen or wanton. 

He needed to change that. 

He planned to go slow, but had wanted it to be a surprise, and so, instead of lightly grazing his teeth over the silken bud he gave into biting down on it, gnawing it lightly between the rows of his teeth.

She shrieked, hands pushed with force against his head to get him off as she climbed higher up on the bed, away from him, yet the movement was soon stilled, or rather reversed with the strength of Bakugo’s arms coiled around her thighs, dragging her back to meet his hungry mouth. 

“Don’t move.” 

Carmine eyes stared up at her from down in between herself, and she felt her knees go weak as they shook at the terrifying growl that accompanied his threat. 

“Just… trust me.” 

She didn’t. 

She didn’t trust him, she feared him, feared his marred and mauled hands, those scars running up over the great juicy muscles of his arms, those deadly arms themselves, capable of both withstanding and giving destruction, proof that he can and has survived far greater than what she could ever hope, proof that she was no match, no equal. 

She didn’t trust him, she feared him, feared how his thumb now rubbed over her clit, creating such godsend friction that had her unraveling, melting into his mouth, and that mouth itself, that tongue, those teeth, how they devoured her for everything she was worth. 

She didn’t trust him, but she found... falling suited her, and chasing the fires had unknowingly become a feeling she rather cherished than feared, a little less like dying, and more like... coming home.

By the time she came to, reeled back into reality, yet still remaining far away, succumbed by bliss, her eyes were opium-blown as she blinked dumbly, not realizing how Bakugo had placed himself on her side, eyes full of awe as he watched her, leg tangled with legs, heart to heart, hand held lazily on her hip, drawing small patterns up and down her side, watching her flushed face drowse into the pillow until those pretty chaste eyes met his again.

His boxers were sticky. 

She’d been too busy, too distracted with the feeling of his lips and tongue and teeth abusing what found between her legs to notice how he’d been humping the mattress while eating her out as though he were starved and crazed and feral with lust. And even though she felt him groan and growl, the reverberations that tremored at the roughness of his gruff timber was enough to make her eyes cross and forget, even forgive them from ever happening.

“How about making a mess on my cock next time?” 

His hand stroked her cheek after pulling the covers up to drape her naked body that now had begun to shiver in the crash of coming down. The thoughtful action a stark contrast to his cocky suggestive tone, eyes glinting wickedly at the little lamb he’d lured into and onto his wolf fangs, still tasting her essence on his tongue, watching as those skittish brows erupted into that beautiful panic that somehow resembled hope as she looked at him wide-eyed, smitten with plead and all things soft. 

“I’m joking…” 

He gave a smile, soft but in a different way, admiring what was his. 

“Or, not really… but whenever you want, whenever you’re ready.” 

The thumb stroked over her cheek once again, before his lips pressed a long firm kiss to her forehead, hinting for her to nuzzle into his neck, where his smell had become like ritual, something she wasn’t meant to go on without for too long.

She thought she’d made it clear she wasn’t ready for any of this. What makes the next step any different? Still, with the defeatist thought, she did like the defeatist she was, timid hands coming to hold onto Bakugo’s fire-hot skin, slotting herself tight against his body. 

She didn’t trust him, but she trusted his love, she trusted his lust, she trusted he would never let her go, and that perhaps those arms of his weren’t too bad. Perhaps if she thought of how safe she was she could more or less forget or rather forgive that they were there to keep her trapped, perhaps if she spent enough time believing she was kept safe by him, then she’d forget all the reason as to why being trapped with him was the farthest thing from safe.

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

[scuttling]

Mega Thread Count Sheets

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 2,395 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Possessive Hotch, Dom/sub, Daddy kink, Masturbation, Come marking, Unprotected sex, Manhandling, Rough sex, Breeding kink, Dirty talk, Established relationship, This really got away from me Summary: Aaron and his girlfriend spend the night at Rossi's after a family dinner, and some of her comments earn both discipline and reward. (+Hotch calling the reader 'pet' rights.) Link to A03 or read below! It’s Friday night, and everyone gathers at Rossi’s for a family dinner—it’s homemade gnocchi, so good she could inhale her plateful and Aaron’s too, and the wine is flowing, funny stories are being told. After dinner, she sinks against Aaron on the sofa, warm, happy, laughing at JJ’s high school antics; they aren’t drunk, but cozy and sleepy enough that when it’s time to leave, neither of them really want to drive home.

“You can stay here if you want; I’ve got plenty of space,” Rossi says, and she’s not sure, because she’s wearing a short little sundress, has been teasing Aaron pretty hard tonight, and she imagines he’s got some plans for them when they get home.

“Okay; thanks, Dave,” he says, surprising her, and he excuses himself for the restroom while Rossi goes to get everything set up. Aaron returns before Rossi, and she leans up to give him a kiss.

“He’s putting us up in a guest room in the other wing. The other wing. He’s so rich he’s got wings, what the hell.” She wraps her arms around Aaron’s midsection, hugs him close. “The absurdity of that aside, if we’re in the other wing, that means we’ll be far enough away that he can’t hear us… if we were to do something noisy, that is.” He leans down for a soft kiss; she knows he won’t give her more than that, since Rossi is still nearby.

“Are you planning to be noisy?” he whispers, and she looks down at his lips, briefly, and back up to his eyes.

“Aren’t I always?” He looks at her like he wants to devour her, and she’s totally on board with that plan, but then Rossi strides in and they both pull apart. He points them to their room, down the hall, third door on the left, and then says goodnight, heads down the opposite hallway to his bedroom.

She and Aaron walk down the hall, passing paintings and artful knick-knacks that probably cost more than her car. “He made all this money writing books?”

“He sure as hell didn’t make it at the FBI,” Aaron says with a chuckle, and she whistles.

“Damn, I need to start writing books. Maybe like a Fifty Shades type thing, about you and me.” She makes her voice breathy and low and ridiculous. “He’s my super hot superior, and I know it’s wrong, but just thinking about getting on my knees for him makes my innocent cunt quiver with anticipation.” He glances over at her with his eyebrows raised.

“I can make your cunt quiver.” She grins.

“I know you can.”

When they enter the room, it’s gorgeous, if a little extravagant, made up in gold and cream and crimson, like something in a castle and not a place just outside DC. She brushes her hand over the pillows, because they look soft, and then she pulls back the corner of the blanket, slips between the sheets, still fully dressed.

“Oh my god, these have to have a thread count of like, two million,” she says, wiggling her bare thighs back and forth against them. Aaron huffs.

“I buy us high thread count sheets.”

“But do you buy us ultra high thread count sheets?” she asks, still wiggling. “Mega high thread count? I think these are mega high thread count.” He sits down beside her, runs his hand over the sheets, frowns.

“They’re not that nice. They probably aren’t even Egyptian cotton, and you love the Egyptian cotton,” he counters. He sounds a little... off. It makes her wonder what’s on his mind.

“No, they’re probably like… Roman cotton, or Calabrian cotton. Something super Italian and decadent.” She arches her eyebrows, and he pulls back the blanket and sheet, so he’s presented with her body; he kneels around her legs, hands on her waist. Her breath picks up.

“Naughty girl. Are you trying to make daddy feel bad? Like he doesn’t fucking spoil you enough already?” He takes her wrists in one of his hands and pins them above her head, pushes up her dress over her hips with the other. He sighs deeply, closes his eyes briefly. “You’re not wearing panties, pet.”

She licks her lips. She’d actually forgotten all about that. “I took them off earlier.”

“When? Why?” he asks, eyes stern and making her squirmy. She resists against him a little, just for the fun of it, and he holds her tighter.

“Before we left home. They were wet, daddy.” He leans in, hovers over her and moves her dress up further, bares her tits. She licks her lips again.

“Oh? Why were they wet?”

“Because I love you,” she purrs, and he catches her jaw in his hand, presses a crushing kiss to her lips. She groans into it, tries to roll her hips, but his knees on either side of her don’t allow it. “Daddy.”

“No. You mean to tell me my little pet was walking around here all evening with no panties on? In that little dress?” He takes his hands off her, and she pulls her wrists down, but he grabs them up again, shoves them over her head, and barks, “stay.”

He opens his belt, his fly, takes out his cock and then covers her wrists again; he tightens his knees around her hips, she can feel them digging in, and starts stroking himself, staring down at her face.

“Naughty little thing, prancing around here with a bare pussy. Don’t you know you belong to daddy? Don’t you know this pussy belongs to daddy?” He leans in so he can rub the head between her soaked lips, and again, she wants to buck up for more, but he won’t allow it. “You’re not coming, I’m coming. I’m coming all over what’s mine. And then, when I’m ready for more, I’m going to hold you down and use you, naughty pet, and if you’re good for me up until then maybe I’ll let you get off. Understand?”

She whimpers, struggles, but ultimately nods.

“Yes, daddy.”

He jerks his cock smoothly but quickly, wants to come fast, but he pauses to take her dress off completely, and then his own clothes; he probably realized these were the only clothes they have here, and doing a morning walk of shame covered in come stains is not a great look.

As soon as they’re naked, though, he grabs her wrists again, gets his knees on either side of her so she can’t move, and strokes his cock again. He’s watching her, his eyes set and focused on her face, and she’s watching him, his mouth and his hand and his thick dick disappearing inside his fist.

“You don’t like it when I don’t let you come, do you, pet? You don’t like it when I don’t let you touch me.” She perks up a little at being addressed—sometimes when she’s being disciplined this way, he gets himself off like she’s not even there—and she pants, squirms, and shakes her head.

“No, daddy, I don’t like that. I want to touch you, and I want you to make me come.” Her chest heaves, the only part of her that can really move, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “But I know you need to come on me first, daddy. I deserve to have to wait, because I was naughty.” Aaron grunts, and fists his cock more desperately. So fucking sexy.

“Yes, you have to wait, but you’re my good girl now. You’re behaving for me; I’ll make you come soon, after you’re covered in me.” Almost like he wills it to happen, he tenses, comes, makes sure to get some on her tits and stomach and pussy, covering her with thick ropes that have her drenched from the inside out. She moans like it’s her own orgasm, wanton and eager, and when he’s done he leans in to take her mouth in a hard, passionate kiss; he releases her wrists, and she sinks her fingers in his hair, pulls him closer, pants against his lips.

“Love you,” she says with wide open eyes, and he kisses her softly, brushes his thumb over her lips.

“Love you so much.” He lays beside her while he recovers—she’ll manage to get him hard again relatively quickly, but he does need some time in between—and gently drags one fingertip through his come, tracing abstract patterns, rubbing it over her nipples and around her belly button, up and down her aching, throbbing pussy. She wants so much more, but she’s good and patient, just the way daddy wants her to be.

After laying like that for a little bit, Aaron takes her hand and guides it to his cock, lets her wrap around him and touch him and bring him to full hardness, and she closes her eyes, hums, licks her lips. Touching him after so much time not being allowed to touch him gets her extremely aroused, her whole body sensitive, her mind hazy with pleasure. It’s the best kind of reward by far.

The slow, gentle part of their evening is abruptly over when he flips her onto her stomach, come-covered body face-down against Rossi’s pretty crimson sheets. Jesus. She moans so loudly she’s not sure Rossi can’t hear her, even from the other wing.

He gets the head of his cock inside her, covers both of her hands with his, and slams inside, repeatedly, earning whimpering, desperate moans as his speed and intensity increases.

“How do those sheets feel?” he coos in her ear, her cheek smashed into them, as he fucks hard against her ass; her body is bouncing on the bed with each rough thrust, and she whines, shivers.

“Fine, daddy, but—mmh, nothing feels better than you.” In truth, it feels amazing, but only because her belly and tits are still covered in his come and she feels like a dirty whore; only Aaron can make her delight in ruining Rossi’s expensive sheets, which is a complete asshole move by anyone’s standards, and also really gross.

“That’s right, pet. I might never have a mansion with multiple wings, but I’ll always take care of you. You don’t have to want for anything.”

“I know daddy. I don’t want for anything but you.”

“And what do you want from me now?” he asks, pounding harder and kissing her cheek softly. Things like these are what really get her off, the marriage of tenderness and roughness, the way he knows what to do to maintain the balance.

“Harder, daddy. Take me, daddy,” she pants, and he squeezes her hands and doubles down, wrecking her pussy, no doubt bruising her hips with his unyielding thighs pressed tightly against them. “Maybe…” She doesn’t continue, because it’s nothing they’ve discussed yet, but he moves his mouth to her ear and tugs on it with his teeth.

“Maybe what, pet? Daddy always wants to hear you.” She squeezes her eyes closed and whimpers, getting close. She hopes the idea doesn’t freak him out. They’ve only been dating for a year.

“Maybe try to put a baby in me, daddy. I’m on birth control tonight, but you could practice?”

Aaron loses his mind.

“Oh, you want daddy to put a baby in you? You want me to put my come deep and then fuck it deeper into you until there’s no doubt you’ll end up pregnant with my babies, pet?” His thrusts have been quick and harsh, but shallow, up until now, but he adjusts his knees to slide in deeply, fully sheathed inside her, rocking her body and making her ass shake. “You’ll take it so good, won’t you? You’ll let me breed you full of babies, one after another.”

“Fuck, yes daddy, breed me full daddy. Wanna have your babies, wanna be full of you, wanna be yours.” He lifts his right hand off of hers and puts it on the back of her neck, grips tight, and leans in to press his teeth against her shoulder, breathing harshly.

“You are mine. I’ll make sure you never forget it.” She won’t, couldn’t, never, babbles something to that effect and then comes seeing stars, howling his name, and daddy, and oh.

Aaron whispers her name, and sweet baby, and perfect little pet, and changes nothing, keeps drilling hard and deep while she whines and whimpers over being used like he’s using her.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he murmurs in her ear while he fucks her into the mattress. “Good girl making pretty noises on daddy’s cock; I’m going to put a baby in you, we’ll make a baby, a perfect little baby with your nose and my eyes, pet, promise.” She moans, wrecked, her hair frizzy, sweat clinging to her temples, and he comes with a grunt, moves his hands to her ass and spreads her while he spills inside, so he can be as deep as possible.

He pistons his hips a half a dozen times after, and then grinds slowly like he’s making sure she’s covered in come. It’s incredibly hot, and feels so good, and she comes again and then sags against the bed and lets him move inside her until he’s ready to pull out. When he does, he rolls her over, takes her in his arms, and they just hold each other and whisper and breathe for so long she starts to drift to sleep.

He gets them in the shower, cleans her up, kisses her lips and cheeks and all the places his body hurt hers, and she sighs, smiles, and thanks him. He thanks her back. The next morning, they’re getting ready to leave, and she is almost out the door when she hears Aaron talking to Rossi.

“Really nice sheets in that room. What kind are they?”

“They’re great, aren’t they? Peruvian cotton—Pima.” Aaron makes a sound of understanding.

“How much did they cost?”

“Around $120, I think.” She can hear the sound of paper—money—and ducks around the corner to see Aaron with his wallet out, handing Rossi a few bills.

“Sorry.” He pats Rossi on the shoulder and walks toward her, raises his eyebrows. “Ready to go?”

She sighs, nods, and takes his hand.

When they get home, they get online and order the sheets. And pick out a crib. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @wolviesbabes

[universalistotalis]

Stiff That You Love

Ushijima Wakatoshi (Timeskip!) x Female reader

Masterlist!!!

You never thought you'd see him again. You almost choked on the truffle pasta that you ordered in this café when a certain beautiful giant waved and made his way to you.

"Holy damn." You whispered underneath your breath as his strides made their way towards your table. You knew he was already a show stopper back then, but now???!

You were so sure everyone would drop dead at the sight of him.

"Hi." He greeted with his deep voice. "Do you still remember me?"

Surprise filled your expression at his question but you smiled politely and nodded your head. "How could I forget? How are you Ushijima?"

You swore you saw a glint of relief and excitement in his eyes but it immediately wavered as he motioned to the chair in front of you.

"May I?" He asked again, holding the back of the chair.

Is he really going to sit here with me?!

"Sure, of course." Your voice squeaked at the feeling of your heart bursting out of your chest. His greeting was enough to kick the air out of your lungs but a whole conversation?! You didn't know how long you would last in his ever- intimidating presence.

-

It was already the last year in college and you were so determined to graduate with latin honors. Every single minute of your life, you dedicated it to studies, friends and family. They were all that mattered. And so you stayed until the wee hours at certain café spots around the university or at the library inside the campus. You went to meet up with friends during the weekends only for a simple dinner or lunch. You called your family members every chance you get during free time. That was your life. And you were content.

But then this boy came in to the picture.

"You will be partnered together and I shall assign the pair. Make sure you finish the written output, video presentation, and oral defense at the end of the semester." Those were the words of your professor during one of your classes before yours and his name were called out together.

You swore it was fate. Romance was really not in the forefront of your mind but as they say, "You'll find it best when you're not looking".

AND MY GOD WERE YOU SO WRONG!

This man named Ushijima Wakatoshi who came out from nowhere, looking as good they come, had no ounce of romance nor funny bone in his muscular body. He was the most dense, most serious, most infuriating man you've ever met in your whole life!!! He was a whole perfectionist, always so blunt at his comments about the outputs that you showed him. He was also so strict with the deadlines, not considering that you had other classes than this that had much more weight and importance.

You were so close to giving up but...

"Y/n?" You knew that voice only belonged to the certain antagonist in your story right now.

Your hands trembled as you wiped the tears streaming down your face after your meeting together at the library.

"Ushijima, hey!" You pretended to be your usual chirpy self as you turned around to face him.

It was already late so the lights surrounding the university casted an unworldly glow on his face. He was always so breathtaking no matter where you put him but damn those looks! He was just as heartless.

"Are you alright?" He asked with a worried tone.

"I'm fine. I'll be going home now. See you next week." You excused yourself.

"Wait." His cold fingers caught your arm and that made you stop your tracks.

"Is there a problem, Wakatoshi?"

He bowed his head before slowly releasing you in his grip. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior."

"W-what?" You wanted to make sure if what your ears heard was right. He does not seem the type to apologize.

You heard another deep sigh as he looked at you. "I've always been told that I come off too much to others. I didn't realize it until recently when one of my friends told me."

"Oh, well..."

"I'll try to be better though. I'll be more careful from now on. And I'm really sorry if I ever hurt your feelings in the past." He said with all seriousness that you can't help but sigh and just nod.

"You can be really mean sometimes." You agreed and chuckled, letting a tear escape your eyes.

"You've been crying." He stated flatly as if he was reciting a trivia. "I'm still so sorry."

You giggled. "Yeah, I forgive you. Anyway, it's getting late, Wakatoshi. We have to head home."

"I'll walk you home." He said with a finality in his voice. You were again, surprised by his actions but just agreed because this was such a draining day.

And as you were nearing where you stayed, you were again surprised at how comforting his presence was.

--

You did find his presence after that night relaxing. He became more tactful and he started to insert jokes during your meetings which shocked you so much the first time that he felt a little offended. You became such close friends that his team mates in volleyball were again, shocked that he managed to get a friend outside the team. It was just a matter of getting used to, you thought to yourself. He's just so honest, mechanical, and straightforward to a fault and you got to master how to tell him off when needed. He also developed to trust you so whenever he needed advice, he would always go to you and trust your honest words.

Looking at him now, it made your heart warm at how far he'd come. It's amazing to have known him then. To have seen how he grew as an athlete, a student, and a person. He may still be a little stiff but that's just the Wakatoshi you've come to love.

"Soo..." He started while sitting back down again after claiming his coffee from the counter. "I am not disturbing you, am I?" He pointed at the laptop and papers next to you.

You laughed. "Not at all! I finished them anyway."

"How have you been then?" He asked. His elbows were resting on the table and his hands were holding on to the cup of coffee. The sight was a little funny considering his giant built was leaned onto a very small table.

You smiled gently. "I've been good! I got the job that I dreamed of having and I own some businesses too. Ho--"

"Your eyes sparkle the same way." He cut off.

"What?" You asked, surprised at his random comment.

"Your eyes..." He pointed out. "They sparkle the same way they did in college when you were talking about something you like."

"How did you notice that?" You laughed.

"I'm known to be observant." He smirked slightly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Okay, Mr. Oh-So-Observant, how are your matches going? I've been tuning in since the first tournament and it looks like you're going to the semi- finals!" You cheered not hiding your pride and excitement for the country's national volleyball team. When you searched on how to watch the live games, you insisted that you were there to cheer for the country and definitely NOT to cheer and simp for a certain brown- haired, serious player. Definitely NOT!

"You've been watching our games?" He asked, eyes slightly widening at the thought of you cheering for him. What he didn't know was that you were always watching his games since college, not missing even one match. You were always there, crying at how proud you were of him. Also, crying at how much he could never be yours.

"Of course, I have, silly!" You chuckled and pointed at your laptop. "I've been watching here and you're just so amazing and strong!"

He suddenly paused at your statement, silently raising a brow at you and smiling softly.

"I- I meant that your whole team is amazing and strong." You clarified, a blush automatically painting the whole of your face and ears.

"Would you like to go tomorrow?" He blinked, setting down his cup on the wooden surface. "To the game, I mean?"

Your eyes widened at his offer. "Are you serious?!"

He chuckled at your reaction. "Of course! We're allowed to bring spectators for the games, I'll just give you the tickets."

"Wow, Ushijima, thank you so much! It's an honor!" You chimed excitedly, jumping a little on your chair.

"The honor's mine." He replied, grinning at you.

He already knew back then that you were one of a kind. No one ever really stayed and tried to understand his demeanor and personality but you did. You were so honest and kind and you always knew what to do or say to keep him at ease. You accepted him for who he was and he's so thankful to have met such a beautiful soul. Even when you were doing nothing, even when you're just sitting across this table from him, without you knowing, you already made up his entire exhausting day. Hell, you made up all those exhausting years of not seeing each other since you two graduated. He suddenly imagined if being with you would always be like this. So peaceful and just pure bliss...

"You've got to be shitting on me! Is that Ushiwaka?" The pair sitting next to the glass walls of the café was oblivious of the red- haired tower and group of men walking past the street. All of them were wearing coats and casual attires as they're planning to go for lunch at their favorite restaurant for a little reunion. The all powerful Shiratorizawa Volleyball Team, headed by Ushijima in high school, cowered like puppies at the name of their captain being mentioned.

"Where?!" Goshiki stopped and shielded himself from an invisible force. "He said he couldn't make it!"

"I guess our baby's growing up, look!" Tendou hummed and pointed at the two of you laughing and looking at each other with heart eyes. "I bet they don't know that they're shooting hearts at each other."

"I never thought he could smile like that." Semi whispered.

"Yeah well, he's been crushing on that girl since college." Tendou filled the silent wonder of the whole group. "That's why she looked familiar! He kept sending me photos of them together studying or something..."

"Studying, my ass!" Shirabu laughed as they continued staring and hiding behind a post at the same time.

They all burst out laughing and again Tendou chuckled. "No seriously, they were studying!"

"Yeah well, they look good together. I hope he'd have the balls to ask her out. Please god!" Goshiki put his hands together as if seriously praying.

"Bet you 10, 000 yen, we'd be attending his wedding two years from now." Semi challenged.

"Nah, I'll go with a year." Tendou offered.

The men casted their bets on how long you and Ushijima would get married. They knew their captain so well to be sure enough that he was serious with you. Safe to say, Semi won the bet.

--

Reblogs are appreciated! <3

[thefanficmonster]

A Little Childish

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF

Summary: Corpse and Y/N go to visit Y/N’s parents for New Year’s. Corpse was promised good food, good company and A LOT of snow. Needless to say, the place didn’t disappoint - quite the contrary actually, it exceeded any and all expectations he had.

Requested by @waterflowersposts Hi there! Sorry for how long it took for this fic to be written :( I hope the final result makes up for the long wait! I also thought it would be appropriate to post it during the holiday season, so I hope you don’t mind. Hope you enjoy the read and I’m looking forward to hearing your feedback and any more requests you may have. Stay safe! Happy Holidays! Love, Vy ❤

I watch as Corpse is basically floating from one room into another in our shared apartment as he’s throwing random articles of clothing in his open suitcase. I have already packed my bags, knowing full well what the appropriate attire is for where we’re going.

I look away from my laptop when Corpse comes in for maybe the sixtieth time today, this time carrying a white tee causing me to chuckle. “Corpse, I know it’s very trademark for you, but the only way you’ll be wearing that when we get there is under a sweater for some extra warmth. I’m not looking forward to having my boyfriend freeze in my parent’s house.”

He smiles, looking at the shirt in his hands, and shakes his head, “Fine, guess I’ll do without it for a week or two.” He throws it in our room, not even bothering to check where it’ll land before he comes to sit down next to me on the couch, “Keep in mind, you have set my expectations pretty high up there. If I am not waist deep in snow the second we step off the plane, I’ll be disappointed.”

I give him a side glance, a smirk playing on my lips. Must say, taking on challenges you know you’re gonna win is the ultimate high-and-mighty feeling. “Honey, you’ve got a big snowstorm coming.”

                                                               *  *  *

All throughout our trip - I’m talking the drive to the airport AND the flight over - I have kept my eyes glued to Corpse, observing as his eyes sparkled more and more with each foot we got closer to our destination. He has told me the most snow he has seen was less than an inch and I immediately felt it was my duty to change that by introducing him to the magic of Canada - my home. My parents own a getaway cottage in the mountains of Calgary where we used to go every holiday season. My earliest memory is playing in the thigh-deep snow with my older sister and crying whenever our parents had to drag us back inside. 

The West Coast of the US was a rather odd surrounding for me, having grown up surrounded by snowy mountains, experiencing Christmas with no snow whatsoever was a true let down and underwhelming feeling. Since Corpse and I started dating about a month after Christmas time last year this will be our first time spending the holidays together and Corpse was more than enthusiastic to visit Canada when I mentioned how much I enjoyed my winters there. We couldn’t go for Christmas, but we’ll be there for New Year’s Eve and the first two weeks of 2021 and I am really excited. I have been dying to see my family that has actually expanded since the last time I visited - my sister has had yet another baby, making her and her husband parents of three very energetic toddlers. The six year old twins - Ashley and Alex - and the three year old Andrew. Or, as I like to call them: The 3 As.

I have warned Corpse about them like seven times despite the fact that he’s already familiar with their energy, convincing him that if that’s more than he can handle we’ve still got time to cancel the trip. He didn’t bat an eye though, each time telling me not to worry and focus my attention on reliving the moments I’ve missed so greatly instead of making sure he was having a good time.

“If you’re there...“ he said, “I’ll sure as hell be having a good time.“

One step out of the airport and he’s already mesmerized. His eyes are shiny reflecting the glow of the snow all around. It’s gonna be funny to see his reaction when he witnesses the real deal - the snow in the mountains. This compared to that is a pathetic excuse.

“I know it’s not waist-high, but that’s because they shovel it and melt it.��� He is looking around, not paying much mind to my words. The utter amazement and disbelief on his face just makes me want to wrap my arms around him and kiss him. He’s simply adorable! I see fragments of the child in him swimming up to the surface in the form of temptation - temptation every kid feels when they see snow: Dive in and lose track of time. “Wait till we get to the cottage.“

This manages to catch his attention, “You weren’t kidding.“

I laugh at my precious kiddy boyfriend. “Whoa there, Corpsie. If your mind is already blown, I’m worried about how you’ll react to the real deal.“ 

I have a feeling I know exactly how he’ll react cause I react similarly - I set the child in me free. After all, no parent can tell you to stop playing and go inside when you are a 23-year-old.

                                                             *  *  *

Walking up to the cottage from the cable-car station has to be the first time I’ve breathed with my lungs’ full capacity in the last five years. The sharp cold air screams ‘home’ to me like nothing else ever did. I am still surprised as to how my sister prefers summer. My family jokes I’m a winter wolf in disguise and I think they’re right. I do like to roll around in the snow much like a wolf. No judgement! Having a few extra years added to my age doesn’t change everything.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God.“ If I could take a shot every time Corpse has repeated this phrase I’d be dead due to liver failure. He is absolutely stunned. And I’m pretty sure he hasn’t blinked at all. Who am I to talk - I haven’t either. These mountains keep getting prettier and prettier, I swear. Taking my eyes off them would be a crime.

“Told you. I wish we made a bet, I could’ve made some easy money.“ I tease him, gently bumping my elbow against his as we walk up the trail.

“I’m glad I didn’t propose such a thing. That would’ve been fucking stupid of me.“ Judging by the tone of his voice, he is not really present in this conversation, so I decide not to let it go on any longer.

Not that I could’ve done differently, seeing as how barely three seconds latter I see three smiling faces coming at me at max speed.

Oh boy.

“Auntie Y/N!“ Ashley and Alex arrive first of course, wrapping their arms tightly around my waist. Little Andrew stumbles his way to me as quickly as a three year old possibly could.

Without wasting a second, I put my bags down and crouch so I can hug them properly. “Hi my babies! I haven’t seen you in so long.” Their hugging strength surprises me and warms my heart at the same time. The twins pull away, leaving room for the little duckling in a jacket two times his size and weight. “Hi Andrew! I nice to meet you! I’m auntie Y/N. Mommy and daddy have told you about me, haven’t they? If not I’ll kick their asses.”

“Y/N, I swear, I’ll tell Amy you’re teaching her kids swears at a very early age.“ Corpse says teasingly, stealing the attention from all four of us.

“She curses like a sailor, these kids probably know more swear words than I do.“ Ash and Alex run straight out of my grasp and to Corpse, proceeding to hug him around the waist as they did with me. They met Corpse when my sister and her husband Finn visited me back in the summer. They immediately fell in love with him. I specifically remember Alex telling me I have a ‘really cool boyfriend‘ and he only uses the word ‘cool‘ when he really likes something or someone. Corpse was honorably declared cool by Alex and that still warms my heart till this day.

“Hi guys, long time no see!“ He too crouches down to hug the little demons that immediately cling to him like koalas.

I scoop up the bundle of clothes with a face and stand up, balancing him on my hip. “Let’s attempt to get inside, shall we?” With my unoccupied arm I grab the handle of my suitcase.

Corpse nods and follows my lead, picking up the bags he also left in the snow. Ash and Alex bolt it back to the house while we struggle to follow, lowkey embarrassed by the pace we’re walking with.

Andrew struggles against me, reaching out towards Corpse. I look at them both apologetically. “You’ll meet Corpse when we get inside, darling. Chill out.”

“Y/N!“ My sister’s voice steals my attention. She emerges from the house, followed by the twins, a huge smile on her face. Her eyes land on Andrew who has calmed down is now resting his head on my shoulder sleepily, “Oh I’m so sorry about them, Y/N. I didn’t know they would charge at you the second you stepped foot on the property.“

Amy motions for me to give her her son but I hand her my suitcase instead. When she takes it I use my now freed arm to hug her as tightly as I possibly can with one arm and while balancing a baby on my chest. “It’s ok! I couldn’t have dreamed of a better welcoming.” I release, giving her a big smile.

She loses interest in me and goes to hug Corpse, taking a bag from him as well before giving him a hug. “Oh my God, Corpse, it feels like it’s been forever. I’m so glad to see you.”

“Happy to see you too, Amy.“ My sister has never liked a single guy I’ve dated. EVER. Corpse is the only one she warmed up to and that’s a huge deal to me. Corpse’s happiness when I told him that was something I’d pay to have filmed just so I can watch it every time I’m feeling down.

“Let’s get you both inside, you must be freez-“ She cuts herself off, rolling her eyes at me, “Of course, you’re not.“

I laugh and blow her a kiss as we keep carrying onward.

“Um, guys?“ Corpse’s voice makes me pause and turn around. He’s still standing in the same spot, looking- unsettled, I guess you could call it.

“What’s wrong?“ I walk over to him, taking his hand in mine.

His hand automatically gives mine a reassuring squeeze, “Nothing really, it’s just that...I’m meeting your parents for the first time and-...What if they don’t like me?”

I open my mouth to go off and start stating the obvious that they indeed won’t like him. They will LOVE him. It’s impossible not to love this man! But my sister beats me to it when it comes to stating the facts.

“Look, Corpse, they already love you. Heck, sometimes I feel like they have known Finn and you longer than they have known Y/N and I! They speak so highly of you and haven’t even met you - that should tell you more than enough about how they see you.“ She waves her hand towards the cottage, “Now walk in there and blow them away.“

Honestly, I’m glad Amy beat me to it. I couldn’t have said it better myself. 

And just like that, hand in hand, Andrew still in my other arm, we walk in.

                                                             *  *  *

Corpse is officially the main attraction, stealing the spotlight from Amy, Finn and I - something the three of us are incredibly thankful for. Amy was right with every word she said - my parents are absolutely in love with Corpse. Luckily for Finn and Amy, the 3 As are all over him as well. Especially Andrew. The second someone sets him down he just waddles his way over to Corpse who picks him up and settles him in his lap while he answers my parents’ questions. 

When the kids were finally talked into taking a nap, Corpse and I snuck out to have a little walk in the snow and, of course, take some pictures. I made it my personal goal to make as many artsy and aesthetic photos of him as possible. His favorite - a hand only pic of him holding a snowball - was my idea and I think I have never felt prouder of myself.

“I am definitely posting this one.“ He says, turning the phone so I can see the screen. I give it a quick glance, thinking he’s talking about the hand pic but do a double take when I realize it’s a picture of me that he has taken without my knowledge.

I actually look rather decent, so I give him a green light in the form of a big thumbs up, “As long as you post the hand one too.”

“Hey, Y/N!“ We look back at the house which isn’t far from where we are right now. Amy is hugging the jacket tightly around herself as she approaches us with fast steps. “You know where we haven’t been in like forever?“

I raise an eyebrow and shake my head as I rack through my brain trying to dig up what she’s referring to. It could literally be any place on this mountain!

“Hello! The Waterless Lake? Ring any bells?“

Oh...it sure does.

Brief explanation: it is a huge circular dip in the ground which fills with water when the snow melts and becomes a lake but empties by the time winter comes back around. That being said, when the snow is still not melted, it’s an absolute wonderland to play in. I suddenly remember all the barrel-rolling Amy and I did there as kids and feel really nostalgic.

“Oh God, yes! I miss that place!“ I say, snapping out of my reminiscing trance. “Let’s go while it’s still light enough.”

“Finn is making dinner right now, or trying to at least.“ She rolls her eyes, turning to Corpse, “But it’d be our pleasure if you tagged along, Corpse.“

Corpse shakes his head, “I’ll politely decline. You ladies can reminisce and chat in peace, while I’ll be helping Finn in the kitchen.” He gives me a quick peck on the lips before excusing himself, “Have fun!”

“You too!“ We call back to him in unison.

Amy gives me an amazed, wide-eyed look, “He can cook?”

I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly, smirking, “Oh, you have no idea.”

She laughs, linking arms with me as we begin walking our way to the Waterless Lake. The place probably has a different name or no name at all, but we named it that as kids and never told our parents where it was. It’s our spot, and it is very surprising Amy offered Corpse to accompany us there.

“Sis, you are very lucky. I hope you know that.“ She tightens the hold on my arm with hers, pulling us closer together.

“I tell myself that every time I look at him, Aims. I am fully aware.“ I say dreamily, recalling all the times I’ve spent with Corpse. Almost one full year and I could never imagine that year, nor the upcoming ones, without him.

                                                                *  *  *

Upon returning, we’re met with the most wholesome scene I have ever seen - Corpse and Finn are making snowmen with the 3 As. It seems like they’ve been at it for a while, considering there is an army of snowmen of different designs, shapes and sizes all at different spots throughout the perimeter of the clearing in front of the house.

“Oh dear Lord.“ Amy mumbles, “I had a feeling this would happen.“

The five snowman-builders don’t even acknowledge our presence when we approach them. Ashley and Alex are running around with Finn, looking for sticks to use as the snowmen’s limbs while Corpse is helping Andrew gather as much snow as possible for the body.

I don’t realize there’s a huge smile on my face up until the point I’m trying to say something. Nothing comes out, though. My words are being muffled by all the overwhelming emotions that have taken over - collapsing my senses. 

With a roll of her eyes, my sister opens the front door, taking a step into the house. The second the door opens, however, I get a whiff of the delicious smell coming from inside. Best guess, and probably the right one - this is Corpse’s doing. 

If I wasn’t already hungry, I sure as hell am now and I’m in no mood to be in that delicious food’s proximity without attacking it. 

“Come on, guys! Dinner time! Get your butts inside!“ I call out to them from the doorway.

Corpse turns to look at me with the sneakiest smirk I have ever seen. He narrows his eyes at me, “You have done the very thing you despise!”

It takes me approximately three seconds to connect the dots and scrunch up my face, picking up all the snow I can an forming it in a snow ball, throwing it at Corpse. Growing up doing this exact thing has given me great aim, therefore I hit Corpse square in the chest.

“Oh you’re so in for it now.“ He laughs, picking up snow to form his own snowball.

“Snowball fight!“ Ashley yells, ditching the sticks to make a snowball for herself.

“Oh no...“ I poke my head in the hallway just as a snowball hits my upper arm, “Aims, I need your help!“ 

Before Amy can respond, I run to take cover behind the nearest snowman that, luckily for me happens to be one of the larger ones. I hear Amy call out my name when she exits the house, followed by a surprised yelp from her when three snowballs hit her. “You are all dead!”

While she is fighting blood and fire (well, water really), I am making ammunition for us both to use. I’m on my eleventh snowball when snow showers me from above as though it has fallen from a tree branch.

“Hiding, I see.“ I am still in shock, hair and upper body covered in snow, when I hear Corpse’s taunting voice.

My vengeance instinct kicks in having me grab two snowballs and turn to throw them at him. To my dismay, he’s faster then me and doesn’t allow me to even get my arm at an angle where I could throw properly. Instead, he turns me back around and picks me up with ease, one arm wrapped around my waist, another grabbing two of my prepared snowballs from the ground.

“Let’s show them who the bosses are.“ I see him wink at me from the corner of my eye and it takes me little to no time to catch onto what he’s insinuating.

In short, with joined forces, we took out the opposite team in no time - like a true couple 😉

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: What We Don't Know Can't Hurt Us

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Librarian!Reader (cishet female) meet-cute

Warnings: No warnings really, some language and mention of masturbation and sex. Reader doesn't like kids. Yearning. Frankie is a TOTAL DILF SWEETHEART. Sad ending.

Summary: Reader is a librarian who has to temp at the kids' section desk from time to time which is a pain because she doesn't like kids. And who is a regular if not a very hot, scruffy-looking dad with the very polite and mild-mannered daughter? Sparks fly but some things maybe aren't meant to be.

Words: 5,155

a/n: Just to be clear, this one doesn't end well. I just wanted to write something sad, I guess.

Oh, shit, there he is again. The Hot Dad.

You straighten a little in your chair and once again curse the fact that you’re working in the children’s section at the library: the only desk that isn’t adjustable. You prefer to do your service desk duties standing up, not only for ergonomic reasons but because you hate how patrons look down on you – literally – when you’re seated by the desk. Also, you tend to slouch and it’s not an attractive look. And at the kids’ section, you’re all supposed to work on the same level as the little tykes. And you’re not particularly keen on those.

You are, however, keen on hot dads. God knows you only get them once in a blue moon and if they show up, it’s usually in tow of a whole clan of children and a wife. But this dad has been in once before when you’ve had desk duty and you saw him stop at the shelf for picture books about divorce and pick out a few. You also heard him tell his little girl that she shouldn’t bring the books she chose to her mom’s. Divorcee, so fantasizing was even more allowed – although he probably had a girlfriend. Guys like that always do.

“You don’t want to lose them, sweetie,” he had explained patiently to his daughter. “You can keep them in your room at my place but if you take them to your mom’s there’s a risk you lose them and that means I have to pay for them. You see, we’re only borrowing these books, that’s what you do in a library.”

You had smiled an inwards smile when listening to him. There was nothing you loved more than parents who actually seemed to understand that all the material in the library was free at one simple condition: return it in time, in the same condition as you borrowed it. A lot of people did not seem to grasp this and made a huge deal when they failed to meet these conditions and were faced with late fees or even had to compensate for lost books. But when parents who knew how to use a library include their offspring, explain how it all works for them, well, that’s how you foster a new generation of good library patrons.

This dad did just that. And he was very careful with the books, prompting his daughter to be the same. Every book she pulled out of the stacks, he helped her put back in the right place. That’s practically marriage material right there and it was enough to make you weak at the knees, to be honest. After almost ten years working in a public library, you were disillusioned about people in general and their intelligence in particular. Sure, you liked your job enough to not cry in the mornings when you had to leave bed, and you did enjoy the work itself (mostly), but… having to deal with people was exhausting. Having to deal with little people even more so, and the worst was having to deal with adult people who had little people with them. Parents.

Hence your absolute obsession with Hot Dad who was soft-spoken, really good with his kid, understood to appreciate the library and its services, nodded his hello to you when passing by the desk, didn’t make a mess, clearly read to his kid regularly and encouraged her to read for herself. You just didn’t get to see people like that so often, and it triggered your interest. You allowed yourself to daydream about him.

Francisco Morales. You remember his name from his last visit, when he and the kid came up to the desk with their haul. You always encouraged patrons to use the self-service check-out (the less you had to do deal with them, the better), but for this guy you were more than willing to go the extra service mile, even with the kid staring at your every move from across the desk as you registered all the loans. You silently gave her plus points for not trying to “help” like some kids did, and for the quiet but clear Thank you she gave you without prompting from her father.

You’re busying yourself with the returns, loading them onto a cart, when you hear a soft, deep voice go Excuse me behind your back. You twirl around and see Morales, pulling his baseball cap off his head to reveal curls that would make any hair model cry of envy.

“Sorry to bother you,” he offers. Take me now, you think to yourself but instead, you give him your brightest customer service smile, the one you rarely give patrons.

“No worries, how can I help?”

“We’re looking for picture books about farm animals. You don’t happen to have those separated? I noticed you have some subject areas separated.” He gestures back towards the picture book stacks where his daughter is quietly perusing.

“We don’t, but I think we have some Julia Donaldsons available, let me come and have a look.”

You don’t always offer. With most patrons, you’d tell them to look under D for Donaldson and then smile sweetly and ask them if they’re okay to do it themselves. You can’t do everything for everyone, that way they’ll never learn. But for Francisco Morales and his well-behaved little girl, you’re absolutely willing to make an exception.

There are some Donaldsons that the girl, whose name you learn is Sofia, eagerly accepts when you present her with them.

“I love fawm animals,” she sighs happily as she browses the first one. “Do you?”

“Who doesn’t love animals?” You make the effort to small talk although communicating with kids usually makes you awkward.

“What’s youw favowite? Mine is bunny. And howses. And lambs.”

“Goats! I love goats, they’re so cute and sweet and playful.” You almost add something about goats being the devil’s favorite animal as well but manage to stop yourself in time.

“Is there something else you want to ask the librarian?” Morales asks his daughter. “If not, I’m sure she has a lot of work to do, and we shouldn’t keep her any longer.”

“I’m here to help,” you shrug and give him a little smile: not a polite, impersonal one that you’d give a patron, but a more intimate one. A flirty smile. “You just need to ask.”

The smile he gives you back is warm and grateful, and you realize that he doesn’t have different facial expressions for different people. He doesn’t work in customer service because if he did, he’d know the difference. Not that you ever thought he worked in retail or anything like that, well, maybe a hardware store, but no. He just doesn’t seem like the type. The way he moves his body suggests something a lot more physical.

Oh, you’d like to get physical with him, alright…

All the sucky library-themed pick-up lines flash through your head. Can I check you out as an overnight loan? Can I insert my private collection into your empty stacks? My reference desk or yours? Am I being too loud, well, you’ll just have to shush me with your lips. You’re like an overdue library book because you have fine written all over you.

Worst part is, if Hot Dad Morales tried any of these on you, you’d probably forgive him and go for it. Maybe. You’re really not that simple, but a girl can dream, right?

The kid thanks you and you return to the relative safety of the desk and the mundane task of alphabetizing returns. You need to calm the fuck down and act professional. Daydreaming is fine but you’re barely toeing the line.

God, you need to get laid. As if that’s something that one can remedy just by walking into a store and ordering a medium dick with a side of hands and tongue.

📚📚📚

The next time you see Francisco and Sofia Morales, you’re taking your lunch break in the small park outside the library. It’s a sunny day and you didn’t fancy sitting in the breakroom with your salad, listening to colleagues talking about who cares what. So you took your lunch box, fork, and water bottle, and went to sit on the park bench the furthest away from the swing set and sandbox. The weather is nice and you enjoy yourself and your break from the library’s chat service. You never know what you’re gonna get when you work the chat: a stupid question about opening hours which anyone could google the answer to, or something more complicated like requests for books with partial or no titles, rarities, or subject areas that you don’t know much about. That’s when you get to use your whole competence and really dig deep, think outside the box, solve problems. You love it but it’s challenging at times, and takes a lot of energy. Your outdoor break is welcome.

“Hi!”

You hadn’t noticed the girl walking up to you and the greeting startles you.

“Oh, hi.”

“We’we wetuwning the animal books,” Sofia informs you seriously. You have to smile.

“Good job. You want more of those or something else this time?”

“Mowe. Will you help me find some?”

“I’m not working the desk at the children’s section today but my colleague there will absolutely help you. Just ask her.”

Now you see Morales walking towards you from the swing set, carrying the large, flowery canvas tote that says “book bag” he always brings to the library.

“Hello,” he nods with that warm smile that he definitely gives everyone. “Sofia, don’t disturb the lady on her break. I’m sure she wants some peace and quiet before she has to go back to work.”

Jesus fucking Christ. How does this man just know shit like this?

“I’m sowwy,” Sofia immediately offers. “I wanted to say hello.”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” you allow, although technically, he’s not wrong. “I’m almost done. It was nice to see you. I hope you have a good visit to the library.”

“Thank you!” She skips along and Morales chuckles as he takes off his baseball cap and scratches his head, swipes his long locks out of his forehead, then puts the hat back on.

“You’re her favorite, you know,” he tells you. When you raise your eyebrow, not comprehending, he hurries to elaborate. “Of the librarians. She says you’re the best.”

“Thank you, but whatever for?” You know you do a good enough job at your usual position and that your regulars appreciate you, but you are also very aware of not being at your finest in the kids’ section.

“You have to ask her,” Morales grins as he looks out for his kid, who has returned to the swing set and is pumping her legs on the swing, brows knitted in concentration. “But she’s very taken with you. I think it’s because you’re very calm and focused with her.”

Calm and focused??? You almost laugh out loud. That’s everything you’re not when you’re at the kids’ desk.

“Thanks,” you manage, because you have to say something.

“She’s also really interested in your tattoos and I definitely think she wants to get her nose pierced now,” Morales goes on. “I told her that we don’t comment on people’s appearance, but just a heads up, she might ask you about those.”

Ah, the unpredictability of children.

“I appreciate it.” You really do. You don’t mind talking about your tattoos or the septum ring you have but if a kid suddenly asks about it, you’d rather be prepared.

“Anyway, sorry to intrude on your lunch.”

“No worries,” you reassure him. “You can… sit down for a while if you want to? I have ten minutes left.”

Your heart beats faster at your proposal. It’s not exactly appropriate but you just want to enjoy his company for a moment. And discreetly sniff him because he smells so fucking good, woodsy and smokey but with a hint of… vanilla? You’re terrible at recognizing smells but it reminds you of some aroma reeds you had a couple of years ago that smelled like a wood cabin with vanilla sugar spilled on the floor. You loved it but like everything you love, it was discontinued.

Morales looks over at his daughter before nodding, the book bag slipping down from his shoulder as he places it next to the bench.

“If you’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

He likes your straightforward answer, you can tell from how his eyes crinkle a little and how relaxed his body language is when he sits down.

“I’m Frankie, by the way,” he says, like he just remembered that introductions are a normal part of human interaction. He extends his right hand to you and as you accept it and tell him your name, you can’t help but marvel at how huge his hand is. Big, warm, slightly damp but not in a weird way.

“Nice to meet you, Frankie.” Frankie. Francisco Morales is Frankie. It suits him better than Francisco, to be honest.

“And that’s Sofia.” He points to the girl who seems content swinging by herself. You realize you’re expected to say something nice about her to the proud dad.

“She seems sweet.”

“Yeah, she’s awesome. And she loves coming to the library, it’s all she talks about when I have her.” He clears his throat and adds: “Her mother and I got divorced quite recently. I only get her five days every other week.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Shit, it’s divorce and custody talk from the start. You have no idea how to respond to that.

“That’s life,” he shrugs, “but I figured that going to the library every time I get her could be a good routine to ground her. And then we have books that we can read together for her entire stay.”

It’s definitely a good routine as far as you can tell.

“When I was between nine and thirteen years old, my dad would take me to the local library every Monday evening,” you tell him, smiling at the memory. “My dad never opened a book in his life but he patiently read the auto and tech magazines while I collected half the kids’ section with me. When I went to tell him that I was done, he always pretended to object to the amounts, but then he’d help me carry it all to the car.”

As you tell him this, you’re looking at him, no, staring at the patchy, grey-splashed beard he’s sporting. It’s the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen. What’s the story there, why doesn’t it grow evenly? Is this a thing? You don’t have enough experience in the field of facial hair. Is it genetic? Is it always like this?

He keeps looking at his daughter as he listens to you with a small smile on his face, clearly enjoying your little anecdote.

“That’s lovely,” he says, turning his attention back to you when you’re finished. “Dads and daughters, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

You pick up your phone to check the time. Shit. You have to return to the chat.

“I gotta go. Lunch break’s over.”

You collect your things and stand up, brushing off your skirt. Frankie stands up as well and picks up the book bag.

“I’ll see you in there?”

“I’m not a the desk today.”

“Oh.” He seems disappointed, his eyes flickering from you to the ground. “That’s too bad.”

“And the kids' section isn't my primary department.”

“The bad news just keep on coming, don't they,” he jokes as the two of you start to walk towards the entrance. Sofia jumps from the swing and comes running.

“She's not at the desk today, daddy,” she tells Frankie precociously.

“I know, mija. We'll have to ask someone else about the animal books, okay?”

Sofia doesn't seem too happy with this solution but nods. You take your leave before she has the opportunity to ask about your body modifications, and disappear through a door marked “Staff Only”.

📚📚📚

The following weeks you seem to see Frankie everywhere. You run into him at the supermarket and get drafted into advicing him on what cereal to buy for his kid. “Something healthy, but good so she'll actually eat it.” How the hell should I know? you want to scoff, but you're simping for him enough to help him choose something you'd never in a thousand years touch yourself. You see him in town one afternoon when you're running errands and he suggests you grab a coffee - holy hell, in your book that's a fucking date - but you decline as kindly as you can, citing a busy schedule when in fact you're mostly just scared out of your mind. The daydream is becoming a little too real and you're absolutely not ready for that, especially not because of the kid. If it wasn't for Sofia, you could have dared the leap, but dating a guy relatively fresh out of a marriage, and with a kid to boot? No, that's asking for trouble and you don't want trouble.

One afternoon at the kids' desk, you once again get to help Sofia find books, this time on sharks.

“She went from farm animals to sharks in one week,” Frankie confides in you when the girl is sitting quietly in a reading nook, carefully studying every page and occasionally widening her eyes at what you suspect is pictures of shark teeth. “It's sharks this and sharks that. She asks if there are sharks in every body of water she sees, from the pond in the park to the ditch outside my parents' house.”

“Have her watch Jaws and she will never want to think about sharks ever again,” you suggest, earning a laugh although the idea was probably a little bit on the morbid side.

“Maybe, but that would probably scar her for life. I actually want her to learn how to swim.”

“Then best not.”

You pick up a couple of books someone else left behind on a table and make a gesture that says I have to re-shelve these, come with and Frankie follows you to the right shelf.

“You know, she talks about you as her friend at the library.”

Now, some people would find that adorable but you don't. You're not friends with this kid, you're in a position where you could possibly influence her keenness to literature and literacy but you will always risk critique from her guardians. Being a children's librarian is like a hybrid between being in customer service, and being a teacher. You get to form young malleable minds but you are always subjected to criticism, even when you've done nothing wrong. Kids are patrons, like adults, and to have them see you as friends is only going to complicate things.

“That's nice,” you reply carefully, not really sure what else to say. It's so hard to talk to parents sometimes, one wrong words and you're basically Satan, you can't know because you don't have kids yourself, how dare you not worship the ground my offspring just vomited all over?

“You're definitely her favorite librarian.”

That you can take. You have a couple of adult patrons who come in regularly and prefer to get their reading recommendations from you. They always have time to discuss literature and they bring you a box of chocolates for Christmas.

“Well, she's easy to help. She always knows what she wants and she's polite. And quite easy to please,” you smile, meaning every word. You don't mention that the only time you like kids is when they're like Sofia is right now: reading quietly in a corner, handling the books with care.

“You're my favorite librarian as well,” Frankie adds, and now that sweet smile he's always wearing when you see him is shy. There's definitely a red tinge on his cheekbones as well and it makes you want to lean forward and kiss him on his goddamn mouth with that goddamn full lower lip that he sometimes sucks into his mouth or fucking licks...

“How many librarians do you know?” you ask and manage to sound easy-going, or at least you think so. The laugh Frankie produces is low and rolling and it makes your stomach coil in on itself. Fuck him and that deep voice he rode in on!

“Got me there. It's basically you and Mrs Wilkerson, the school librarian who scared the shit out of me when I was in elementary school. She made sure I didn't step foot in a library until, well, now.”

“Oh, I so wanted to be a librarian like that when I was a kid!” You grin at Frankie's horrified expression. “No, no, hear me out! I always had this idea that those librarians led these super rich, fulfilling lives as night-time vigilantes or that they were actually millionaires who spent their free time floating around in pools with fancy drinks in hand.”

“Were you... a normal child, besides these illusions?” Frankie teases you and before you can stop yourself, you're slapping his arm playfully. Like a girlfriend would. Or someone more intimate than a Favorite Librarian, at any rate.

“I'll have you know that the voices in my head are saying that we had a very normal and healthy childhood,” you reply with as much dignity as you can muster, while desperately wishing for the phone to ring or another patron to ask for your help. But no, the ones present seem to be managing on their own - except for one mom who seemed to have overheard your joke because she is now staring at you with hesitation in her eyes.

It's Sofia who comes to your rescue with her request of being taken to the bathroom. By the time she and Frankie are done there, your colleague has come to relieve you of your duties at the children's section.

📚📚📚

You knew of course that it was coming. You may not be that experienced in the terms of dating and relationships but you weren't stupid and you had some experience: Frankie was going to ask you out. It had to happen. Technically, it had already happened that afternoon in town when he asked you out for coffee. He maybe didn't see it as a date, but you certainly did.

It happened when you had just started your shift in the children's section and it was a fucking mess. A class of kindergarteners had just left and the teachers hadn't bothered to keep them in check, so there were not only books on every available surface, they were also put in the wrong way and in the wrong places. Your colleague who you were relieving stayed behind to help you, feeling too bad to leave it all to you.

That's when Daddy and Daughter Morales showed up. You weren't really happy about the existence of kids in the first place but made an effort for Sofia, who brought you a drawing she had made in preschool that day. It featured some figures in green, slightly reminiscent of animals and one human but you wouldn't be able to tell. Luckily, Frankie explained it to you.

“She's waited all day to give you this drawing of you with goats.”

“Wow,” you manage. “Thank you, Sofia, this was so kind of you.”

The girl is beaming with pride. “Will you put it on the wall?”

“Super probably!”

“I can see you're busy,” Frankie notes and ushers Sofia along. “We won't distract you. Come on, honey, let her do her job now and maybe you'll get to talk to her later.”

You nod your thanks and focus on cleaning up the entire department before you colleague leaves and Frankie and Sofia come to the desk to borrow this week' picks. Sofia seems uncharacteristically giddy.

“Do you want to come with us to the awbowetum?” she asks with a wide, expectant smile. Fuck shit ass hell.

“We're going on Saturday,” Frankie fills in, “and we were both hoping you'd want to join?”

Saturday. Thank goodness.

“Sorry, I work on Saturday,” you say, trying to sound rueful. It's true and you're relieved about not having to lie. “But thanks, it's sweet of you to ask.”

Sofia is clearly disappointed and so is Frankie, but he masks it better.

“Some other time, yeah?”

If it were only him, you'd tell him it wasn't a good idea. But you can't say that with the kid right in front of you. You may not like kids but that doesn't mean you want to scar them for life.

“Yeah, maybe.”

You loan them the books and as they leave, Sofia waves happily at you and Frankie shoots you one last smile that makes you press your thighs together in your seat.

Come Saturday, you're by your usual desk in the section for adult fiction and you almost fall off your chair when you see Frankie come up the stairs and straight up to the desk.

“Hi.” He's had a haircut and a shave and looks different. Still good, but very different. The dark locks of his hair are more tamed. The mustache is still there but you miss the patchy beard.

“Um, hi? Where's Sofia?”

“In the car, with a friend. We're going to the arboretum.”

“Right. I hope you have a good time, the arboretum's lovely.” You still don't understand what he's doing here and he seems to have some difficulty in telling you. Moving his weight from one foot to the other, he scratches his neck and looks down - why does he have to be so freaking cute? - before looking up at you.

“About that... I wanted to apologize. I wasn't sure it was a good idea to ask you to come with, but Sofia was so persistent. She likes you so much. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. I'm sorry.”

“That's alright,” you brush it off because there's not really anything else you can say. “Don't think about it, just go have a good day.”

“I also wanted to ask if you wanted to go grab a drink with me. Just me. Maybe next week when Sofia's at her mother's.”

Fuck, there it is. His hopeful face makes you hate yourself for the answer you have to give.

“I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Frankie,” you begin carefully. “I'm really flattered, but you're... recently divorced with a kid. That's a lot of baggage and things could get complicated. I don't want to get caught up in that.”

You've practiced this speech at home but it still breaks your fucking heart because Frankie is so good-looking, kind, funny, and sweet. You would've asked him out yourself already if it wasn't for the baggage. Fuck, you masturbate to the thought of him, for crying out loud! You imagine what it would be like to be with him, to make dinner together and watch movies and go to bed and wake up in each other's arms. You think about sex with him a lot. You make an effort with your appearance those days you know he'll show up at the library, you don't even mind the kids' section that much anymore because you get to talk to him.

You are fucking in love with him, or at least the idea of him because you don't know much about him, only that he used to be a pilot in the special forces but now he trains new pilots, he has best friends who are like uncles to Sofia (and who have been asking about this mystery librarian she always keeps talking about), he likes cooking and loves baking with his daughter, he hates working out but knows he should take better care of himself, hell, you even know what brand of milk he buys.

He's clearly disappointed but keeps a brave face, one that you can see right through because he wears his heart on his sleeve.

“I understand that,” he says quietly, mildly. “I'm sorry, I hope I didn't embarrass you.”

Jesus fucking Christ can this man not???

“No, don't worry. I'm sorry I couldn't give you the answer you wanted. It's just... not a good time.”

Shit. You shouldn't have said that. Now he might think it could be a better time later.

Frankie nods and smiles sadly. “Yeah, you're probably right.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He clears his throat and nods. “I better be going. You have a good weekend now.”

“You too.”

He shoots you one final smile before he turns around and leaves. As you watch him go down the stairs to the exit level, you just want to call his name, do your run through the airport and hurry after him, throw yourself into his arms, kiss him, Jesus, imagine that somewhere there's someone who'll get to kiss him some day, tell him that you made a huge mistake and you want to go out with him, you want to have drinks with him and dinner and breakfast and lunch for the rest of your lives because nothing would make you happier than making him happy. You want to be the reason his eyes crinkle and his cheek displays that little dimple that makes you lose your train of thought every time you see it.

But it's not for you. People with kids need to prioritize their kids and you know that you can't be anyone's number two. You don't want to get caught up in custody disputes, you don't want to be "your father's new slut", you don't want to be anyone's stepmom. You don't want to have to spend five days a week in the same house as a five-year-old. Being in a relationship is difficult enough as it is and if you can make choices that avoid some of the problems, you're going to make them, no matter how much it hurts.

And it hurts. A lot. But so much in life hurts and you've made it through before.

He must already be out the door, probably in the car. Does he say something about this to his daughter and friend? Is it a female friend? No, it must be one of his army buddies, probably one of the brothers.

You pull up Frankie's profile in the library database and see his phone number. You could call him anytime. Or send a text. Keep talking to him, flirting.

Shit. It's a bad idea.

A patron approaches the desk and you force yourself to look mild and service-minded.

“Hi, do you have Hate To Want You by someone called... Ray, I think?”

“Please hold a moment, I'll check.” You stifle the sigh that threatens to escape you and hope that the day will be busy so you won't have time to think about Francisco Morales again.

[gukyi]

the heiress and the hotelier | ksj

summary: when you share a kiss with a mysterious but gorgeous stranger on the night of your unwanted, lavish masquerade birthday party, the last thing you expect is for him to vanish at midnight on the dot. but when, as punishment for always arguing with him, your father assigns you to oversee the company’s newest resort hotel, you begin to realize that the handsome stranger may be closer than you think.

{cinderella!au, heiress reader!au, hotelier seokjin!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 21k warnings: alcohol consumption (nothing major), workaholic characters, face blindness, idiots to lovers a/n: hello and welcome to guyi is a nonstop writer!! that’s the fuck right !!!! thank you so much to @aurawatercolor​ for commissioning me for this (again!) and for being genuinely wonderful. happy birthday! oh--and i’ll be on a socially-distanced vacation this upcoming week, so i’ll be a little more inactive than usual, but here’s this fic to keep you occupied while i’m gone!

Your birthdays have never belonged to you.

Not when you were little, when your mother was always the most excited for you to open your presents and host your birthday party. Not when you were older, and your parents started using your age as a reason for you to start learning the inner workings of the family business under the understanding that you would one day inherit it. And certainly not when you’re an adult, when all your birthdays ever remind you of are the years gone by, blowing past you like dandelion wisps, glimpses of memories that are too nimble to catch between your fingertips. 

When people say that time goes by faster as you get older, they aren’t saying it because your life is getting exponentially more interesting with each day that passes. They aren’t saying it because you’re having more fun or doing more things, things that distract you to the point of looking out your window and realizing that it’s dark outside. 

They say it because the more years that you have lived, the more years you have to remember. And when you have to recall something as overwhelming as your life, your brain makes shortcuts. The days, weeks, and months blur together, leaving behind snippets from events that your memory deems worthy, events that have become less and less frequent with time. You can’t remember the last major celebration you had. Perhaps your university graduation?

The thing about birthdays is that you know that there will always be one next year. So why bother with celebrating now?

You would give anything to have everyone pretend that your birthday is just a normal day. 

Unfortunately for you, you are the only one in your family who seems to have adopted this mindset. 

Heaving out a sigh, you look at yourself in the mirror, reflection bathed in the white light of the bathroom, stark and unforgiving. In the merciless glow of the bathroom, you barely recognize yourself. Gone are the deep eye bags that you’ve so dearly acquainted yourself with, tired eyes covered with contacts to bring back the shimmer that has long been lost. You gaze into your eyes and they don’t even feel like they’re yours anymore. 

In your hand sits the masquerade mask you had ripped off the moment you entered the bathroom, having been desperate to take it off from the minute you arrived at the hotel. The feathers brush against your skin, soft and black, a custom-made accessory designed to match your gown, an ink black floor-length piece with onyx gems that sparkle silver in the light. 

Hoseok was going for a black swan theme—said that it would match your personality perfectly. You’re not exactly sure what he meant by that. 

Frantically, like there is a timer ticking down inside of you that you cannot turn off, you pull the mask back on, adjusting it over your eyes until it sits just right, resting atop the bridge of your nose. Hiding behind it, you can almost deceive yourself into thinking, if only for this one night, you are someone else. 

The door swings open next to you, revealing a guest that you don’t recognize, someone on the list of hundreds that your mother invited, none of whom you know very well and could certainly not identify beneath a masquerade mask. She smiles in that polite, awkward way as she rushes into a stall, deep maroon train trailing behind her, leaving you stuck between a rock and a hard place, having no desire to go back out into the fray but also not wanting to stay in the bathroom and listen to other people do their business. 

Thank God she didn’t recognize you. Your mother was insistent that you be recognized as the guest of honor despite the whole point of a masquerade party being the inability to correctly identify people, so you might as well be walking around in a t-shirt with your face on it. At least the mask is doing something. 

You blink at yourself, hoping that maybe if you close your eyes enough, when you open them you’ll be someone else. When that doesn’t seem to work, you take a breath and fix your mask one last time before heading back into the ballroom. 

Immediately, amongst the crowd of people, all of whom are only here to elevate their own statuses by being associated with an event hosted by your family, you spot the back of Jungkook’s head, deep brunette tufts of hair deftly styled by a whole team of people, a slicked back, Phantom of the Opera style. He’s got on a tuxedo and mask to match, but even with that on you could recognize him in your sleep. He is your brother, after all. 

He’s talking animatedly with the pianist, an old mutual friend of your family’s named Yoongi, who isn’t wearing a mask and is thus immediately identifiable. Not to mention the fact that your family has known his since before you learned to walk. As you get closer to them, you notice that his maskless-ness is because Jungkook’s got it snatched up in between his fingers, dangling it in front of Yoongi like the taunting claw of a rigged toy machine. You decide not to bother them. He’s always been closer with Jungkook, anyway.

You really wish your mother better understood what a masquerade-themed party meant. You can’t get more than three steps in before being stopped by someone you can hardly recognize, all smiles for the birthday girl. They wish you a happy birthday and give you a lifeless compliment that goes in one ear and out the other before going on their way, positively thrilled that they’ve been invited to an event as grand as this and determined to make the most of it. 

Eventually, after far too many interruptions, you make it to the catering table, helping yourself to a piece of the five-tiered, golden-iced cake your parents had ordered. At least they got your favorite flavor right—chocolate and vanilla swirl. You wait happily beside the rest of the catered food as you eat, hoping that you are just out of reach enough to go unnoticed. The least your birthday party guests could do is leave you alone. 

“Y/N!”

Never mind. 

You look up to the source of the sound and find only your father approaching, all dressed up in a crisp suit from the same tailors that made Jungkook’s. He isn’t wearing a mask and apparently doesn’t need one, since it is your birthday and not his. Not a good enough excuse, in your opinion. 

“Dad,” you say with a smile, wiping away the icing you feel sitting just off the corner of your lips. 

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks heartily, all smiles because he’s always felt rather at home surrounded by this sort of grandeur, almost as much as your mother. No wonder the two of them get along so well. 

“The cake is nice,” you dodge the question. 

“Ah, glad you like it,” he says, helping himself to his own piece. “We were going to get red velvet but then Jungkook reminded us your favorite flavor was the swirly one,” he laughs to himself, like it’s funny that they almost got it wrong. “Had to call the bakery last minute and change it.”

You purse your lips together in a tense smile, fork picking at the crumbs left on your plate. 

“Have you been chatting with your friends?” He asks. 

“Here and there,” you respond. Nobody here, except perhaps Jungkook and Yoongi, would be people you considered friends. Acquaintances at best. And besides, it’s not like you can even identify half of the attendees anyway. “You?” You always do much better when the topic of conversation is not your social life. 

“Ah, yes, of course, you know me,” he jokes, always the aristocrat. “I was just speaking with Mr. Oh about that corporate investment deal that I had been arranging with him.”

“Dad,” you say, exasperated, “You know that I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Y/N,” he says, already beginning to get frustrated. You and him have shared this conversation countless times already. “You aren’t the final decision maker. You know that.”

“Yes, but you value my input, don’t you?” You challenge. He nods tensely. “So listen to me. I don’t think this deal will be good for us. Even though the Oh’s have more money in their investments, they aren’t transparent with it. If you make this deal you won’t know where our money is going.”

“Nonsense,” your father rebukes. “Mr. Oh and I have known each other for years. I trust him. You’re just saying this because you don’t like their son.”

“Sehun has nothing to do with this,” you argue, even if it is true. Your mother had set you up on a blind date with him a couple of years ago and from the moment he walked through the door, you knew it would go south. He’s got the same conceited attitude his father has. “I don’t think it’s a wise business decision.”

“You mustn’t let personal grievances get in the way of your work and you know that,” your father commands sternly, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. “What will you do when you are the CEO of Jeon Group? Are you going to let pettiness get in the way of major advancements for the company?”

“No!” You insist, though you are far too gone for your father to believe you. 

“This deal is happening and that’s final, Y/N,” your father declares harshly, eyes narrowed at you. 

“But, Dad—”

“I don’t want to hear another word from you about this,” he directs. “You should know better than to argue with me about this sort of thing. Especially here. Your mother worked very hard on putting this party on for you, and you should be grateful.”

You exhale, incensed. “I am, Dad, but the business means more to me than—”

“Stop. You can’t change my mind.” Your father sets his finished plate down on a cart an arm’s length away, piled high with discarded dishes, glasses and utensils. “Go talk with your friends instead.” You frown at him, nose scrunched up in contempt. He gestures you away from him. “Go.”

Sighing, you wipe away the sweat that has gathered along your temples and go back out into the center of the ballroom, watching begrudgingly as your father steers you from him, having deemed your conversation over even if you weren’t finished talking. It’s obvious that there’s no more getting through to him. Unless all of the Ohs are suddenly arrested for embezzling funds or mail fraud, that deal is happening.

Standing in the middle of the room, you turn around once and you’re immediately lost amongst all of the guests, surrounded by people everywhere you look. You turn back to where your father was standing but he’s vanished, and when you turn the other way, Jungkook has disappeared from beside the grand piano as well. It feels like you’re outnumbered, like you’re trapped in a maze of people with no end in sight, like one wrong move and suddenly they will all turn to look at you, stare you down like camera lenses, relentless flashes of light. Nobody to talk to, nowhere to run. 

You’re stuck. 

Now that you think about it, you sort of always have been. 

The room gets blurrier.

“Hey, are you alright?” A voice asks. 

You feel like you spin around several times before your eyes focus in on the man it belongs to. 

“Here, come on, let’s get out of here.”

Your feet move against your mind’s better judgement, the man ushering you away from the center of the room and out of the crowd. You barely notice the direction he’s taking you in until you feel the cool late night air blow past you, tickling your skin and sending shivers down your spine. 

It’s the balcony.

The glass door shuts behind the two of you, sending a stream of wind against your back as it effectively removes all of the background noise of the party, containing it within the ballroom, leaving the both of you shrouded in the stars’ silence. 

Out here, you have a perfect view of the city. Even though it’s nearing midnight, the lights are still on, coating the town in a twinkling glow, yellow lights flickering on and off, as if someone were looking at the universe from far beyond it. Some parts of the city go to sleep when the sun sets. Others are just waking up. 

Next to you, the man removes his suit jacket and drops it ceremoniously on the floor at his feet, arms resting on the balcony’s railing as he gazes out into the distance. As you look out into the same deep navy sky, it’s almost as if the rest of the night has faded away. You don’t know who he is and you can only hope that he doesn’t know you either, hope that he has rescued you from the crowd to talk you down rather than talk you up. But you don’t miss the way he hasn’t said a word to you since you stepped foot outside, hasn’t dared to initiate contact just in case you were looking for a respite from all of it. 

At this angle, you can turn your head just enough to get a good look at him, at the way half of his face is enveloped in shadow while the other half is letting the moonlight do all of the talking. From here, the light from the full moon is faint, a barely-there silver glow, but it casts him in just enough light to make him seem as though he belongs in a dream. Like he isn’t even real. It highlights the sharpness of his jaw, the peaks of his cheekbones, his round button nose. But what it really makes gleam are his eyes, almost pitch black in the night. They reflect the sky like nothing else, glimmers of faint starlight in an ocean of ink.

Quite frankly, you wouldn’t mind staying like this for the rest of the night. 

“Thank you.” You breathe out the words and immediately feel his gaze jerk sharply towards you. “For getting me out of there.”

“Of course,” he says, and oh, goodness, his voice is thick and warm and comforting, like a fireplace on a cool night, like a blanket after a nightmare. “You just seemed like you needed a break.”

“You could say that,” you say, shrugging to yourself. You could use more than a break. A general pause on life is something you certainly wouldn’t object to—if only it was that easy. But hey, you take what is given to you and never miss an opportunity if you can help it. There’s a lot that you can (and do) complain about but even more than you should be grateful for. Your father was right. This party took a lot of planning on your mother’s part and you spent half of it in the bathroom wishing you were anywhere but here.

“A lot on your plate?” He asks with a smile, a real one, one that isn’t forced like everybody else. Almost like he’s smiling because he’s actually enjoying himself. 

“I feel like it’s endless,” you say, keeping it vague because, as it stands, this gorgeous man does not know who you are, and you would like to keep it that way.

“As is all of life,” he says sagely, almost as if it’s a reminder to himself as well. You wonder what he must have on his mind. You wonder if it’s worth sharing your life with a stranger. “It looked like you had a lot on your mind back in there.” He gestures weakly back towards the door. 

“I have a lot on my mind no matter where I am,” you correct, and you try to make it sound funny but instead it just comes out sounding sad. Normally you wouldn’t be cracking jokes at your expense in front of someone whose name you don’t even know, but you had a couple of drinks tonight and the taste is still fresh on your tongue, sitting alongside all of the words you want to say but don’t know how to. 

The man leaves it at that, not wanting to push any further, but you aren’t finished yet. Someone might as well know how you feel, since you bottle it up around everyone else. 

“Do you ever wish that you could just… I don’t know. Disappear?” You turn to look at him, heaving out a sigh. He doesn’t say anything, simply gazes back at you, like he’s willing you to carry on. It, in a way, worries you. “Ugh. I feel ridiculous saying it out loud.”

There’s a tense, pregnant pause between the two of you. It makes you feel like talking was a mistake. 

“It’s not ridiculous.” It almost sounds like the words are coming from someone else. Like this whole thing is just a figment of your imagination, created by your mind to keep you company because there’s no one else to turn to. 

He’s staring out over the balcony now, waiting for you to continue. 

“I don’t know,” you say, feeling utterly idiotic, like a fish out of water. “Sometimes I just wish that I could go somewhere else and be someone else and not have to worry about all of the things in my life. Things like my family, and my work. There are so many things that people expect of me. All the time. It feels like I’m living for them instead of myself.”

He nods along, holding back to see if you have anything else to say. You must sound like such an ungrateful little rich girl, you think to yourself. Complaining about this fabulous party and incredible life that you live, a life filled with wealth and grandeur and power, a life that most people dream of having. What will he think of you?

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “I probably sound like such a spoiled brat.”

“You don’t,” he immediately assures you, taking a step to his right and closing the gap between you two. “It doesn’t sound like that at all.”

“Then what does it sound like?” You muse to yourself, forcing a laugh. 

“It sounds like you have a lot that you feel like you owe to other people,” he says organically. “You know, like you feel like you have to do all of these things because you can’t let other people down. I get it. I know that everyone nowadays is all, ‘You shouldn’t give a shit about what other people think of you, just do whatever you want,’ but it’s hard not to think about what other people think of you. And what other people expect from you. Letting them down sucks.”

You chuckle. Sounds about right. You may not be completely satisfied with your life right now but that doesn’t mean you’re going to fling your responsibilities onto the shoulders’ of other people. Your father works hard, your mother works hard, your brother works hard. The least you could do for them is offer up the same diligence.

“You’re quite the smooth talker,” you joke, looking him up and down and nodding your approval. He’s definitely figured you out, at least. 

“I’m just a people person,” the man admits. “I like talking with people.”

“And here I was, thinking that I’d be confessing my secrets to a brick wall,” you say, making him crack a smile, another real one. You like the look of them. A part of you wants to do it more often. 

“Secrets, huh?” He asks, sliding another inch closer, daringly so, teetering on the edge of territory that you haven’t touched in years. “I like the sound of that. Got any more for me?”

You smirk up at him, a grin playing on your lips. “Only if you have one for me in return. No freebies.”

He laughs, loud and clear, the sound ringing out in the nighttime air. “Alright,” he says, obliging. He leans in close, lips hovering above your ear. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

You’ve been listening to compliments all night but this one makes the heat rush to your cheeks like nothing else, a fire set alight in your veins. 

“That’s a secret, is it?” You ask, suddenly feeling shy, looking all around you just so you don’t have to look him in his eyes and feel your legs turn to jelly. 

“Not anymore,” he reminds you. “What about you? Anything else to share with me?” He’s standing dangerously close to you now, barely half a foot of space between your bodies as he leans into you, hands hovering above your waist. 

Slowly he begins to tilt his head towards you, and while you’ve never been one for dramatics, you have to admit that you haven’t felt this way since your schoolgirl crush days back when you were a teenager, giddy and electric and desperately craving more. 

You watch as his lips flutter above yours, feel transparent underneath his steel gaze, and you say, “I think you’re gorgeous, too.”

The fireworks thing had always been over the top for you. Like it was impossible for a kiss to feel that explosive to anyone, setting you alight over and over and over again. But his lips pressed against yours come pretty damn close. It makes your whole body go weak, like you can barely hold yourself up, hands clutching onto his sleeves just to make sure you don’t go topping off the balcony. He kisses you and you swear that you would never do this sort of thing normally—go about your romantic interests like a professional, a couple of dates and then perhaps a kiss on your doorstep—but goddamn, it feels like you might just give up everything for him. It feels like there are sparks running all across your skin, sending jolts of life into your heart. It feels like he is someone you are going to miss.

It lasts too long and ends too quickly all at once. You distantly hear the party celebrate the clock striking twelve indoors, cheers and screams and shouts as people rally themselves to continue long after the mark of a new day, and feel him pull away from you at the very same instant. Shamelessly, you instinctively reach up to try and meet his lips again, refusing to believe it’s over, but already he’s separating himself from you. 

“Hey, what’s wrong—?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing, I promise,” the man says, the words barely registering in your kiss-drunk haze. He scoops up his jacket from the floor and immediately begins to head back inside. “I just have to go, really. It’s nothing.”

You freeze, mouth agape. “Wait, I don’t even know your—”

“It was really nice meeting you, I hope that we can see each other again!” He pulls open the door with one final grin, one beautiful, brilliant smile, and then suddenly, he’s gone. 

You feel the rush of wind blow against your skin, holding you hostage on the balcony as you stare at the closed door, almost like he had never been here at all. 

It wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t have been. He was real, and he was here, and then he was right in front of you, his hands were on your waist, his lips were on your lips. And still, it’s almost as if it never even happened. 

You blink back at the door, trying to convince yourself that you are still awake, that you haven’t gone mad with loneliness, when you feel yourself step on something. 

It’s his mask. A plain, black one with a couple of decorative touches. The string meant to secure it to his face is broken, having probably snapped in half in his rush to leave, leaving it as the only reminder that you didn’t dream up the entire ordeal to begin with. 

You reach down to pick it up, letting it rest between your fingertips, and you laugh. Here you are, having fallen for a man whose name you don’t know and whom you don’t think you’ll ever see again, the only piece left you have of him being a broken, forgotten masquerade mask. Like the worst rendition of Cinderella ever. 

Leaning back over the balcony, you sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that even if tonight was more eventful than you thought it would be, you will have to get up tomorrow morning and go to work, just the same. 

And you suppose that that really is what the man was talking about when he said life was endless. 

It’s not that it has no end. It’s just that it doesn’t really feel like you’re ever beginning something new. 

You wake up in a cold sweat and are convinced you dreamt of the whole thing until you see the mask sitting on your chest of drawers, grounding you back to reality. 

You wonder what it is about him, about last night, that so easily deceives you into thinking it never happened. Perhaps it was the time, or the alcohol on your tongue, or how storybook the whole thing felt, from the talking to the kissing to the disappearing into the night. Or perhaps it was the fact that you can’t remember the last time someone made you feel the way that he made you feel, can’t remember the last time someone kissed you like he did. Like your brain was convinced it would just never happen. 

At least you know that there’s still a little hope for you.

A part of you almost thinks that, for the rest of time, you won’t be able to think of anything but the mystery man and his excellent kissing skills. Even the morning after, the tingling feeling on your lips still lingers like lint on a blazer, like a scar that won’t fade. It feels like it won’t ever go away, dancing along your lips every time you look in a mirror. You hardly remember anything else about that night besides him, besides talking to him, besides his lips on yours. 

You continue to live in this post-kiss bliss for another ten minutes as you help yourself to breakfast and hum a mindless tune. Then your phone lights up. 

“Hey, Dad!” You say cheerfully, practically bouncing on your feet. 

“Y/N,” he says gruffly. “You haven’t left for work yet, have you?”

“Nope,” you say, stuffing a spoonful of Honey Nut Cheerios into your mouth. “Why? Do you need me to bring something?”

“Actually, Y/N, you won’t be coming to the office today.” His tone is stern and sharp, no-nonsense. The same way he speaks to interns who have fucked up. 

Oh, no. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to keep your tone positive even though you already know you’re toast. 

“I’m assigning you to watch over the new resort hotel at the edge of the city.” Your father has never been known to beat around the bush. 

“What?” You gasp out, shocked. “Dad, you know that I—”

“You wanted more independence and more input in decision-making, didn’t you?” He says pointedly, a reminder of last night.

“Yes, but I—”

“Good,” he declares. “This resort is going to be your responsibility and I want to see that you are doing well with the tasks at hand.”

“Dad, that sounds good, but you know I much prefer more corporate responsibilities—”

“And at this resort, you will have that,” he informs you. “It’s high time you take on your own tasks instead of doing the ones that I hand down to you. I expect to see this resort flourish.” You don’t understand his logic. Isn’t he literally handing you an entire resort to oversee? A brand new one, too?

“But wouldn’t you rather manage such a new hotel? What if it starts to encounter deficits?” You plead, a final attempt to get him to take your name off of this project so you can go back to doing what you’re used to instead of being flung a brand new resort you definitely aren’t keen on overseeing. 

“Then I should hope to see you solve them quickly,” he clips, effectively dissolving any hope you had that he would change his mind. Normally, you love your father’s typical hands-off approach when it comes to business, usually because it allows you to gain working experience without him carrying you every step of the way, but right now, you just wish he was more of a selfish businessman. For once, it would actually work out quite well for you. 

“Dad—”

“I’ll be checking in.”

He hangs up. 

Standing in the middle of your kitchen, you huff, nose scrunched up and eyebrows furrow as you try to think your way out of this. Getting through to your father is impossible, getting through to your mother, even more so. She’s always preferred to stick to philanthropy, anyway, having zero interest in what you and your father do. You scowl to yourself, already beginning to run out of options. Is your list really that short? Who else in your family could help?

Suddenly, you smack your head, shocked at how forgetful you’ve been. You grab your phone from where it sits on the counter and dial his number. 

“Y/N?” Jungkook asks from the other end, voice still groggy. At least he gets to sleep in. 

“Hey, Jungkook,” you say, sighing out your hello to sound more casual. 

“What’s up?” He asks in between yawns. 

“Listen, Dad just assigned me to oversee that new resort hotel on the beach just outside of town,” you say economically. You’ve always gotten straight to the point with your brother. It’s the only reason the two of you aren’t constantly at each other’s necks anymore. 

“Really? That’s awesome!” Jungkook says excitedly, voice jumping up half an octave. 

“I mean…” You begin, because it’s really… not.

“This probably means that Dad’s going to retire soon, don’t you think? Since he’s giving you such a big responsibility, right?” Jungkook asks, a suggestion that nearly sends you into a coughing fit at the mere thought of it. Retirement?

“You think so?” You ask, a little terrified. 

“I don’t know,” Jungkook says, and you can hear his nonchalant shrug through the phone. “Maybe. He has been talking a lot recently about what’s going to happen when you take over the company.”

“Don’t you want that same responsibility, though?” Jungkook has never been treated as a business equal the same way you have, despite having the same expensive education as you and being much better with people. You’ve always wondered if that’s bothered him. 

“Not really,” Jungkook tells you, and you can hear the familiar log-in sound of his computer in the background. “I mean, I’ve always known you were going to inherit the company. This sort of thing just makes sense to me.”

You frown to yourself. “You don’t want to be involved with the business at all?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Jungkook says with a sigh, voice still groggy. “I’m happy that I’m getting the work experience and everything. But it’s just never something I’ve seen as part of my future.”

Mostly because it’s always been yours. 

The fact of the matter is that Jungkook, even if he is younger, and a little more rambunctious, and a little bit more impulsive, has always been the better candidate to take over the family business. He excels at task-driven jobs and has charmed the pants off of everyone he’s ever met, from Yoongi to your florist to the nice woman at the customer service counter at your local grocery store. He’s a quick decision-maker and never second-guesses himself. He also has zero problems with his love life and potential partners, something that your parents are desperate for you to figure out. He’s perfect for the position. 

So why are you the heir?

“What, are you just going to livestream video games for a living, then?” You ask snarkily, already knowing that he’s sat at his desk, ready for another match. 

“Probably. I could probably double the family’s fortune, you know,” he says, and he’s right. What he does is equally as profitable as what you do, and he gets bonus points because it’s something that he genuinely enjoys. 

“You better get started then, gamer boy,” you say, hearing his bubbly laugh echo through the phone before you hang up. 

Jungkook would take over the resort hotel management if you asked, and you know it. He’s got the experience and the expertise to do it flawlessly, no questions asked. But he won’t, because you won’t ask that of him. Because even if you don’t want to do it, it is better you than him. Someone in this family deserves to do what they love for a living. And nobody deserves that more than him. 

The Honey Nut Cheerios slosh around in the milk in the bowl in front of you. You aren’t very hungry anymore. 

Your father has always had an eye for design, a trait he never seemed to pass on to you. It’s no wonder why he’s the one the architectures and interior decorators run everything by while you manage the finances. It’s something your mother always says she loves about him. So, even if you are assigned to oversee a resort hotel that you have zero interest in whatsoever, at least it looks nice. 

“Whoa, this place is fancy,” Hoseok says, gasping as the two of you step out of the car beneath the golden awning that covers the hotel entrance. There are little lights lining the structure, something to bathe the canopy in a sparkling glow when the sun says goodbye for the day, light it up like stars in the night sky. 

“You’ve been to my house, this is nothing,” you say with a shrug, making him laugh as the doors open for you, carpet plush and hardly touched. From what you read in the file your father sent you, this place hasn’t been open for more than two weeks. 

It looks like it’s barely been occupied. 

The security guard, a gruff, stout man, nods a hello to you as you enter. 

“Uh, your house doesn’t have security guards,” Hoseok whispers into your ear as you pass him, pointing rather conspicuously to the man behind you. “Your dad really went all out on this one.”

You huff, gritting your teeth. Good thing it’s not an eyesore, otherwise you don’t think you’d last a week here. “Well, he’s always loved the beach.” 

“Why does that not surprise me,” Hoseok lilts, whistling as he gazes away from you, guilty. 

You smack him with the back of your hand in the middle of his torso. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, backing off even though he knows he’s the only person (well, besides Jungkook) who can get away with saying that sort of thing in front of you. “You two have always been polar opposites, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, well, say it in your head,” you sulk, hitting him again so that he straightens up. You both have a duty to make a good first impression, though Hoseok’s red suit is doing half of the work for him. 

As you enter, all of the staff behind the desk scramble to get to their positions, hands together neatly in front of them as you peer over your wire-rimmed glasses to get a good look at the place. It’s clean, elegant, with touches of luxury here and there, a golden coffee table, an accent along the lining of the walls. It smells faintly of lemon and mostly of the ocean, a scent you are going to have to get used to. Everything seems to be in order. 

You stroll up the front desk, eyeing everything closely. Behind it, the three employees currently on front-desk duty wait patiently for you to speak. Their names are written in capital letters on gold-plated tags, pinned to the pockets of their blazers. You nod as you memorize their names. Irene, Seohyun, and Seokjin. 

Seokjin looks positively wide-eyed, flabbergasted to be seeing you, to be standing in front of you. There’s this faint sort of recognition on his face, like he’s just realized something life-altering, and he’s doing a rather poor job of hiding it. Perhaps he’s just starstruck.

“Well, we might as well get the introductions over with,” you declare, clapping your hands together. The sound makes the three of them jump. “If you didn’t know, I’m Y/N, and I’ll be overseeing this hotel for the foreseeable future. So let’s get along well together. For all of our sakes.”

They nod, polite smiles on their faces. 

“Which one of you is the hotelier?” You ask, looking between the three of them. Your father had written it down in that file somewhere but quite frankly, you were so exasperated that you had been assigned the hotel that you hadn’t really looked it over properly. 

“That would be me,” the man, Seokjin, says with a tense, small little grin, nodding his head when you turn to face him. He looks strikingly familiar, this sort of picturesque nostalgia that you can’t quite place, angles sharp in the bright light of the hotel. You wonder where you’ve seen it before. Possibly in some magazine or at an event. He certainly is worthy of being photographed. 

“Excellent,” you declare happily. “Then you’re on my staff, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I just received word about that last night,” he affirms. 

“Wonderful,” you say, fingers tapping against the granite countertops. “I can tell that this will all go smoothly, so long as we all make sure to stay on task. Sounds good?”

“Of course, Miss Jeon,” Seokjin says. 

“Please, call me Y/N. I do hate formalities,” you request. “So, shall we get started? I trust that you all know exactly what you’re doing. But I would like to receive a few updates here and there about the goings-on here. Mostly, I would like all total daily income numbers to be faxed to my office, transcripts of all of the customer service requests, and an updated menu. The pizza is far too cheap and the lobster just as expensive. How’s that for a starting list?”

“Would you like those numbers in an Excel sheet or graphed?” Irene asks, eyebrows raised. 

“Both,” you answer. She and Seohyun get right to work, leaving you feeling confident that this won’t be a complete train wreck. “Seokjin, you are with me.” You gesture for him to come out from behind the desk, and begin to walk around the lobby of the hotel, hoping to put some distance between you two and the other employees. He stays a solid two feet behind you the entire time, taking quick, short steps so he doesn’t dare start to catch up. 

“How can I help, Miss Jeon?” He asks, eyes wide.

You smile, shaking your head. “I told you that Y/N is fine. In any case, since you are the hotelier, I will need a little more from you.” He nods. “First, I need a summary of all expenses and income since you opened, preferably in Excel and formatted cleanly. I’ll also need a list of all of the employees, their respective positions, and their salaries. It would be great if we could begin to eliminate the part-time slots and allow the employees to become full-time so that they receive the same benefits as you and I. I’ll also need information on their schedules.” 

You notice he isn’t writing any of this down, simply bobbing his head as you lift off everything you want and a few things that you’re throwing in just so you don’t have to do them. 

“I assume that you don’t have constant contact with my father, but I don’t mind being the messenger in regards to hotel infrastructure and design. Any and all malfunctions should also be reported to me. It would also be great if we could maybe lose the curtains in the lobby. I think they close up the room. But, your choice.” You narrow your eyes, looking around to see if there’s anything else that needs urgent attention, when you see Hoseok already beginning to hunt through the concessions room, picking up bags of different themed Jelly Belly. “I think that should be enough for now. Update me whenever possible, please.”

“You got it,” Seokjin says, heading back to the desk as quickly as he had walked away from it, concentration washing over his features. It does, at least, bring you comfort that nobody seems particularly incompetent. 

Behind you, you can hear Hoseok muttering a few things at the front desk, most likely having to do with you and your attitude. But you don’t think it’s that big of a deal. You’ve always been work-oriented. It’s always been your biggest focus. Lingering in the lobby, you gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the entrance, the slick, newly-paved asphalt, the tropical flowers that surround it. You have always preferred a city to a beach, but at least the time might pass quicker here with people who know how to do their jobs.

Perhaps this might not be so bad after all. 

Then, your phone vibrates in your pants pocket. 

“Mom,” you greet, surprised that she’s calling you during work. “Hey, how are you?”

“Wonderful!” She shrieks, always the energizer. “Your father told me all about how he assigned you to oversee that new resort. I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks,” you respond, lifeless. 

“You know, you have a lot of responsibility now,” she reminds you, as if you had already forgotten how much work goes into supervising something like this. “Directing a hotel and its staff is a big deal. I don’t want you to think that you can just slack off.”

“Mom, I’m not going to slack off,” you explain. “You know I care about this stuff, just like Dad.”

“I know, I know, I’m just making sure. We want to make sure the company is in good hands when your father retires. He doesn’t have too many years left, you know.”

“Well, whenever he’s ready, I’ll be too,” you assure her, a promise you have vowed to uphold, no matter what becomes of you or your social life. 

“Good.” The conversation ends there. Or, more takes a quick pause, which can only mean one thing. Your mother has something else she needs to tell you. “Speaking of seeing you off…”

“Yes—?”

“Your father and I both think it’s high time you start to settle down with someone. You know we don’t want to see you end up all alone,” she begins, the same argument that you’ve had with your parents time and time again. 

“Mom, you know that I’m not really interested in going out and finding people right now.” Or ever. 

“Yes,” she begins, sucking in her breath between her teeth. Oh, goodness, what’s she going to say now? “But luckily, you don’t have to. You’re so busy, we can’t expect you to just drop everything. So we did.”

“You what?”

“Your father and I have set you up on some dates—just a couple!—with some of his associates’ sons,” she explains, but you are already livid. “We just think that you should be taking more time to see—”

“See what?” You demand. “See his friends’ bratty sons tell me how much money they make? See their cars and their clothes and their stupid Italian leather shoes? See them tell me how I work too hard and that I should just stay at home while they go out and change the world? No thank you.” You can’t name a thing in this world less appealing. Except perhaps supervising a resort hotel against your will. But even that’s better, because the men here actually know what they’re doing.

“Honey, you just aren’t giving them the opportunity—”

“Mom, they don’t deserve an opportunity. I don’t need to be dating people right now. At all!” You exclaim. “Like you said, I’m busy. If Dad is going to retire soon then I need to be ready for it. I have other priorities.”

“Your happiness is our priority,” your mother insists, convinced she’s doing you a good deed by setting you up on blind dates with rich men who care more about their watches and Italian leather shoes than they would a woman. 

“Working makes me happy,” you say between gritted teeth. “I’m perfectly happy as I am.”

“Will you please just give them a try, honey? You never know,” she pleads, desperate to get you to agree with something.

“Fine,” you say, caving in just to get her to stop talking about it. “But don’t expect anything out of it.”

“Yay! That’s all I wanted to hear.” You can hear her relief through the phone. 

“Anything else?” You ask, rubbing at your temples, wishing desperately for this day to be over so you can just go home and take a nice, hot bath, and dream about the mystery man in his black masquerade mask. You’re not interested in dating, sure, but for him, you think you'd make an exception. If only you knew who he was. 

“That’s it. Love you, honey, congratulations on the new resort!” She hangs up in that same voice that she started with, bubbly and animated, and the moment you hear the line go dead, you throw your dignity to the dogs and groan to yourself. 

“God almighty,” you mutter angrily, shaking your head as you rest your head in your hands, fingers massaging at your forehead. Another blind date? How could you possibly have agreed to that? The more you think about the more you wish that this part of your life was the dream instead. Fairytales are overrated but quite frankly, you certainly wouldn’t mind if that man from the party waltzed right into your life and swept you off your feet. He certainly had no trouble doing it last night. You wonder what he’s up to, now—

“Miss Jeon?”

You jump at the voice, scaring both you and Seokjin as you turn, a little cry escaping your lips instinctively. “Oh my God, you frightened me. And please, Y/N is fine. Better, actually.”

Seokjin looks like a deer in headlights, terrified to even talk to you, let alone address you by your first name. You appreciate the professionalism but have never been too fond of the whole ‘Miss’ thing. As if you or your parents need any more reminding that you’re single. Your first name feels much more natural. He flounders twice, opening his mouth to say something before shutting it again, as though whatever he says will suddenly enrage you. 

“Do you… need anything, Seokjin?” You ask, prompting him since he doesn’t seem to be taking matters into his own hands. 

The sound of his name from your lips snaps him out of his daze. “Oh! Yes, I do, actually. I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to include personal expenses on the part of the hotelier in the Excel sheet.”

“Personal expenses? Did you receive a credit from my father?” You ask, an eyebrow raised in surprise. 

“Yes, it was mailed to me just last week. I’ve only used it for a couple of items, though—”

“Like what?” You ask, head tilted. 

He blushes red, cheeks rosy like cherries in summer. “The curtains in the lobby.”

You bark out a laugh, amused at how unexpected this whole thing is. The one thing Seokjin spends money on, you instruct him to take down. At the sound of your chortle, Seokjin backs away, like a cat scared of thunder claps. “Of course,” you say, looking up at the sky and exhaling. Fate. “Please include those.” He nods, already making to scurry back to the front desk, but another sentence from your mouth stops him in his tracks. “Oh, and if you think that the curtains look nice, then leave them. I was never good at interior design anyway.”

You crack a smile, hoping that Seokjin will at least recognize that you’re attempting to be funny and grin, validating you and your lacking sense of humor. He doesn’t, but he does nod once more, and you at least feel like the ice between you is beginning to crack. 

Seokjin rushes back towards the front desk, taking on the enormous list of tasks you’ve assigned him without so much blinking an eye. You watch as his eyebrows furrow in concentration, knitting themselves together above the scrunch of his nose, as his eyes zero in on his computer screen. It’s obvious that he knows exactly what he’s doing and has no issues regarding his work whatsoever. Good thing he’s the hotelier. 

From here, you can use supervision as a cover for the way that you are blatantly ogling him, his figure and his face, finding yourself rather impressed at the sight in front of you. Here, in this lavish, modern hotel, he looks like a prince rather than a manager, clean button-down shirt and fitted slacks, tailored to fit his short torso and long legs. His hair hangs in front of his face in strands, the same sort of hairstyle that the attractive male love interests get, messy and tousled but still fresh. It looks good on him. He certainly wears it well. 

You don’t think being here will be too bad, so long as you have him. 

“Hey.” You feel Hoseok wrap his arm around you, joining you as you stand by the windows. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you promise. “I am.”

Hoseok motions back towards them, where they work diligently behind the front desk as they wait for the next guests to arrive. Seokjin, thinking you aren’t looking, steps back from his computer for just a moment to take some breaths, catch some air. He stretches, arms above his head as his shirt is pulled out from where it’s tucked into his pants. Even from here, you can see the toned lines of his torso, his healthy, slim figure. 

Something about him is so familiar. Maybe you met him in a past life. 

“I think you’ll be fine, Y/N,” he promises, bright white smile gazing back at you, happy as always. “You don’t have anything to worry about. They all look like they know what they’re doing. Especially that Seokjin guy.”

Being here wasn’t your first choice. It wasn’t even your second. But you have people that you can’t let down, and responsibilities to uphold. Besides, you don’t think it’ll be that bad. At least, not with someone like Seokjin around. Perhaps there is always a silver lining. 

“Yeah,” you repeat again, exhaling. Hoseok turns to look at you, fondness lacing his features, and you smile to yourself. “I know.”

Very seldom are you shouted at by people that your family has employed. The fear of being fired due to disagreeing with your boss is enough to keep many people quiet. Submissive, even. 

But not Hoseok. 

“What is with these eye bags, Y/N?” He exclaims at you, exasperated as he picks up the color-correcting pot from his kit and turns around to face you. “I thought we agreed on eight hours of sleep per night. Getting less than that is a death sentence!”

“I’m fine, Hoseok,” you insist, even though the bags underneath your eyes are deeper than the Grand Canyon. You, admittedly, have not been sleeping as much as Hoseok has insisted upon. 

“No, you’re not, look at you! Earlier today you shoved your toothbrush into your ear when I called you while you were about to start brushing your teeth,” Hoseok reminds you, an embarrassing moment in your life that you would prefer to keep just between the two of you. Sometimes you just mix up what’s in your hands. It happens. 

You frown. “I thought we agreed not to mention that.”

“Your skin is looking dry, too,” Hoseok says, dabbing on the product underneath your eyes. “These are all signs that your body isn’t doing well.”

“Okay, Dr. Jung,” you say with a roll of your eyes, making Hoseok scowl playfully at you. “But I’m fine. I’m just working a little bit harder right now. That’s all.”

“That’s what you always say,” Hoseok points out, unimpressed with your measly excuse. “Every time I talk to you about how you aren’t taking care of yourself, you always go, ‘It’s because of work, I’m fine,’ or ‘Don’t worry about me, I just have a lot to do right now.’ It’s not healthy.”

“I don’t sound like that!” You object, offended at his mocking high-pitched impression of you. You don’t sound like Hoseok on helium. You refuse to accept that. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hoseok says, shrugging you off as he pulls out the concealer. “I’m serious, Y/N. You work yourself way too hard. This event is supposed to be a fun business gala and you’re probably going to spend the whole time checking your email.”

“I will not!” You will.

Hoseok frowns, seeing right through you. One of the many benefits of being your personal assistant is the fact that he can read you like a children’s book. He also knows that he can say whatever he wants to you without fear of getting fired—not that he cares about that, either, because he’s probably got enough money in his bank account to put three kids through college. If he ever wanted to have kids, that is. So this is how conversations like these usually go. 

“If I didn’t like your live text updates on the stupid things people wear to these things so much, I would make you leave your phone at home,” Hoseok tells you. “You really do need to take time for yourself.”

“I do take time for myself,” you rebuke with a pout, thinking about how you’ve started waking up five minutes later so you have more time to sleep in. It means that you don’t get to read the morning news like you used to, but sometimes putting off politics until after you’ve had coffee is a good thing. 

“A once-a-month ten-minute bath while you put on a rose face mask doesn’t count,” Hoseok tells you pointedly. “You need to be incorporating this sort of thing into your everyday life. By taking time off. All you ever do is work.”

“It’s not my fault,” you huff, closing your eyes so Hoseok can do some eyeshadow. “I have a whole hotel to oversee after my dad assigned it to me. There’s a lot that I have to manage. Plus, my mom is making me go on these stupid blind dates with their associates’ snobby sons who still think that the pay gap isn’t real.”

Hoseok tuts to himself, shaking his head as he brushes color onto your eyelids. “Your parents have such bad taste in men for you.”

“I know!” 

“This is even further proof that you need to relax more,” Hoseok says economically, brain immediately connecting your predicament to his agenda to get you to take more time off, as always. “Because men stress you out.”

“Just them, but yes,” you correct.

“What do you mean ‘Just them’? Is there someone you’re interested in that doesn’t stress you out?” Hoseok demands, tapping your cheek to get you to open your eyes. You do and the first thing you see is Hoseok’s face, two inches from yours, staring at you as he waits for an answer.

You sigh. You might as well tell him about the mystery man. Clearly, you underestimated his power, because it’s been a week and you’re still thinking about him. “Yes, but—”

“‘Yes’?” Hoseok asks, shocked. “What the fuck, when did you meet him? What does he look like? What’s his name? Job? Is he rich?”

“At my birthday party,” you say. You can picture the scene perfectly in your mind. The balcony, the stars, the mask. The feeling of his hands on your waist, his lips on yours. They’ve been etched into your brain. “We talked on the balcony for a little while and then we kissed.”

“You what?”

“Don’t overreact, it’s not that big of a deal,” you order. The mere recollection of it is already making your body restless and your cheeks burn.

“What do you mean? It’s a huge deal!”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” you interrupt, sighing to yourself, “because he ran off at midnight Cinderella-style and I don’t know his name, or his job, or even what he really looks like because he was wearing a mask the whole time.”

Hoseok stops dead in his tracks, the loose power leaving a puff of smoke in between the two of you as his words sink in. Yeah. That’s how you feel too. You finally develop an interest in somebody after years of going it solo and you don’t know a damn thing about him. Other than the fact that he is a fantastic kisser. Which is not an appropriate identifier. You suppose that you could use the mask, but you don’t even know half of the people your mother invited. How are you supposed to narrow down who was wearing a black mask and who wasn’t?

The fact is that unless a miracle happens, you don’t have any way of figuring out who that man is. Yet another thing that you have to dwell on while you worry about everything else going on in your life. 

Hoseok sits on his words for a few more moments, trying to figure out the right thing to say. Eventually, he settles on, “Damn. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you do anything to find him?”

You shake your head, resigning yourself to a life where the mystery man will forever remain a mystery. “No. I don’t even know who was on the guest list.”

“What if you ask Jungkook?” Hoseok poses. “Maybe he knows him.”

“Jungkook does not need to know about my barely-there love life,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. You and your brother typically keep your conversations far away from that realm of topics, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Jungkook is rather flush with admirers. Many of whom have gotten to know him a little bit… closer. “It’s no big deal, ‘Seok. I’m not really desperate to find love. I just need to focus on work, right now.”

“I wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard, Y/N,” Hoseok says with a melancholic smile, knowing that no matter what he tells you, you’ll always be too determined for your own good. At least he tries. 

You purse your lips in understanding. Hoseok just wants what’s best for you, but what’s best for you right now is being ready for your father’s impending retirement. “There’s just too much that I have to do.”

“At least you’ll have help with the resort,” Hoseok offers, always looking on the bright side. “That Seokjin fellow seems like he really knows what he’s doing.”

You think back to your visits to the resort. Your longest stay was the first day you arrived, but you’ve been making frequent trips back to check in. And every time you arrive, Seokjin is waiting dutifully for your next orders, always getting your completed requests back to you on time, formatted perfectly. He listens to your every word and asks the right questions. He knows exactly what to do and he has no problems admitting when he doesn’t. He’s even started bringing you the occasional coffee.

He’s also terribly handsome, but you try to think about other things when you look at him. 

Hoseok’s right. At least you have Seokjin. His impeccable work ethic is half the reason you aren’t wearing yourself thin worrying about the resort. He was definitely meant to be a hotelier. 

“I guess you’re right.” You nod, letting Hoseok brush a deep maroon lipstick onto you as he finishes up with your makeup. “It could be worse.”

Hoseok mumbles in agreement, stepping back. “Let me look at you.”

You stand up, gown, heels, makeup, and all, letting Hoseok gaze at you to make sure that everything is flawless. You’ve never liked the events you have to attend, but getting dressed up is always something you rather enjoy. Especially when Hoseok is the one doing it. 

The dress drapes down your figure perfectly, hugging your sides as it gathers on the floor, leaving just enough space for the tips of your heels to peek out. Your necklace hangs low on your torso and your earrings dangle, soft golden strings with gems at the base. Your eyes sparkle with the help of the glitter that Hoseok has added, touches of shimmer on the high points of your face. You look into the mirror and for once, you feel satisfied.

“Wow,” Hoseok says, proud and beaming. “Look at you.”

There you are. 

Days at the resort hotel pass by faster now. 

Granted, no work day could ever top the speed at which the days passed when you were younger, playing outside with friends or running around in the yard during recess. But being here isn’t as terrible as you had first made it out to be. At least you don’t have your father constantly looking over your shoulder, even if he does call you every day to ask for updates. And at least the people here have integrity, more so than any of the usual executives you work with up in the central building in town. The people here aren’t brown-nosing you every minute of every day. 

And yes, getting to see Seokjin every day is also rather enjoyable. From a professional perspective. 

Hoseok says you need to take more time for yourself and relax more but quite frankly, being at the resort hotel is a vacation. It’s a respite from the hustle-and-bustle culture that your father has cultivated in his office building. It’s a break from the neverending business deals, the meetings, the agreements and bargains and contracts. And most importantly, it’s something that you can do without your father’s help. 

For once, it almost feels like a little taste of freedom. 

Of course, Hoseok would also tease you terribly about the fact that you consider overseeing a resort hotel a break, as opposed to an actual holiday where you take real time off. But he must know that that’s never going to happen. At least, not anytime soon. 

You hadn’t realized your father’s retirement was so close. The years pass by in a blur but you have always thought that your father has much too much to finish, tasks and projects, and events that will take another few years to come to fruition. Too many loose ends that he needs to tie up, deals he must close and finances he must track. You’ve been groomed to take over for him since you were young, even before you graduated, but retirement has always felt like a distant future. 

Not an imminent happening. 

Jungkook hadn’t even sounded surprised when you told him that you would be overseeing the new resort. 

You wonder if you’re the only one in your family who hadn’t expected your father to be planning his retirement so soon. The money and savings isn’t an issue—he will continue to invest long after he leaves his office—but the time is. Perhaps he has finished more than you thought he would. Accomplished more goals than you expected he’d do. 

Or perhaps, you just grew up too quickly. 

Time has always gone by much too fast for your liking. When you were little, when you were in school, when you graduated. You closed your eyes and suddenly all of your youth had whizzed by. You woke up and suddenly you were in and out of four years of college and two years of a Master’s in business. You blinked and suddenly you are about to inherit a company you thought you never would. 

The fear of everything ending is enough to keep you away. Away from that skyscraper in the center of the city, where your father’s office sits at the top floor, where he works nonstop to make sure that everything is ready for your arrival. Away from a future you thought you could avoid, until it reached you. 

Having this resort hotel, a brand new building in the beachy part of town, with efficient, competent staff and a gorgeous view, is enough to make you want to live in the past forever. 

Your phone screen lights up with your father’s contact for the third time today, the green ‘answer’ button and the red ‘decline’ button waiting patiently for your decision. Staring down at it, you frown. You normally aren’t one to purposely miss your father’s calls, but today is the day that the deal with the Ohs is finalized, something that you have zero desire to celebrate. 

After a few more moments, your phone stops vibrating in your hand, the screen going back. You roll your eyes and stuff it into the pocket of your pants, not wanting to wait for it to light up once more. You have a feeling that your mother will be phoning shortly to berate you for not answering your father’s calls, a call that you have every intention of ignoring just like the previous ones. You aren’t sure how to make clearer the fact that you think the deal is a bad idea. A terrible one, even. Mostly because the Ohs are horrible people.

Still, you cannot resist pulling your phone out when you feel it buzz against your side.

[Today, 12:27PM]

Jungkook: dude dad’s flipping out because you aren’t answering his calls

Ugh. Not Jungkook, too.

You: Tell him that I will congratulate him on the deal in person later. You: I’m busy right now.

Jungkook: he’s calling just to check in on the resort

You: I give him weekly updates and forward him any pressing news. He’ll manage.

Jungkook: just call him or mom’s gonna call you

You: Tell her that I will congratulate him on the deal in person. You: Later.

Jungkook: are you gonna be like this until dad retires?

You: Like what?

Jungkook: -_- Jungkook: don’t play stupid Jungkook: you’re being stubborn and you know it.

You: Dad already knows that I didn’t approve of him going through with the deal. I don’t imagine he’s expecting a party from me.

Jungkook: you can’t keep ignoring him just because you didn’t approve of one thing Jungkook: how is that professional???? Jungkook: you’re inheriting the business soon Y/N Jungkook: you need to start acting like it

You: Don’t tell me how to act when you aren’t the one busting your ass trying to make sure the business is ready for when he retires. You: You have your own life to lead and your own things to do. It’s not your place.

Jungkook: as a businessman, it isn’t Jungkook: as your brother, it is

You scowl at your screen. The brother card. Jungkook pulls it whenever he and you both know that you’re being unreasonable, and the worst part is that it always works. It always works because Jungkook only ever wants the best for you, wants to see you succeed as a businesswoman, as a future CEO, and as his sister. And who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure?

You: I just have a lot on my plate right now. Dad and I can talk later.

Jungkook: yknow Jungkook: like, occupationally, you are more than ready to inherit the company and you know it. Jungkook: you work so hard 24/7 and you never take breaks, you know exactly what you’re doing and you can command a room better than anyone i’ve ever met Jungkook: but Jungkook: oh idk

You: What?

An impromptu psychoanalysis from your wise-beyond-years younger brother is certainly not something you had been expecting today. But Jungkook always has and always will know you better than anyone else, something that is both a blessing and a curse.

Jungkook: you are so fucking ready to inherit the business Jungkook: i just wish you would realize it

Silence. You pause, watching the three dots appear and disappear over and over again, Jungkook typing and deleting what next he wants to say. Chuckling to yourself, you read his message over and over again. 

What’s Jungkook on about? Doesn’t he know what you do? The position you have? Just because you’ll eventually take over the business doesn’t mean you’re ready for it. Isn’t Jungkook aware of how much work you have to do? About how your father assigned you this resort hotel as punishment for disagreeing with him? 

You aren’t ready. 

You’re barely halfway. 

You: Yeah, right.

Jungkook: i’m serious Y/N Jungkook: can’t you see how prepared you are

You: I still have lots to do, Jungkook. Just because I’ve been given more responsibility doesn’t suddenly mean Dad’s going to retire tomorrow and that I’m ready to take over.

Jungkook: that’s not what i meant and you know it

You: I don’t feel like talking about this anymore. Tell Dad that I’ll talk to him about the deal later. 

Jungkook: … Jungkook: fine Jungkook: but don’t say i didn’t try to tell you

You angrily switch your phone off, fuming at the fact that the deal’s gone through, fuming at how Jungkook thinks that suddenly because you were given a resort hotel to oversee it means that you’re ready to take over from your father, and fuming at how, above all, there’s a part of you and a part of Jungkook that both know that he is, as usual, right. 

There’s a knock on the door to your makeshift office at the hotel and you lose it. 

“What?” 

You look up just in time to see Seokjin jump slightly at your shout, coffee sloshing around in the cups in his hand. Ah. You hadn’t meant to scare him like that. 

Exhaling, you rub at your temples as you set your phone down on the desk, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Seokjin. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Please, come in.”

“Coffee?” He offers, a small smile on his face as he holds it out.

“You are a lifesaver,” you declare, taking the cup from him happily and having a sip. Perfectly scalding. Seokjin waits patiently behind your desk until you’re finished, swaying slightly. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, no,” he says, shaking his head. “Just thought that I’d let you know that I’ve just got more files on the finances.”

“Oh, excellent,” you declare happily, accepting the small manila folder from underneath Seokjin’s arm. You open it just to browse, and everything seems to be in order. An easy thing to file away for future reference if necessary. And there’s no doubt in your mind that Seokjin’s already faxed you an electronic copy as well. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Seokjin nods. He turns to leave but seems to linger, noticing the tension in your shoulders and the irritation on your face, the way you drink up the boiling coffee like it’s nothing, relishing in the burn down your throat. He almost stops himself, opening his mouth slightly and then closing it, but then he just sighs, and he asks, “Are you alright?”

You sputter out the coffee all over the manila folder in front of you. “I’m sorry,” you say over coughs, the beverage going down the wrong pipe in all of the chaos. “What—what did you say?”

“You just seem more stressed than usual, is all,” Seokjin says, rocking back and forth on his feet with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his ink black slacks. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve been snappy recently,” you say, admitting it. “There’s just a lot I’m dealing with right now. Mostly to do with work.”

“I hope I’m helping, then?” He says hopefully, a hesitant grin on his face. 

You nod in agreement. Without him, you definitely wouldn’t be sleeping half as much as you do now (which is apparently still not enough, according to Hoseok). At least Seokjin’s there. “You definitely are. I don’t think I’d have made it without you,” you chuckle. 

Seokjin smiles. “If you need me to do more, I’d be happy to. Just ask.”

“Thank you, Seokjin. I really appreciate that,” you tell him. In the short time you’ve known him, Seokjin’s kindness has outshone even his stellar work ethic, a trait that you’ve come to admire in him, mostly because you know you can only dream of being as generous as he. “It means a lot.”

“Anytime,” he says, and he means it, too. “I’ll always be here for you.”

And standing here, in your makeshift office, with a matching cup of coffee in his hand, and a gorgeous, toothy smile on his face, you know that he means that, too. 

Sometimes, you can’t even believe a man like Seokjin exists. He’s practically flawless.

“I will bear that in mind,” you promise. “You really are a wonderful person, Seokjin. Really.”

Seokjin grins, the compliment going straight to him, blushing furiously as he exits your office, waving a tiny goodbye on his way out. You return it, watching fondly as he nearly crashes into the door frame, hand slamming onto it before he realizes. He laughs at his clumsiness and even from here you can see his cheeks get redder, heating up like the coffee in his hand. 

Work is hard. Being the unprepared heir to an enormous conglomerate even harder. But Seokjin’s right. 

At least you’ll always have him. 

You’ve never been one to develop friendships with your employees, but there is something about Seokjin that’s different. Something about him that makes him a confidant first and a hotelier second. Something about him that pulls you in, an electric, magnetic touch. 

You feel like you’ve known him longer than you feel. Feel like you’re closer than you really are. 

Some people are just like that, you suppose. Some people just make you wish that you had known them forever.

Quite frankly, you don’t think you could name a single thing wrong about Seokjin even if you tried. He gets your coffee order perfect (not that it’s hard, it’s just that you’ve never told him what it is), he does all of his work before you’ve even asked, and he runs the damn resort hotel better than you do. He’s obviously a people-person and can make others laugh without trying. He’s even figured out how to compliment you, a trait that not even grown businessmen have learned.

The days pass in a blur, made quicker by the ease of working with him. Of being around him. Seokjin lifts up your spirit and he doesn’t even have to try. His competence in the workplace is enough to have you coming by the resort daily instead of weekly, hourly instead of daily, just so you can spend time in a place that, for once, makes you feel relaxed. 

Hoseok would say that Seokjin is a miracle-worker. 

You would say that he’s just brilliant.

Honestly, sometimes you think that even Seokjin is more well-equipped to run your family’s business than you are. And you’re the heiress. 

The differences between Seokjin and all other men you’ve had the displeasure of interacting with (besides Jungkook, because he’s your brother, and Hoseok, because he’s the best) become abundantly clear after your second mother-mandated blind date. 

The first one that you went on a couple of weeks ago was alright. He wasn’t an asshole, but also he had the same amount of flavor as the plain white bread that you were served prior to the meal. But no points is better than negative points, right?

You mentioned to your mother that you probably wouldn’t be interested in a second date with him. She didn’t sound surprised. 

Unfortunately for you, your second blind date was not nearly as uneventful. 

The good part about your date was that it was a brunch arrangement, which is unabashedly your favorite meal of the day and also saves you the trouble of having to get all dressed up for a fancy dinner in the center of the city. But that is where the good parts end. 

You don’t know what your parents were thinking, setting you up with a man like Sangmin. Every single thing that you have ever complained to them about a man, Sangmin either did or was. The first red flag was how he showed up to your brunch meeting wearing a navy blue suit. It didn’t get any better from there. 

You know that your parents just want you to find someone and settle down, someone who can take the weight off of your shoulders and get you to stop working so hard, someone who will make you happy and who can keep you comfortable, someone who is something that you genuinely will want to spend time with, but you can’t explain why, with this knowledge of your preferences and dislikes, they still send you on dates with men like Sangmin. 

Men who boast about their money with every chance they get, checking the time just so they can flash their Rolex watch even though their phone is right there, telling you how many fancy cars they own that deserve a woman like you in the passenger seat. Men who try to explain economic practices that your family pioneered to you. Men whose eyes flash with dollar signs when they hear that you’re going to be inheriting your family’s company. 

Your parents want you to find someone who can take the weight off of your shoulders and keep you comfortable? They should let you pick. 

At one in the afternoon and not a moment later, you storm into your office, flinging your bag onto your chair as you groan aloud, staring out the window and fighting the urge to punch right through the Plexiglass. There’s no word for the way you’re feeling, the unintelligible growl that you let out. You just aren’t having a very good day. 

Your desire to interact with men is at an all time low, and yet, you can’t help but turn around when you hear his voice. 

“Knock, knock,” Seokjin says from the doorway, two cups of steaming coffee in his hand. He strolls up happily to you, placing the plastic cup in your outstretched hand. “How’d it go?”

“Bad,” you spit, not wanting to say anything else.

“Oh, no, really?” Seokjin asks, genuinely disappointed. At least someone was rooting for you. You don’t even think you had been rooting for yourself. “Worse than the first guy?”

“Say the first guy was just… slightly stale white bread, okay?” You begin to explain, because Seokjin doesn’t need the details and you don’t need to relive the experience. “Then this guy would be… how would you put it—?”

“Really stale white bread?” Seokjin offers.

“A rotten egg mayonnaise sandwich that’s been sitting in a dumpster for two weeks,” you correct. 

Seokjin winces. A perfect reaction, as always. 

“It was just bad. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” You decide once and for all, moving to your desk and slamming the coffee cup onto the wood. It sloshes over the edge and splashes around the side, leaving behind a ring that you know you’ll have to clean up later.

Seokjin goes to stand by the window, looking out into the back gardens of the resort, all tropical red flowers and vibrant green leaves. “You have a third one, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you groan, the mere thought sending shivers down your spine. And not the good kind. The fact that the dates aren’t even over yet is enough to send you into a tailspin. “God, my parents are just desperate, at this point.”

“Why?” He asks, turning to face you, brown eyes wide and curious. “Are they worried about something?”

“Ugh,” you begin, on the verge of slamming your head onto the mahogany. The problem isn’t that your parents are worried you won’t find someone. It’s that your parents think that it’s their job to find someone for you. “I think they’re scared that I’m never going to marry, or that I work myself too hard and need someone to spend time with to calm down. I don’t understand. Even if I were to never marry, that’s not a bad thing. I can do what I want. I’m perfectly capable of running my family’s group without someone else.”

“Do you not want to get married?” Seokjin asks. The reason, you realize, that Seokjin is so refreshing, a respite from the rest of the executives that constantly surround you, is because he doesn’t expect anything of you. He doesn’t assume that you’ll eventually marry and become disparaging when you suggest otherwise. He doesn’t assume that you constantly need guidance on official matters that you alone have been tasked to handle. He doesn’t assume that you aren’t capable. 

(He did assume your preferred coffee order. And he is an excellent judge.) 

“I mean,” you begin, rubbing at your temples in a desperate attempt to relieve your body of the stress that sits upon it, “I suppose that eventually, it would be nice. But I’m in no rush if I haven’t met the right person, you know? Like, I’m not going to force myself to if the time isn’t right. There’s no deadline to get married.”

Seokjin nods in agreement, mouth shut. One of your favorite things about Seokjin is how, whenever you begin to speak, he begins to listen. 

“My parents are just putting all of this pressure on me to get married because they think that I’ll need someone’s help when I take over after my father retires. Or they just think that I’m sad and lonely. Which, maybe they’re right about the second part, but I just hate how they’re putting all of this pressure on me to go on dates and get married and work hard when there isn’t even a timeline for me to take over yet. I don’t even have real confirmation that my father is planning on retiring anytime soon. I just—ugh!” There really is no better way to put it than to just shriek and throw your hands up in the air. You sigh, dragging your hand down the side of your face. “Do you ever wish that you could just… I don’t know. Disappear?”

Seokjin’s eyes widen when he hears your words, like they’ve set something off in his brain. Even sitting on your tongue, they feel familiar to you. Where have you heard those before?

He seems to wait for another few moments, contemplating what he’s next going to say, like if he just opens his mouth and lets the words flow out he’ll say something wrong. Little does Seokjin know, in your eyes, nothing he could ever say would be wrong to you. 

“You aren’t sad and lonely,” he begins, a nice, comforting pep talk even though you sort of are both sad and lonely. You work nonstop and have three friends, two of which are employed by your family, the other one being your brother. “And you don’t need to rush into getting married if you don’t feel like it, no matter what your parents say. I mean, at least I think you don’t. You’re obviously much more focused on your career and how you want to succeed in the future, and that’s good. It’s something that means a lot to you.”

He takes a few steps towards you, setting his coffee cup on your desk. You look up to him from where you’re sitting in your office chair, letting his words carve themselves deep into your heart, rest within your soul. 

Sometimes, you don’t realize you’ve gotten yourself down until someone is trying to pick you back up. 

“You do have control over your life,” he tells you, and for once in your life you actually feel yourself believing it. “What you are doing, what you have been doing, is right. Things will come with time. You’ll learn and grow more as you keep living. And even if you aren’t looking for them right now—” he says, eyes wide and knowing and promising, looking at you so desperately because God, he just wants you to listen to him. To let his words mean something. “—there is someone out there who will love you.”

The sound of his voice dissipates into the air, sinking into the floor, dust after a storm. 

“You really think so?” You ask, hopeful. You never believed in soulmates but you have always believed in love. Believed that when the feeling was right, you would know. 

(That kiss still lingers in your mind, like morning dew after a rainy night. Like frost settling over the grass. Is it possible that you can feel like that again?)

Seokjin nods, firm and true. He does think that. He does. “I do,” he says. “I really do.”

The third date is forgettable. 

Or perhaps Seokjin has just enchanted you. So much so that your brain doesn’t even choose to remember interactions with other men. They just aren’t as memorable. 

You finish up this round of parent-mandated rich boy blind dates and get back to work, knowing that you might as well make the most of your now-unoccupied time before your mother decides once again that it’s time for you to go on dates again with men you have no interest in. Work, unlike so many other things in your life, will always be a constant. For better or for worse. 

Today, it’s barely even dawn before you arrive at the hotel. In recent days, the resort has become your hub for all of your work, even the work that doesn’t have anything to do with it. There’s just something calming about being here. Something that makes you feel more productive. That makes you want to work more. 

You slide into your office with ease, coffee in one hand and messenger bag in the other, surprisingly awake considering the sun is hardly over the horizon, soft orange rays peeking out from between the trees and skyscrapers. You don’t imagine there’s a lot of tasks of immediate priority waiting for you on your desk, but there’s always other work to be done. Administrative orders, emails to send, requests to be made. Even here, there’s no shortage of items on your never-ending to-do list. 

Seokjin’s not due to clock in for another several hours, at least. But he works long days and longer nights, and he deserves at least the morning off. He should at least be afforded that small luxury. 

Sitting down in your office chair, you pull yourself into the desk, elbows resting on the hardwood, head in your palms. The smell of coffee wafts through the air, thick and potent, waking up your nerves, one by one, sending small waves through your brain. You close your eyes, almost drifting back to sleep, sighing happily. 

Today feels like a good day. 

The hours pass quickly when you’re here, the sun rising slowly in the sky as it always does, day in and day out. You rely on it as much as it relies on you, wakes up this little corner of the world, says hello to the people stepping out of their doors and onto the street. No matter what, you know that the sun will always be there to greet you when you wake and say goodbye before you sleep. Within thirty minutes your coffee is finished, within the hour your emails are answered. 

One by one, you check the tasks off your list, responding to a phone call or two, forwarding some files to your father, rejecting a business proposal and requesting changes to another. You don’t even notice the minutes blowing past you until the sun is high in the sky, and the clock is chiming twelve. Noon, already?

“Knock knock,” a voice from the doorway calls. 

You feel your body relax when you see Seokjin standing there, peeking his head into your office like he always does. He looks much more casual today, a sweater vest over a button-down shirt, looser beige pants in place of his usual tailored slacks, hair sitting in a tousled mess atop his head, forehead peeking through the strands that hang low over his face, brushing his eyelashes. Instinctively, you glance down to your usual pantsuit attire. Did you miss a memo?

“What, no coffee for me today?” You tease, an eyebrow raised as Seokjin enters, coffee cup-less.

“Not today, sorry,” he says with a guilty smile. “I thought that maybe we could get something else to eat.”

“Oh!” You exclaim happily. “Sure, we can order some delivery. What are you feeling? Sushi? A burger? Oh, I know this wonderful brunch place that’s just a few blocks away—”

Seokjin laughs, a hand reaching out to push your phone done. The mere sensation of his fingertips upon your skin are enough to have you looking back up at him, shellshocked, heart frozen in place. “I was thinking something a little different.”

“Like what?” There are plenty of options for the two of you to pick from.

“How about you and I take a break this afternoon?” He asks, eyes wide with ambition. 

You frown, nose scrunched up at the notion. “A break? You mean… leave?”

Seokjin nods. Oh, so you did hear him correctly. “You’re always working so hard. You should take some time off.”

“Ugh,” you respond, rolling your eyes, having had this conversation thousands of times before. “You sound like Hoseok.”

“Hoseok’s right, Miss Y/N,” Seokjin points out, much to your chagrin. “You’ve been working so much lately. Just a little break, alright? We can get out of here and do something fun.”

“Nice try, Seokjin,” you say with a scoff, turning back to the work in front of you. “Maybe some other time.” Which means never, so long as you can help it. 

“Oh, come on,” Seokjin says, a pleading lilt to his voice. He’s beginning to pout in front of you, lower lip turned outwards. “Just a couple of hours, please? We can go into the city and walk around for a little bit. Eat some food in the park, or something.”

You look up to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. That does sound good… but you have work to do, items to cross off your list. This hotel isn’t going to manage itself, and neither is your life. “A couple of hours?” You clarify, interest piqued. 

“Just a couple,” Seokjin promises, fighting off the grin that’s etching its way across his face. “Please?”

You sigh. 

Twenty minutes and a Lyft ride later, you and Seokjin are standing in the middle of the city, along the streets known for their high-class fashion boutiques and expensive restaurants with afternoon tea. There’s a park a couple of blocks to the north. It’s a part of the city that you rarely get to spend time in, usually trapped in the business skyscraper sector a ten-minute subway ride away, but for that reason alone, it feels brand new. 

Seokjin buys you both a cup of expensive coffee despite your objections, and the two of you walk along the sidewalks side by side, sipping from your paper cups with plastic lids, letting the warmth wash down your throats. 

It’s nice, being out here. Away from anything that reminds you of work. With someone you’ve wanted to spend more time with for a while, now. 

Out here, you can almost pretend. Pretend that you aren’t the heiress to a major global conglomerate, pretend that you aren’t being groomed to marry up, pretend that life is just a little more normal. 

Out here, you can almost pretend that you and Seokjin are more than just friends. 

“Oh my God, Y/N, look at this shirt!” Seokjin gasps, stopping in his tracks in front of the window of one of the most expensive luxury boutiques you can name. You’re pretty sure that Jungkook shops here sometimes. 

The shirt in question is a satin white button-down with hand-stitched birds decorating the fabric, wispy little designs that seem to be fluttering off of the material itself. It stands front and center in the window, a masterpiece meant to have people stopping in the streets just to gaze up at it in awe. It’s doing its job rather well. 

“You wanna try it on?” You offer, motioning towards the door of the shop, a sleek, black one with metallic silver accents. 

“What?” He asks, turning to you with an eyebrow raised. 

You smile, pointing up at the shirt, eyes tracing the drape of the fabric. “Come on, just for fun.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing to have Seokjin marching up to the door and pulling it open, giddy like a child walking into a toy store. He spots what he’s looking for immediately, a single shirt on a silver rack, hanging from a simple wire hanger. Other than the one on the mannequin in the window, there seems to be no other option. 

“It even feels expensive,” Seokjin sighs happily, hand brushing over the satin fabric. He holds it out to you, and it’s so light and pliable that you can barely feel your fingertips touching the material. 

“There’s the fitting room,” you say, pointing to the back corner, black velvet held up by a rod, muted gray paint lining the walls. Seokjin grins excitedly at you before rushing off, disappearing behind the curtain with a flourish. 

Instinctively, your eyes trace the interior, jumping from the hangings on the walls to the decorative shelves, the pastel cashmere sweaters and shiny leather loafers, the silken white button downs and navy striped ties. Every item in this room practically screams Seokjin’s name, and even when he isn’t in front of you can you picture him wearing each piece, picture him in an oversized light pink sweater or a sleek white suit. 

It’s weird. You’ve never been able to imagine things like that. Not even on you. 

The clothes in here are some of the most gorgeous garments you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on and yet there is something else in this room that outshines them all. 

“Ready?”

You turn back to the fitting room, watch as the curtain shifts slightly. “Ready,” you say.

A hand comes out to push the curtain to the side, satin sleeves covering his wrist, but not even that glimpse of skin could really prepare you for the sight before your eyes. 

Seokjin steps out of the fitting room and you almost gasp aloud at the sight. 

The funny part is that he isn’t wearing anything else designed to complete the look. His hair is loose and floppy, like he had brushed through it with his fingers once or twice before deciding it was good enough. His pants are a roomy beige, hardly even complimenting the monochromatic shirt, white with black accents. He’s wearing sneakers. 

And yet, he looks stunning. 

Standing in front of you, Seokjin looks like the kind of person that your parents would want to set you up with. Rich, well-dressed (not that he isn’t already), powerful, educated. But he looks like more than that, too. He looks like someone straight out of a painting, like a sculpture that belongs in a museum. He stands tall and mighty, the hero after defeating a villain, the love interest in an old-timey film. 

God, he looks amazing. Looks like he belongs in those clothes, belongs in this store. Belongs in the kind of life that the usual clientele of this store live in. Something about him is just so familiar. Like he has always fit into the crowd that your parents want you to associate with. Like you’ve seen him before, once upon a dream. 

“So,” he says, interrupting your thoughts with a smug smile. “How do I look?”

He must already know the answer to that. 

You’re speechless. “I—Wow, Seokjin. You look great.”

A hand comes up to rub at the nape of his neck. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you correct. “It fits you perfectly.”

The fabric shapes his shoulders but drapes over the rest of his torso, including his ridiculously small waist. It both hangs loosely and hugs all of the right places. Your family regularly gets clothing tailored and yet you still don’t think you’ve ever seen any item of clothing fitting someone as well as this one does him. It’s as if the damn thing was made for him. 

“It feels like I’m wearing a cloud and a blanket all at once,” he says dreamily, relishing in the feeling. “If only the price tag made me feel this way too.”

“How much is it?” 

Seokjin holds out the sleeve to which the tag is attached for you to inspect, and the moment you see a comma in the cost, you understand why. No wonder Jungkook’s fine with shopping here. To your family, that amount is pocket change.

“But you really like it, don’t you?” You ask, looking back up at him, closer now. Seokjin nods, lips pressed together in a thin line, wanting something that he knows he can’t have. You know that feeling, too. 

“I would get it if I didn’t mind taking out a loan for it,” he jokes, admiring the detail at the cuffs, the way it cinches in towards his wrist. 

“Then let me buy it for you,” you say before thinking twice, because you have more money than you realistically know what to do with and Seokjin deserves it. He looks gorgeous in it and more importantly, he feels gorgeous in it. He emerged from the fitting room and it was almost like there was this white glow surrounding him, this fluorescent halo that made it seem like the shirt was melting into his body. 

Seokjin’s eyes widen. “What? No, I can’t let you.”

“Please?” You plead, eyes gazing up to him. “You deserve it. Plus, you look amazing.”

“It’s so much money,” Seokjin reminds you, shaking his head. “I can’t. No.”

“Seokjin, do you even know who I am? I can afford it, don’t worry,” you assure him, already pulling him towards the register, his old sweater vest and button down still hanging on the rack inside the fitting room. 

“No, I can’t let you. It might not be a lot of money to you, but it is to me,” insists Seokjin, refusing to back down. 

You roll your eyes, figuring out the game that he’s playing. “Then consider it a thank you. For all of the things that you do for me. The least of which is bringing me coffee every day.”

“That’s just my job, Y/N—” He reaches out a hand to stop you from getting out your wallet, his enormous palm cupping yours as you stare at him, fighting over the shirt like two friends with a restaurant bill.

“No,” you tell Seokjin, because his job is to be a hotelier but he became a friend instead. And he didn’t do it just because he was told to. “You deserve it,” you say, placing your free hand on top of his. It makes him look at you, eyes glossy and big and beautiful. “You really do, Seokjin. This is the least I can do to say thank you for being there for me.”

“Ma’am?” 

The lady behind the counter catches you both off guard. “Will you be buying this shirt?”

Seokjin looks down at you in disbelief, almost like he doesn’t expect you to say yes. Like he doesn’t think he’s worthy of a shirt with such a high price tag.

But little does Seokjin know, if you could buy the whole universe for him, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

You walk out of the boutique with a light heart and a lighter credit card, with Seokjin by your side and his old clothes in a cardstock bag with ribbons for handles. Even if he had resisted at first, you’re happy that he caved. He looks stupidly handsome. You’re actually somewhat regretting agreeing that he should wear the shirt out instead. 

A block away from the park is a little macaron store with more available flavors than you can count on both of your hands and toes. Feeling insatiable, you buy a box of twenty-four and decide on the spot that you won’t be leaving the center of the city without having finished them all. The mere scent of the shop as you walked in was enough to send you into a tizzy. 

Seokjin scopes out an open spot on the grass, in the shade of a big Japanese maple tree, and the two of you immediately settle down in the park, the blades tickling your ankles as you set the box of macarons in between the two of you and get to work filling your stomachs. 

“All of my friends are going to think that you’re like, my sugar mommy for buying me this,” Seokjin says, taking a bite out of the lavender one. 

“If you’re really that embarrassed, you could always say that I just gave you a raise,” you offer, peering over into the box to pick your poison. The problem is that you just want to shove all twenty-three into your mouth. 

“No way,” says Seokjin over a mouthful of macaron. “A sugar mommy is way more exciting. I’m just lucky I have a boss with a bank account.”

“Well, unlike all of the other men that my parents have sent me on dates with, you actually deserve to have someone treat you once in a while,” you say happily, eventually deciding on a lemon flavored macaron and popping the entire thing into your mouth. “I’ve met very few men who are as charming as you, Seokjin. Charming and kind.”

“‘Very few’?” Seokjin repeats, interest piqued. “Who dares upstage me?”

You laugh at his brazenness, his attractive confidence. “Oh, no one,” you say with a shrug of your hand. “There was this one guy I met at my birthday party, but I didn’t even catch his name.”

“Too busy mingling to ask?” Seokjin teases, looking sufficiently less confident than he did ten seconds ago. Like someone you had just said caught him off guard. 

“Yes, actually. And you don’t really need to know this, but he was an excellent kisser, too. Really sent me into a tailspin,” you say, feeling the faint sensation dance across your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. “But he ran off at midnight like Cinderella and left only a mask behind to remind me that I didn’t dream up the whole thing.”

“Ah,” Seokjin says with a nod, a strangely succinct answer for a man as wordy as he. A silence settles over the two of you as you continue to eat, slowly emptying out the box of macarons between the two of you, a light snack to keep you occupied when your mouths aren’t running circles around each other. “My dog gave birth a few weeks ago,” he says randomly. “Want to see some photos?”

At your enthusiastic reply, Seokjin pulls his phone from his pocket and opens up his camera roll to reveal a gorgeous terrier with four equally adorable puppies nursing from her, and your heart nearly melts. Nearly all of his most recent photos are pictures of them as they’ve grown older, opened their eyes and learned how to walk, started play-fighting with each other and eventually tracking into new territory (the living room), but you don’t miss the couple of selfies you see here and there. Even with the warped iPhone camera does Seokjin still look positively flawless. 

“They’re adorable, Seokjin,” you tell him, heart soft. “I’m in love.”

“Me, too,” Seokjin says happily. “Two of the puppies have future homes but I think I want to keep one of them. I just love them too much to let them all go.”

“You’ll make a great dog dad,” you assure him, sighing contentedly. “God, don’t you even know how perfect you are, Seokjin?”

He is silent. 

“Like, you bring me coffee every day and do all of your work and never talk down to me or assume that I don’t know what I’m doing. You’ve raised a family of dogs and have shown them more love than anything else. You even got me to leave the office for once even though you knew that I’d be really annoying about it,” you declare, partially to him, partially to you, and partially to the world, who deserves to know that there is someone out there like Seokjin that is equal parts wonderful and generous and kind and handsome and funny and lovable. 

It’s not just the fact that most of your interactions with men your age go sour. It’s the fact that Seokjin is good just because he is, not because he tries to be. It’s the fact that he cares so deeply and loves so much. It’s the fact that for once, there is someone out there who really does understand you. 

“You deserve a break,” Seokjin points out. “You work too hard.”

“Hoseok will be so angry that you accomplished what he’s been trying to get me to do for months, now,” you say. You’ve already missed three phone calls and seven texts from him within the last couple of hours. 

“It’s my charm,” Seokjin teases, a soft watermelon macaron grin on his face. 

“It really is,” you agree, feeling the gap between you close, inch by inch. “There’s just something about you, Kim Seokjin.”

“Mmm, do tell,” Seokjin murmurs, beginning to lean in, your bodies moving of their own accord. Your mouth tastes like lemon and sugar and coffee, but you can’t find it in yourself to care any less. “Because there’s something about you too, Miss Y/N.”

Slowly, you feel your eyes begin to drift shut, craving more than what you already have, itching to feel his lips press against yours, to feel that same fire in your feins. Of course, the next time you kiss someone would be here, underneath a giant Japanese maple in the middle of a city park, the furthest cry from a hotel balcony beneath a starry sky. But something about this is distinctly familiar in a way that you can taste, in a way that you will know once his lips press against yours. Beside you, Seokjin is barely an inch apart from you, pink lips with macaron crumbs hovering over yours. God, he’s so close. 

You want him to be closer. 

And then—

“Aw, what the—?”

The two of you jerk apart to find a giant stain on Seokjin’s shoulder, courtesy of an unknown flying park visitor who has long disguised themselves amongst the leaves of the maple, waiting for the right time to do its business. 

“Seriously?” Seokjin groans, looking down at the white and brown stain that now rests squarely on the fabric of his brand new shirt, an unpleasant splat front and center. “Thank you, bird,” he declares, throwing his hands up in the air. 

You fight the urge to laugh at how uncanny all of this is. “I’ll pay for dry cleaning.”

“No, it’s alright,” Seokjin says, grabbing a couple of the napkins from the macaron shop to dab on the stain. “A little soap and laundry detergent will be enough. No big deal.”

“I just feel bad,” you tell him. 

“Me, too,” Seokjin agrees, pressing gently against the fabric. “Great timing, too.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, dejected. 

Perhaps, if you were a little bit bolder or a little less fearful, you would try again. You would throw caution to the wind and press his lips against his, bird business and all, and never look back. You would relish in the sensation of his mouth on yours, of his hands on your waist, itching to feel that same feeling again. Itching to know that there really is someone out there who will love you. 

But you aren’t, and the moment is over. And you can’t, because you just don’t know how to. And you ponder if you will forever wonder what he tastes like, what he feels like. 

The clock strikes three. 

Some days you come in early, and some days you stay in late. 

Later than usual, that is, because you regularly stay past eight in the evening without blinking an eye. 

But some nights, you just don’t feel like going home. At least, not yet, you do. Some nights, you would rather stay here.

Home is where you’re supposed to feel at ease, where you’re supposed to relax and unwind, take off your heels and jacket, pour yourself a cup of tea. And that is what your home is to you, a place that you try to keep as free of your work life as possible. 

But sometimes, you would rather just work. 

Rather work and feel productive and get home a little bit later than go home and feel like you still have so much to do. Rather work than dwell on all of the other parts of your life that don’t involve work, things like marriage and retirement and your family. Things that you feel like you have no say in, no control over. You go home and waiting for you is another phone call from your mother telling you that you need to find someone. You go home and your father drops by to hand you a pile of late-night tasks reminiscent of how hard he’s been working lately. You go home and even if you’re all by yourself, your thoughts take control over your mind. Your worries and fears are magnified. 

So some nights, you would rather just work. 

Peering out the window of your office, you notice that the stars are just a little bit brighter out here, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Not nearly as clear as they were on your birthday, at a hotel overlooking the town from afar, but clearer. There isn’t a cloud in the sky as the stars twinkle above you, waving hello from millions of light years away. 

Nights like these are too rare to spend indoors, huddled over your computer as you draft another email. Just because you’re still at work doesn’t mean you still have work to do. Well, you do, but you’re trying to be kinder to yourself. Trying to cut yourself a few more corners of slack. 

The rooftop is not off limits to guests. But you know a couple of secret places that can afford you the privacy you want, the space to lie back against the cement and feel the breeze tickle your skin.

When you arrive, there’s already someone there. A familiar tuft of brown hair, an oversized pink sweater. You wonder how long he’s been out here. 

“Knock knock.” Your sounds like a whisper but feels like a shout, the wind carrying the words from your lips to his ears as he turns around, hardly surprised to see you here. 

Seokjin laughs when he sees you, this fond, wonderful smile as you stroll up beside him, where he’s sat with his legs crossed on the rooftop’s edge, looking out over the distant city, the waterfront. “Didn’t think you’d still be here,” he says. 

“I could say the same for you,” you retort easily, setting down beside him. If you were any braver, you’d rest your head on his shoulder. 

You’re not. 

“You must know by now that I practically live here,” Seokjin jokes.

“Well, I’m starting to pay rent as well, so you better get used to it, don’t you think?” You tease back, looking out into the same city, illuminated by the same moon. 

Seokjin narrows his eyes. “I thought that you were going to start taking it easy on yourself,” he reminds you pointedly, one of the lasting lessons you had learned from the day out on the town. The other being not to sit underneath Japanese maple trees. 

“What can I say, I just love to work,” you say, and even though you try to make it sound like a joke both you and Seokjin know you’re not kidding. Work always has and always will be your biggest priority. Never have you lived in a world where anything else comes first. Never have you cultivated that sort of life for yourself. 

“How’s your family?” He asks, a broad question with a loaded answer. 

You don’t even feel yourself letting out a sigh until the groan leaves your lips, settling like dust. “The same as always,” you say, not even attempting to sound cheerful or happy about it. “They work me hard because they want me to succeed. And I want that, too.”

“But don't you ever want something more?” Seokjin asks, but it’s not the sort of question where he wants you to give him a yes or a no. It’s the sort of question where he already knows that you want to say yes, that there is a whisper deep inside of you that wants to have a life outside of your job, your workaholic family. But you can’t. Because your family is counting on you. 

“I just can’t let them down,” you say instead, because you and Seokjin both already knew how you were going to respond anyway. “There’s so much that they expect of me. What kind of heiress—no, what kind of daughter am I if I don’t at least try?”

“It sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot,” Seokjin muses. 

You force a chuckle. Obviously you have. Whenever you aren’t working, you’re thinking about what next you must do, what next is on your list. You’re thinking about how your family is counting on you to succeed. And how you want to do it for them. “I’ve had my moments.”

“Do a lot of people know how you feel?” He poses, looking at you curiously. 

You shrug. “Not really. My parents, no. Jungkook, sort of. Hoseok, yes. And I suppose you, now, too.”

Seokjin cracks a small smile, this lopsided grin that makes you feel like you’re missing something. “So I guess they’re secrets, aren’t they?”

“Secrets?” You respond naively, an eyebrow raised in bewilderment. 

“Secrets, huh?” He asks, sliding another inch closer, daringly so, teetering on the edge of territory that you haven’t touched in years. “I like the sound of that. Got any more for me?”

You smirk up at him, a grin playing on your lips. “Only if you have one for me in return. No freebies.”

He laughs, loud and clear, the sound ringing out in the nighttime air. “Alright,” he says, obliging. He leans in close, lips hovering above your ear. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

“Oh my God,” you say aloud, dumbfounded. “Oh my fucking God. It’s you?”

Seokjin laughs out loud at that, clapping his hands together at your positively shocked face, mouth agape like a fish out of water. He seems very amused by this, for some reason. A reason you can’t ascertain, mostly because you had no idea. “Honestly, I’m surprised you even figured it out from that. It took you forever to realize.”

You’re so scandalized you don’t even have the right words to respond. “What do you mean, ‘it took forever for me to realize’? Why didn’t you say something?” You demand. 

Seokjin’s still fighting off the remnants of his laughter, hiccups escaping from his parted lips every few seconds. “Because it was obvious you didn’t recognize me at first! And I had no idea it was you until you showed up at the hotel that first day anyway. And I didn’t want to bring it up, because I was worried it would have made things weird.”

“Look at us now!” You cry, positively mortified. Seokjin knew it was you the moment you stepped through the sliding glass doors and you still hadn’t figured it out, not even after weeks of knowing him, of getting to spend time with him. “God, I just—I can’t believe this.”

“The funny part is how I knew you had no idea who I was and yet I fell for you anyway,” Seokjin says, but his words aren’t making you laugh whatsoever. 

Your heart freezes in place as they sink in, etching themselves into your thoughts. “You—you what?”

“You befriended me without knowing that I was the man you kissed on the balcony that night, let me bring you coffee and confided in me and bought me the most expensive item of clothing that I currently own,” Seokjin says, a list of things that you loved him for all the same, “and I realized that it didn’t take that kiss to get me to fall for you. It took knowing you. Learning who you are. Who you want to be.”

You feel your heart getting lighter with every syllable that leaves his mouth, every breath that he takes. 

The truth is that no man had ever made you feel the way that the mystery man did when you kissed that night. But no man had ever loved you the way that Seokjin did. Treated you the way that Seokjin did. The kiss was a spark. 

The friendship was the fire. 

“All this time you were right here,” you muse, looking at him. Here in the moonlight you finally understand why he looked so familiar, why the light hit his skin in all the right places, why the sound of his voice had always struck a chord within you. He glows silver in the moonlight and yellow from the halo above his head, he sits beneath the navy sky and lets the starlight decorate his irises, sparkles in a deep brown ocean. “All this time, and I had no idea.”

“I’m sort of glad you didn’t know,” Seokjin admins sheepishly. “We got to fall in love another way.”

Love?

Could it be?

You’ve never truly been in love. Not the way that your parents are, or the sneaky way you see Yoongi looking at Jungkook sometimes when he’s not looking. But if it feels anything like this, anything like electricity beneath your skin and embers inside your chest, then you think you might be on your way. 

“You’re in love with me?” You ask. 

“Kinda, yeah,” Seokjin admits crudely. 

You feel your cheeks heating up, your heart bubbling within you. You lean in close, watching faintly as he does the same, eyes trained on your lips. “Do you have any other secrets for me?” You murmur, the words hot and heavy on your tongue. 

He inches closer to you, lips hovering above your own, this soft, contented smile on his face as he gazes down at you, at the way that you are beginning to love him back, at the way that you already do. 

“This.”

The words barely leave his lips before he’s pressing them against yours, and the moment you touch him you know, you know that it’s him, that it’s Seokjin, that he is the man that you have been waiting for. Immediately your body lights up, electric shocks tearing through your veins, blood set alight. He is so familiar, smells and tastes and feels so familiar, like you have known him for a thousand years and you’ll know him for a thousand more. You get the same sensation you had when you last kissed him, all those nights ago, your body going weak, your skin turning to flames, but there’s something else, too. 

A burst in your chest. A puff of smoke in your heart. 

A fireplace. A little room in your heart, just for the two of you. For you. For your love. 

You think you could get used to this. 

He pulls away after a few moments and immediately you feel dizzy, like his lips were the only thing keeping you stable, closing your eyes as you burn the feeling into your brain, memorize how his mouth presses against yours. 

When you finally open them, there Seokjin sits, kiss-drunk and in love, this goofy, wonderful smile on his face. 

“I’m still angry at you for not telling me. You could have saved us so much time,” you declare, not wanting the moment to last too long for fear that you’ll become obsessed.

Seokjin laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your nose. “Even if you forgot who I was tomorrow, I wouldn’t tell you,” he says, this stupid perfect grin on his face, this gorgeous, brilliant grin, “because I would happily fall in love with you all over again.”

God, he is so beautiful. A dream come true. A happy ever after.

The following morning your father saves you the trouble of having to awkwardly explain why you don’t feel comfortable continuing to oversee the resort hotel by letting you know that you’re welcome back in the central building in town and that he’ll have another executive replace you. Thank God, because that would have been one strange phone call. 

Luckily, when your parents do eventually meet Seokjin, they are pleased to see that he’s been a loyal hotelier to your family’s conglomerate for several years now, and that he excels at his job. You also think that your mother’s just gotten softer over the years, wishing more for you to be happy than for you to be married to someone you hate. 

It’s a good thing Seokjin’s charming. Otherwise, you have no idea what could have happened. But he’s here, and he’s with you, and your parents are happy and so are you. What more could you ask for?

“Your mom really didn’t have to throw this whole party just for me,” Seokjin whispers into your ear as the music plays on inside, this soft classical sound that Yoongi had composed not too long ago. 

You turn around to look back in through the window, watching all of the guests waltzing along to the song. Jungkook’s in the back corner, behind the grand piano, and you can see him throwing winks Yoongi’s way every now and then. The sound of the party is barely audible from out here, in the stars’ silence, in the faint way the night whispers, this distant white noise.

“Throwing parties is her thing,” you explain helplessly. “Besides, you’re part of the family now, aren’t you?”

“Hey now, we aren’t married just yet,” he reminds you pointedly. “Unless you—?”

“Only after my father’s retirement next month,” you tell him for the umpteenth time. It’s not that you don’t want to be married. It’s that you don’t have time. You’re about to inherit an entire empire. You would prefer not to be juggling two major life events at once, if you can help it. “Besides, you don’t even have a ring.”

“How do you know that?” He asks innocently.

You smack him in the torso with your satin-gloved hand, shocked. “What?”

“I never said anything,” he teases, looking off to the side far too guiltily for your liking. 

You place your hands on your hips and turn firmly to face him. “Kim Seokjin, do you want to marry me?” You demand. 

Seokjin laughs, twirling you around before pressing a kiss to your lips, the two of you giggling. “Always!” He declares to the world. “I think about marrying you every day of my life.”

You grin. “Then we will. Then let’s get married. After my father’s retirement, of course.”

“Of course,” Seokjin agrees. 

“What do you think the theme should be?” You ask, racking your brain for potential options. You like the idea of a rustic, cottage-y wedding. Or perhaps a more celestial one. Or maybe, if you wanted to go full circle, a masquerade.

Seokjin smiles. It’s clear he already has his answer. 

“How about Cinderella?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[twinklelilstarkey]

Revenge - Matthew Tkachuk

Words: 3.1k+

Type: Smut

Warnings: Female!Reader. 18+. Cursing. Fingering. Oral sex (mentions of male receiving, but it’s mainly female receiving). Online classes. Semi-public sex (while in zoom class). 

If you’re a minor, please, for the love of God, do not read this!!

Studying and working from home hasn’t been all that stressful for you. 

At least for now. 

All your professors of your college have, honestly, been the only pain in the ass, since they care so much about participation during classes or with doing essays, ‘so it compensates your lack of physical presence in classes’. In other words, always having your camera on, unless you want to be kicked from the zoom call. Oh and yeah, have to hear their whining (if they’re that type of professors) if they see you talking to someone off screen and looking down at your phone.

As annoying as that sounds, the fact that your boyfriend and you get to have and spend more time together - over not having to stay in campus to study or in the rink to work - it, honestly, makes you feel better.

And you being you and Matthew being Matthew, teasing is in the nature of your relationship. And just the fact that you both get to have the possibility to tease each other during inconvenient times just to get under each other’s skin, it’s fucking gold.

Yes, whenever you are in classes, Matthew is in zoom meetings, but there are days where he has longer meetings than you. And god, you do use those times to your advantage.

Your type of teasing can go one of two ways. It can be to just annoy the shit out of each other until someone laughs or just tackles the other off screen - yes, it has happened - or the sexual type of teasing.

The second one is more rare, and of course, more risky. You two obviously only do anything in days that, for an example, Matthew isn’t in meetings with his coach or you aren’t in online tests, or with certain teachers. But, of course, there’re exceptions.

One of the most important problem of living with each other is that both you and Matthew have grown to be extremely comfortable with each other. I repeat, extremely comfortable. 

Just imagine how your first day of online classes went when your very naked boyfriend walked right across your background while your professor presented himself. 

You thankfully saw it before anyone could and your shoulders hid everything except for his chest, but it was still a very close call.

Nothing a pen thrown at his head couldn’t fix.

It never happened again but the lack of clothing is still very real under your roof. Matthew puts on boxers and, in meetings, a shirt, and you... well, you only wear a t-shirt.

Yesterday was your day off and let’s just say that boredom got the best of you. Matthew was stuck in a delayed zoom meeting with just his teammates, which meant that whatever you two had planned had just been delayed as well. Resulting, of course, in your boredom.

You leaned against the doorway while looking at him for the first minutes, then against walls and only after the first 20 minutes, you sat next to him on the extra chair, hoping that maybe your glare would be enough to speed up whatever they were talking about.

Didn’t work. 

Whenever Matthew would look at you, he would just laugh at the small pout, and, later, the scowl that grew on your face. 

The meeting continued for another 40 minutes and you were pissed. You whispered many times to Matthew just to ask if you could at least go to the bedroom, but he always answered ‘I’m almost done, babe, just a few more minutes’.

A few minutes your ass. As it reached the whole hour and a half, you were furious. Matthew was sitting on the normal desk chair, legs under the desk, leaning back as if nothing in the world could bother him. Ah, he was more than wrong.

You knew for a fact that the conversation between the guys is not even work related anymore. You couldn’t hear anything over Matthew having headphones but from all the laughing from his part and his friends on his screen, you had a good idea of the truth. So... 

You did it.

You didn’t think twice or even hesitate, you just did it. 

You went under the table, while gaining a look from your boyfriend, who didn’t say anything at first, and just pulled down his boxers. He was in shock, to say the least, for the first minute or so, but he didn’t stop you.

He hissed super loud as soon as your hand held his cock in your hands and he swears that he never moved so fast to mute himself on the call. 

His friends were too distracted to notice anything about him on his camera, or even hear him over the other guys’ voices, so everything came unnoticed.

The boys lost him as soon as you pulled him into your mouth. He didn’t hear a thing nor did he say a word. He was completely lost in the total bliss of the warmth and smoothness of your mouth. He threw his head back on the chair and brought his hands to your face, helplessly grabbing it as you took him inch by inch into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down as your eyes stayed on his.

Did it work? Sure did. He never left a meeting so quick in his life. And as soon as his laptop was closed, he snatched you from under the desk and took you right there on the ground, on top of the carpet.

Twenty four hours later and you think you’re still sore, but you don’t regret it one bit.

Matthew, today, has nothing to do for work, while you’re in your last class of the evening. He’s sitting next to you by the desk, back turned to your computer as he faces the tv and plays some video game.

As you continue to take notes silently of what your professor is explaining, your phone vibrates with a random notification and your eyes drift over to it. You eye it quickly and slide to the side to delete it, leaving you to stare at the photo on your background.

Matthew hates that picture with everything in him, while you love it with your whole heart.

It’s a picture of him a year ago. A night that he was just bat shit drunk, smiling widely to the camera with his eyes closed because of the flash of your phone. He looked adorable, and that is exactly why he hates it.

“Y/N Y/L/N, please pay attention to class”

You lift your head to look at the screen and the teacher already moved on with class. 

How in the hell does he notice you every time?

Matthew looks over at you as you sigh loudly and looks at your screen. You look slightly stressed, maybe also frustrated, with whatever just happened, but with just his eyes, he can’t tell what that was.

As a student’s face appears in your screen when making a question, Matthew rests his hand over your naked thigh, grabbing your attention.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, and you lean back on your chair.

“Caught me looking at my phone” You whisper and he smiles.

You look back at the screen as your teacher starts to talk again and try your best to go into your robot mode. No emotions, just take notes.

Matthew looks away, back to his TV, but lets his hand rest on your leg as he quietly changes games. He had grown bored after dying so many times at online servers. Nothing a calmer game can’t fix.

You write down whatever your teacher says, not really caring if it makes sense or not when written down, and your phone vibrates against the table again.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go grab that book right now” Your teacher excuses himself and you swear that you see everyone sigh in relief at his announcement of everyone’s seconds of peace.

Matt leans his head on his chair as he’s stuck on a loading screen and you look over your shoulder curious to see what game he’s playing. You turn in your chair, pen still in your hand, and sit over one of your legs to stare at the TV.

You stare at the black screen, waiting for the lobby of the game to reappear, and out of nowhere, you feel Matt’s hand squeeze the inside of your thigh, high up your thigh.

“Stop” You warn him.

“Didn’t do anything” He answers back.

You shake your head at him and him, being the little shit that he is, decides to move his hand more up. Tingles run down your body at how close he really is to notice your usual lack of underwear, but you just send him a glare in return.

“Aren’t you in class?” He asks, acting as if he’s still not moving his hand up excruciatingly slow.

“Yeah, but my-”

Right as you’re about to explain, the sound of your teacher’s mic moving around makes you look back at the screen.

“Here it is.” Your professor says as he holds his book up at the camera.

“Never mind” You tell Matt, turning back for your class, sitting straight in front of your camera.

Your teacher starts talking about the book, also about the author, and quickly you’re back to your emotionless self, paying attention to everything he is saying, making sure to know if you actually need to read that book or if it’s just optional.

Everyone nods at the teacher to make him know that everyone is listening and you’re rudely pulled away from your moment of concentration as Matthew’s hand finally reaches you.

“Matthew, I’m in class” You say through your teeth, not wanting your teacher to call you out again. This time, for talking to someone.

You grab his wrist and as you’re about to pull him away, his middle finger traces your slit, easily sliding in between your lips.

He smiles as your hold on his wrist loosens and as you lean slightly back on your chair. He steals a glance from your screen and finds your teacher talking, still holding the book up to the camera.

You gasp as his finger touches your clit and look over at him with an annoyed look as soon as it starts circling it.

“My class ends in 15. Can’t this wait?... Please?” You ask, trying to fight the urge to close your eyes.

His slow circles around your little bud speed up slightly and you sigh.

“My meeting from yesterday was almost ending as well. That didn’t stop you, did it?” He asks in a low tone.

You let out a small whimper as he presses his finger more onto you as he continues his circles and you lay your head back, trying to make it seem for the camera that you are just leaning back.

“I only need you all to read from page...” Your teacher continues and you curse out loud, hand grasping your pen tightly.

You hold your head back up, leaning forward on the chair, and try your best to ignore Matt’s hand. You stare at yourself in the camera for a little as you hear the numbers of the pages, but your brain seems to have stopped functioning completely.

Please just write that down, please just write that- hold on.

Matt takes his finger off your clit and soon you feel it reach your entrance, gathering some of your juices onto his fingertips. You lean forward on your chair and he takes that moment to push his finger in.

You bring one of your hands to your forehead as you lower your head down and you let out a small moan as Matt’s ring finger slides in as well, working at the perfect rhythm.

“Does anyone have any questions?” The teacher asks.

You sigh as Matt starts working his thumb around your clit, and the voice of a girl fills your ears as she starts making her question. Matt’s fingers are not even going at a fast pace, but you’re sensitive enough to already let small moans escape your mouth. All because of yesterday.

Matthew bites his bottom lip as you let moans softly escape your mouth, completely hiding your face from the camera. God, he hopes your class is ending early.

He speeds up the movements of his fingers, letting them start to quicken as they slide up and down from your slick walls, wetting his fingers with your juices up to his knuckles, and he smiles as you respond instantly by closing your eyes and covering your mouth with your other hand.

“Ah yes, those pages are quite difficult to understand at first...”

Matthew, completely ignoring the fact that you’re still trying to listen to your teacher, speeds up his movements even more in the same minute, scissoring his fingers, and the sound you let out is just purely pornographic. 

As he feels you lean in closer to his hand, an idea flashes in his mind, making him smile evilly, even though you’re not looking at him at all.

Matthew pulls his hand away and you whine as he does it.

You open your eyes to look over his way and he swears that in his years of being a very annoying player in the NHL, nobody has ever looked at him with so much anger.

You continue to glare at him as he brings his hand to his lips, and you bite down a gasp as he starts licking his fingers clean. You’re breathing hard, almost panting, heart beating against your chest almost as if you were hitting a wave of complete adrenaline.

He smiles as he looks down at you and you don’t smile back, absolutely pissed off at him.

You, being angry as all hell, take your eyes off him and lean back on your chair, arms crossing over your chest as you stare at your teacher on your screen.

Matthew, pleased with himself, brings his hands to the chair you’re sitting on and pulls it away from the desk. You, even though confused, let him do whatever the hell he wants.

He stands from his chair beside you and, in a quick movement, crouches, and away from the camera of your laptop, moves to under the desk.

The look you give him as you look down is as unbothered as you wanted it to be.

As you bring your eyes back to laptop screen, you take notes of some of the number the pages that you missed over being ‘occupied’, and at the same time, Matthew grabs your legs by the back of your knees, pulling you closer the end of the chair, closer to him.

You breathe in deeply as you feel his breath against your inner thigh.

Matt spreads your legs even more and leans in, making you feel his head rest against your stomach.

Carefully, you adjust your laptop, just so nobody sees anything down your shoulders, like Matthew’s head, and bring your hands back down to your sides.

Matt’s hands spread both of your lips apart and you almost let out a cry as you feel his wet and hot tongue against you. You bite your bottom lip to contain your sounds as he licks down to your entrance and you take your hand to rest it on top of his curls.

“I almost forgot,” Your teacher says, “I have another book with some pages that could help you understand that chapter better...”

He disappears again from the screen and right on the same minute, Matt’s lips wrap around your clit.

“Shit” You curse under your breath.

He sucks it and you grip onto his hair. You bite down on your bottom lip to hold back any possible expressions that could give you away to your classmates and as your teacher takes a bit more to come back, you do the same as some people do, and turn off your camera.

Your name appears on your small grey rectangle and you sigh in relief.

You throw your head back in the bliss of the moment and Matt moves his mouth away from your clit. His tongue moves down and teases your entrance as you look down at him.

He smiles against you and you move your oversized t-shirt up to your waist, letting you take a better look at everything. He pushes his tongue inside of you and you moan out loud.

His nose grazes your clit and you’re a complete mess right there and then. His hands hold you by the hips so you don’t move away but that honestly is the least of his worries.

“Fuck, Matty” You sob in pleasure.

You drag your eyes to your screen and the message of your mic being muted appears, something you’re very grateful that exists.

Matt moves his mouth back to your clit as your teacher reappears and you take a look at the clock, still 5 minutes left.

“Here we are,” He says with another, larger, book on his hands.

He takes a look at the screen and a message appears on your screen. This god damn man is trying to turn everyone’s cameras back on.

You refuse the request at first and as you’re about to turn it on, scared of being kicked of the class, you feel Matt’s teeth touching your clit.

You cry out loud and he sucks your clit harder, moving his head from side to side as you cling to his hair for your dear life.

“Y/N Y/L/N, ... and... Please turn your cameras back on” Your teacher requests.

You sigh and try to do as told but the pleasure is starting to take every ounce of strength from your body. The familiar bubbling of pleasure sets at the end of your tummy and you moan loudly at Matthew’s tongue and lips.

“Don’t stop, please” You plead your boyfriend.

Matthew, taking your words to heart, does exactly what you ask him to. When releasing your clit from his lips, he starts working his tongue on it. Moving from side to side at the perfect speed, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

You throw your head back, again, not controlling anything that you’re saying anymore. Pleasure consumes your brain entirely, almost driving you to, what seems like, complete insanity.

Your fingers tug on Matthew’s hair more and he leans more into you, resting his forehead against your stomach, nose against your pelvic bone, hands gripping the sides of your thighs, pulling them close to his shoulders to get a better angle on you.

You continue to let all types of sounds escape your lips, from moans to little whimpers that are not doing anything else but blessing Matthew’s ears. 

One last quick movement of his tongue and you reach your high. You bring your hand up to your mouth, unconsciously, covering it to not let your final screams bounce off the walls of the large apartment.

Matt carries you down your high and you are completely lost in the world for a minute or two.

You’re breathing heavily and your heart is jumping out of your chest, and only when you feel it calm down, your eyes fall back on the screen of your laptop.

Your teacher had carried on, surprisingly letting you and another girl have the cameras off, probably thinking that you’re not even behind them. 

You let go of Matthew’s hair as he starts laying kisses on your inner legs and you look down at him. A cheeky smile appears on his face and he pulls your chair back.

As he stands on his knees, you lean in quickly and kiss him right on the lips as your way to thank him. He smiles against your lips in the kiss and rests his hands on the top of your thighs, caressing them back and forth with his palms.

Your tongues touch each other into the kiss and he leans in closer, roughing up the kiss as you taste yourself on his tongue and on his soft lips.

“So, I guess we can end our class here” Your teacher says and you pull your lips away from Matthew. “Does anyone have any more questions?”

Silence.

“Alright, so, I guess I’ll see you next week.”

Right in the same minute, everyone turns on their mics to say a quick goodbye, a thank you or a quick wish of a good weekend and you, on the other hand, just lean in to click on the red button to leave the meeting.

You close the app as Matthew stands back on his feet. As you’re taking your air pods out and closing the laptop, he picks you right up from the chair, making you squeak in surprise, and throws you over his shoulder.

He’s definitely not done with you, but who are you to complain?

Again, I wrote this in between classes and I’m still very new to writing smut. If you have any tips, please, send them!

*Happy Valentine’s Weekend*

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

She Doesn’t Have A Cat

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female!reader 

Summary: An unsub targets you close to home, but does Spencer know you well enough to save you? Takes place in season 6-ish. 

Warnings: Home invasion, guns, typical criminal minds stuff, fluffy marshmallow fluff, spencer being the smartest person in the room (as always). 

-

This time, you were the target. In your own town, in your own home. It started with a call from your mom saying your dad had been murdered. You got on a plane, and when you got off your mom had been murdered too - the unsub had slipped past the police who had guarded the house. That was when Hotch called in the team to come help, knowing that you needed them.

You’d been with the team for two years, and since then you’d gotten the closest with Spencer. Too close. You were the baby of the team behind him, so he looked out for you as much as he could. And that had developed into something more, faster than you ever thought something could. But you didn’t tell anybody, because of that one stupid rule where nobody in the BAU could date. You kept it a secret, and you were planning on keeping it a secret. 

“I’ll go ahead, go to the hotel, come out at the same time as everyone else, and meet you back at the station?” Spencer said as he pulled a purple cardigan over his shirt, able to see a frost on the ground outside your bedroom window. You rolled your eyes.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re embarrassed to be seen with me,” you joked. 

“Never. Just trying not to get caught and fired.” You finished making up your childhood bed and followed him down the stairs. He looked out of the windows in the living room, seeing no cars in sight, and unlocked the door. You grabbed onto his sweater and pulled it toward you. Spencer turned, confused, and saw you give him a nervous smile. 

“What?” He asked. 

“Nothing. I’ll see you in a few, okay? I love you.” He smiled, leaning down to kiss you. 

“I love you too.” He could have sworn there was a sadness in your eyes, one he’d never seen even after everything you’d gone through. But he didn’t know what to make of it, so he left. You locked the door behind him and crossed the room to the basement door. The light was already on - it had been on all night. Because that’s where the unsub was. Hiding in your basement. And Spencer had no idea. 

“Is he gone?” The unsub asked. You nodded as you came down the basement stairs. “Good. You’re going to leave here. You’re going to tell them that you’re coming home. I don’t know, be creative. And just when they’re about to find you, I kill you. And then I walk out of here.” You wanted to start crying. You were scared. More scared than you’d ever been in your entire life. You thought about it for a second, and you found your excuse. 

You had a date a few weeks ago that turned into running errands around town. That day you’d picked up allergy medicine because you were allergic to cats, and your neighbor had a cat that had been bothering you. You would tell him you were going to feed the cat. And then they’d find you, alive, and they’d find this unsub, and hopefully someone would put a bullet through his head. Your money was on Morgan. 

Only a few minutes later, Spencer had his hand on your back and snatched it away just as Rossi walked into the room. The man suspected nothing, too enamored with the coffee machine in the corner of the room. You missed the warmth of his long fingers and almost abnormally large palms as soon as they came away from your sweater, but you couldn’t let him know that anything was off. You couldn’t let him know that, more than anything, you needed his hand to stay right there. 

“I, um, need to run home,” you said, trying to throw off any suspicion. “I forgot to feed the cat this morning.” Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed, not recalling that you had a cat. Because you didn’t. He would remember if you had a cat because he remembered everything. But he let you go. 

“Where are you going?” Hotch asked as you walked out of the police station. 

“I forgot to feed the cat,” you answered. “I’ll be back within an hour.” He nodded, knowing not to question you. Your entire family had been murdered within the past week - you deserved to go home and feed a cat any time you wanted to. Not to mention they knew the identity of the unsub, and it was someone who was as good as a sibling.

“Alright. Morgan’s in your neighborhood, let him know if you see anything.” You nodded and headed out of the station. You got into your mom’s car, sighing as you turned the key. You knew the unsub was tracking the car through its GPS, one you’d retrofitted for it at Christmas for a present. He would know if you even considered going somewhere else. He would know if you passed Morgan’s car. 

You went home and fumbled with the key, opening the door to the house. The unsub was there, in your living room, waiting. He opened his mouth and told you to go to the basement, taking his gun from his sweatshirt pocket. You went, hands behind your back, and hoped to God Spencer had understood your plan. 

“Where’d she go?” Seaver asked as she saw your jacket on the back of the chair Spencer was sitting in. 

“To feed the...” he started, and then he stopped. “Guys, I think I just found out where the unsub is hiding. They’re at her house.” Everyone looked up at Spencer, whose eyes were so wide they could have popped out of his head. 

“What? Why would you think that?” Hotch asked. 

“She doesn’t have a cat. I remember one day she got allergy medication, we... she’s allergic to cats, that’s why she has a dog back at home,” Spencer said. “She doesn’t have a cat. The unsub has to be there, that’s why she’s been acting weird and going home for lunch every day and...” he stood up. 

“Are you sure?” Hotch asked. “If we call in SWAT, we’ll tip the unsub off and he’ll run.”

“I’m sure.” Hotch sighed. 

“Get SWAT over at her house with Morgan, now. We’ll follow. Seaver, make sure there are road blocks set up in case he tries to take her.” The team dispersed through the police station, you on their mind. No one seemed to question how or why Spencer knew you were on allergy medication, because it didn’t really matter. Nothing really mattered except finding you, alive. 

Spencer was more nervous than anyone as he got into the car, fumbling with his vest in a way he never had before. Someone asked if he needed help, but he shook his head. He just wanted you back. He heard vague instructions on where to go and what to do, but he didn’t listen. He didn’t listen because there was a light on in your basement window. There had been one last night, too, actually, the whole door had been glowing on every side and that meant that a light was on. So that’s where you were. 

“The unsub has her in the basement,” Spencer said to Hotch, in the seat beside him. 

“Are you sure?” Spencer nodded. 

“The light was on last night.” Hotch looked at Spencer, up and down, and realized that the reason he hadn’t seen Spencer at the hotel the night before was because Spencer had been with you. In fact, he was always with you. Maybe... Hotch stopped thinking about it as soon as he started. There was no reason for him to go any deeper. Especially with the look of longing in Spencer’s eyes as he looked at the basement window. 

“They’re going to figure out why I’ve been acting weird,” you said to the unsub. You’d figured out that he was the son of your parents’ friends who had been murdered. Your parents had both been detectives, that was why you wanted to work in the FBI. And they’d failed to solve this guy’s case. That was why you were his target. You just happened to be in the BAU. That was how he got you home. And that was why there was no forced entry into your parents’ house, because this guy was like a son to them. He was like a brother to you. You were able to get past the anger at the betrayal because you were so damn scared. 

You looked up and saw a familiar shadow in the hallway up the stairs. It was Morgan’s shadow, one that you always saw in front of you. One you always counted on to get the bad guy. You decided to keep egging the guy on, despite the fact that he had tied you up, pistol whipped you ten minutes ago, and was threatening to shoot you with the gun aimed right at you. He had steady hands, and if he shot you, he wouldn’t kill you. He had no idea how to effectively kill someone. 

“No. They’re going to think you’ve been acting weird because you were about to kill yourself.” You were confused, to say the least.

“If you’re going to stage a suicide, this isn’t how to do it,” you replied. “Let me help you, you’re doing it all wrong.” 

“What, so you can beg for your life a little longer? As much as I enjoy that, I think your time is up.” The guy aimed the gun at you, just as a floorboard on the stairs creaked. You thanked your lucky stars that it was indeed Morgan. There was an army of SWAT men behind him at the stair landing.

“James Ray Washington, put down the gun,” Morgan said. As a response, James pulled the trigger that was facing you. Some gunshot victims said that it didn’t hurt that bad. Some said it was the worst pain they’d ever felt in their lives. For you, it was somewhere in between. The pain after was the worst part. The pain of watching James go down. You shut your eyes and sat back in the uncomfortable chair you swore your parents had thrown away a few years ago. You felt Morgan’s hands untying you from the chair and another set of hands started peeling away the jacket you were wearing.

“Hey, stay with me,” Morgan said to you as he picked you up. You shook your head. 

“No. I’m tired.” All of the fear in your body disappeared and you were exhausted, absolutely exhausted. You could have fallen asleep then and there. 

“It’s because you’re losing blood, just come on, stay with me,” he insisted as he carried you up the stairs. 

“Oh, my God,” Spencer said as he walked into the house to see you, in Morgan’s arms, being carried. 

“We need a medic!” Morgan called. You heard another voice yell to call an ambulance. Not even five seconds later you heard the sirens. Or maybe it was the sirens from the police cars that just kept rolling in. 

Morgan finally put you down on a surprisingly comfortable mattress. You realized that you were in the ambulance. And then you remembered Spencer and you shot up, your eyes opening in an adrenaline rush. Someone pushed you back down before you could even see him. 

“Spencer, I want Spencer,” you said. It came out as a mumble, but it filled your lungs like a scream.

“I’ll get him, sweetheart, I’ll get him,” Morgan said. He left your side for the first time as you felt the gurney you were on going over bumps, lifting you into the ambulance. 

“No, I want Spencer!” You tried to fight but someone had tied you down, again. Your hands and arms were free, but you couldn’t move. You felt someone cutting your shirt open and you shook your head.

“Hey, hey, baby, I’m here now,” a familiar voice said. It grabbed at your leg, unable to take your hand, and you opened your eyes again to see Spencer. In a second the doors to the ambulance were shut and the two of you were inside. Someone was working on your chest, but you didn’t pay attention. The adrenaline had made it stop hurting. You could feel that they were doing something, but it all faded away when you saw Spencer. There was blood on his hands. How did he get blood on his hands?

“I knew you’d find me,” you said. 

“Yeah, the cat was a good lie if I’ve ever seen one,” Spencer smiled at you, trying to keep you from freaking out at the bullet in your body. 

“Do you need me to tell you what happened?” Spencer grinned like you’d just said the most ridiculous thing ever.

“No, not right now. Just rest, okay?” He took one of your hands and sat down on the bench at the wall. You nodded and shut your eyes, almost instantly falling asleep. 

“How is she?” Morgan asked as Spencer left the hallway that led to the room where you were. There was still blood on his hands that he hadn’t even tried to wash off, the team noticed. 

“She’s going to be fine,” Spencer said. “She’s just exhausted right now.” Hotch looked at him, up and down. “And I know exactly why you’re looking at me like that.”

“You do?” Hotch asked. Spencer sat down in the open chair the team had left for him. 

“A year,” Spencer said to answer Hotch’s question before it was even asked. “We started dating right after that case in Reno. When we got trapped in that cage together, we just kind of... I don’t know.” 

“You hid it for that long? You sly dog,” Morgan chuckled. 

“If anyone should go down for this, it’s me,” Spencer said to Hotch. “I’m prepared to give up my spot on the team. I understand that we’re not supposed to...”

“That won’t be necessary,” Hotch interrupted. “I’ll talk to Strauss, but as long as it won’t interfere with your work, and it hasn’t so far, then I don’t see why it should be a problem.”

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” Morgan said as he slapped Spencer’s back. That was when a nurse came out and told Spencer that he could go see you. Apparently you’d asked for Hotch, too, and he stood up. Spencer walked back to the room, not expecting you to be as awake as you were. 

“Hey,” Spencer said softly, brushing a piece of hair away that had gotten caught in your eyelashes. “How do you feel?” 

“Awful,” you responded. You saw Hotch and tried to sit up, but he held a hand up. “I can explain why-”

“Spencer already told me. It’s fine. We’ll deal with it.” You looked over at Spencer, moving over in the bed to indicate that you wanted him to sit with you. He did just that. “You should get some rest. We’ll get your statement and everything as soon as you’re back at home.”

“I’ll stay with her, you guys go on,” Spencer insisted. Hotch nodded and left the room, leaving you two alone. You turned toward Spencer and laid your head in his chest, cuddling up to him as much as you could. He put one of his arms behind you, the other one taking your hands at your stomach. 

“I knew you’d figure it out,” you muttered, half asleep from the drugs they’d hooked you up to a few minutes ago. “I’m sorry I had to give us up in the process.” Spencer shook his head.

“You didn’t give anything up. I could’ve played it off. But maybe everything will be okay. You know you could have just said you knew who the unsub was, right?” You shook your head. 

“No. He threatened to kill everyone I loved. Including you. I figured you would find me, and if not you would find the trail I left.” Spencer sighed. 

“I’m not going anywhere. You know that, right? I’m a lousy shot but at least I have a brain.” You giggled. 

“Yeah, you do.” He turned his head and kissed your forehead, smiling down at you as he did. 

“I love you too,” he said after a minute of silence. “I really, really do.”

“I know.” You cuddled up to him and closed your eyes, thankful that you had the most observant boyfriend in the world. 

A/N: This is only my second (?) time writing for Spencer, but boy do I love this man!!!! 

[elencelebrindal]

Female Cloths that have no reason to exist

You all know what I’m talking about, right? Yeah, you do. You absolutely do. 

I’m talking about three specific instances of Silver Cloths that, instead of looking like armor and acting like armor, are more like... oh, you’re a girl? Let’s show that body! Let’s have nothing but a pathetic excuse of armor that should you try to fight will have you easily stabbed in the guts. 

What pisses me off is not the (bad) design itself. It’s the fact that the Silver Cloths are described are armors that cover the body more than the Bronze Cloths. Yet, we have Marin, Shain and Yuzuriha wearing nothing.  These Cloths should adapt to the body of the wearer, right? Well, I want you to imagine how those pathetic armors would adapt to a man’s body. It’s so painfully clear that those armors (or lack of armors) were designed without keeping practicality in mind, but just to have something revealing.

This is a really long post, so I’m hiding it under the “read more”, but I wanted to put my thoughts out there because I’m honestly tired. 

We have example of functional armor. We have June (who’s still better in Awakening as far as design goes, imo), and we have Thetis. 

So first of all, let’s take a look at those good ones, shall we?

This is, in my opinion, one of the best armors I’ve seen worn by a woman on this series. It’s not different from an armor you would see a man wear, just adapted to fit a woman’s body. It has everything; gauntlets, boots, cuirass, pauldrons... nothing’s missing.  A perfect example of how an armor should look. Not a comparison for a Silver Cloth, because the probability of a Silver Cloth having less pieces is high, but a comparison between a good decision and a bad decision. 

This is really good for a Bronze Cloth. The amount of armor, given the description of those Cloths, is perfect. She has everything, and at the same time not too much, perfect for an armor of that rank, since we know that the Bronze Cloth cover the smallest amount of the body when compared to Silver and Gold.  The only thing I don’t like is that she has an impossible “catsuit” (I really don’t have any better ways to call that) under it. It would make way more sense if the upper part was more like a tank top, than whatever sorcery is going on. You ever tried to wear sleeveless anything? You know that stuff slips off continuously.  Aside from that, she’s amazing. 

The main reason why I wanted to present these examples to you is to clarify that I’m not complaining about how much of the body is shown. There’s plenty more male characters that literally are unable to stay dressed on this show (Shiryu, I’m talking to you, wear a goddamn shirt for once).  I’m complaining about how unfair it is to have female characters being so... in a way, objectified. We have good examples, so why not using those examples for characters that should need more than what they’re given?

To make this even more clear, another armor that has no reason to exist is this:

Because honestly, a Surplice covering nothing of importance is really useful. 

I’m focusing on the female characters here because, while half a Surplice is bad, is not as bad as women wearing Silver Cloths that are supposed to be a better protection than Bronze Cloths and instead they get to wear metallic underwear.

This little armor: 

only makes sense for a Bronze Saint. They are supposed not to have a lot of it. And yet, this example in particular has more pieces than the classic Eagle Cloth. It does nothing, but it literally covers more than a Silver Cloth. This armor also has boots, of course. 

Let’s tackle the problem, shall we?

Try to convince me that she’s not wearing just a goddamn metal bra. Come on.  This is not armor.  This is Marin opening her closet, finding one of her fanciest bras, and wearing it alongside those gifts that are actual armor parts. 

The smallest Bronze Cloth of the classic series has a large total of pieces. Boots, gauntlets, some kind of cuirass, pauldrons, knee guards, helmet (in Saint Seiya the definition of helmet is weird, by now we know). Some of them also have those pieces that in a suit of armor could be faulds or tassets, some of them have simple belts, some have cuissess. Give or take 1 to 3 pieces, basically.  The smallest proper Silver Cloth has the same pieces, only they cover much more of the body. Or at least, they should, but we have examples of Silver Cloths literally being the same as Bronze Cloths. It makes me kinda frustrated, but knowing that those armors are stronger gives me a bit of peace.  The best Silver Cloth is the Lyra Cloth, obviously, since it actually matches the description accordingly. 

So... we have what? 2 for the boots, 2 for the gauntlets, 1 for cuirass, 2 for the pauldrons, 2 for the knee guards, 1 for the helmet, and give or take 1-3 pieces for the “optional” ones I mentioned. It’s 10 pieces of armor. 

How many pieces is the Eagle Cloth composed of? 0 boots, 1 gauntlet, 1 breastplate (in absence of other words to call that), 1 plauldron, 2 knee guards, 1 helmet.  It’s 6 pieces of armor.  She’s supposed to have the same, if not more, compared to a Bronze. 

Not only that, have you seen what she’s wearing under it? How is that even remotely comfortable in battle? You know how many times that weird... what the hell is that? A tight high sock? would slip down during a fight? Unless she glued it in place, I highly doubt it’s a good fighting outfit.  It would have been better for her to wear either a single catsuit, or even to keep the leotard but have both of the red tights (preferably leggings uh, you don’t go to battle in tights) be a full piece. 

The manga armor actually has one more piece. It’s not much, but it’s something. It resembles way more how other Cloth’s are treated, when the breastplate is so small.  However, it’s still missing boots. There’s literally no other Cloth, save for Ophiuchus, that doesn’t have boots. What now, they are too much for a woman to handle? June and Thetis have boots.  Marin gets leg warmers and shoes she has to personally provide, apparently, because her Cloth is a discount one. I get that it has to resemble an eagle, but come on. There’s totems depicting smaller animals that have more stuff. 

This artwork I found is from CamilleAddams on Deviantart:

See how easy is to give her a proper armor? It’s still missing the boots, but it’s already much better. It looks like a Silver Cloth, now. And this is only one of the many “updates” I’ve seen made by artists way more talented that I could ever aspire to be. 

This is my own sketch of a proper Eagle Cloth:

Is this really so unrealistic? To have an actually good Cloth for a Silver Saint?

Now, time to take a look at Shaina.

How many pieces is this armor comprised of? 1 breastplate, 2 pauldrons, 0 boots, 1 gauntlet, 1 helmet, 2 knee guards. A total of 7 pieces, just one more that Eagle. 3 less than a basic Bronze Cloth. 

The same exact discourse applies to the Ophiuchus Cloth. Copy-paste what I wrote for the Eagle Cloth and use it here.  Also the hot pink leg warmers paired with yellow HEELS (which yes, are stupid), green leggings and brown leotard are a spectacular combo. Who in the fresh hell decided the colors for her, this is a disaster more than her Cloth. 

At least she actually has no gaps between leotard and (hopefully) leggings.

I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but the Omega Ophiuchus Cloth is so much better than this, at least in base concept. The art is as ugly as my face in the morning, but the concept is legit. 

Look at this, ridiculous but PROPER armor. 

Once again, the manga has one more piece. It looks like she’s not wearing shoes, but it’s the manga, I give that a pass. 

But this particular Cloth makes me unbelievably angry, and you know why? Because the Ophiuchus Gold Cloth exists. And the Ophiuchus Gold Cloth is the proof that this thing doesn’t need to be so useless, because if that can be proper armor, this could be as well.  It’s a design choice, and it’s a poor one to say the least. 

Look at the Gold Ophiuchus Cloth (render by LadyHeinstein on Deviantart):

Look at this, and tell me that a decent suit of armor couldn’t be conjured for the Silver Cloth as well.  The Ophiuchus constellation is literally a man holding a snake. There’s no excuse for not having a human-like Cloth like, I don’t know, the Andromeda Cloth.  Instead, Shaina gets a version that’s not even half a human figure, with nothing to wear but discounted armor that honestly should go straight back to the shop where it came from. 

This is what makes me even angrier when it comes to this particular Cloth. 

Again, this is an “updated” version of the Ophiuchus Cloth by CamilleAddams on Deviantart:

See how much better it is? How much more realistic it looks, when it comes to Saint armor? It looks like a proper Silver Cloth like this, even with no boots. 

In comparison, here’s my own sketch (much lower quality, I know) of the Cloth:

It’s not that difficult! Just have them wear the same stuff their companions wear, is this so much to ask?

But now we come to the best one. Peak character design. So amazingly appropriate for battle that it’s stunning. Crane Yuzuriha from The Lost Canvas. 

What. The. Absolute. Fuck. 

How is that a Silver Cloth? How is that a Cloth? Come on!

Leaving aside the fact that I hate how she doesn’t wear the mask (I made a post about this whole issue, back in the day, I’ll try to link it as soon as I can), she has basically no armor on expect for her legs and arms.  Whatever bullshit is going on on her chest is everything but armor.  She has sandals, for gods sake. Sandals. You don’t want to be a Saint wearing sandals, this is not Ancient Romans having wars for breakfasts, this is a supernatural warrior constantly kicking the shit out of stone and trees (generally speaking). How are sandals something appropriate for a Saint? This is the same exact stuff I wrote for the skirts of the Saintias, it’s not appropriate for the setting. 

But let’s leave this, and let’s tackle what she (doesn’t) wear under her armor. Yuzuriha, my dear, I know that you have abs of steel and you want to show off, but that’s an excellent way to get injured all over with no effort whatsoever. Unless you have invulnerable skin, you’d want to wear something better than booty shorts and bandages that are apparently glued on her boobs. Wear at least something like June, if you don’t want to have sleeves.  This is a design flaw, not something beautiful. The concept is good on its own, but a Saint should NOT be dressed like that. They’re constanly being thrown at whatever surface is the hardest at the moment. Imagine your bare skin sliding at the speed of sound on rocks and dirt.  It’s not only unpractical, is technically dangerous. And I get it, this is an anime, everyone is invulnerable unless blood is needed, but even then this is utterly ridiculous. 

And now, the most ridiculous thing of them all: the breastplate.  It’s literally two sheets of silver feathers apparently glued to her skin. Nothing more. It’s not armor, it just... it’s literally nothing. She’s better off not wearing it, at this point, because it’s useless. 

She would just need a better breastplate/cuirass for that Cloth to be appropriate. Everything else is fine (minus the heels, but at this point why do I even try).  In comparison, a male Saint wearing that Cloth would probably end up shirtless, either the Cloth adjusts itself to the body or not. Who in their right mind would go in battle shirtless????? (yeah yeah, Shiryu and Dohko, but those two have armor on when they don’t act like strippers, at least pay them good money dammit). 

What infuriates me is knowing how the other Silver Cloths are like. It’s painfully obvious that Yuzuriha had to be the edgy woman with revealing clothes and armor, when you look at the REAL Silver Cloths of this series. 

Those shrtless dudes also want trouble, but at least they are somewhat covered. They still need to wear a goddamn shirt, but they also have more armor.  Why they can be THIS normal, but Yuzuriha has to look like she lost half her armor in a dumpster fire and tried to make to with the remnants?

I really like her as a character, and I don’t mind her wearing what she wears (dude, she’s can afford to dress like that, I wish), but the Cloth is terrible. 

The women in Saint Seiya Omega were better equipped than these three poor souls. I don’t like that series at all, and I forgot at least half of it (if not more) since the last time (aka the first) I watched it, but they do have more properly designed armors.  These three - Marin, Shaina, and Yuzuriha - are a perfect example of what you don’t have to do when designing armor for female characters, unless you don’t actually need the armor and it just aesthetic.  June and Thetis, on the other hand, are the perfect example of what you HAVE to do when designing armor for female characters, following the circumstances and the setting. 

Thank you for reading my (way too long) essay. Have a good day. 

[makeste]

BnHA 6th Popularity Poll Reaction Post - Risky Spoiler-Dodging Edition

hey guys, so seeing as the results from the 6th popularity poll were leaked today, I figured I would do a separate reaction + analysis post this year, rather than piling it in as an extra on top of the chapter reaction post tomorrow. I figure this makes more sense anyway, since they’re really two completely different things. also this way I can write as much as I want lol.

also, just fyi, I am still completely unspoiled for chapter 293. and probably the smart thing to do to keep it that way would be to log off tumblr and hold off posting this until tomorrow, but I apparently have no impulse control today so oh well. anyway, so I’m hoping you guys will keep this spoiler-free if you don’t mind! as always, I would prefer to just jump right in completely unaware tomorrow like Troy returning to the study room with the pizza boxes lol.

okay so this first part is just going to be my predictions. fyi I am writing this part on Wednesday night, and then I’ll add on the results part on Thursday or Friday (ETA: Thursday, apparently, since I am impatient.)

okay so first of all, just as a refresher, this poll was open to Japanese voters from Aug 3 to Sep 30. meaning chapters 279 through 285. meanwhile last year’s poll took place around the tail end of the MVA arc. so between then and now we had Heroes Rising, the Endeavor Agency arc, and the War arc up to the part where the 1-A kids took on Gigantomachia in Gunga, and started battling Tomura in Jakku. so technically only a couple of arcs, but a LOT of stuff going down in them. oh and season 4 of the anime as well

so! firstly, I predict that my truculent africanized honeybee son will hold on to his crown at #1, coming off a year in which he did some internship-boosted soul searching, borrowed OFA in movie canon, and finished out the voting period as the my-body-moved-on-its-own character development MVP. like CALL ME CRAZY lol, but I’m pretty sure his title is safe. and then after him will be Deku and Shouto as usual

Aizawa should hopefully also have a strong showing because the dude had a banner fucking year. reunited with his old dead friend, took on Tomura with his hopelessly inept hero pals, and then chopped his fucking leg off. he had better be in the top 10. his fucking leg died for this, idk what else he has to do

Endeavor also stands a decent chance of doing well given the internship arc and the final episode of season 4. which I’m sure will go down just swimmingly if that does happen lmao. especially if he somehow manages to rank higher than...

Dabi, which I don’t think he will btw, but you never know. anyways though, but I’m thinking Dabi’s going to have a stronger showing than in past years (in the last poll he only got 367 votes and was ranked 19th). mostly because of his fight in the Gunga mansion, and his cheekily censored name reveal to...

Hawks, who is also going to rank pretty high here, I think. might be he loses some points for killing off Twice, but his back was basically to the wall there. and he has always been very popular, and I think season 4 will also give him a boost, along with his heavy involvement in the first half of the War arc

Tomura was already in 6th place last year and I think he cracks the top 5 this year. he’s gotten exponentially more popular since the MVA arc, and got a boost in the last poll even though his flashback had only just barely happened, and he hadn’t finished Awakening yet and all that stuff. anyway, so he’s only gotten cooler and more tragic since then so I think he makes a big play here

Kirishima, Momo, Tokoyami, and Mina should also hopefully do well, since the poll opened right in the middle of all that Gigantomachia action, and Toko had just got done being an absolute badass and protecting his birb dad. I don’t think he’ll quite make it to the top ten, but he should

and last but not least, I’m hoping that Mirko will come out and take the polls by storm, although I have no clue how popular she is in Japan lol. she’s clearly Horikoshi’s favorite though. she SHOULD be everyone’s favorite, but I mean, we’ll see how it goes

anyway that’s it as far as predictions! and so now, through the magic of writing stuff at different times, we will fast-forward to the part where we actually find out the results!

OH MY GOD YES, STEAMPUNK KHLKSLLKL. HERE FOR IT. JOLLY GOOD SHOW. 5 STARS

Kacchan looks SO COCKY and SO HAPPY and SO ADORABLE, YES I SAID IT. he is adorable as FUCK. I don’t quite know what it is about this particular Kacchan that just screams “LOOK HOW FUCKING CUTE MY STUPID, LOUD SON IS WITH HIS BIZARRE WINDOWPANE-LOOKING CONVERTIBLE SUNGLASS GOGGLES and his POORLY TIED CRAVAT”, but I think it’s because he looks like if a Digimon character and a FMA character had a baby

anyway, so it looks like most of the people present here are more or less who we expected to see. except that I can’t tell for sure if that’s Dabi or Shindou, and if it’s Shindou I’m going to punch somebody in the face so you will have to excuse me

Iida wearing a TRENCHCOAT and a TOP HAT with ENGINE EXHAUST GOGGLE ACCENTS is my new favorite Iida of all time. take note how there is no possible way he can wear those goggles with them sitting on top of his hat like that. plus he’s already got glasses on. these are just purely for aesthetic and IF THAT AIN’T JUST THE STEAMPUNK WAY

Deku out here speaking softly and carrying a lead pipe. Kacchan you best look out. seems like he’s done watching you take first place year after year while he languishes in the number two spot. your only hope is that he trips while attacking you because his boots are unbuckled

Shouto’s standing over there with the rest of the non-first-and-second-place characters, but what are the odds his results are actually within spitting distance of Deku’s same as always. anyway he doesn’t mind, though. also his outfit is by far the most sensible one here, but if you look closely he’s got some sort of fire extinguisher/jet pack thing strapped to his back that’s got a control switch on his belt. Shouto are you jetpacking or putting out fires

Kirishima out here all “I’m not sure what steampunk is so I’m just going to take off my shirt and pose”

AIZAWA WITH THE EYEPATCH SKLKSDLKFJLSKJLDFKJSLDFFJLDKSJFL:KS. SIR. SIR. also, lowkey furious that Horikoshi refuses to show us the automail leg that he is clearly sporting here but which we just can’t see, SHOUTO MOVE GODDAMMIT

Endeavor has TWO fire extinguisher-slash-jetpacks. THE BETTER TO... WHATEVER. look at you here in the top ten again. you really live for that controversy

HAWKS OUT HERE WITH HIS STEAMPUNK BEATS BY DRE AND HIS WEARING A RING ON EVERY FINGER. nice to see you’ve still got your wings there, kiddo. then again Deku still has both of his arms too so who even knows what is going on

BUT SERIOUSLY THOUGH, IS THIS DABI OR SHINDOU. as if I don’t know the truth deep down in my heart. y’all I am gonna flip lmao. it’s not that I dislike Shindou, strictly speaking. but just... I can’t explain what it is, but if you put him and AFO next to each other and told me “you can only punch one”, I would be having a serious crisis. just, THIS FUCKING GUY, idek. STOP SMILING

Tomura looks like he just wandered onto the set here by mistake and has no idea where he is or what is going on. it’s because you’re wearing a bigass severed hand that’s blocking your entire view, Tomura. just take the hand off your face my sweet murder dumpling

anyway! so I managed to also find a link to the full poll results while somehow managing to avoid spoilers, and then I wanted to compare the results to last year’s poll, and so I made... this

hopefully you can all see this. if you’re on desktop you might be screwed, but on mobile you should be able to click and enlarge it. I mean, assuming you actually give a fuck about boring poll analysis spreadsheets lmao

anyway, so there were actually 13k fewer votes cast this year which is a bit of a surprise. is the series not still growing in popularity? do people apparently have better things to do during their quarantine lol

anyways but despite this, and despite getting 8k fewer votes overall, Kacchan still managed almost twice as many as his closest competitor. well fought, Deku. please put down that pipe

I somehow always underestimate the power of ship popularity to influence these things. but for example, it looks like Present Mic got that Vigilantes Trio bump. ride that wave for all it’s worth my man! hell, you got me on board

Iida fucking Tenya somehow got some sort of POWER BOOST out of NOWHERE which I can’t explain at all lmao, but I’m here for it. NOT BAD FOR AN OLD MAN

Sero managed to get the exact same number of votes in both 2019 and 2020. clearly the most loyal fans in the business

Mirko being all the way down at #20 is, of course, a travesty, and I hereby nominate her to be the one to punch Shindou in the face

ngl though, the lack of a single female character in the top ten hurts just a bit. it’s not overly surprising, but still. the worst part of it is that even if you kicked Shindou to the curb and moved everyone else up one slot, it would still be all dudes since Mic beat out Momo by a margin of a little more than a hundred votes. hard to stay mad at Mic for too long, though. ah well

Tomura actually lost a bunch of votes which is a genuine surprise to me. I know the villain standom isn’t as dominant in Japan as it is in Western fandom, but still. you can go ahead and punch Shindou too I guess

Tokoyami lowkey doubled his vote count over the past year while hiding down there at #18. he is slowly becoming more powerful. biding his time

anyway so I think that’s it! I mean not really, but I’m getting kind of tired lol. so just, you know, insert the usual gripes at Overhaul’s ranking here, although we can be happy about Magne making her way onto the list (r.i.p.), and Mineta and AFO taking a very satisfying slide down (all the way out, in AFO’s case; good riddance you bum). Hadou also got a huge boost which is awesome. Mustard’s persistent ownership of the #36 spot will forever remain a mystery to me, but oh well

anyways, this was fun. and I really do feel like everyone is looking away on purpose so that when Deku brains Kacchan with that pipe in about two seconds from now, there will be no witnesses, oh my fucking god

[sweeethinny]

Wildflower - Chapter 1

one more chapter, i'm excited about this story, i hope you like it as much as i do <3

Thank you @startanewdream who read and opined on some things <3

AO3 | FF. NET | PLAYLIST

-----------

| L. E |

The room was quiet, everyone paying attention to what the Professor was saying and presenting on the slides, with all those graphs and statistics that made Lily almost sleep with her eyes open. She loved her course, but calculus class wasn't her favorite, it wasn't even in her top three preferences.

Lily would rather have a full day of Environmental Chemistry with Professor Hagrid than one more with Burbage.

"Aren't you going to write down what she's saying?" Severus muttered beside her, making her nearly jump in her chair in fright, her heart racing at being pulled out of the quiet of her mind. "Hey, calm down."

"I already wrote down the important one." Lily shrugged, seeing her representation of the chart in the notebook and her lazy scribble of what the Professor had said.

"I won't lend you my notebook to study," he whispered, a smirk on his lips. Lily rolled her eyes, resting her head on her hand again, no longer listening to Burbage's voice.

Was it so early, why did she like to make students suffer like that?

"I don't need to, thanks." Severus didn't respond, but he kissed her on the cheek and then turned his attention back to class, much more interested than she was.

She still hadn't forgotten about their fight after the party Saturday, and all the embarrassment he put her through, and Lily was still hurting, even though she didn't understand why it hurt so much. He explained to her that he was trying to protect her, and the next day, he took her for brunch at her favorite restaurant, which was near a flower shop where Severus bought her flowers. Her favorites.

He was sorry, and Lily had to stop mulling things over even days after they had happened.

"Excuse me, Professor?" A female voice woke her, looking toward the door where one of the cheerleaders was standing.

The girl was beautiful, Lily had seen her before in the presentations in between games - the few she went to - and in the hallways of college; she had long brown hair and eyes almost the same color, and Lily knew the line of boys wanting her wasn't short.

“Say it, Miss Fortescue,” Burbage said, not looking overly excited at being interrupted. ‘I have no time to waste.’

“It'll be quick, I swear.” The girl walked into the room, wearing her red college sweatshirt and simple jeans, and even so, she looked stunning. Lily was a little jealous of her.

‘Me, and the Hogwarts Cheerleaders team, are passing by to remind you that applications to join the Team begin today. You need to have a minimal knowledge of ice skating, and be able to train three times a week, and twice a month on Saturdays. In addition to keeping in mind that if chosen, you will have to travel with us when necessary, and participate in our activities off the field.'’ She smiled, looking at everyone there waiting for questions or any interruptions, but when no one raised a hand, she continued;

‘’To apply you just need to talk to me, or any other cheerleader, and fill in the form. The tests will start next week, so you have plenty of time to think about whether you want to or not.” She waited a few more seconds, then smiled at the woman. "Thank you so much, Professor, excuse me." And she left.

Side conversations began, even though Burbage was trying to restrain the students, but Lily didn't care too much, wondering whether or not she should take the test. Of course she didn't have a body like the other girls, their waists looked almost unreal, but she could try, right? It looked so much fun the few times she watched it, and Lily had been balletting as a child until her mid-teens, when she started to put on weight and Petunia kept saying she was getting too fat to dance.

She could at least try. Maybe she couldn't get in, there were probably girls who had trained her entire life for it, Lily knew it was a competitive sport that many took very seriously, but… She could try.

Lily skated really well too, another reason she should try, and-

"You'd think she'd at least be embarrassed to appear in public, but no," Severus whispered, making Lily look at him not quite understanding what he was talking about, having once again become lost in her thoughts. "God, Lily, pay attention!"

‘‘Sorry, I was thinking. Who has to have courage?’’

‘‘Alice. That captain of the cheerleaders. She was seen having sex in the car with one of the players late last year… Such a bitch.” Severus rolled his eyes, looking almost offended by what she had done. ‘‘But what to expect, all are.’’

"I wanted to take the test," Lily whispered, feeling a weight drop in her stomach that made all her courage drain away.

'’Why? Do you want to wear those short skirts and show your ass for a bunch of men to see? And still call it dancing? Christ, Lily, have a little respect for yourself.” He turned forward, not seeming to want to hear her answer, but Lily ignored the movement and continued;

‘But… it looks so cool, and maybe I don't even come in and-’

‘Lils, I'm a man, listen to what I tell you, these girls don't dance because they like it, they dance because they want to have a dick to suck at the end of the day and get something in return; sometimes a higher note, or sometimes just the gratification of having sucked that dick. You're not like them, you don't need that.”

| J . P |

"Look who's here, our Geppetto!" Remus said, a wide grin on his face and the glass of orange juice raised to James, who was now bitterly regretting not having changed after his carpentry practice class.

"Dude, shut up." James chuckled, not even wanting to argue about how old this joke was getting and that they should try harder. "I can't believe we're not joking about the fact that Sirius needs to wear a wig in his class."

"We did, but you were late, mate." Remus seemed indifferent to James' attempt to shift his attention to Sirius, drinking all of his juice before looking at him more closely. "Marlene put makeup on you?"

"Yeah, is there a problem?" He put his hand to his jaw, no longer as purple and sore as it had been on Saturday, but still too disgusting an orange color to show everyone on the first day of his sophomore year. James had a bit of self-esteem even though it kept him from doing that. "It was horrible."

"Yeah, it's not pretty now." Peter pulled James' face to the side, wanting to see more detail, and that made the pain in the back of his neck return. "But it's better than before."

"Peter, my head." James pushed him away, touching where the back of his neck ached and trying to ease some of the pain that was still bothering him. The doctor had said it would hurt for a few more days, but James couldn't take the headaches anymore. "That asshole was lucky I was drunk."

"I still don't understand why he punched you," Sirius said, the pink wig still in his hands, trying to untangle the strands. "The girl said you didn't even touch her."

‘’I didn't touch it. Man, I don't even remember her face, I was trying to stay upright and not pass out right there, there were like ten redheads in front of me.’' He sighed, taking a sip of his own juice and denying it, still not believing he had stopped at the hospital because someone thought he was harassing the girl. "Was he her boyfriend?"

"I think so, but she didn't look too happy about what he'd done to you, so I don't know if they're still together," Remus said.

"Was she beautiful?" James didn't remember much of that night, least of all the details of her face, the only thing he could remember was that she was wearing an all-black outfit and had red hair. Everything else was just a blur in his mind.

"Yeah," Peter smiled. ‘’Was she wearing weird clothes? Yeah. I mean, who wears sweats to a party? But, she was beautiful. Don't you have a class with her?” He glanced at Remus, who looked like he was in another world as he watched a table next to theirs, full of girls chatting and laughing, one in particular standing with her back to them.

‘’Moony, if you keep drooling on Amelia like that, I'll punch you in the face. She kicked your ass, bro, part to another, forget about her.'’

"James, have you ever been in love yet?" James took a deep breath, thinking they would go back to that same subject Remus always brought up every time someone said something about his ex. '’Answer me.'’

"This wasn't love, Moony, it was a trap." James said the same thing every other time, but it was like he spoke to a wall when it came to Remus. It was frustrating. "She betrayed you."

“It was a slip.” He repeated as usual.

‘’Remus, slip was when I mistook James' aunt for his grandmother, and congratulated her on her 90th birthday. That was a slip. What did she do to you,” Sirius dropped his wig and looked at their friend, a tired smile on his face. It was the tenth time they had had that conversation. ‘It was low. She cheated on you the second you quarreled with her, without a second thought. Besides,” He held up a hand, preventing Remus from saying anything. "She never told you, you only knew because her friend felt sorry for you."

"She was going to tell me!"

"Let's not discuss this again." Peter interrupted the fight that was likely to ensue, but even if he hadn't, someone else did for them.

A girl stopped at their table, arms back and cheeks already on fire, she looked like she wanted to get inside a hole instead of being there.

"Hm. I’m sorry..er..." Her low voice was barely heard in the din in the cafeteria, but James was at the end of the table and could hear her speaking. It was the girl from the party, he recognized her sweet voice, her red hair was in a bun and she was wearing a sweatshirt today too, this time it wasn't black but dark blue, and James thought it didn't look comfortable because it wasn't that cold and that fabric seemed to be very thick and warm. ‘I came to apologize.’

"Sorry?" James looked at her, now everyone at the table was silently paying attention to her, and her cheeks got even hotter, which he thought was cute. Her green eyes fell on James, and he hated even more that he was wearing that ridiculous protective clothes.

"For what Sev did," She bit her bottom lip, filling her lungs with air and smiling gently afterwards. "I'm sorry he punched you."

'But…'

"You're not the one who should apologize," Sirius said, sitting at the other end, looking almost as shocked as James. The guy couldn't be such a coward, what did he think they were going to do, punch him up in the middle of the cafeteria?

The girl looked uncomfortable with this, but stayed there, stuffing her hands inside her sweatshirt pocket. ‘‘I know, but… He wasn't coming, but I'm going to feel really bad for not apologizing, because it was my fault, I- ''

"It wasn't your fault," James cut her off, pausing before placing a hand on her arm to soothe whatever was making her nervous. Who knows what her crazy boyfriend would do if he saw James touching her. "It's okay, really."

"You ended up in the hospital." She reminded him, not that James needed it, but he shrugged.

‘’Nothing too serious. And I was drunk, and…” He didn't know what to say, so opting to just smile at her. '’Everything is fine. If it makes you better, apologies accepted.”

"Sorry again, really," The girl said, her hand over her heart and a slightly sad smile on her face, seeming to notice the makeup on his jaw. James nodded, still not quite sure what to say or what to do, and she left.

'’Oh, I knew I knew her boyfriend.’' The four of them looked at the redhead walking back to her table, where three other guys dressed in black were, none of them looking at James' table but the boy next to her didn't look the least bit happy with her attitude, putting an arm around her shoulders in an almost possessive way. "She dates that idiot who tried to fight with Frank."

"Does he fight everyone then?" James continued to stare at her table, a bad feeling burning in his chest. He remembered that she looked so happy when he came to ask about his glasses, but then, now it seemed like there was none of that inside her anymore.

"He doesn't fight, he talks and talks, but when the time comes he runs away." Remus smiled humorlessly, pulling James back to look at him. "Don't want the three of them to come at you, just because one of them is a coward doesn't mean the others are too."

"She looked sad." Peter rambled. "Didn't she look like?"

“Dating a guy like that, who's happy?” James ran a hand through his hair, looking once more at the table the redhead had gone to before giving up and settling down on the bench, putting her image out of his mind and refocusing on Remus, who had turned to face Amelia again.

| L. E |

Lily was nervous, as if she was about to commit a horrible crime, her stomach churning and bile burning in her throat every time she focused her vision on that paper.

It was a mistake, a huge mistake, she shouldn't be there, she didn't even know how she got there. Get out of there Lily! She screamed to herself.

“Need help?” A voice startled her, her heart nearly leapt out of her body, and she ended up dropping the form to the floor, her shaking hands not even good enough to hold the paper. ‘Hey, I’m sorry. Everything is fine?'

"Yes, yes." Lily didn't look at the girl, but she knew who she was; Alice. Severus' voice reverberated in her mind, and she remembered Mulciber - Sev's best friend, who, like Avery, lived with them - saying; "You don't want everyone to think you're a bitch too, do you?" when Lily spoke of her willingness to take the test.

She thought they were wrong, she knew they were wrong, but her mind seemed unable to say anything against it at the time, her body paralyzed, just nodding and going back to eating, even though her hunger was gone.

'’Are you going to sign up?'’ Alice didn't seem to notice that Lily was uncomfortable however, because she went behind the now empty cafeteria table and sat on the bench there, looking at Lily in such a welcoming way that she felt guilty for not looking her in the eye. '’It's fun. We train a lot, but we are a family too, and as some girls are already graduating and leaving, we need new members.’’

"Family?" Lily looked at her, confused, blaming her mind that it was having to deal with the guilt of thinking she was a bitch, and the boys' voices telling her about her having sex in the car.

She's free to do whatever she wants, Lily thought, taking a deep breath.

‘’Yes, we take care of each other and make sure no one feels left out. If you need a house, we have room for you. It's just girls, no boys in there.” Alice took a folder from her purse, it was full of other completed forms, but at the bottom, there was a blank paper. She reached for Lily. "If you want it." She shrugged, and Lily saw it was another form, but this time, to rent a room.

"Oh I don't have to, I live with my boyfriend." Lily felt her cheeks flush, her eyes automatically returning to the team's blank form. Did she want this?

"But if you ever need to, we're always getting a spare room, just in case." Alice smiled. ‘’So having problems with the questions? I know there are many, but we need to know a lot before we call someone in. We've had bad experiences with this.’’

“I'm still wondering whether I'm going to try or not.” Why was she being so kind to her? Alice didn't know what everyone was calling her? Didn't she care?

‘’Do it. The most that can happen is that you won't be accepted.’’

"Yeah…I think it is." Lily nodded, swallowing the ball of nervousness that rose in her throat. "My boyfriend doesn't think I should apply." She didn't know why she'd said that, it just slipped off her tongue without going through her brain first, but as usual, Alice didn't seem to mind.

'’Why not? And you're the one training and dancing, so it's up to you to decide whether you want to or not.” She ran a hand through her brushed hair, and Lily noticed there was a silver ring on her finger. She dated the guy she had sex with in the car? Lily didn't know his name. '’Unless you have labyrinthitis… But, we already had a girl with labyrinthitis on the team, she didn't just participate in the spins, so there's nothing really stopping you from joining us.'’

"Yeah, maybe you're right." Lily took another deep breath, her nervousness lessening a little.

'Sit down.'

"What?" She looked up from her paper, Alice still with that welcoming look from before, but now more attentive.

"Sit down, you've been standing a long time." She did, placing her bag beside her and taking the pen firmly in her hand, signing her name at the top of the sheet, then moving on to the other questions.

Alice was quiet, doing something on her cell phone while Lily concentrated, trying not to show how anxious she was getting at such a silly and simple task. It was like her mind was hazy and the questions started to no longer make sense, Sev's voice telling her that Lily didn't need it because she wasn't like the other girls, making her even more nervous.

"Have you done any dancing yet?" Alice asked, but not taking her eyes off her cell phone.

‘’Ballet. As a child.” Lily glanced at her quickly before turning back to the paper, writing her age and course.

‘’I did artistic gymnastics, but I always wanted to do ballet. It's a very beautiful dance.’’

"Yes, it is." Lily took a deep breath, answering about her schedule and whether she was able to travel out of town during game season.

"I learned to skate when I got to college, Marlene taught me."

"She's also a cheerleader, right?" Alice looked at her, a sweet smile on her lips, then nodded.

"Many say you need to be afraid of her, but that's not true, Marlene is melted butter with the people she likes."

"I hope she likes me." Lily went back to ticking the form, and no, she wasn't using any narcotics or prescription drugs.

"She definitely will," Alive said, and she seemed to speak the truth, winking at Lily and then turning her attention back to her cell phone.

[ussgallifrey]

Jealous

✦ Summary: The little green monster has a way of ruining a perfectly good night, and he is not talking about the Hulk. ✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader ✦ Warnings: Little bit of angst, jealousy ✦ Word Count: 2.4k ✦ Author's Note: This was written ages ago for a request that's now vanished from my ask box from an anon asking for a jealous Bucky.

It's there in the curl of your lashes and the hand that you bat against the Asgardian's arm - that's when the clenching sensation presses down on his throat. When he feels his fingers wrap a little tighter around the shot glass on the bar. The night long since gave way to the pleasant thrum of inebriation, but all Bucky can sense is the bitter taste in his mouth when he watches you laugh so freely across the room.

Another gloating tale of ancient glories, a genuine laugh, a flirtatious quip - Bucky's painfully present for it all.

He had been cowardly perched on this one bar stool for almost the entire evening, trying to find some liquid courage - though he couldn't get drunk, not even close, it was just a bit of a placebo to get the gears going. Meanwhile, you flitted between the others with a carefree ease and an intoxicating smile. Wrapped up in soft pinks and a striking flower in your hair.

Bucky glowers at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

He had watched the way you seemed to flow through the crowd, taking the time to join each circle of people. Laughing unabashedly with Clint and Tony, resting your head on Natalia's shoulder, letting Sam throw a too familiar arm over your shoulders and tug you closer. That one probably stung most of all.

Your laugh seems to rise above the music and the crowd - an arrow sent right towards him, alluringly sweet in its intensity. But it's not for his ears, not happening because of something he said. No, you're wrapped up in the blonde demigod's looming stature and chiseled everything.

Maybe he lingers too long on the shape of your body leaning against the other man's. The styling of your hair, the way your eyes never leave Thor's. And the way the Asgardian's eyes seem to dip below your eye level to wander freely along the lines of your body.

He struggles to swallow the darkness that threatens to rise - the itch in his throat that ices over his heart and makes his blood run cold. It's metallic and chilled and difficult to ignore and he hates himself all the more for letting it take over.

Thor's returning laugh is deep and rich, coated with the finer golds and riches of a royal lineage. Bucky has to steady himself with a hand on the bartop when the blonde ducks down to place a kiss to your cheek, a fitting smile on his face as he excuses himself from your presence.

It's hard to ignore the giddy rush of nerves that seems to creep up as your smile turns bashful, averting your gaze as you press a trepid finger against your cheek. And then you're turning and he's looking down at his drink - trying to ignore the sting and pangs of the little green monster.

"Mr. Barnes," you cheerily greet as you plop down on the neighboring barstool, a manicured hand placed just a breath away from his own much larger hand. 

Pulling his gaze from the gemstones on the end of your nails, Bucky nods in acknowledgment. Not trusting his mouth for anything as his stomach still sloshes and slurs with the sourness of unwarranted jealousy.

That sweet perfume seems to mingle in the air between you, something floral and soft - warm and pink to match your dress and nails. Princess-like, something entirely untouchable and angelic.

"You've been… notably absent tonight," you pester, sipping from your nearly emptied neon-blue cocktail.

"Have I?" he lets his finger drag along the rim of the glass, catching a drop of condensation. 

You hum with a nod, "Been missing you something fierce."

That gains his attention as he finally lifts his head up, trying to read your doe-eyed expression. 

He turns a little more towards you, a knee daring to touch your own but not quite able to close the gap. 

"That so?"

Another hum, followed by another sip. Gaze drawn low to watch the way your fingers wrap around the black straw, lazily gliding up and down as you give a coy smile his way.

There's a distant part of himself - the shadow of a man who used to look like him, but a little more clean-cut - that would know the right things to say. The sweet prose and flirt to get you turning his way, wrapping you around his finger, and never letting go. He'd sure like to get in contact with that version of Bucky Barnes right about now because he's feeling next to hopeless in your presence.

"This isn't really your vibe, is it?"

Vibe? Right, more slang and lingo that sometimes has him stumbling over his own feet and looking like a right fool in front of everyone else.

You seem to catch on to his internal dilemma because you're quick to clarify, "You're not big on parties."

No argument there. He rubs the back of his neck as he fails to avoid your gaze, "Yeah, uh, no. Definitely no."

There's a little cooing sound in return, a batting of long eyelashes as you swirl your tongue around the straw, taking a long final sip of your drink. He could get lost in the action alone, watching your lips pursed together to suck on the straw, cheeks hollowing out - it's hypnotizing and entirely dirty, but he just can't look away.

But then Thor's bellowing laugh carries far across the party to lodge itself directly into Bucky's ears. He can't help but grimace, staring down at the bar in favor of actually groaning his disdain.

But you catch on - of course you do. You follow the pitiful trail of jealousy right up to his seething face like a bloodhound. He must reek of it too because your sweet expression seems to fall in an instant.

"Do you," your fingers stroke along the tip of the straw. "Do you not like Thor?"

He balks at how easily you hit the nail on his head. "Wha - no. I - he's, I mean, I don't really even know the guy, you know?"

There's this look that settles on your face that says you're not buying a line of his bullshit.

"He's sweet."

Bucky taps his glass with an impatient finger. If he has to sit here and listen to you compliment Thor, he might just vomit. Oh, he'll sit and listen alright, but it doesn't mean he has to like it.

"I'm happy for him and Jane," you continue. "Says he plans to stay on Earth for a while, think he couldn't stay away from her any longer."

You're talking, but the words aren't registering the way they should be. It's just an infinite loop of you laughing and Thor kissing your cheek.

"They're a good fit for each other."

Of false images of Thor wrapping his arm around you, dipping you backwards, and kissing you senseless.

"You'd never think they would make a good couple, right? But they totally work in their own way."

How easily you'd be swept off your feet, probably picked up and made to wrap your legs around him. He was probably shirtless at this point because why wouldn't he be? 

"Hey, are you - are you okay? Bucky? Did I say something or...?"

God, why was he so hung up on this? Why couldn't he just work out the nerve to just go up to you and ask you out? It wasn't that hard, right? Just a few words, his heart waiting on the side to be broken, his returning ego to be bruised. 

It's not like he could compete with someone like Thor. The man was literally a God; a legendary being of Norse mythology and epics. Compared to… him. Him with the flashing neon sign above his head that read Fucked.

"Bucky?"

It was probably a fool's hope that you would've been interested in him. He was so many things this side of wrong. Not golden and wonderful like the man you had been laughing with for the past thirty minutes.

There's a hand on his.

Oh.

Slowly, he looks over at you. 

You smile gently. Thumb carefully rubbing over his knuckle in a soothing motion, "You drifted away on me. I - I wasn't sure if…"

The words fade away with a cautious touch. He wants to turn his hand, lace his fingers with yours. It feels right in his mind, he wants it to be right.

A soft silence drapes itself over you both. Your hand remaining on his, fingers lazily rubbing circles over the top of his tense knuckles.

"You know," you say after a moment. "I think I'm ready to get out of here."

You watch his expression with a curious gaze before continuing, "Even I can get partied out, Barnes."

He doesn't want you to leave, enjoying this haven you've created in the corner of the bar with him. It's the lingering hope that burns in his chest that maybe he stands a chance with you. Maybe he can win you over if he ever gets the nerve.

But you don't move to leave, fingers coming to a sudden rest - a breath away from his skin.

"Are you out of here too?"

Is that a twinge of hopefulness in your voice? It's nearly hard to believe, but he latches on to it like a lifeline. Finding himself nodding fast and dumb as he says, "Yeah, yeah. I'm good here."

Your hand runs its way up and over his arm and shoulder, lingering above the collar of his leather jacket. Waiting, he realizes. Waiting for him to join you.

There's a surprising amount of nerves going haywire in his body because his legs seem unusually shaky as he stands from the bar. But you're there, batting those glittery eyes as you wait. Your body manages to press up against his side as you wade through the remaining partiers. Floral perfume wafts up from your exposed neck and he nearly buckles over.

"My lady!" Thor bellows in shock, a stupid grin upon his stupid face as he manages to untangle himself from the group.

He pauses in front of you both, baring Bucky not even the slightest glance.

"Surely you're not leaving so soon."

When did he grab your hands in his large godly ones? Why does Bucky's stomach feel like it's going to make him spew all over the floor now?

Your laugh is easy as you gently pull your hands back, "Even mere mortals like me know when to call it quits, Thor."

And it's only then that the god seems to take in the dark figure you're leaning on, mismatched eyes looking Bucky over with a sudden glint of realization. He backs away almost immediately, "Oh, of course! Another time, then."

It's only when you're walking again that the blonde throws him a playful wink, which makes Bucky feel all sorts of confused.

And the thing is, he's not even entirely sure where you're going and if you expect him to follow you there. He'd like to think that, but he can't be sure. 

The warmth of the party gives way to the misting rain of the darkened city streets. Illuminated only by the neon signs and streetlights. Seeing the contrast to you, wrapped in soft pinks and gentle flowers, only makes Bucky feel all the more aware of his surroundings. But you seem to pay no mind to it whatsoever as you make your way down the sidewalk.

You're tucked against his right side, arm rubbing against the leather of his sleeve, your pink dress fluttering in the gentle breeze of the night. And when a car rushes by on the slick road, it'd be impossible to not notice the way you shiver. When you stop at the crosswalk, Bucky doesn't even think - pulling his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders.

There's a little gasping sound as you pull it tight around you and your eyes are absolutely shimmering in the street light when you look up at him. Bucky can actually feel the moment his heart swells.

"Thank you," it's said so softly, so sweetly. And you finish it by gently squeezing his hand.

He takes a chance, throwing his arm over your shoulder and tugging you close. The contented sigh that falls from your lips makes him know he made the right move.

You pass the walk in pleasant silence, occasionally bumping his hip with your own, a soft laugh when he looks down at you curiously. It doesn't take a genius to figure out where you're headed as the glowing tower comes into view.

You pause at the front entrance - the harsh lights from the lobby illuminate the space behind you, making you glow in the rainy night air. Bucky reluctantly pulls his hand away. Feeling lucky enough to have gotten to walk you home, but not enough to expect anything beyond this point.

But your drawn brows pull his attention as you grab his hand back, "And where do you think you're going?"

He huffs a laugh. Steeling his nerves as he sheepishly looks up at you, "Guess that depends."

You give a thoughtful nod before tugging him flush against you. He gasps, despite his best intentions.

Brushing his hand against your cheek, you give a pleasant little mewl. His heart thumps harshly in his chest as his eyes darken. 

"You know," you murmur against his hand - your hands now resting on his hips - as you pause, pressing a kiss to his palm. "Jealousy isn't a good look on you."

Bucky groans softly, feeling the weight of the evening sinking lower in his chest.

"Especially," you continue. "When you could just have what you want."

Your mouth finds the underside of his chin, kissing lightly on his Adam's apple. Manicured nails find their way into his hair, scratching carefully against his scalp and neck. And then you pull back, dark eyes staring up at him with a smirk.

"That is, if you want it, Sergeant."

Soft hands smooth over his arms, down his sides, to his hips once more.

"Do you want it, Bucky?"

His mouth feels dry as he takes in your beautiful features. The way your dress curves your figure, the way his jacket seems to be perfectly made to fit your shoulders. The obvious thrum of passion coursing through him. And just one look into your eyes gives him all the reassurance he needs - there's no competition here, you only have eyes for him.

So, he settles his hands on your hips, fingers splayed out along your lower back.

"Yes," he says hoarsely. "I definitely want."

And then you're angling your head up to meet his lips as you walk the two of you backwards into the tower and out of the misting rain, into something decidedly warmer and better.

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[lokiitty]

Posting this here so no one floods my rp account w/ stupid shit. This post aint for people who liked episode 5. If you liked it, good for you, I’m happy for you, I wish that were me but heres my issues.

I don’t know if I’m suppose to consider Loki & Sylvie a couple now & at this point I don’t care like I really don’t give a shit anymore do your weird self/incest thing Disney if it makes you happy and makes you feel safe from representing queers then like idk man we dont want your take on Loki anyway. 

Everything they did with Black Loki made me uncomfortable on a level I’m not smart or political enough to explain but what I can say is the only way it would be worse is if someone called him the N-word. I’m a white passing black person & I was squirming in my seat frm being so uncomfy. I can’t remember the last time I was that uncomfy w/ the portrayal of a black character & I think the worst part about it, at least for me, is I’ve spent the whole week imagining him as this “GOOD LOKI” whos nexus event was being worthy of mjolnir or something & woo boy. & You know they’re gonna excuse all that by saying ‘tee hee but hes loki’ like oh my god that could have been handled better. Anyway Id love to see black people talk about this & wonder if they feel the same? 

They've pretty much disproven any idea of Loki being genderfluid. They gave  Sylvie the unicorn treatment LITERALLY because shes a woman/female Loki & thats apparently so unheard of among the Lokis like... Man. You CANNOT sit there & tell me hes genderfluid please STOP giving them credit for something they never did. In fact, theyve undone it. Bc comic Loki & Myth Loki ARE genderfluid. They would never treat a female presenting/iding Loki as weird bc they do so frequently themselves. Marvel/Disney Loki is cis as fuck & theyve gone above & beyond to affirm this. no nb/genderfluid person would act like that guys point blank. 

(Also the idea that what made main!loki better was cos he was in love w/ a “woman” / had an m/f romance on the horizon teehee like I’m sorry the subtext was there.) 

They really went hard on the no-homo treatment for Loki & Mobius. Like even having Sylvie mentioning to Loki that Mobius cares about Loki & Loki shrugging it off (straight up ignoring it) to focus on whatever weird thing he has going on with her. The hug was fine but again it screamed no-homo and I’m just... Im not surprised but I mean mentioning just to add to the pile of why that ep made me feel uncomfy I’m building here. Ive already wrote IN DEPTH about why the whole bait with Loki/Mobius was whack & why it was 100% bait so I don’t have a whole lot to add here. 

Lastly, I think I’ve covered everything so yea, lastly... Old man/classic Loki (as someone who knows classic loki from the comics that was UNEXPECTED) was the best thing to have happened to the entire series & they took him away just like that & I have serious emotions about it. I feel as angry about it as I do about all the actual problematic TM shit I just sat through.  So um. In conclusion.