#where its just makeup after makeup being unusable

[gifti3]

it feels like the quality in time princess has just been going down and down

[dykefengqing]

ive never really gotten involved with cosplay discourse bc most of it is stupid but apparently sone people have been talking abt bought cosplays vs homemade cosplays and as a maker my head is full of thoughts. keep in mind that ive heard everything secondhand from my roommate (who also cosplays) bc i dont really use other social media (we have a joint cosplay insta i post on sometimes but they do everything else there).

ive been making my own cosplays since i was like 11 or 12, and im lucky enough to have had a mom who knows how to sew and could teach and help me those first few years. my dad is a nerd who was excited when i started cosplaying and going to cons with him and he's always has helped me with props. again, i know im lucky for this, and i had a pretty easy in to the hobby. this is all really just for context for my side here.

cosplay had a bit of a popularity boom over lockdown, because it was a way people could have fun at home, and that's great!! i love seeing people getting into things i love!! especially after being made fun of for it as a teen. but since then, ive noticed that the vast majority of new cosplayers are buying their costumes — and before i go further, i want to emphasize that i do not judge on an individual level whether or not youve made your cosplay, and nobody should. everybody's situation is different and it's important to remember the play part of cosplay. its supposed to be fun — and honestly that's really sad to me. what's even sadder is the amount of people saying things like 'everyone who makes their cosplays are rich' (i am absolutely fucking not, im currently unemployed bc im disabled) or 'if you make your cosplay youre not a cosplayer, youre a cosmaker' (this one doesnt even make sense. why are you alienating the creators of the entire hobby).

i get completely that its an intimidating thing to get into. making cosplays isnt just sewing. its also hair/wig styling, makeup artistry, foamwork, propmaking, etc... the list can really goes on bc it truly can be anything. resin casting, embroidery, beading... it all depends on what youre doing and how you want to do it. and im not saying it isnt a money- and timesink, because obviously you have to invest both of these things into it. but it doesnt have to be all fancy sewing machines and expensive fabrics!

did you know you can sometimes rent sewing machines from libraries? if theres a makerspace near you, thats a fantastic resource (they usually have things like sewing machines and 3d printers, and they usually host classes where you can learn to use their equipment)! youre even likely to find sewing machines at thrift stores! and speaking of thrift stores, bedsheets and curtains make great fabric sources, and if youre lucky you can find a piece you can alter or even just wear as part of the costume! and theres tons of tutorials and resources online for just about everything, even for specific costumes. there are also some good online fabric stores with much more variety and better prices than joanns, and you can look into if theres a place near you that sells recycled and donated remnants/unused fabrics, etc!

and like. idk. maybe thats all common knowledge among the specific group of cosplayers im talking about. theres nothing wrong with still choosing to buy a cosplay. i just ask: do you know how the people who made it are treated at the source you buy from? are they paid fairly? is it made out of cheap polyester and how comfortable is that for you?

i put — very literally, usually — blood sweat and tears into my costumes. im not saying everyone has to do this. im just. the making aspect is the heart of cosplay to me. its clearly not for everyone and thats fine. it just makes me sad to see so many people acting like its some elitist or inaccessible thing when its not

[dixxieskywalker]

“The original definition of a boudoir is a lady's private room used for bathing and dressing. Over time it expanded to include a bedroom or sitting room where you might retire to read, sew or to entertain intimate acquaintances. Either way, entry is strictly by invitation only.”

How To Create The Perfect Boudoir in 10 easy steps!

1. Invest in a good vanity table. You wouldn’t want to live in a dingy place, so you shouldn’t want your beloved self-care products to live in a lackluster environment either! Not only does getting a nice vanity make your bedroom look all the more luxurious, it makes finding things (such as makeup and accessories) easier.

2. Mirrors, mirrors, mirrors galore! From the handheld embellished variant to those bolted into the walls, it’s nice to have a few of them lying around. After all, you must always be reminded of how fabulous you look!

3. Display your finest products as if they were prized jewels up for auction. Your most expensive perfumes, most frequently used lotions, and similar items should be placed in a mirrored or silver tray on top of flat, commonly unused surface— like the top of your chest of drawers. That way, you’ll be able to spritz and go— but with poshness.

4. Invest in an elegant lounging chair— particularly an ottoman, chaise lounge, or egg chair. A boudoir is simply not complete without a lounge chair in which you are able to drape things onto or languorously put on your heels while sitting. A costly investment— perhaps —but it is definitely worthwhile!

5. Keep a nightstand next to your bed. It’s not entirely uncommon for people to have nightstands next to their beds, as it allows for one to keep their little knickknacks close by— ones they wouldn’t want to get out of bed to retrieve. You should opt for a practical, yet glamourous nightstand— perhaps one in a bold color or with an opulent trim, something that hints towards both femininity and lavishness.

6. Give your boudoir a signature scent. Just as a woman should adopt a signature scent, a boudoir should do the same. The scent you choose for your boudoir should not be overwhelming, as this is where you spend a significant amount of time and you don’t want to feel as if you’re being asphyxiated by your own bad decision. Choose a scent that you find... refreshing, as it mirrors exactly how you should feel when you step into your boudoir.

7. Host your collections. I find it simply divine to be able to proudly call yourself a “collector” of a certain item. Be it porcelain dolls, DVDs, books by your favorite author, or perfumes, your boudoir should be a reflection of you and the things you like and what screams you (materialistically speaking) more than your collections?!

8. Your curtains, [table]cloths, and other furniture coverings should compliment— if not match —one another. There is nothing more an eyesore than a poorly decorated room— particularly one in which nothing matches or compliments anything. Interior decorating is either a hit or miss with most individuals— and rightfully so! The curtains and coverings you choose should be only of the most divine fabrics; they should not be cheap or possess the ability to tear within a single wash. And as mentioned above, they should all compliment one another. Color-wise, black and white, beige and forest green, pink and cream, and crimson and black are all divine combinations! Fabric-wise, silk and satin and cotton and linen are both just wonderful combinations!

9. Prance around your boudoir in silk nightgowns and cutesy lingerie. How boring a boudoir is when it’s occupant does not match its glamour. Invest in good pajamas and lingerie if you haven’t already. Not only will you look better, you’ll feel better about yourself, too!

10. Keep your boudoir tidy. It is never glamorous to have your belongings scattered all over the place— sometimes shattered or spilled. You must live like a princess, not a peasant, and princesses never leave the house with their bedsheets on the floor or lingerie draped over their chairs.

[bronze-bell]

Whatever was under those sounds, those short bursts of laughter from a voice unused, the wavering that fell directly into him, Aesop couldn't fully grasp. Was it worry, sadness, fear? Being overwhelmed? Was he being too much? But if it was... Victor wasn't pulling away. That wouldn't make sense. So what was it?

The faint smell of smoke tickles Aesop's nose, as he ghosts his fingers carefully along Victor's body like the postman was made of the finest porcelain. Reopening wounds has never done anyone good. Prying the scars open would surely cause pain. The opposite of what he wanted to do.

It would be familiar to have Victor's body, cold and unconscious, within his arms. And yet, all these things that make him alive are... so soothing. So reassuring. He doesn't want to lose that. Maybe it made him selfish, to be unable to complete his mission now that he had seen too much of the human who he would send to the other side (and who would come back anyway). How funny that in a place where people come back, he now struggles with what he came here to do.

Victor surely was just as lonely, in just as much need of a companion. Just as insistent at holding up an image of normalcy, though their appearances differed. Then Victor spoke once more, and Aesop's breaths turned heaving, tears streaming down once more. (He definitely needed to switch his mask after this...)

"Y-you... won't have to wait that long again... okay? Neither... will I." Aesop's words fall unevenly, awkwardly, breath hitching and pace changing seemingly at random as he struggles to find the right words. The two shared this space together, and could collapse together. Wouldn't have to hide, even if they still performed. "I... I feel the same. I-... I adore you too."

Tears from above make Victor's hair damp, and he laughs a little in disbelief. He doesn't mind the wetness one bit, even though he knows he'll probably look dishevelled because of it. Actually, scratch that, he probably looks dishevelled anyway, and that's not even bringing up the fact he never straightened himself out after last night.

He'd always been a little unsightly, with his dead eyes and sewn mouth and burns all over his hands all tied up in a bundle that can never quite get rid of the scent of fire embedded into rosy skin that may as well be canvas with how nothing else on him looks human enough.

Faintly, he's glad the door is locked so tight, because if anybody saw him like this.... It would be bad, right? To see him a blushy mess with tears on his cheeks? ...Well, if his head was on straighter right now he wouldn't dare to think this, but he wouldn't actually mind being intruded upon, as long as he could stay in Aesop's arms like this. Maybe they'd give him some affection themselves, but that's unlikely. It doesn't really matter though. He thinks Aesop would be better at anything they might try to do anyway.

Aesop's hands are soft, even with the gloves he can tell that. They're elegant, using the tools he always carries for his tasks with ease, and Victor wonders if they hold a scalpel just as smoothly as a brush. He'd noticed it, glittering but well hidden, amongst Aesop's makeup kit, but it's only now he recognises what its purpose must be.

Whatever Aesop will do to him, he just hopes it won't hurt. He doesn't want to feel panicked and scared despite himself as he drifts away, even if he knows he'll come back. Maybe that's a selfish wish, considering the point is to die, but he wishes it nonetheless.

Though he probably doesn't have to worry about it, with how Aesop wanders at night he's probably skilled enough to know the most painless way possible. Granted, Victor doesn't know what that would be, the only death he can think of that'd be quick and painless also happens to be extremely messy, and he doubts that's what Aesop would like. His thoughts reach his mouth, eventually, and so a question is asked into the quiet air.

"a-are you... g-going to kill me yet...? Or... wait until later?" He leans back a little, closing his eyes as his smile turns softer, fonder, under Aesop's gaze. He doesn't try to look up at it, not wanting the ingrained discomfort of meeting his eyes right now.

It takes Aesop a moment to react, to respond, and before he realises it he's being held tighter than before.

It's nice.

[cheesus-doodles]

So we know bff baji has a y/n shrine, but do the other boys have shrines too? Who has the most extreme shrine?(stolen clothes, toothbrush, baby pictures, that one lollipop you threw in the trash after tasting it cause it was grape flavor)

interesting food for thought anon - i like it, have a ranking :) i didn't do all the boys cause i'm a bit lazy and tired to think but i did most of my favourites at least heheh. redid Baji's here in the context of a yandere platonic - YALL HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG THIS TOOK ME AKJSDNASLDJNA its been sitting in my drafts for like MONTHS back to being unalive

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Recommended Readings: Yan BFF Baji photo collection & shrine

Masterlist

tw: yandere, stalking

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Least to Most Extreme Shrine

Yandere Platonic Toman Boys

Draken: Given the relative tight living space that Draken lives in, plus the number of people he shares his living space with, this boy is very selective in the stuff that he collects to add to his modest shrine. Doesn't want the girls that he stays with or Mr Masamichi to find out - would have no idea how to face the person who raised him should his shrine be found. Favours small, intimate things that you have personally given to him, as well as pictures of you and him having fun, but nothing too many or too much - does sometimes clear out older notes and belongings in favour of new ones. Will not even think about stealing any of your personal belongings though. Occasionally gives the shrine - a tucked away, unused drawer - a quick clean when he feels its getting a bit dirty.

Inupi: Absolutely loves to collect small personal items that you tend to forget about and leave behind at his place or with him, especially items that he could delude himself into belonging into Akane, such as hair ties and lip gloss, but just a few select pictures of you and him - enough to keep him grounded in reality. Small and compact mobile shrine that Inupi regularly cleans and clears - can fit in a pouch to be brought around with him because no way was he going to leave it lying around somewhere where anyone could stumble across it - like for example Koko. Also easy to hide away when those periods of clarity hits Inupi and he just needs to put away your little shrine because he's freaked out, but in the end your things (and you) provide too much comfort to this boy for him to be able to give it up.

Kazutora: For all his neediness and insecurity about you and your affection, Kazutora isn't particularly interested in building a large shrine - just something modest sized and enough to tide him over until the next time he gets to see you. Sure he jealously hoards and protects anything that you personally gave him - a hair tie, a note with his name written on it and a little heart, photos of you and him, maybe the wrapper of a sweet you gave him - but he wouldn't go out of his way to steal your belongings. After all, no item was better than being with you, and if he ever wanted anything you owned, it was a simple matter of letting himself into your bedroom and helping himself. Occasionally wipes down the little hidden nook of his room where he set up your shrine, but can't bear to throw anything away.

Kakucho: Doesn't want to overstep his boundaries when it comes to you, so Kakucho's shrine is small and highly personal - very strict with his collection so only items that you have personally used were carefully collected, placed into a ziplock bag, and added to his mini shrine that is squirrelled away at the back of a kitchen cupboard of healthy snacks, where he knew Izana would never look. Keeps his shrine at a very modest 10 items at any point in time, very neatly packed and kept dustless, because his guilt at "stealing" you from Izana would eat him alive if he had anymore of your stuff. This baby boy has very guiltily looked through your trash (would never even dream about looking through your bag) for your finished lipsticks and gloss and empty makeup containers.

Mistuya: Being a fashion designer with a keen interest in you, while having to balance his small living space, it's no wonder that the favourite things Mitsuya likes to collect for his shrine would be various articles of your clothes, as well as the remnants of the small handicraft projects that you test out with him and end up disliking or discarding, and of course, your hand-stitched handkerchiefs. Things that are easy and compact to keep yet personal enough to tie back to you - this boy has definitely gone through your cupboard and laundry at some point looking for things that you wouldn't miss that he could take. His sisters know better than to dare touch the box of items reverently kept at the bottom of Mistuya's wardrobe. Keeps his little shrine neat and tiny, making sure to replace the mothballs every other month.

Baji: Really, really wants to expand his shrine, but knows that his shrine can't be big to the point his mother finds out just precisely how obsessed he was with you. The most scattered shrine out of everyone, Baji is very systematic in where he cautiously tucks your stuff in various parts of his room so that nothing ever looks out of place. Absolutely favourite things of yours that he hoards would be your shirts, especially since he can cuddle them to sleep, and small personal belongings that he can carry with him at all times, like that little encouraging note you gave him together with the pen you used to write the note. Photos are a must - Baji has some that he sneakily took of you without you knowing, and these are kept neatly at the bottom of his drawer, while the rest of the normal ones fill the wall next to his bed, where he can fall asleep to happy memories. Does occasionally return the shirts he has in his shrine to exchange them for more recently worn ones.

Ran: Has no shame in letting himself into your house and helping himself to whatever catches his fancy, even if you were standing right there looking at him take your hoodie from behind your door and sling it over his shoulder, tuck one of your favourite plushies under his arm before strolling right out. But Ran also likes to collect things that belonged to you and that you used regularly to remind himself of you wherever he went, preferably things that are easily carried around in his coat pocket, like your brushes or hair ties. Doesn't hide his shrine or collection from his younger brother because he knows that Rindo gets super envious when Ran has something that belonged to you that Rindo couldn't get and likes to rub it in, especially since Rindo doesn't have the balls than his older brother has blatantly stealing from you. Will not hesitate to emotionally blackmail you into handing more of your stuff over when you do get round to asking for your clothes/stuffies back.

Mikey: Likes to pretend that you were only friends with him and nobody else, and from the way he collects your things, anyone on the outside looking in would think so. Not sure how many pieces of clothings, stuffies and pillows this baby boy has taken home with him, but at this point his bed is probably his shrine - filled to the brim with your stuff. Mikey loves to surround himself with things that has your smell, especially on nights when he has to fall asleep alone, and always insists that you gave it to him if you try to ask for at least a pillow back, not hesitating to break out the watery eyes and whimpers when you do retrieve something from his house to bring home. At least will extract a promise from you to let him have another worn hoodies/shirt in return. His shrine is not very well-maintained, with stuff usually spilling onto the floor while this boy sleeps simply because of the amount of things he tries to have on his bed, but he makes sure to at least make his bed/shrine before he leaves for the day.

Izana: This baby boy wants to believe that you were living with him, and his shrine - which has basically expanded to sprawl the entirety of the apartment he shares with Kakucho - consists of all kinds of belongings, ranging from personal to daily use stuff that he helps himself to from your house and bag. Won't even blink if you ask him about the stuff he was helping himself to, will just let you know that it now belonged to him, and ask when you were planning to move in. Items that Izana values the most - such as your half-used chapstick that he stole last winter, your old toothbrush he had Kakucho take from your trash for him, and a set of worn pajamas - are kept in his bedroom, neatly displayed on a shelf which he can see from his bed. Food items like the lollipop you took a small lick of and then asked if he wanted it instead were carefully wrapped and placed in a dedicated section of the fridge, while pictures of you and him, cutouts of you from other photos, and photos of when you were younger scattered around the walls. Doesn't really maintain his shrine very well with its sheer size, but at least remembers to dust off his bedroom shrine once a week.

Rindo: For once Rindo is selfish enough to not want to share his collection of your stuff with Ran. Protects his own shrine very jealously from his brother, located in a secret location outside of the home that they share (that Ran definitely knows about but pretends not to for the sake of Rindo's sanity) - maybe something like a small storage unit he rents not far from where they live. And this baby boy hoards absolutely everything that you have ever used or have ever given to him. Absolutely no shame in stealing from your house and bag, targeting personal use item like pens, makeup, old contact lenses, anything he can get away with even if you did happen to notice, even old photos and baby photos. Will ask to have your leftovers just so that he can share the fork that you used, and then take it home to add to his collection. Sometimes will bring home some of his shrine items - especially things that his brother doesn't have - to help him sleep better, placed neatly on his bedside table. Spends a few hours every week carefully cleaning up his shrine, replacing storage bags and very reluctantly throwing away items that can no longer be kept, like the last bit of half eaten hotdog that you couldn't finish and that he offered to help.

Koko: Unexpected victor of most extreme shrine. Anything that he can get his hands on that you once touched, used or even better, owned, would be something Koko desperately seeked to collect and add to his shrine. This boy's the sort that would buy things to gift to you with the sole purpose of being able to steal it back for his collection and replace it with another new item - especially likes to do this with clothes: shirts, pajamas, handkerchiefs, sweaters, hoodies, you name it, Koko has probably already bought multiple sets for you. Will not be above trying to buy out the collections from the other boys so that he can add to his own. Absolutely pays his Black Dragons by the items that they dig out from your trash and bring to him with proper proof that it belonged to you - the more personal the item, like lipstick or contact lenses, the higher the bounty. All the while he himself guiltlessly helps himself to anything he wants from inside your house and bags. He probably has also bought a whole apartment or at least a permanent storage area for your shrine, with an attached refrigerated area for him to keep food stuff like half eaten sweets and packs of snacks that you once shared with him. Keeps the place spotless, spends upwards of half a day to come round and personally clean. Obviously this baby boy is just trying to fill the void where he has to live without your pampering and affection.

[writing-in-april]

Green with Envy

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer gets green with envy over something reader can’t control angering reader- hot and heavy makeup sex ensues.

A/N: hey guys 🥺 this is my sixth fic for my 1250 follower celebration and this is a day late- thank you to everyone who was super nice and considerate about me pushing this off till today- I was having a super hard time emotionally last night and I needed some time to myself. Again thanks so so much- this is based off of a combination of this request and this request for jealous Spencer. Also part two to Dr. Jekyll will be out tonight or tomorrow depending on if I can finish it- still a little bit behind schedule from me pushing this off last night. Thanks for reading 🥺

Warnings: 18+, Someone’s harassing reader at work, Spencer is a jerk at first I promise he apologizes, Unprotected sex, Oral sex (F receiving)

Main Masterlist Word Count: 2.1k

“Could you go and check case evidence? And bring the detective with you.” Hotch had approached me, giving me orders for the next step to take in the team’s investigation. I accepted them with no discernible dissent in my voice towards Hotch, even though I would have rather stayed with Spencer working on the geographical profile. Especially since the detective had not taken my subtle hints of turning him down when he flirted with me. Unfortunately like many of these instances it was just easier to keep my mouth shut rather than cause problems with the police department we were liaising with. Though I still did know if I’d I had told Hotch he would’ve understood and changed it with a drop of a hat. it was still just easier to not say anything and power through the case, however sad and disappointing it was.

The detective had been hot on my heels ever since we had touched down here. At first it had been endearing and I just carefully let him down, saying a simple no to coffee.

I was sure he got the impression that if he ‘convinced me’ more he’d get me to say yes. I hadn’t told him until later that I had a boyfriend because it hadn’t been his business. I had only told him with a snippy tone in frustration when he would not let up. Unfortunately for me again he seemed to take it as a sign of ‘playing hard to get’ and did not stop his pursuits. I should probably tell Hotch about it before I punch him in the nose.

I was frustrated and annoyed, plus basically every other negative feeling in the book. I just wanted to be alone, or with Spencer.

When I finally got time to slip out of the room for a breather I scampered my way over to where my boyfriend was as he always gave me some sort of solace.

Unfortunately, it seems like the universe was against me this week.

Spencer’s eyes usually held not one ounce of anger, especially not towards me. When he flashed me a glare I got a little angry myself. What had I done to face the wrath of the genius? His demeanor towards me wasn’t doing anything to squash my bad feelings as it normally did, right now it was just fueling the flames.

I decided to just ask him upfront after a third glare was flashed in my direction instead of dancing around the issue any more, we did have a job to do, “Hey- Spencer, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His tone was clipped and sharp, sharp enough that it felt like it could cut me.I wouldn’t have been that surprised if it did. It was obvious that ‘nothing’ was not true, there was obviously something going on.

I decided to ask again just to be sure, though there was definitely a possibility I was going to be snapped at again, “Are you sure?”

The harsh glare I was given was more piercing than the previous ones, cutting me deep.

“Yes, I’m sure!” Was whispered shouted at me along with the glare. It took every fiber of my being not to snap his head off even harsher than what he had done to me. Blinking back tears I got up and stormed off, completely done with the day- with this case. I just wanted to put this case behind me, putting it in the files to never be thought about by me again.

—

When we got to the hotel, after we were finished for the day, there was an eerie silence that fell over us. The silence only held for a moment as we stared at each other. I wasn’t going to speak before he was and if it wasn’t an apology I didn’t know if I had the energy left in me to say anything back.

I had ended up telling Hotch what had been going on with the detective, it had become too much for it to be reasonable to brush off (though in a perfect world brushing off someone like that wouldn’t be a reality but that’s just a daydream of mine I guess)

I stood at the other side of the room for a minute waiting to see if he’d say anything or if we’d be dancing around each other like this for the rest of the night.

He ran his hands through his hair a few times, looking like he was trying to collect his thoughts and sat down on one of the beds in the room. I wondered also if I’d be slipping into the second untouched bed by the window tonight.

“I-I’m so sorry.” My only response at first was a slight hum from the back of my throat while I processed my own thoughts. He seemed sincere, I wanted to believe he was sincere that is.

“Sorry for what?” On the ride back to the hotel, once my irritation towards his attitude had somewhat satiated in the cool silence of the car, I had figured out what he had been bothered by. Spencer wasn’t all that hard to read once I got to know him. However, I wasn’t going to provide the reason for it, I still wanted to hear the reasoning from his own mouth.

“I was envious- jealous of you and the detective today.”

“You were envious?” Being green with envy wasn’t something that Spencer had ever expressed in our relationship before. Being envious- or jealous as most people would call it could be something to be played with in a relationship. It’s an emotion to be delicately handled otherwise the relationship could be filled with possessiveness and aggression.

Spencer was for sure out of line earlier today, he was certainly right when he said I’m sorry.

But, since he had said sorry and that I could tell he was sincere, maybe there was still a chance to play with the delicate emotion in a way that would not crack the foundation. Plus the added fact that I didn’t need to ask for an apology was comforting. There was no need for a fight when the person at fault admitted it. And, in time I’m sure when our relationship has had more time to build a larger foundation, those feelings of envy would not be so easily provoked— unless of course if it was time to play with those delicate emotions.

“Y-yeah, I was getting mad that I wasn’t the one that you were with today. A-and- I also didn’t like that the detective wouldn’t stop flirting with you…” His stuttered apology wasn’t what I was totally paying attention to, though don’t get me wrong I did appreciate it. What I was focused on was how much I wanted to claim him, to show him how much I was just as much as he was mine.

“Well, I’m glad you apologized, I accept it and I understand where you were coming from- plus the case hasn’t been easy on any of us. Just don’t ever do something like that again, please.” Spencer’s shoulders slumped from a sigh and an added nod, relaxing from my words after being tense with anxiety. Sauntering over to him after I had accepted his apology with one plan in mind made my panties wet with anticipation. When I straddled his lap his eyes blew wide, not expecting these turn of events. I grabbed the back of his hair, not too harshly, just enough to get a firm grip to tilt his hair back while I spoke into the shell of his ear, “And, now I’d like to show you how much I belong to you— and it’s just as much as you belong to me.”

Instead of getting an intelligible response from Spencer all I got was a moan, not that I was complaining. While I captured his lips in a breathless kiss I began to grind my hips down onto him in slow circles, giving him a taste of what’s to come.

He surrendered to my dominance in the kiss almost immediately, letting me guide him in any way I wanted him to go. As I rocked my hips over the bulge in his slacks I could feel it grow harder underneath me, I couldn’t wait to free it from its confines. I made sure to mark up his neck with as many hickies that made me satisfied- plus I let him give a few to me as well.

His submission underneath me wasn’t something that I was unused to. This time seemed to be a little different however.

I couldn’t place my finger on what exactly was different, maybe it was that we were so desperate for each other that the clothes practically melted off- which was a lot quicker than how we normally took our pace.

“Can I show you how good I can be for you, Miss?” His eyes were wide and begging, there was no way I could refuse a face like that.

That was how I ended up riding his face, with no hesitation in sight from him. All he wanted to do was to please and he was greedy for it. Even after I had started to pull up off of him after I had already had a shattering orgasm he pulled his hands down onto my hips to have me writhing on top of him im overstimulation. I could’ve punished him for it, but it felt too good to punish.

I was going to make sure he was ready too, possibly by taking him into my mouth for a bit, which I loved to do. However, his little whimpered out pleads about how much he wanted to feel me were just as hard to ignore as the previous pleas. It was hard to say no to a face that looked so pretty when he begged.

I sunk down on him slowly, at least letting myself relish in that feeling for a bit before Spencer would undoubtedly coax me into a faster pace because of how desperate he was. My own desperation wasn’t too far behind to be honest.

When I took him down fully to the hilt I only let myself feel the weight of him inside me for a moment before I started to roll my hips to create a rhythm. The pace I created was just as everything else up until this point had been, desperate.

While I bounced on him I had become unsatisfied with the amount of marks I had left on him before, diving into his neck to pepper them with hickies not really considering the fact that we had to go to work tomorrow. At least he still had that concealer he bought when we first started dating.

Seems that Spencer could not seem to think of it either as in between my ravishing of his neck and upper chest he’d also been getting in his fair share of marks. His were more centered at my chest, he’d been making sure my boobs were not neglected.

My second orgasm washed over me when Spencer brought up his fingers to rub my clit in quick circles. When my pace began to stutter in their movements as I rode myself through my orgasm while trying to help Spencer reach his, his hands came up to my hips to help aid me. Once my pleasure had partially abated I began to focus on his.

“Come on, sweet boy, you’ve shown me how good you are, now I want you to cum for me.”

His eyes rolled back into his head at my words, close to falling off the edge. I grabbed both of his hands interlinking them together and pinned them to the bed to help push him towards his release. A high pitched whine came up from his throat and he fell over the edge, cumming inside me.

We stayed together like that for a bit while we were both coming down from our highs. For a while there was only silence between us as we basked in each other's presence until I decided to make a joke.

“Are you no longer green with envy?” I simpered a bit at him, teasing him just a little as I started to even out my breath some whileI also traced all the marks I had left on him. I was teasing him about the events of today, but I’m reality that horrible detective was far from my mind- it was just Spencer and I. I’d have to see later while looking in the mirror what marks he had also left on me to claim me just as much as I had done to him.

His nose scrunched up at me and he giggled, his giggles were my favorite sound. When I first heard it I knew I would become addicted to pulling little giggles out of him as often as I could. In an uncharacteristic comeback through giggles Spencer then said, “No you kinda fucked it out of me.”

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

Sub Spencer: @thatsonezesty13 @pastathighs @virtualpeanutartisanjudge @calm-and-doctor

[itsstrange]

Coffee Run & Green Eyes

Series: Spark Between Us

Relationship: Jensen Ackles x Skyline McNoir (OFC)

A/N: Hey everyone! I know it’s been a long time and I apologize for those waiting for more stories, but if you follow me on IG then you would know that this last week I was struck with a stomach flu which caused me to not have enough energy for various things. Luckily, I’ve recovered and feel much better. I also want to apologize to those who have requested me some stories, don’t worry I have Not forgotten about you! Just been dealing with some things!

But!! To not keep you guys in the dark I decided to post a Series I wrote for Ao3 on here, just to give y’all something to read meanwhile I work on some other works for y’all!! Hope y’all enjoy it!

Another thing, we have hit 105 followers y’all!!!! Thank you so much for all the love y’all continue in giving me!! I appreciate it so much!! 🥲💚

✨{Credits to owner for the gif}✨

Summary: Skyline McNoir tags along with a few friends who are attending a convention of some show she’s never watched. Little did she know, she would fall head over heels for the lead actor.

Word Count: 2.4 K

Warnings: Will contain Fluff, public sex, alcohol consumption, public fingering, just pure NSFW for all you Jensen fans out there 😊

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ENJOY!!

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The blasting chorus of Follow Me Now by Jason Gleed, wakes Skyline up. Her Hazel eyes glare straight ahead at the coconut cream wall for a few seconds before bringing the cover above her head, trying to muffled the music. Which didn’t help. At all. Then to make the morning less fun, her bed begins to shake violently by her best friend who’s jumping up down awhile singing at the top of her lungs. Skyline groans into the covers and tries to bury herself deeper into the warmth, but before she can even hide, the covers are being shoved off her form. A shiver runs throughout her body from the coldness in the room.

“C’mon Sky! Today’s the day!” Erin yells as she hovers above,

Skyline groans once again, eyes closed shut when it’s far too bright in the room “Five more minutes,”

“No come on,” Erin says, slightly pushing Sky’s body with her foot, “Tiffany and Laila are already downstairs grabbing breakfast,”

Still not moving, Erin shoves her body once again with her foot, when that didn’t do the trick an evil smirk spreads on her face. Grabbing an unused pillow, she raises it above her head before roughly slamming it against Sky’s head, causing her to jerk upright. With sleep still in her eyes, Sky is only able to squint at her best friend.

“Erin! What the fu-,” Her words were cut off when a large pillow smacks her in the face,

Erin chuckles at her, ignoring the death stare as she hops off her bed, “Chop chop.. we got a busy day today!”

With a roll of her eyes and a loud groan, Sky rolls off the comforter and towards the bathroom. After taking care of her regular morning routines, she hops in the shower. Erin’s music still blasted through the speakers, as Sky took a quick shower and she honestly hoped none of their neighbors complained about their disturbance, she knew she would have if she was trying to get a few more hours of shut eye.

That’s all she ever really wanted at the moment, sleep. After months of studying, exams, piles upon piles of work, and busting all nighters she was finally in winter break. The feeling of being able to come home for the holidays and spending those days with her family sounded amazing and relaxing. However, after the second day of being home, she gets a call from Erin. Mentioning something about having another extra ticket for a convention to meet the cast of some show she’s never watched. She kindly declined the offer, wanting to spend her days off with her family sounded like a much better idea than meeting unknown actors. However, Sky often forgets Erin is not the type to take no for an answer and demanded her to hand the phone over to her mother.

Thinking her mother would defend her and find a way to convince Erin to try and find someone else to take to the convention, Sky hands the phone over to her mother. You can only imagine who won that argument.

Once out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her body, Sky heads out the bathroom and towards her duffel bag. In the winter season of Austin, Texas, she decides on a plain long sleeve, black jeans, grey hoodie, black boots on her feet with a leather jacket on top. Once her hair is made and adds a couple splashes of makeup on her face, she grabs her phone and book from the small counter as she follows Erin out the room. After a few minutes later, they finally arrive in the breakfast buffet where Tiffany and Laila are already stuffing themselves with waffles and eggs. With a yawn, Sky makes her way over to the buffet with Erin right behind her. Once they both get their plates and sit down on the table, they dig in before getting on with their day.

****

8:45 am

“Oh my god!! I just hugged Speight!!” The sound of Laila coming around the corner interrupts Sky from her book,

The sight of Laila bouncing up and down on her feet with a wide grin makes a small chuckle escape from Skyline. As her friends beamed over this Speight guy, Sky returns her focus down on her book. Not really paying much attention at their excitement, but still having a smile on her lips as she reads the next chapter in her book. Even if she’s not having the same excitement as her friends, she is still having fun with them. Being around them in general for whatever reason always brightens her day. No matter how rough of a day she’s seems to be having, her girls always know just how to distract her and make her have fun.

“Ohh it’s almost time for Osric’s panel,” Tiffany says while looking down at her phone,

No longer able to focus on her book, Sky marks her spot before getting up from the floor.

“You guys go in, I’ve got auto’s for Kim at nine,”

It’s barely nine in the morning? Jesus. Sky thinks to herself, the day has felt extremely long she could have sworn it was already noon.

“Okay, let’s go Sky,” Laila motions her head to the side for her to follow,

“If you guys want me to continue tagging along, I’m gonna need an espresso,” Sky states, feeling yet another yawn creeping up her throat,

Her friends chuckle at her but agreed with her idea. They wouldn’t want her dragging her feet all over the convention, besides, coffee did sound like a great idea. Once writing down their preferred drinks in her notes, Sky leaves through the doors, down the steps and towards a coffee shop not too far away. It was only a couple blocks away, she should make it back in no time. Hugging her jacket closer to her body when the wind picks up, Sky quickens her movements to avoid its freezing weather but careful to not slip on the wet pavement. The last thing she needs is to fall flat on her ass, better yet get a concussion or go back home with a broken wrist.

Boy would her mom faint if she saw her daughter in a cast. Will most likely give her a lecture on why it’s important not to be on the phone during the most worst seasons. ‘If you weren’t on the phone this wouldn’t have happened Skyline’. Yep. She can definitely hear her ranting.

After a few blocks in the harsh winds, Skyline is finally reaching the small little coffee joint. Just as she reaches for the handle of the door, another, large, hand reaches at the same time. Thick fingers slightly touching her own, making her pull back with an apology.

“No it’s fine go ahead,” A deep voice says beside her, letting a shiver run down her body,

Most likely from the weather, what else would it be?

She looks up at the man. Dark beard, shades on his face, black hat on his head, with a black T-Shirt underneath a checkered navy flannel and black Levi’s jacket. Even under the dark shades she can tell he was good looking, handsome in fact.

“No you can go ahead,” Sky smiles at the man, stepping aside for him to enter,

He only shakes his head, gripping the door handle as he opens it for her, “Please I insist, my mom would throw a fit if she finds out I didn’t show my manners,”

Sky chuckles at him, “Well we wouldn’t want that now,”

The man chuckles back, smile forming on his lips. Man did that smile just make her stomach flip.

“No, we really wouldn’t,” Chuckling once more at him she accepts the offer with a thanks before entering the coffee shop,

As she walks inside, the change of temperature immediately hits her cold cheeks. Almost as if a heating furnace was suddenly shoved in her face, but she wasn’t complaining, the warmth was needed. Walking further into the coffee shop, she takes a glance over her shoulder to see if the man was behind her, but only lets a smile appear when she catches the moment of him allowing an elderly couple enter before him.

That’s sweet. She thinks to herself as she walks up to the counter. Once her drinks have been ordered and paid, she heads over to a small empty table near the window. Sitting on the chair she pulls out her book and continues where she left off as she waits for her drinks. A few minutes had passed and Sky was too engrossed in her book to notice her name being called out by the barista. Eventually though, she comes back to reality when someone places her drink in front her. Looking up from her book she meets eyes with bright emerald orbs, and noticing those breathtaking eyes belong to the same man from the door.

“I’m guessing your Skyline?,” The way her name rolls off his deep voice sends a shiver down her spine,

Definitely can’t be the air this time, absolutely not.

Eyeing the cup of coffee in front of her, she lifts a eyebrow at the man, teasing him. Even if she sees her name written on the side of the cup.

“And what makes you think that?” The way his lips slightly lift causes something to flip in her stomach,

Again.

“Well.. seeing how there’s hardly folks in here,” He looks around the shop for a few seconds before landing his eyes on hers again, “and you being the only one sitting down without a coffee.. I took a guess,”

Sky hums with a smile as she takes the cup, “Nice deduction,”

He shrugs a shoulder with a smile, “This seat taken?”

Sky shakes her head as she takes careful sips from her drink. With a small smile the man pulls out the chair with his other free hand, seeing how he has a cup of his own in one hand.

“I’m Ross by the way,” The man extends a hand once seated,

With a smile Sky accepts his hand, feeling it warm and rough as it wraps around her own.

“Nice to meet you,” Still smiling she pulls away from his firm hand,

“You around from here or just passing through?” He asks, taking careful sips from his cup,

Sky softly smiles at him as she wraps her hands around her coffee, trying to warm up her fingers.

“Born and raised,” He raises a brow at the small fact,

“No kidding?”

She nods, “Yeah but I’m just home for the holidays,”

He hums with a nod, “In the army or something?”

Sky couldn’t help the chuckle that escapes from her, definitely noticing how the corner of the mans lips slightly lift as well.

“More like college. My last year,”

“Really? What’re you studying?” He asks, taking another sip, never letting his eyes drift from her Hazel ones,

But does notice how they dart down towards his mouth before quickly looking back up to his eyes. A small smirk hides behind the cup, but doesn’t hide it when he pulls it away from his face.

“Biology,” He hums once again with a sincere smile, making her stomach flip,

It was such an odd feeling, especially when it was coming directly from a man she hardly knows. But for some reason, it felt right. Their conversations switched from topic to topic, never faltering. It just felt right, as if they were long time friends catching up with each other instead of two strangers who just met. Eventually, their conversation was cut short with the barista calling out her name once again with the rest of her drinks.

Getting up from her seat she walks over to the counter where her drinks waited. As she grabbed a cup holder and begins placing her drinks in each space, Ross, settles next to her. Getting a whiff of his cologne. Leaning on the counter he had both his and her coffee in either hand, which he hands over with a smile once all coffees were safely secured in place.

“I should get going,” She smiles up at his green orbs, and only then noticing how freckles are splashed on his face,

This man was literally dashing, no doubt about it.

“Yeah same here,” He says looking down at his watch, “Need a ride?”

She shakes her head with a smile, “I’m good thanks,”

“You sure? Heard it might rain,” He continues to lean on the counter as she places her coffee in an empty slot of the holder,

“I’m sure, it’s just a few blocks from here,”

“Well it can rain from those few blocks,” He argues as he gives her a smile, not wanting to end their little moment,

Neither did she, but she had friends waiting and the moment she tells them the reason why she took a little longer than expected, they wouldn’t leave her alone until she gives them the whole shebang.

She lets a small chuckle escape her lips as she picks up the coffees, “I’ll make a run for it,”

He softly chuckles at her comment, green eyes staring straight into her Hazel orbs that have slightly turned grey from her sweater. Definitely finding her and her eyes fascinating and beautiful.

“It was nice meeting you Ross,” She smiles at him as she walks away,

He smiles as he watches her, sending her a wave goodbye when she looks over her shoulder before walking out the door. Watching her leave didn’t feel like a loss, it felt the complete opposite actually. Why? Well for starters, he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he saw her considering she had the all too familiar Creation Entertainment wristband on her left hand. Also, he had her book inside his jacket, another reason on why he would see her again.

Both to retrieve her book and to have a reason to see her again. Don’t get him wrong, he was actually going to give it to her before she left, but the thought of holding it and having a reason to see her again sounded like great idea. He wanted to see her again, wanted to have a conversation longer than 10 minutes and just wanted to get to know her. She was different, in a good way, absolutely in a good way. The way she seemed to not know him or maybe she did but simply did not care made him feel relaxed, made him feel somewhat normal and he would give anything to feel that way again.

Even if it meant “stealing” her book to have an excuse to see her again.

PART 2

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-Hope y’all enjoyed this first part of the series!! Stay tuned for random updates for ‘Spark Between Us’ I won’t give an announcement on when I’ll update it so keep your eyes peeled on it!!

-Turn on Post Notifications!! 🔔 For more!!

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[hysteriium]

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆;

(𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞)

(𝐀/𝐧 ): This is the first I’ve posted in ages!!! I can’t recall how long it’s been, life has truly been hectic but I’m getting back on the saddle!!! We’re starting with my boi! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing this! I’ve been experimenting with the way he talks so it’s not as overt as I’ve previously written! I feel like the intonations may break the flow a bit so I’ve tried to make it more cohesive! Lmk what you guys think! Also shout out to my amazing partner @lilliryth​ they’re the light of my life and helped me edit this!! They’re such an amazing person and I would not be where I am today without them. 

( 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ): Wedding. That is all. It’s not what you think. 

( 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ): DK! Joker x Reader. 

( 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ): 7,600+ k words!

( 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ): Angst (very little), swearing, violence. 

The first time you’d asked, he simply stared in disbelief. 

“Come again?” The bright red hues of confusion painted his husky voice. 

The question had been wreaking havoc in your thoughts for the past month, unsure of how to slip out from ambiguity onto the sureness of the tongue. Such a bold yet silly little request was sure to be large and repugnant to the man hovering above you. While the darkness of his eyes was accentuated by his stygian greasepaint, hints of cocoa peeked through, prompting shy flutters of anxiety in your abdomen.  

You can do this.

Your tongue slid across the arid cracks of your lips, wetting them. You cleared your throat, “I need a date to a wed–” 

That was all you could get out before he blinked a few times and strode off.

The second time, albeit similar in difficulty, thankfully didn’t result in him running. 

You tiptoed into his makeshift office with an air of mischief, his room sombre except for the lamp that spotlighted his desk. Hunched over blueprints which you suspected were his next big scheme, his eyes never drifted from the intricacies on the paper. 

“Boo!” You shouted, catching his hips with an unbreakable hold when you closed the distance. While his body tensed, he couldn’t control the breath of amusement that left his nose.

“I can see you really tried there.” 

You knew he followed your stare when his long fingers worked to roll the sheet. They were fast – so fast the pinched ends stuck out in layered rings that almost resembled winding mountainous trails. He couldn’t have curious eyes ogling his extra top secret will-have-to-kill-you-if-you-found-out criminal plans, now could he? 

“What?” you started, while your hands fell and your footsteps whispered away from him. You felt the creases of your mouth wobble, ready to smile at any moment, and so you bit the inside of your tongue. “Don’t you trust me?” 

“No,” he smirked, petting your head. 

Curse his height. 

“Now, uh, what is it, doll?” 

You let your smile leap free, “I need to ask a super dooper big fav–”

“I’m not going.” 

“But whyyyyyy? My parents are harassing me! They think their daughter’s going to grow old and grey and be alone forever.”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why.” 

You shot him a look, one that only fuelled his amusement.

“J, I can’t just not show up.” 

You watched his figure rise slightly as he drew and released a breath. 

“I don’t like wed–” his tongue stuck out like he’d tasted something bad before he cleared his throat “–dings, they’re full of false hope, drunks and...” he shuddered, “romance. You see, they’ll end up killing each other in a few years. I can picture it now: dearly beloved wife kills cheating husband. Oh how could this have ever happened?” 

He scoffed.

“You’re so dramatic. I promise it would only be for a few hours.”

“And pumpkin, how exactly are you gonna sneak me into a… place like that when I look like this,” he said, hands motioning to his face – mostly his scars. 

It broke your heart. You could've sworn you heard it splinter, the downturn of your brows impossible to hold back. If only words were enough to convey complex feelings, to convey the pile of bricks nestled in your chest, to convey the desperate crave to comfort and rebut, the need to protect – even from himself. You had yet to find a way, and so you were stuck behind the thick lock and chain of language with no key in sight; restricted and bound to tools you never thought were enough, but could only hope were enough.   

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. In his eyes you saw the emotions flicker, almost as tangible as they were transparent – anger, fear, shock. Stood still and stiff, you nodded softly, giving him a smile of equal warmth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”  

He squinted before hesitantly giving in, shifting so his cheek rested against your palm. He had to lower himself a little more to do so. 

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how you look. They’re beautiful, and I’ll keep saying so until there’s no breath left in my lungs.”

You held him ever so gently while he flitted his eyes shut. Your heart galloped then, its swell too big for your body and for a moment, brief as the breeze, the chaos he prided himself in was absent; for a moment there was peace.

“If you weren’t The Joker, I’d say go as is. Though, I have a plan!” 

“Oh, do you now?” He said, shaking his head and returning to work. It was clear he was rapidly reaching his patience threshold.

Damn it.

“They have food!” You trailed off unsurely, as if it was a question – pinning your last hope on appealing to his raccoon inclinations.

It didn’t work.

The third, well… 

You had just about given up and accepted the fact that it wasn’t his scene, that him meeting your parents would never be an option – a reality you had started to think of as a good thing the more you thought about it. 

And so, the third day had been your acceptance. Self-care. Instead of chasing after an ideal, your hands were clutching a book, almost too hard, as the part you had been anticipating since very early had reached its finale. With your legs curled underneath you and practically asleep, your eyes flicked furiously from word to word– 

That is until a looming figure shadowed the page completely, concealing all light from the lamp next to you. 

Annoyance creased your features as you looked up at the clownish culprit. Your eyes met and a staring contest ensued, the intensity of his eyes beckoning a response until he, uncharacteristically, broke first. 

“Will this make you, uh, happy?” 

All traces of irritation were washed away by bewilderment, “sorry?” 

“My being with you.” 

“You mean to the wedding?” You asked, wide-eyed. If you hadn’t been as shocked as you were, you would have snorted at his continuous inability to say the word ‘wedding’. 

He shifted on his feet, eyes darting away for a second before he licked his lips. “Yeah.” 

“Is this a joke?”

“I’m not that cruel.”

You paused to hum obnoxiously, your finger tapping your chin to challenge the notion.

“Never mind,” he waved his hand in the air and was about to walk off before you grabbed his hand and sprung off your seat. You felt him try to wiggle out of your grasp with a grunt, but it was too late. “Thank you!” You shouted. 

You missed the way his surprise melted into a genuine curl of his lips, twitching; the muscles unused. Instead, you were too busy stuffed in his vest, with your arms swathed around him. You both stayed there for a while basking in the warmth of each other, as his hands, which you guessed were hanging awkwardly in the air and unsure of what to do, encircled your waist.

Third time’s the charm. 

Shaking fingers twirled sapphire silk, gliding over your cinched waist before finally moving up to the delicate exposed flesh of your neck. You glanced over the spaghetti straps that curved comfortably over your shoulder, and the simple silver circle necklace that laid between them, its chilled presence clashing with the heat of your skin.  

Knock knock knock!

“Just a minute!” You said, jumping at the sudden rude intrusion. 

“Not even funeral parlors take this long,” you heard J say from the other side, the distinctive departure of footsteps following promptly. They seemed faster than usual.

You puffed air at his complaint after calming your racing heart. Then you scrambled to finish up the final touches of makeup, at last winding the nude colored ribbons of your heels around your calves. Your head felt light, and your shoes only worsened the sudden gelatinous state your legs took on. Never before had you dressed up in such a way, not for years and much less in front of someone you dearly cherished. The line between fashionable and laughable was blurred and never truly had been exercised. Waving away the fuel your anxious thoughts provided, you decided to try and move. Your heels wobbled trying to avoid the flowing material pooled by your ankles, and you’d just managed to slip one foot out through the thigh-high slit. No matter how much you sighed, the pressure remained, weighing like an anvil. And so, with nothing much to lose, you made your way to the door; the dampness of your fingers leaving its foggy signature upon the knob.

This was it.

You breathed in one last time before opening the door.

“Okay, I’m re–” 

You exhaled sharply, feeling the earlier intake of air leave you – taking with it the remaining wind in your lungs. You couldn’t control the twinkle of your eyes, nor the flip of your stomach as you gazed upon him.

His form was angled against the wall and his arms were crossed – that was, until he dragged his eyes over to you. His limbs then dropped to their sides and he quickly, almost stumbling over his shoes, righted his position. The bob of his Adam's apple was clear while both of you stood meters from each other with widened eyes. You knew he had the ability to pull off a suit, but the royal blue he donned was stunning. The stark colour complemented his blond locks, while his foulard tie with its blends of pinks, purples, and its navy base matched his socks. 

It seemed you were both in the same boat, consumed by swells of giddiness and the need to fidget. The fingers that were dressed in dark brown leather gloves drummed against his thigh, while one of his cedar suede shoes tapped furiously against the floor.

“What.” He finally stated, rather than questioning. 

You dropped the necklace your fingers had started circling. 

“Nothing! You just look… really nice,” you uttered earnestly, unable to contain the sweet smile that broke through awe. 

“Yeah, yeah. Uh… you too,” he said, the last part coming out less steady. 

He avoided eye contact when you trotted over to him, fiddling with his cufflinks, though his tending to them immediately vanished when you began to accentuate the swish of your hips. 

All fidgeting stopped.

You were sure he was expecting something else, rather than the delicate cupping of his cheek once you reached him, soft lips meeting with roughened skin as you kissed his scars. You took your time with each one, whispering affection, before claiming his mouth. He growled against you, and you could feel him tighten his hold. 

The tip of his tongue traced the stain of lipstick, a wordless demand for entry which left you weak. Almost parting your lips to allow the gentle slide of his tongue, he suddenly reared back with a smirk. 

“Peach,” he cooed. 

You were going to have to reapply later. 

With a small smile you extended your arm to the couch, and knowing time was beginning to pass, he complied. As he advanced, you peeked at the orange lining in his blazer. The hue was similar to his purple coat, though slightly lighter. You smiled to yourself, the small detail so characteristically him. 

“Alright. Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, bracing himself. 

Already a step ahead, you had brought out the makeup needed just prior to getting dressed. Sitting on one of the nearby surfaces, you picked up a small translucent bag with little red hearts on it – a fact he’d snickered to himself at when he first saw it – and walked over to him. 

“As you wish, grumpy,” you simpered, “now hold still!” 

True to his new title, you heard him mutter something unintelligible under his breath. The tap-tap-tap of his foot against the floor was most of the noise for a good while, and although distracting, the fidgeting of his hands was less noisy. You knew more than anyone he needed to squirm around, some movement at the very least, and so you endured. You deduced that he’d not been this close to someone in so very long, let alone allow them to do his makeup. That task, intimate and personal within itself, was not something others could be trusted with. 

“Time to hide these little guys,” you murmured, focused as the beauty blender sat between your fingers and dabbed on concealer. “Not that they need hiding. I’ll miss them.”

“Really?” He chimed in, eyes shut while you did your work. 

“Yeah, they’re a part of you and I’d never want you to hide or be ashamed of who you are.” 

“Hmm,” he trailed off. 

Occasionally his mouth quirked, his tongue darting out to lick his scars; an involuntary movement. You were patient, and even if he wasn’t overt about his guilt of messing up your progress, you reassured him lightly with a kiss on the head, sometimes playing with the dirty blond waves that lacked any sign of green. 

The day before he’d washed out the colour in preparation for the big day, groaning until he caught sight of himself in the mirror; contemplative. Ethereal and almost delicate he seemed. How precious it was to witness such cracks in the fortress, where the basking rays of sun illuminated what once was – and still is, only shrouded by shrubbery and thorns, so overgrown and disordered that they had forgotten to take care of even themselves. Forgotten how.  

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he groaned as you finished blending the concealer on both cheeks. Grabbing the foundation you had colour matched, you dabbed a bit on your hand before applying that too.

“Honestly, me neither,” you replied, feeling no need to sugarcoat the shock from your tone. You knew he appreciated the truth. “But I’m glad you are! You’re doing so well!” 

He squirmed a little at the compliment but settled seconds later. Soon after finishing the blending, you reared back and observed your labour. Although it wasn’t perfect, and if you looked hard enough you could still see the intricate crevices in his skin, it passed. 

“All done!” 

As soon as you spoke, J pushed off his palms. He was halfway off the chair when you stopped him.

“Wait! I have to walk you through something.” 

At this, his eyebrows quirked up. You knew you had his attention. 

“Conditions!” You announced.

“Ah. Now there are conditions.” 

“Yes! I don’t want you to throw a tantrum and blow up the whole reception.” 

“My my, aren’t you a little fire stopper.” 

“Promise me.”

He flicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. With one hand on his chest and the other raised just next to his head, he bowed a little. “I swear.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I swear there will be no funny business, and I’ll be on my best behaviour – oh and no crossing your toes either!”

“You know me so well,” he sighed, admitting defeat, “Fine. I swear there’ll be no funny business and I’ll be on…” he cleared his throat and brought a closed fist to his mouth, “my best behaviour.” Then he shone his impishly wide grin, one that only intensified the pit of doubt in your stomach. 

It would have to do, though.  

“Okay,” you whispered. 

He stood up now, towering over you. 

“Okay,” he mimicked, dropping his hands at the base of your hips. 

The last few days had been full of surprises, his agreement to attend trumping all. However, his overt display of affection was a close second. Never before had he been so forthcoming and so comfortable with physical contact. 

As his hands laid there, unmoving and making their home in your curves, you inched closer to him; a specific craving only his warmth could ease. Though, those very same hands around you tightened when you tried to step forward, holding you in place. Curiously, you looked up at him, brows furrowed. 

“What are you–” 

It seemed he couldn’t help himself. The evil laughter he’d been trying to restrain bubbled from his throat and bounced off the walls. The eagerness to ask what he was doing quickly died – hard – when you could no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. It instead morphed into protests and occasional bouts of laughter as your arms dangled along his back, your pelvis against his shoulder. One gloved hand rested crudely just below the curve of your ass, occasionally squeezing your upper thigh and holding you in place, while his other arm hung unobstructed. 

“We–” he clicked his tongue, “–wouldn’t want to be late now, would we?” He finished, purring. 

The location was a couple hours outside of Gotham on the coastline in an area you’d practically never heard of. If it wasn’t for J’s gift for navigation, and his frustration when you kept leading him down wrong turns, you would have been hours late instead of just missing the ceremony. The last straw had been assuring him the early exit was your turn off despite his gut instinct, despite the countless times he asked ‘are you sure?’ and despite his sneaking glances – something he stopped doing when he almost crashed into the car next to you, too focused on craning his neck. All of this combined had resulted in the brutal demise of your map reading days. 

Stopping where he could after taking the wrong exit he held out a gloved hand, a wordless demand for the navigator. Before long, you were back on the freeway, thankfully heading the right way. The directory rested in his lap as he balanced the seemingly breezy tasks of reading and driving. 

Clearly safety was his middle name.

Once the two of you arrived at the venue, the first thing you both noticed was the heat. Warm and uncomfortable, the seabreeze made this bearable. The next notable feature was the rambunctious clamour of the crowd; music, laughter and shouting. 

After worming your way out of the van, comically wedged between two much smaller cars, you headed towards the reception, stopping short from the asphalt-sand border. J stared at it as if it had foiled his genius villainous plots, as if it was the cause of all his misfortunes, as if it was responsible for the brutal murder of his first pet. Then, he made a face – a mixture between a scowl and disgust. 

He sniffed, “it smells like...” he paused to grimace, “high society.” 

The ghastly look was then directed ahead to each moving – breathing – organism he could see. There was no doubt in your mind the crowd had already made it on his hit list.

“For once I miss the stink of Gotham.” 

“Well at least it’s at the beach!” You exclaimed, not recalling the last time you’d been. Trying to think that far back made your brain hurt, the tingle of overworked cogs and Brain Fog a lethal combination that coerced your forfeit in seconds. At the very least you were happy to be making new memories, hopefully some you’d be able to remember in the future; memories you prayed were not, later too, guarded by the merciless Brain Fog and his ravenous desire to generate headaches.  

“I hate the beach,” J delivered flatly, hatred distilled rolling off his person in waves.  

“Oh, you hate everything!” You pouted, brushing off his pessimism. 

“It’s hard not to.” 

“Well…” You stopped to think, wracking your brain to prove him wrong, “what about me?”

That had to get him. 

“You especially,” he grinned, eyes twinkling with a mischief that spoke nothing other than ‘you walked right into that one, sweetheart.’ 

You were unable to help the sigh that sailed past your hued lips, “well, come on sunshine. You can’t stare daggers at them all day.”

“I can try,” he spat sourly. 

You rolled your eyes and dragged him along but immediately dropped the act when you quickly realised it hauled unwanted eyes, like metal to magnets. Yet, J followed even though you were certain he saw the cursed asphalt-sand barrier as the very gates of hell themselves. In fact, he seemed a little bit too eager to start his anathematised exploration of the 9 circles as when you looked back, expecting to see his long limbs hanging in defeated protest, you were met with, well, nothing.

One moment he was there, the next he was gone seemingly stalking off into the unknown, hiding among the sea of people. It wasn’t like he was easy to lose either, his height and his aura of absolute discomfort is what set him apart from the rest. He protruded like a broken bone – so why couldn’t you find him?

“Damn it, J!” You harshly whispered to yourself, unknowingly stamping your foot until the insidious specks of sand tumbled their way into your shoe, under your feet and between your toes. Easily conquering your layer of protection, their coarse presence made you want to grind your teeth. 

Maybe this was a mistake.

Before you could go off and search for the lost irritating puppy, you heard shouts. At first they seemed like ordinary yells, distinctive deviations from the crowd which happened to catch your attention at the right moment. Though, the more time passed and you wandered around like a newborn giraffe looking for its mother, you realised this was not the case. Most telling was the way those vague cries morphed into the familiar syllables of your name. And then finally in view, the supposed sweet comfort of childhood embodied neared; their worn features staring into your own, different from all those years ago. 

You fought the urge to run. 

“Hey honey!” Your dad beamed.

Two pairs of smothering arms made their way toward you, enveloping. With your fingers clutching separate materials, each as scratchy and glacial as each other, your head started to spin and you felt yourself holding your breath. 

“Hey mum, hey dad, it’s nice to see you two again,” you said, feeling the slow ache from clenching your jaw starting to set in. You quickly swapped this expression for a small smile when they released you.

“How’ve you been?” Your dad inquired, the shimmer in his eyes a sight you couldn’t help but double take at. You noticed there was no glass in his hand. 

“Don’t bombard her dear,” your mum rolled her eyes, “where’s this date you were telling me about?” 

She lingered on the word with an emotion you couldn’t quite discern while her adjudicating eyes swept over your outfit. Her eyebrows then lifted, scrunching her nose with it. “Not bad.”

Her scanning forced you to shrink into yourself, the automatic motion of your palms relentless in their pursuit of wrinkles, a fact you did not pick up on until your mother cleared her throat at your unprompted staring contest.  

“My question dear, it’s rude to ignore your mother,” her thin brows creased and the folds just above them rested along her forehead in a similar fashion.  

You scrambled for an acceptable answer, the question just as ambiguous to yourself.

“He’s… um… getting us drinks! I was actually just about to go check up on–” 

“Well if a man can’t even fetch you a drink he’s hardly useful,” she scoffed, turning to her husband to whisper, “can’t imagine what this prince charming looks like.” 

Anger, lava-like and boiling, rose up in your throat. The pressure seemed unbearable as you tried to keep your mouth closed – tried not to defend the one you loved with your entire being. How dare she judge someone she had yet to even meet? She had yet to see the beauty that radiated in and out. 

It had only been minutes and you’d already been zapped of your energy for the day.

“I think I should go check on him now.” “Yes, of course. Come back to me when you have something to show,” your mother smiled. You watched her lips stretch, her wine lipstick as pigmented as the red coating your vision. 

Her hand clutched the necklace around her chest. Her fingers traced the glistening diamond which hung overtly, screaming it’s pricelessness to all passersby as she went to go have another sip of her champagne. At the corner of your eye you noticed movement, a pair of worn hands clutching suit pants. Hard. You turned automatically and when you met his eyes your dad shot you a strained smile. It almost looked like an apology. 

Your stomach turned. 

You tried your best to conceal the stomping as you promptly departed, promising yourself to at least wait until you were out of their view and blending in with the crowd. Once you merged with the patches, you quickly discovered that navigating your way out of it was going to be just as hard as trying to find J. Left and right amalgamated, looking the same no matter how many times you tried to compare differences and so did everyone’s outfits. You could have sworn you’d seen the same red dress three times, though you also could have sworn you went all different directions to the last; the truth was you were no more knowing than a sailor stranded at sea lacking a compass, the same indistinguishable shapelessness stretching out for miles and miles with no end in sight.  

Then, a miracle – a clearing of people which shrieked hope and a long portable table with flowing white lace harbouring all kinds of food. Amongst the good news, a blotch of royal blue caught your eye and a flash of blond. Focusing your view on the table and its few inhabitants, one of which was the blue wearing stranger, you quickly realised your missing date was fixed and firm in place at the snack area. No sooner than this revelation processed you dashed over, the anger returning once the relief had run its fleeting course. As you stormed your way over to him he failed to look up, too preoccupied with the food he was collecting. Lacking in subtlety, you grabbed his arm. 

“Jesus there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

J, who had been waiting to stuff his face with what you identified as another cupcake, mouth ringed with strawberry frosting, crumbs and sprinkles, dropped it in surprise and turned to you with widened eyes. They shrunk as soon as they showed an inkling of surprise and instead shifted to speckled guilt. 

“Cupcake,” he managed to mumble with a full mouth.

Your fiery frustration was immediately put out by how cute he was, and you felt a surge of guilt yourself. It wasn’t fair to be taking out your personal frustrations on him. 

After closing your eyes and taking a breath, you reset. 

“They think I’m lying about you.”

He swallowed.

“You wanna leave? I, uh, know I want to,” he said much louder than the whisper you wish he’d used.

Such a comment warranted an elbow jab into his waist as you smiled ear to ear and sickly sweet at the passing guest who had clearly heard J. The middle aged woman with short brunette hair, white pom-pom earrings and beady eyes shot you two a blazing look before rutting her nose into the air. The reek of pretension wafted off her. Now you could see what J was saying earlier. 

Pee-yew. 

Everyone here sucked. 

“I’m gonna kill her later,” he murmured, squinting after her. 

“J, you promised to be good!”

Even if she was a grandiloquent old bitch who deserved it.

His ominous response was to pour himself some punch, the clown-in-disguise bringing the plastic up to his lips. As the cup masked most of his face, the only thing visible was his deadly gaze which bounced from congregation to congregation.

“How much longer.” Again, it wasn’t phrased as a question, more a statement. 

“The bride and groom haven’t even danced yet.” 

He scrunched his nose, though dropped the subject. At least verbally.

“You’re so crabby. You do know that you’re drawing even more attention to yourself this way?” 

“Hmmph.”

It was silent for a few minutes before, without warning, he grabbed your hand. The hesitant and jagged strokes of his thumb followed and even though they belonged to a novice, the delicacy was still there.

The message was clear: 

I’m new to this. 

Your lips upturned, the gentle quirk hidden by transient hair flowing along the salty breeze. His touch was warm and paradoxically amiable; his presence a shelter cutting the chilly current that had picked up around noon. Stained lips, of which you had forgotten about until the sticky residue imprinted boldly on his glove, aimed to ease his buzzing mind. Expecting a grumble for the lipstick mark, what you got in return was the soft gaze of dark brown eyes – a sign of taming raging waters. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact the window into his soul for once could be identified as just that – a window; crystal, without the dirtied stains of camouflage and trepidation. 

Something had changed. 

Before you could get another word in, it was announced the bride and groom were going to have their first dance. The crowd gathered around the newly wedded couple as the music suddenly switched. The speakers were loud as they played a waltz, the couple’s limbs intertwined and swaying to its dramatic pace. They twirled and swayed with the grace of swans tiptoeing and beguiling the creeping ocean on the golden sands. Even though you knew virtually nothing about them, and were convinced that in fact this whole invite was your mother’s scheme to pry, the sight was a beautiful one to behold. The epitome of love – reciprocal trust and utter surrender; it had you wondering where you’d gone wrong previously, and if such a thing was as formulaic as it seemed to be, or if they were freefalling into the abyss as much as everyone else was; blindfolded, but nonetheless with each other. Welded in each other’s hearts.

How long had you projected your yearning at the couple and vicariously lived through their magical moment? You couldn’t say, though it was only the sudden grip on your shoulder that had managed to break your fixed admiration. It was firm, but nowhere near the realm of rough, and it even contained a fraction of gentleness, an action that wordlessly said ‘are you okay?’

At the sudden presence, you looked over your shoulder to find J, his guarded eyes holding a knowledge which only deepened the crawling feeling of embarrassment. Blood rushed to your cheeks. As you rounded your gaze back to the couple, you quickly saw the crowd was beginning to join them, all dancing at their own pace as the music continued its intimate lull. J’s hand slid down your arm while you watched and returned to hold your hand. Content and about to lean into him, your sudden love struck daze pounced away when he started to walk, dragging you along with him. 

“Hey– what are you doing?”

No response. 

“Let me go!” You said, your tone coming out a lot angrier than you’d expected. You guessed this alerted him because even though you were mere meters away from the rest of the crowd he stopped to explain. 

“I saw the way you were looking at them. You know, cupcake, you’re not hard to read,” he drawled.

You pursed your lips, looking away for a moment. 

“So what? What are you doing?” 

“What does it – ah – look like?” 

He’d seemingly taken your lack of response as a positive and continued forward. He grinned once he had you in position and placed his palm on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. He then maneuvered his other hand to grab yours and stretched it forward. From his first few steps you knew immediately it was the Viennese Waltz. The fast tempoed dance was one you weren't all too familiar with, but you’d learned its slower English counterpart.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you gasped, trying your best to conceal your astonishment. You didn’t want to seem rude, though he just didn’t seem like the person interested in such a thing. Nor have the time. You were certainly finding yourself more curious about the origin of such a talent, and all the other potential abilities that were sneakily tucked away. 

“Well aren’t I just full of surprises.”

He dipped you slightly in time with the halt of the orchestra. He held you there for a moment before the tune resumed its boisterous charm, climbing steadily to its crescendo. 

“Here’s to another,” he said, his smile widening. If you didn’t know him so well you would have believed the expression to be completely innocent and honeyed. Standing there intertwined with his limbs you knew that devilish gleam was anything but. 

And, seconds later, this suspicion proved right. 

Suddenly he lifted you, twirling you around in such a way that made you feel like you were the bride. You’d only seen such a thing in Disney movies and cheesy rom coms – to be cherished, to be loved and cared for in such a delicate way was a fantasy; a taste of nostalgia and a serenade to the hopeless romantic within.

“J, put me down! Put me down!” You felt yourself swallow when his hands tightly gripped your hips. For a moment the irritation you’d experienced all day from a full face of makeup and wandering had all been worth it. 

His laughs slipped out, too; a direct contrast from his often irked facade, a musically heart-warming phenomenon which no instrument could emulate. The whole time you kept your eyes on each other and never once did they deter, focused on drinking in the beauty of each other. The cheers from the crowd you’d gathered fell upon both your deaf ears, transfixed by each other’s magic in your own closed off bubbles. 

As you continued to dance, the act itself felt like flying. The crowd separated when you neared – that is, until everything stopped. Sharp and prompt. 

Neither of you had much regard for the abrupt bump when it happened, there were people everywhere and mistakes occurred. It was no big deal. At least that’s what you told yourself until such a collision was followed by a violent shriek and a splash. 

Loud gasps replaced the background noise of applause.  

In a few frightening seconds your brain made the connection – linking who you’d just seen in the same area minutes before, inches from the ocean. 

“Oops,” you squeaked, too scared to turn around. However, despite your better judgement you did just that. 

The groom stood in shock, evidently unable to come to terms with the sight he was seeing. One moment his new wife was safe within his arms, dancing as if it was only two of them in the universe, the next she was below him, swimming with seaweed. Then, his form began to tremble, a telltale sign that what was to come was nowhere near the realms of good. 

He turned around with searing red eyes, a wrinkled nose and bared teeth. The eyes of the bull met the petrified, and his stubby, squared and well-manicured finger pointed directly at you. 

“You fucking bitch!” He roared.

You jumped, feeling yourself cling to J. His arm wrapped around you reassuringly and although you trusted him with your life, being confronted by a raging groom was still nonetheless intimidating. The groom who apparently cared more about telling you off than helping his wife, who was still floundering in the crashing waves, began his march over to you. 

“Do you know who I am?” He continued, and you wondered if he was still aware there was a crowd around. J almost instantly stood in front of you and had to hunch further to scowl at your aggressor.

“What was that?” J grabbed the man in front of him and slipped the blade hidden in his sleeve between the groom’s lips, angling it against the crease of his mouth. 

“Hmm? Why not try your luck, princess. Say it again.” 

The groom froze, the flicker of fear evident even on your end, though he kept up his brutish facade. 

“You’re both going to be 6 feet under when my dad’s through with you.” 

“Aww… run along to daddy so he can fix all your problems,” you could hear the pout in your boyfriend’s voice, comfortable and in your eyes even elated, to spit out the toxins he’d been gathering from just being here all day.

“So you do know who I am–” “The second most spoiled kid of Gotham’s underbelly.” 

“And yet, you’re still holding the knife.” 

“Of course the first would be your brother though, hmm?” J continued, completely ignoring the man's statement.

The groom gritted his teeth. 

“I bet it stings to not be the favourite. To not even have him here on your big day.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” The groom spat, bullseyeing J’s shoe. You saw red pooling at the corner of the man’s mouth, the mere act of expectorating on your boyfriend’s shoe more urgent than self-preservation. 

Yeesh. 

“Now that’s not very hygienic,” J growled, wrinkling his nose. His grip on the knife tightened and in one quick motion, the groom was screaming. 

While you couldn’t see the infliction from where you were positioned, the blood dripping onto the sand was clear as crystal. The screams of those around you were piercing, their horror and disgust forcing you to cling tighter to your boyfriend.

“J, please! That’s enough, it’s okay!” You pulled on his blazer. Feeling the hundreds of widened eyes staring holes into your being was no longer a concern. What mattered most was him. Getting out of here. 

With a quick glance to his right, J met you, then looked back at the groom. 

He smacked his lips. 

“Seems you are lucky,” he purred, the shimmer in his eye reflecting nothing of the warmth he concealed so carefully – nothing of the warmth of when your eyes met. Instead, it was serrated and reflected jeopardy. He possessed the force of a hurricane. A gravity; the way in which he commanded the direction of things and uprooted the fortitude of the righteous, the sure, a mothernatured finesse. 

He looked back at you again before shifting his hold on the man, fisting his wrinkled and bloodied shirt, then barked, “why don’t you go join your blushing bride?” 

With the element of surprise, J raised his knee and shot it between the man’s legs, the man falling down almost as fast as the foreign presence made an impact. You could have sworn someone at the corner of your eye jolted, most likely fearing the worst while others let out shrieks. Fear of the unknown, the seduction of one’s imagination and its ability to fill in blanks was the most manipulatable aspect of consciousness. Rather than bleeding out and rocking lifeless against the cradling waves like so many had thought, the groom sat there, soaking in the shame of defeat and crimson. He hollered while his new wife crawled to his side. 

“Tell your precious father I said ‘hi.’”

All eyes now turned to you both as you speedily departed, J dragging you along once more. The colony of sand in your shoe that had begun its formation hours ago was well in its breeding season now, the leathery insole most likely buried along with the newly wed’s marriage. Before you fully exited the cooperative crowd, forever to forget the merging faces of horror, two familiar ones caught your eye. 

Hah!

“Some date, huh?” You smiled, staring at your mother straight on. The way her face twisted up in a myriad of emotions – surprise, disgust, embarrassment – was something you’d never forget. You were sure you destroyed her little snobbish social circle by the mere association. Pride swelled in your chest, a childish victory that didn’t seem so childish when you later reflected on your relationship with her. 

When the two of you escaped back to the van successfully, there was a moment of contemplation. 

“I – heh – think that went well!” J laughed to himself, rounding his body to face you, “you think your parents like me?” 

“I think I should be asking the same to myself,” you said.  

“Cheer up buttercup, at least your parents know you’re not dying alone anymore.”

“To be honest, after that shitshow they’d probably prefer it,” a sigh left your lips and you began to bite them, unconscious of the small action until the taste of metal blew up your taste buds.

“Eh. Who needs parents, anyway?” 

You began to fiddle with your hands, suddenly finding them incredibly interesting. From the lack of interruptions you concluded he knew you were miles away, trapped in the wilderness of your own thoughts.  

“So I’m guessing you only came because you found out whose wedding it was.”

It took a lot to break the silence, and the air suddenly shifted to a heaviness. You weren’t sure you were the only one tensing. 

J clicked his tongue but didn’t answer. 

“It’s okay… I think I’ve had my fill of weddings for a while, anyway. And parents. And honestly, maybe people,” you answered for him, despite the swirl of hurt brewing in your gut. 

He breathed out his amusement. The lack of transience had you swallowing, frantic to keep the growing weight on your chest from expanding – from consuming your entire being with emptiness. You didn’t know how long you had until the stampede made its mark, the thunderous thuds of terror already echoing in the distance. 

Those were only thoughts you could entertain alone, sunken in the decaying paradise of your bed. 

Silence prevailed again.

Dazed and lost of direction, you remained fixated on the lines of your palms. 

“The husband had a temper. You know, I thought they were so lovely at first.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. Their little golden castles sparkle in the sun and it’s only until the rain pours that you can see them for what they really are. Wet cardboard. Looks can be deceiving.” 

“They certainly can be,” you looked up at him, smiling softly. 

Even with the friction, you slowly reached up to cup his face. This time on his end, there was no fear or hesitation. Instead, just an unspoken mutual trust between two wandering souls. You looked down at his lips while your thumbs stroked the hidden lines of his scars. The gentle caresses wore down the makeup until finally they were visible again. 

The marks of a survivor – beautiful and bold.

“Wait,” he said, the word simple and yet so labyrinthine. He reared back and looked at his hands while your own moved to rest on your knees. Curled into fists, his slowly unclamped like a blooming flower. What they revealed had your heart thumping, dancing its rhythm in your throat. You felt your eyes widen and the sadness immediately leave you, as if all its colour had been drained from you. You felt like a 1930’s cartoon, so shaken to the core that all you could see was greyscale. 

“It wasn’t the only reason,” he whispered, the commanding presence absent.  

He cleared his throat and finally looked up at you, “in fact, these were my only reason.” 

“You son of a bitch,” you bit your tongue in awe at the binding pieces of metal in his hands. They twinkled in the holiday rays, beckoning, unuttering whispers of fabrication. Was the weight of those dual bands as heavy as his heart? As heavy as the solemn expression as he processed your jabbing words?

“I-I know it’s not much but–” he stuttered, and was promptly interjected. 

“Oh! No, no, no! I didn’t mean–” 

You both smiled. Yours wide and brazen, his small and seraphic. 

“My J. Always starting fights, always getting what he wants,” you took the ring from his finger and darted to your left hand, slipping it on its rightful throne, “how can I resist?”  

You kissed him mellowed and full of saccharine and he sighed, his reciprocation just as tender despite the usual dash of coarseness. 

“Mine,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. He fluttered his eyes shut and his breathing began to steady. 

“Mine,” you whispered. 

In all that was and all that ever could be, never would you have believed such a moment possible. Magical and idiosyncratic, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Nothing big and extravagant in front of many eyes. Just the two of you, inside what you now considered the best moment of your life. What many described as a lock and chain, a prison for the rest of one’s life, you would describe as the only thing you had ever wanted. As much as before, everything felt complete. 

Supernal.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, breathing in unison, basking in each other. All you knew was that it was all too soon when you hit the road again, starting the long journey back to Gotham. After a lot of the same scenery – trees, cars, rocks, more cars and occasional bodies of water – your eyes had become leaden. Resting became impossible to oppose and before long your eyes gave into its stinging demand. 

Somewhere within the haze of half-consciousness, a mysterious material was draped over you. It was silken on the inside, your arms softly grazing it occasionally, and linen on the outside, your chin brushing over it when passing uneven roads. Subtle ripples of cologne drifted from the fabric as you finally fell prey to sleep’s siren song. 

“Sleep well, sweetpea,” lulled a sweet voice. 

[wizkiddx]

unusable faces

i have exams hence why i needed to write something exceptionally cringe :)

PSA: this is completely inspired from one of my fave writers own blurb @blissfulparker​ --> completely recommend u go read hers its much better than anything i could ever write!!!! (and just her whole account) = link

Summary: pure exhaustion and mutual pining, Tom Holland x actress!reader

^(just thought this was cute, doesn't really fit aha but full credit to op!!)

A scheduling nightmare would be putting it lightly. Perhaps almost unavoidable but that didn’t make it any less of a hellish form a torture. Harry had very helpfully said it actually was a form of torture, that is sleep deprivation. Y/n loved her job - it was all she’d ever really wanted - yet that thought was quickly becoming not enough to get her through the day. Not when it felt like an interrogation tactic used by the CIA. 

To give a quick timeline of the past few days may give a little context:

Thursday - filming the fight scene all day plus an evening-turned-half-the-night-shoot due to some technically difficulties delaying the process.

Friday - flying to New York while doing read throughs of scenes for the next few days; followed immediately by getting glammed and filming the tonight show with Fallon; then a dash across town to the late late show with James Corden; then straight back on a flight to Atlanta that landed at stupid o’clock in the morning

Saturday - a full day of shooting in a mock grand central station set

The press trip to NY had been unplanned… to say the least. But the star of their studios other new release had taken ill - meaning they had slots booked on some of the biggest talk shows in America that would just be abandoned (angering the shows bookers too). It was a waste of perfectly good promo time and since the studio had their two other stars together doing a block of reshoots - it wasn’t a conversation. Much more a call demanding the two of them to be on the plane.

Normally this wouldn’t be such an unmanageable ask either, except the reshoot block was really rather time pressured. You see, the promo tour wasn’t far from beginning meaning they really needed the final film in the can. So really it was a bit of a mess. Just to free up that single day the two were in New York the whole schedule had had to be rejigged - in doing so they’d lost a rare day off too. It was just typical.  

The joys of success hey?

Well, that’s at least what Y/n was making herself think whilst her incredibly talented SFX artist was in the process of crafting a deep wound onto her upper arm. The reason why she would be ‘dripping with blood’ whilst at a train station was beyond Y/n to be honest - she hadn’t been allowed to read a lot of the script so even now as filming was drawing to a close, the story arc of the movie she was headlining was still a little ‘fuzzy’.

“So I watched your ‘spill your guts’ thing on YouTube” Ellie giggled whilst reaching over for more prosthetic putty- a technical term apparently

“I’m glad one of us enjoyed the experience” Y/n replied with a sigh, rolling her eyes at the mischievous smirk on her face - no doubt Ellie took great joy out of seeing her suffer through eating a thousand year old egg. Which Y/n swore the taste of was still in her mouth… and it seemed as though it’d never leave. 

“Oh don’t worry darling I did too” Nelli called over from the next chair along, where she was doing Tom’s makeup for the day of shoots. “Between that and the animals on Fallon, you made a hell of a lot of people laugh last night” Tom’s artist was referencing the fact one of Jimmys other guests was a zookeeper, so at the end of the interview he had you and Tom join in trying not to scream at the snakes and spiders.

“You mean laugh at us?” 

“Well of course darling!” Nelli exclaimed back in an overdramatic bronx accent making all three of the women burst out laughing, Ellie’s unceremonious snorts echoing through the trailer only egged them all on more.

Tom in response, who had otherwise been absent from conversation for the majority of the morning, exclaimed a curse and jumped up in his chair. While you and Ellie collected yourself, Nelli apologised to him.

“Oh sorry love, I’m interrupting your snooze with my uncontrollable comedic gift” She spoke sweetly, even if still taking the moment to flaunt to the other women, as she squeezed his shoulder compassionately.

“No no” Tom waved off her apology, attempting to rub his eye before Nelli swatted his arm away - a stern look for the risk of ruining all her hard work she’d put into making his face look half presentable. 

“I’m impressed you can sleep while they poke you with all these er instruments” Y/n added in, having only just realised Tom had been in a light sleep for god knows how long they’d been in that chair. It did seem a bit unlikely, being able to fall asleep as you were dabbed, prodded and brushed. 

“Maybe you should try though Y/n… your purple eye bags are proving a struggle even for me” Ellie quipped back, now it was Y/n’s turn to give the stern look. Tom took the explain though, shutting her off from whatever kindly meant insult she was about to throw back at her friend. 

“No normally never, I just….” He was cut off by an ear splitting yawn, appearing almost powerful enough to crack his jaw - which would be a disaster, for no one should ruin such a beautiful and sharp jaw line. “…uh-sorry. I just think I ended up taking my NyQuil and DayQuil the wrong way round in the madness of yesterday.” Only Tom, the poor kid often seemed to lacking in any form of common sense - even if those closest to him knew just how intellectual and passionate he could be about the right topic. Affectionately, Nelli scalded his idiocy by jokingly swatting his head with a little tut.

“I can’t believe your still standing then! I’m barely alive and I don’t have any sedatives in my system.” It was true, Y/n was at that stage where every part of her body felt ridiculously heavy… eyes included … eyes especially. 

“But I did sleep on the jet back while your stupid self was studying the script!” Tom replied with a pretty inarguable point - at the time he knew her actions were stupid;  when their flight took off at 11 PM he was certain that the most valuable asset to his ability to act in the reshoots today would be sleep - rather than character development. And he’d tried to convince Y/n that briefly, but gave up. She was bloody stubborn when she wanted to be. 

“Stop competing about who has it worse cos I think it’s me and Nell”Ellie announced - making Nelli agree empathically with her coworker, nodding her head as she looked first to Y/n in her chair then back at Tom.

“Yeh because we have to deal with your unusable faces!!”

After much sarcasm thrown back and fourth, the trailer slowly ebbed it’s way back into serenity and peace as both artists focused on their work. Once Nelli was done she excused herself, Tom staying in the chair in favour of studying (more like staring blankly) at the dialogue for this mornings scenes. His pretence didn’t last long though and while Ellie was busy adding the final touches of fake blood to the now almost completely believable gash that she’d crafted on Y/n’s arm - Y/n had her attention focused the opposite way.

At poor little Tom. He looked so childlike, his slightly puffy eyes looked as if they had weights tied to them - they way he was having fight against gravity to flutter his eyes open, before loosing the next second only for the process to repeat as they dragged downwards. The broad muscles of his neck occasionally seemed to occasionally let up a little, letting his head tilt slowly at first until it gathered enough momentum to throw him off balance. The then sudden movement of his head unconsciously pulling itself back in line caused his eyes to bolt open prior to the whole cycle repeating again. All Y/n wanted to do was let him lay down someone, her heart feeling a tug in her chest just seeing him like that. 

Ellie proclaimed her completion of the wound, leaning back to admire her work before looking to get an affirming nod from Y/n. Yet instead, she was too preoccupied gazing at the boy slouched across from them. “Someone seems a little distracted.” Ellie smirked, finally garnering Y/n’s attention, only feeling more and more smug watching a light tint appear on the actors cheeks. 

“I-well-no… we need to go.” Y/n ignored her words as though nothing had happened, instead rushing off the chair to get Tom out the chair and onto the awaiting set. They had places to be.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (bcos im lazy)

Honestly when the director, Ed, called for lunch break, it was pretty apparent to be purely as a compassionate gesture to Y/n and Tom. Both of them had tried so hard this morning to fully commit, even so they’d both been almost completely useless. Y/n kept missing cues whilst all Tom’s actions and lines where slow, dragged out and at times completely prompted from someone behind the cameras. 

So when the lunch break was called there was only one thing on Y/n’s mind and what sandwich was available in the mess tent was not it. Still standing on the set next to her fake holdall bag she looked toward Tom, who was pulling himself up to standing from the train station bench - the pace of his movement making him look more like an old man. 

“You good?” His answer was predictable. 

“I’m so fucking shattered”

Tom swore he’d never heard anything sweeter come out of Y/n’s pink lips than her next statement.

“C’mon I know somewhere we can lie down.”

Without any sort of thought Tom blindly agreed, nodding as he took her outstretched hand in his. The gesture in itself brought a fresh wave of comfort to his aching limbs and as his feet stumbled to catchup with her slight head start he leant the majority of his weight into their connected hands. 

Neither would admit it but they were ‘a thing’… whatever the hell that meant. It was clear as day to everyone and anyone that worked closely to the two but neither of them had ever broached the topic with each other. They’d worked on a few films together over the years; each time they got closer and closer to the point any job without the other simply wasn’t as good. It was scary though, especially for two actors in the prime of their careers. If they weren’t working the same film they’d likely be the opposite side of the world to each other most of the time - quality time together would be few and far between, Really their jobs didn’t suit dating at all, yet it would be perhaps easier if one half of it worked a ‘normal’ job. Something with consistency, a regular structure. A level of dependability that neither Y/n nor Tom could offer to the other. 

So it was terrifying, acknowledging the growth in their magnetic attraction to each other. Both were acutely aware that doing that, confronting their feelings, would most likely signal the beginning of the end. 

Although none of this stoped Y/n from returning the gesture, tilting her shoulder into Tom’s left side as they took slow steps through and then out the set building. She steered the two past the hair and makeup trailer and round into a store and extra equipment trailer. Tom tilted his head as she climbed the stairs whilst beckoning for him to follow - it didn’t seem like the most obvious choice. Rolling her eyes, Y/n explained.

“It’s where all the blankets and coats and kept for the raining scenes plusssss no one will disturb us in here.” Again Tom was not in a position to disagree, eyes drooping as his shoulders sagged to the floor. Right now he’d take anything. 

So he climbed up the stairs and shut the door behind him, just as Y/n flipped the light on. She was right, it was well equipped and with an almost mountainous supply of red blankets that normally the crew and extra would all be wrapped up in after the freezing rain scenes with all the ‘waterfall machines’ as Y/n called them. However it was also um…. It was cosy. “Oh I don’t think I realised how small it was” She chuckled lightly, since now the door was closed her back was pressed up against the far wall of cabinets and still her front was mere millimetres from Tom.

“I…I don’t mind… if-if you don’t?”

“I’m too tired to care” She giggled in response, and Tom , now with her seal of approval, immediately started ransacking the piled shelves for all their worth creating a floor carpeted in the pale red of the blankets, in an attempt to make it more cosy. Joining in, it was almost remarkable how quickly their bodies suddenly agreed to move, with the new promise of rest mere moments away. 

Once the trailer was fully drowned, Tom kicked off his costume shoes and threw his jacket off - it haphazardly landing by the doorway. Y/n copied him, leaving her stood up whilst he had the advantaged of already settling down on the floor, her standing and looking down at him.

The space between the two opposing shelving units was not close spacious enough for two people to lie down whilst keeping a respectable level of personal space. Suddenly feeling a wave of awkwardness, Y/n stayed standing, wringing her hands slightly - whilst fairly certain Tom could hear her heart running at 100 mph. 

“You er… gonna stay there or?” Tom, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t a complete idiot - he could see she was suddenly self conscious. He got it too - they’d never crossed this boundary of choosing to cuddle into each other. It had happened once of twice accidentally over there 2 years of knowing each other. Both of those times it was completely accidental, falling asleep watching a movie with a safe distance of space b between the two, only to find hours later their bodies almost completely intwined. Tom would be lying if he said that his heart didnt skip a beat when he had awoken to Y/n’s soft and gently breath fanning into his neck. He’d loved it, but understood that was unconsciously breaking down part of the wall they’d both been the constructors of.

For fear of getting hurt. 

So now, as Y/n awkwardly bent down and lay on her side, he thought it was imperative to make her feel comfortable. Naturally then, his arm slid round her shoulders and pulled her down toward his chest, releasing a little breath as he felt her relax, her legs slowly wrapping round one of his. 

“This okay?” He murmured, now into the crown of her head as she lay half on her side half on his chest. In reply she nodded into him and Tom couldn’t help but grin- unbeknownst to him but Y/n was doing the exact same thing. 

The peace lasted all of 3 seconds until she groaned again.

“What?” Tom enquired as she wriggled out his hold and stood up. Instead of replying though she just leant over and flicked the one harsh light bulb off making Tom chuckle as she fumbled her way back onto the padded floor in the darkness, earning a few grunts from both as she accidentally kicked Tom’s thighs or banged her head on one of the now empty shelves. Fumbling her way back into a comfortable position, occasionally cursing when she stubbed her toe- or Tom did when she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Comfy?” Tom asked a little sarkily as he squeezed her a little more into his side.

“Mhmmmm… I’m gonna sleep for 100 years”

“Yeh me… me too”

And with that they both almost instantly and in complete unison sagged into each other and the blankets - the pent up stress and tension of the past few days ebbing away.

What the pair had neglected to remember was that sleeping for 100 years wasn’t really an option. The whole crew of 50 people, who wanted to restart filming after 45 minutes, had not been told about Y/n’s little hiding place. The pair were so completely safe in their own little cocoon of comfort they were completely oblivious to their teams calling there names more and more frantically. Completely oblivious to the game of hide and seek the situation had descended into, completely oblivious to Harrys natural annoyance as the director asked him for the whereabouts of the two stars - as though Harry was childminder to the pair of them.

It was Nelli who found them first. She’d and Ellie and Tom’s manager had all been recruited by Harry as part of the man hunt. Both girls, having seen first hand the state of the two this morning, were fairly certain they’d both crashed out somewhere. So Nelli, already with a sneaking suspicion, opened the door gently, her figure blocking the majority of the light from seeping through to the dimly lit inside. The sight she was met with had her actually pouting at the cuteness - and yes its a cringey word but also the only one appropriate.

Between bedding down and barely an hour later the two had managed to become impossibly tighter pressed to each other. Y/n’s face was pressed into the crook of Tom’s neck and his arms seemed to have pulled her on-top of him almost completely. Her left leg was hooked under his right, which was then sandwiched by his left too. They both looked so pure and innocent and god did Nelli know they both needed any extra time they could get.

Nelli cared a lot about Tom, she’d been working with him from the beginning, from the child star days to now. She cared about him like her very annoying surrogate son and she wanted to see him looked after. She also so completely wanted the two stars to stop pining after each other. Because frankly it was getting a little frustrating for everyone else. 

So she chose to tactically forget about her discovery, sneaking a photo on the sly before silently pulling the door closed and leaving them to their sleep. 

[therenlover]

Brutal (A Demon!Daniel Bruhl x Starlet!Reader Ficlet)

(So, this is the first little ficlet in my Sour series, which can be found HERE! I hope you enjoy it! Also, enjoy blurry Checo, because he’s who @creme-bruhlee and I imagine as demon!Daniel)

“And I'm so tired that I might / Quit my job, start a new life / And they'd all be so disappointed / 'Cause who am I if not exploited?”

Synopsis: A crime of passion accidentally summons a handsome demon who offers to make your deepest desires come true... for a price, of course. 

Rating; M (16+)

Warnings: Vague Allusions to Past Dubcon/Noncon, Explicit Language, Implied Sexual Content, Non-Explicit Murder, Making A Deal With A Demon, Maybe A Tiny Bit Of Monsterfucking???? If You Squint??? Not Really Though

Word Count: 1500~

-------

“What is it that you desire?”

The man- no, creature- before you was shrouded in the darkest corner of your dressing room, perched languidly upon the chaise lounge that had been oh so kindly included in the rider of your contract by whatever filthy fucker decided they wanted to have you this time. He didn’t matter now, though. No, not now that his brains were splattered against the carpet. The only thing that mattered anymore was the creature in the corner. 

Even in the darkness, you could see its razor-sharp teeth glinting in the low light. 

Trembling with unused adrenaline, you smiled back at it, hands still covered in blood. “I’m not answering that until you answer a few questions of my own,” 

Surprisingly, the thing seemed to lean further back into its plush seat as it nodded, long pointed tail undulating slowly, like a python preparing to strike. “Very well. It makes no difference to me how long you draw out our little deal,” slowly, the thing chuckled, “Besides, for you, pretty one, I’d wait all the time in the world,” 

You groaned at his exaggerated wink. 

Still, it was too late to turn back now. With the blood on your hands for the death of the man at your feet, both physically and metaphorically, there was nowhere to go but forward. Maybe making a deal with the devil wasn’t your original plan, but it sure as hell was better than prison. With a sigh, you sat down heavily into your high-backed makeup chair. 

“So I’m assuming you’re a demon?”

The creature in the corner made some sort of deep, proud noise in its chest as its two, shadowy hands came up to stroke its curved horns, much like a goat’s, with a certain puff-chested reverence. Even while beholding it in that darkness, its features shrouded in black, there was an allure to the strange monster, a strange, sick draw. You were helpless to whatever had appeared before you and all its powers. Somehow, though, you had seemed to intrigue it despite your comparative weakness. 

“I go by many names, but demon is one of them,” it purred, red eyes glinting with something more than bloodlust, “I prefer others,”

“What should I call you then?”

“Whatever you please,”

You scoffed. “You said you had many names, why can’t you tell me even one?”

It huffed a long sigh, and if you didn’t know better, you would’ve said that you saw smoke erupt from where its nostrils should be. 

That being said, it didn’t seem like the thing was frustrated. If anything, the creature seemed amused. From its words, you could only assume it had been hundreds of years since it had last entertained itself on the human realm. You could only hope your rage was entertaining enough to keep any of its less desirable emotions at bay. 

“Names have power, Schatz. I can’t just go around telling everybody who I am,” it’s accent felt thicker as it leaned back, “but I suppose, if you and I were to make a deal, that I could allow you to name me something. Or I could choose one for you,”

“What if I didn’t make deal with you?” you challenged the creature with a smirk. 

It hummed low in its chest as it pondered your question. “Now that would be no fun,” 

“For me or for you?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. Time was getting short now, with the clock on the wall ticking down the minutes until someone would arrive at your dressing room door to lead you out towards the set where the rest of the cast and crew were waiting. If they found you with the body it was over. Things with the demon needed to be resolved, and they needed to be resolved fast. 

Thankfully, it didn’t toy with you any more than you expected it to. 

“For both of us,” it replied, tail flicking almost excitedly, “I can’t touch you if we don’t make a deal, for better or for worse, and even then your soul wouldn’t be mine to toy with until the deal was complete. That being said, you’re in a pretty sticky situation. I think you need me just about as much as I need you, so I’ll ask again; What do you desire?”

You swallowed thickly. 

On one hand, you couldn’t imagine things would end up very pleasantly for you once the dark shadow who had staked its claim on that awful chaise lounge finally did have a chance to get its clawed hands on your soul. On the other hand, though, you had nothing left to lose. Fame, especially so young, always came at a price. You would wager to guess that even if your soul hadn’t been claimed by a demon, that it had already been stolen away by the producers and directors that pulled the strings of your life like you were some obedient little puppet dancing for an audience who wanted to devour you whole. 

In the end, an eternity in Hell with whatever was grinning at you like the Cheshire cat from the shadows might even be preferable to the horrors you’d already seen. 

Slowly, you answered its question. 

“I want to make every single person who ever took advantage of me suffer the same pain they put me through,” 

The creature’s face split into a toothy smile. 

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” 

Moving like smoke on water, it stood from its place on the chaise lounge, morphing in shape and size as it approached and held out it’s newly human-shaped hand to you. In his new form, at least, you assumed it was a he, the creature was handsome, all dark eyes and slick hair. He looked young, and somehow, even with his new, thin lips and human teeth, he retained his signature smile. You took his hand and shook it without hesitation.

Even with your heart beating almost out of your chest, you had to admit that, with a demon at your side, you felt more empowered than you ever had before. 

He noticed. 

“I am known to my kin as Asmodeus,” he cooed, long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he drew near to you. You couldn’t bring yourself to mind, “You, though, my sweetest pet, may call me Daniel,” 

Daniel. 

Somehow, even after you had seen the faintest traces of his beastly form, you had to admit that the name suited him. Maybe not as well as Asmodeus, but it worked well enough. You looked up at him through lidded eyes. “I’m-”

Before you could answer, he pressed a finger to your rouged lips. 

“I know everything about you sweetling, no need for introductions. There is one last thing we need to do to seal the deal, though,” 

A pit formed in your stomach as you gulped, caught in Daniel’s entrancing gaze. You had to assume there was some sort of magic to it, a spell that kept you trapped for all long as he could stare down into your eyes. Still, it would do you no good to fight it. Besides, the pangs that were making their way through your whole being weren’t fear. 

Oh no, they were something much worse. 

“What do we need to do?” You asked, wetting your lips with your tongue. 

Daniel replied with a sly smile and a soft chuckle. “I need you to kiss me, of course,” 

Who were you to disagree with the expert?

With all the strength and bravery you could muster, you surged up and met Daniel’s lips with your own, melting into the kiss as he quickly took over, skilled tongue darting into your mouth to claim it as his own. He bit hard on your lip, hard enough to draw blood, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind, not when your hands were busy exploring up under his shirt and finding purchase on the firm muscles that waited below. 

To be fair, he wasn’t exactly keeping his hands to himself either.

Sooner than you would have liked, though, Daniel was pulling his lips away from yours. It was just a fraction of an inch, your swollen mouths still connected by a string of saliva tinted a dark red with your blood, but you were already keening from the loss of him the second you caught your breath. The sound pleased him. 

“What are we to do first, sweetling?” he purred, letting his nails run gently against the soft skin of your waist, “I’m at your command,” His breath was hot against your fact, and he smelled like gun smoke. 

It drove you wild. 

You snuck a look at the clock before turning back to him, eyes aflame. “In about ten minutes we’ll need to have the mess in here cleaned up with any evidence gone, but before we do that, I want you- no, I need you to fuck me. Can you make that happen?”

Daniel beamed. 

“Oh, sweet girl, anything is possible with me at your side,” As he whipped you around to push you against the chaise lounge, licking his lips, he couldn’t help but add, “I believe this is the beginning of a very beneficial partnership,” 

And against all odds, as you hooked a leg up around his waist and pulled him in for another searing kiss, you had to agree.

--------

a/n: WOW WOW WOW THAT WAS GARBAGE BUT I LOVED IT. I finished season 5 of Lucifer yesterday, so I was in the mood for some demonic shit. I hope it was at least semi-enjoyable despite being straight up shitty writing lol. 

Taglist: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace , @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @be-cautious-around-bri 

[locria-writes]

untitled pt. 6/?

general notes -- big killer robots go pew pew

25 March, 2X52

Drowning out the buzz of activity around her, Symphora switched to lying down on the bench instead of sitting, and lazily swung her dangling legs in an absentminded self-soothing gesture. She sat in the room overlooking the hangar where pilots were to wait before deployment, and while she was no real pilot, and she certainly was not being deployed, she was supposed to wait for her father to come back from whatever meeting he was in with further instructions.

The week leading up to this had been nothing but headache-inducing. It was midterm season, and as expected, the workload was borderline cruel and inhumane, yet her father had still dragged her out to Lemures as soon as she handed in her last exam. While all her peers were relaxing and partying (at Januaria’s birthday, no less), she was stuck out in what could feasibly be called the boonies of Concordia to do more work.

While she could understand that she had an obligation to this as both the heir to S-V Industries and as a member of the Antevorte Foundation, what she didn’t understand was why she was the only one of her cohort here. As far as she understood, none of the other eleven members would be participating in this trip – Elliot was for sure staying on Caelus One since he found work as a tutor for younger students over the break; Regulus was a little less certain, but seeing how he made no dramatic show of bemoaning the cruel fate of being forced to spend time with her, it seemed fairly certain that he was also staying on Caelus or going to visit extended family on Aeternitas or Mater Matuta; the other nine were all older and attending lyceum, which was still in session, so it was doubtful any of them were going to show up on Lemures.

So she stared resentfully at the giant feat of engineering through the glass – the Proto-Decio stood at 15.85 metres in all its new and unused glory. Well, to call it completely unused was a lie, since nine hours earlier, she had sat in its cockpit to adjust its settings to her liking. All her father had told her was to get it comfortable, and that today they would be testing it outside the colony, but he gave no specifics. She figured it was probably weapons-related, since most movement and coordination tests could be done on Lemures itself, while weapons, even at their lowest settings, were far too destructive.

“I have to admit, when I read your file, I thought you only excelled in theory and simulations, Miss Sun.”

She nearly fell off the bench trying to assume a more dignified position, but managed to quickly pull herself up to salute Lieutenant Cantrell. Symphora, while someone who had neither low self-esteem nor deep insecurities, was acutely aware of her unbecoming appearance. Her hair was probably a mess, since she had just haphazardly tied it into a ponytail, and seeing how quickly she had moved her head, was probably sticking up from the low gravity. She still had dark circles under her eyes from the multiple all-nighters she pulled while studying, and worse yet, she wore no makeup to cover it. The only saving grace, which was little more than a double-edged sword, was that the spacesuit for pilots was thankfully slim and somewhat decent-looking (the white and grey scheme suited her complexion very well), but unfortunately, her figure, or lack thereof, made it rather unflattering (to be fair, the spacesuits were function over form, and designed for adults, not pubescent children).

“Lieutenant Cantrell…! Um…I didn’t know you were here too…”

“The Vice Marshal invited me.” He glanced over at the Proto-Decio, then back at her. “Are you sure you don’t have a rank? It feels strange to call you ‘Miss Sun’ when you’re a test pilot.”

“That’s probably the second-highest rank there is in Lemures, to be honest.” After all, Lemures was de facto owned by the Sun family, and their authority superseded even that of the Concordian government at times.

“Fair enough. I guess you’ll just get double-promoted after finishing lyceum and start off as a lieutenant instead of an ensign.”

“Maybe…” She said nothing about how only the dead were double-promoted.

“How many models have you piloted?”

“Like…actually piloted in space, or just in general?”

“Whichever answer is more interesting.”

She took a moment to sincerely deliberate. “Rudis, Veles, Cestus for Venators…. Neo-Caelus and Aita for Mercury Frames…I think.”

A strange expression, a mix of disgust and astonishment, crossed his face for just a second, before reverting back to his usual friendly smile. “You must have started young to have such an impressive resume. I was under the impression that you only trained with the Antevorte Foundation, but I guess that was silly of me.”

The base of her skull throbbed slightly, and she couldn’t help but raise a hand to touch the neural implant there. It was a necessary procedure to get in order to pilot modern Mercury Frames, and while most received it no later than at twelve years old, she had gotten hers at ten, courtesy of her father. Every so often, it would hurt and ache, but it was a kind of psychosomatic pain, apparently.

She mulled for a decent reply, finding the silence uncomfortable, but thankfully, there was no need because her father came in, flanked by Abraham and one of the vaguely-familiar military doctors who always hung around Lemures. It always took her a second to register how different her father and Abraham looked when donned in the pomp of Concordian service dress – knee-length navy-blue tunics, matching slacks, tall polished jackboots, and stiff peaked caps sitting on their heads. There were differences, of course, since her father held the rank of vice marshal, and Abraham was shockingly a lieutenant commander. The former’s uniform was embroidered in ostentatious gold thread, and wore epaulettes, while the latter’s shoulders were bare, and wore silver thread instead.

Symphora might have had complicated feelings regarding the military, but she absolutely appreciated the style of it all, and it would almost be enough to sway her feelings into the positive.

“Syma, it’s about time for you to begin.” Her father’s voice was nonchalant, like she was just about to recite a poem, rather than sit in a giant hulking death machine.

With a gesture from her father (and a wary look from Abraham), the doctor shuffled forward, handing her a bottle of water and a container of various pills. She had never worked up the courage to ask what exactly she was taking, and always swallowed them obediently. There was a quiet and persistent fear in the back of her mind whenever she had to do this, but it was stifled by the thought that even her father, as callous as he was, wouldn’t actively harm her.

So like always, she took the pills, with four pairs of eyes boring down at her, and felt the pain in her neck intensify.

[junicai]

painting.

| summary | Aria moves into the 127 dorms, and does a little bit of bonding with her new leader. 

| word count | 1.5k

| warnings | none

| era | circa. 2016

13. “The paint’s supposed to go where?”

Aria groaned in exhaustion as she bent forwards, various objects falling from the precarious stack she had carried in her arms previously. They bounced and rolled across the floor, one canister of hairspray coming to meet the tip of a man’s shoe from where he was leaning against the open doorway. 

Taeyong coughed out a chuckle at Aria’s folded form, pushing himself off the doorframe to make his way over to her. “Need a hand?”

Aria waved him off with a forced air of nonchalance, still panting heavily despite her best efforts to get her rapid breathing under control, “No, no I’m good. The stairs just tried to kill me that’s all.” 

Taeyong snuck a glance at the closed doors of the elevator, blocked off by a single piece of red signage reading “Out of Order” in bold font. The lift had coughed and spluttered it’s way through the last two months, and had finally given out on its last stand yesterday evening, almost leaving Jaehyun and Winwin trapped inside if they hadn’t decided to take the stairs down.

How unfortunate it was, that the following morning was the day that Aria was due to move in. 

In hindsight, Taeyong probably should have gotten some of the other boys in to help them carry the boxes that Aria had shoved her things into; the sweat was beading at his forehead by the time they had dragged the cardboard through into the living room, and Aria had pulled off her sweater to allow herself to cool down. 

She leant against the wall, breathing through her nose as she chalked up the distance between the living room and her new bedroom to be too far to continue for the time being. 

“Oppa?” the word still felt unfamiliar on her tongue, unused to the honorific. It had been at Taeyong’s request that she used it in the first place, him wanting her to feel comfortable around him; but Aria was still finding her ways around the Korean honorific system, and found herself stumbling over her words more often than not. 

The first time she had tried to use honorifics had ended in Aria having extremely red cheeks, flushed with embarrassment, and Mark trying to explain to her that hyung was the name he used for the older members, and oppa was the one she was to use. 

It had gone a little like this. 

“Ari- Ari, you gotta, like, you gotta use oppa not hyung, ya’know? Because hyung is like, an older brother to a brother, but oppa is an older brother to you? Because you - you’re a girl? An’, and then you’d use unnie for the make-up nooans but I’d use noona, like I just did. So to you, they’re the make-up unnies, and to me they’re the makeup noonas. Johnny hyung, Johnny oppa. Does that make sense?”

Aria had looked at him with the most bewildered face, eyes widened and lips parted slightly. 

From across the room, Taeil had bit his lip to stop himself from laughing, before swooping in to offer an out for poor Mark, who was beginning to delve into another convoluted explanation.

“Yeah, Aria?” Taeyong’s voice came from across the room.

Aria looked up, searching for the taller man and her eyes found him shuffling around in the kitchen, two glasses of water on the counter top. 

“There you go,” he pointed towards one of the glasses. “If one of the others aren’t back soon to help, we might have to drag the boxes in ourselves,” he smiled ruefully. “I knew we shouldn’t have let Jaehyun go out today.” 

Aria thanked him, before picking up the glass with her two hands and turned to the side to drink. 

The silence was buffering, and ate away at whatever comforting atmosphere Taeyong had tried to create. 

It wasn’t that Aria was uncomfortable around him - no not at all. It was just the fact that she knew the boys were being more than accommodating for her, she knew that Yuta was sharing a room with Winwin now because they insisted on her having her own space, she knew that she was toe-ing a barely there line between intruding and just being downright entitled. 

Having voiced these thoughts during the early hours of the night to Donghyuck almost a week ago, Aria knew exactly what kind of spiel she’d be on the receiving end of should she protest the room changes - but that didn’t stop the little pool of guilt from settling in the bottom of her stomach when she snuck a glance around and saw the empty bedroom’s door partially opened, all of Sicheng’s things having been moved out two nights ago. 

“Oppa,” Aria tried the honorific out again, finding that it still felt fumbled out, but from Taeyong’s affirming hum she must have sounded less stilted than the last time, “Do you think you could help me move the box of paints into my room? I can carry the rest, but that box is really heavy, and I don’t want to drop it.”

Taeyong turned around to her, “Yeah no problem, Aria. Which one is it?” 

Aria pointed to the singular plastic box among the cardboard ones; spattered with white and yellow and various other colors. The pair of them made their way over, hands curling around the lip of the box.

“On three?” Taeyong nodded. 

He counted them through before Aria was heaving up her side of the box and Taeyong was slipping his arm underneath it to hold some of the weight steady. They paused momentarily once they had the box in the air, finding a good balance and ensuring nothing inside had tipped over, before Aria began her shuffle backwards. 

“Mind behind you,” Taeyong warned, and Aria lifted her feet over the box that would have tripped her otherwise. 

The small steps they took to bring the paint box into her room felt never ending, and by the time they passed the threshold, both Aria and Taeyong’s arms were shaking lightly. 

“The paint’s supposed to go where?” Taeyong’s voice was breathless, anticipating the moment when he could give his arms a rest.

“Maybe - just in the corner? Over there, out of the way.” Aria jerked her head towards the far corner, on the opposite side of the room of the bed and empty desk. 

The box was placed down with a thud, and Taeyong straightened up - shaking out his arms. Aria sat down harshly on the bed free of coverings, legs beginning to burn from the numerous flights of stairs she had climbed earlier on in the day. Taeyong joined her after a moment, sitting down beside her. 

“You need a hand taking in the rest of your things?” he questioned, turning to look at her.

“Nah,” Aria shook her head. “I might wait a while and get Hyuck to drag them in for me.” 

Taeyong snorted slightly. “You know, I think you’re the only person who can get that boy to do something he doesn’t already want to do.” 

“Jokes on him, I just convince him that it was his idea.” 

The silence settled again, less acidic this time. 

It was broken after a second by Taeyong. “I didn’t know you could paint?” 

Aria cast her gaze over to the stained box in the corner. A dry paintbrush was sticking out the top of it, the bristles clean but the wooden handle covered in splashes of colourful paint - intermittent with streaks of white and black and a mixture of the two. 

“Yeah,” Aria hummed. “I don’t know when I started, I just. Always have, I think.” 

“Did someone teach you? Your parents?” 

Aria coughed to hide the laugh that threatened to break from her chest. “Oh no, no. Youtube taught me most of what I know, I won’t lie. And I’m not, very good - it’s just, therapeutic? Like poetry, but you don’t have to concentrate on finding the right words.” 

Taeyong nodded knowingly. 

Aria supposed he would understand the sentiment; given the hours he spends doing what it is he does in the practice rooms or the recording studios for hours after their ‘official’ days end. She supposed that there has to be hundreds of wordless messages hidden in forty second tracks on the USB stick he keeps on his keychain. 

“You know, Ten is really artistic,” Taeyong begins again. “I never really understood it much - the colours and the images you pull out of nothing - but he seems to. A lot more than I ever could. He gets it a little bit more, I guess. The whole, unspoken words thing. I’d love to know how he did it.”

His eyes had shifted into something sincere now, and he was gazing down at Aria. She got the sense that they weren’t just talking about painting anymore. 

“I’m just saying that, if you ever need someone to talk to - about painting - then I’ll always have an open ear.”

 Aria supposed Taeyong didn’t quite understand what those words meant to her just yet. 

[ichigo-daifuku]

See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil [2]

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! Pairing: Diavolo/F!Reader Genre: Soulmate AU, Fake Relationship (?), Misunderstandings, Fluff, Angst, Suggestive Themes

Synopsis: During a confrontation between Diavolo and a certain witch who harbors unrequited feelings for him, he declares his intention to ask you to stand beside him in reigning over the Devildom someday. You conclude only one logical explanation for the insanity he uttered: this is his way of discouraging the witch from being so persistent. Although clueless, you play along and become ‘lovers’ with him.

Inevitably, your existing attraction for Diavolo grows, but the distinction between truth and lies, the crisscrossed lines of the right and the wrong, and the question of what’s real and what isn’t, begin to plague your mind and stir up trouble for your relationship with him with each passing day.

Entangled within the woven threads of soulmates and a royal prophecy, this is the story of the Demon Prince and his future Queen: you.

1 | 2 | 3 Chapter 2: Hear No Evil Word Count: 6.5k

To say your week was eventful would be an understatement.

It was no secret that wherever Diavolo went, eyes followed. Even if demons walked on eggshells with him, word about him spread from one mouth to another rapidly, both news and rumors alike. Now, your circumstances mimicked his own. When the two of you would be spotted together, all hell ensued. Once, Diavolo walked you to your classroom, and by the end of the day, everyone—including Belphegor, who had skipped classes—had knowledge of what happened. As the days passed, you slowly fell into the normalcy of such occurrences. The reason for it was when you were in Diavolo’s company, the last thing you cared about was the eyes trained on you, as strange as it sounded. On a positive note, it contributed to the fabrication of your relationship and made it more believable. No one had questioned either of you about it yet.

The most awaited day of the week arrived, Saturday.

You awoke in a good mood, undeniably filled with anticipation of the events today would bring. As you watered the Mirage Flower on your windowsill, the item resting beside it caught your eye: a note. You finished your task and took the crisp white envelope in your hands, flipping it over to see the crimson wax seal on its flap. While you were expecting the RAD logo to be stamped on it, the sigil was one you were positive you’d never seen before but felt strangely acquainted with.

With utmost care, you unsealed the envelope, and in the card, the sender had written:

Bewitched, I was, on the fateful day you and I met.

The familiar penmanship was all you needed to confirm it was, indeed, from none other than Diavolo.

You’d be lying if you claimed your heart didn’t flutter when you finished reading that single sentence, but that was a normal response, wasn’t it? Such a romantic sentiment was written in a note for you, and it was from an admirable man—of course, you’d be moved by it. As you breathed in and out to curb the initial surprise you felt due to the content of the envelope, you tapped behind the paper with your index finger, thinking.

Diavolo loved games, and he was entertained the most by being their mastermind.

This is a riddle, you thought. What a strange way to ask someone out.

You chuckled, both amused by his antics and by the way the gears in your head turned to figure out the meaning behind his words. Months ago, the demon brothers had insisted on coming with you to the Demon Lord’s Castle when you were invited there for tea. Perhaps, it was because, back then, Diavolo had requested for your company in the same manner that you found the answer in no time.

Quietness ruled over the RAD campus on weekends, a stark contrast to the busy picture it painted on weekdays. The area remained open, though, permitting industrious students to hole up inside the library and club members to work on their extracurricular activities. 

Leisurely, you strolled along the garden and entered the building without bumping into anyone you knew. Once inside, you recognized a few demons and nodded to them as a greeting while navigating your way to the answer to the riddle: The Student Council Room.

The door let out a small creak as you pushed it open. Since Diavolo was nowhere to be found, you stepped inside and opted to look around for any signs of another envelope. Despite having a lot of papers and writing implements, Lucifer’s area was the tidiest. The square-shaped tube of the tinted lip balm Asmodeus had been frantically searching for yesterday was on his table. Meanwhile, a stack of overdue assignments Belphegor ‘forgot’ to bring home was on his desk.

You roamed around the room until you reached the space you had landed on when you were transported into this world. Standing still, you raised your head, your gaze meeting the podium Diavolo had occupied, the place where he greeted you. It was the very first time your eyes landed on him. In absolute clarity, you could picture the scene of your meeting and how he looked like back then. He was tall and proud, his eyebrows scrunched together in worry at your discomfort at being summoned so suddenly. Most of all, he was regal, as if the place he had been standing on was not a student council podium but a throne.

“This takes me back,” you commented, feeling nostalgic after realizing how far you’d come. You’d learned many things from your stay and met friends more precious to you than anyone else. In the past, if someone told you what kind of relationship you’d be sharing with the Demon Prince months later, you would’ve laughed and brushed them off. “Now, where could that envelope be?”

You stepped aside and moved forward. The stairs led you to where Diavolo had been on that ‘fateful’ day. Footsteps tentative but thrilled, you approached his seat, halting and pulling the chair out. You stood in the place where Diavolo belonged; high up, the sight offering a clear view of what was happening below. Your gaze zeroed in on the center of the room, the spot you stood at a while ago, where he first landed his eyes on you. It hit you that you were looking at that place from his perspective. What did he think of you back then?

“‘ Bewitched, I was, on the fateful day you and I met, ’” you uttered and caught yourself having thoughts you shouldn’t have. Sighing, you shook your head, picked up the envelope on Diavolo’s desk, and muttered, “Why is he so good at this?”

You unsealed the envelope and read the next riddle:

The greed and lust I harbor for you know no bounds.

How in the Devildom were you supposed to interpret that message? If you were surprised by the previous riddle, then you were flabbergasted now. You had to remind yourself multiple times: it was a riddle; nothing more, nothing less. Based on the emphasis he had given the sins in the message, the clue laid in the two members of the Seven Rulers of Hell: Mammon and Asmodeus. Intrigued by the events he had in store for you, you contemplated the riddle’s meaning further and descended on the stairs with the intent of going home. Before you could forget, you grabbed the missing lip balm Asmodeus left on his desk and decided to return it to him and ask him for any clues Diavolo might have given him.

Once you arrived back at the House of Lamentation, you went straight in the direction of Asmodeus’s room, but surprisingly, you met him along the hallway.

“Asmo! I found the tinted lip balm you’re looking for in the Student Council Room,” you stated, handing him the item.

He accepted it gratefully, his eyes wide. “Oh, my… I must have left it there a few days ago. Thanks for bringing it!”

“Sure thing,” you replied. “Where are you off to, by the way?”

“Glad you asked! The Into The Devildom collection I designed is going to be launched soon, so I’m meeting some partners for it.”

“Wow, congratulations! I’m looking forward to seeing your designs!”

“Oh, thank you, darling! As crazy as this sounds, the executives suggested Mammon as one of our models, so he’s going to attend the meeting, too.”

“Wait! What did you just say? Mammon?”

“I know, right?” His facial expression morphed into one full of disbelief and exasperation. “Well, I mean, even if he’s scummy off-cam, he does justice to clothing on-cam, so I have high hopes for this campaign... but don’t tell him I said that!”

“Yes, yes, of course…”

The request Asmodeus made barely registered in your mind as you figured out the place connected to both the Avatar of Greed and the Avatar of Lust: Majolish.

The Majolish VIP Room lived up to its name; it was nothing short of glamorous.

After going to an AkuDonald’s drive-through, Mammon, Asmodeus, and you—or as you liked to refer to yourselves: TEAM PARTYYYYY—headed straight to Majolish while chatting about random topics and gossip. Once inside the rose-colored establishment, Mammon and Asmodeus parted ways with you to attend their meeting. You were about to search for clues from the racks and shelves when a staff member approached and escorted you to a sitting room to serve you tea and snacks.

Minutes after partaking of the refreshments, the head stylist welcomed you to the adjoining VIP Room, where, at the moment, you were sitting inside and waiting. You stared at your reflection in the grand vanity mirror. All its lights were turned on, and it was an image you’d only seen in Hollywood movies back in your world. After you were all glammed up with flawless makeup, a staff member under Asmodeus brought an ensemble from his unreleased Into The Devildom collection. You tried to refuse, but after a phone call from the designer himself, insisting he wanted the best clothing for you on your ‘momentous’ date, you relented and expressed your gratitude for his thoughtful gesture.

“My lady,” the head stylist called. Although everyone in this place had been referring to you using this title since earlier, you were still unused to it. The head stylist offered you the item in their hands. “Lord Diavolo asked us to give you this envelope after you’d chosen your outfit.”

You smiled and received it. “I see. Thank you so much.”

“I wish you both a wonderful time,” the head stylist replied and left to give you privacy.

You opened the envelope, wondering what the riddle would say. Since he led you here to prepare you for your date, this would be the last note, wouldn’t it?

Meet me at the place where we first shared dinner, my princess.

I will be waiting.

— Diavolo

‘My princess.’

He called you his princess.

Your heart did a complete somersault at that. 

Unexpectedly, the riddle—if you could even call it one—was more straightforward than the previous two you’d received. You placed the card back inside the envelope, putting it together with the other two inside your clutch. Clearing your throat and fixing your posture, you stood and adjusted your clothing. You were nervous again, but you were ready.

A sleek black car waited for you outside, ready to take you to your destination: Ristorante Six.

“You look even more beautiful tonight,” Diavolo remarked.

He smiled at you from across the table, his appearance dashing though he was only in a plain dress shirt and slacks. He took the champagne flute in his long fingers, your eyes refusing to miss the way his arm flexed at the movement and how his throat bobbed as he took a sip of the beverage.

“I have you to thank for that,” you gulped and managed to reply. “The staff at Majolish were all so nice and accommodating.”

“That’s good to hear.” He placed his glass on the side and leaned back to his seat, his eyes trained on you. “Did you enjoy the riddles?”

You let out a laugh. “I can’t say I didn’t.”

“I’m glad,” he said, the smile on his lips shifting into a frown. “To tell you the truth, I initially planned for us to enjoy a day together in the human world… but when I asked Lucifer for advice, he told me it wouldn’t be pleasant if we were to run into a certain witch…”

Ah, you thought, wondering what that would’ve entailed. However, wouldn’t it be better for Maddi to see you and Diavolo together for her to be deterred? When you contemplated the matter further, you supposed that would be dangerous—for you, at least. Honestly, you would’ve been fine with a simple dinner, but knowing Diavolo, the fact that Ristorante Six was empty save for the two of you was his way of apologizing and making up for the breakfast Maddi ruined. “You don’t need to worry about that. I really enjoyed today. It’s my first time going on a date in the Devildom.”

“That makes me happy,” he stated, visibly relieved and pleased. “We can still go, next time.”

Next time. The implication he wanted to go out with you again made your chest thrum with anticipation. “Yes, you’re right. Next time.”

He reached across the table and took your hand in his, his thumb brushing your knuckles. “Thank you for agreeing to go out with me.”

The scent of roses swirled around the room. The romantic atmosphere enveloping the two of you was intoxicating—as if it was an invitation for you to give in to the thoughts and emotions looming over your mind and heart. Was it those riddles that got to you? Or was it Diavolo himself, whom you’d always admired from afar?

You smiled at him and let your fingers hold on to his own tighter, just for a moment.

As you expected, Diavolo insisted on taking you home. You didn’t mind—no scratch that—it delighted you he’d offer, as your dinner with him felt strangely short. You’d spent a considerable amount of time during the day figuring out the riddles, a period longer than your two hours of dinner. While the five-course meal left you satisfied, your conversation with him was so enjoyable that it felt brief. It wouldn’t take that long to travel from Ristorante Six to the House of Lamentation, so you figured a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Soon, you arrived at your home. Diavolo entered the gates of the House of Lamentation with you in comfortable silence. Once the two of you stepped on the porch, you offered, “Do you want to go in and say hi to everyone?”

“Hm?” Diavolo was lost in thought as he gave you an indecisive stare.

“Diavolo?”

As you stared back at him, it dawned on you. You’d witnessed this scene a thousand times in human world movies before, and with his interest in the pop culture of your realm, he had, too. You used to think it was nothing but a ridiculous cliché, but now, you weren’t so sure about that anymore.

“Can I kiss you good night?” Diavolo asked in a low, husky voice.

You had no way of concealing the surprise etched on your face. Even if you expected the question, the thought of kissing him was surreal. You never dared to dream of it, yet here he was, truly asking you if such a thing would be fine with you. The demon brothers would be watching somewhere from one of the tall windows, you had no doubt about it, burning with curiosity about the date between the human they shared a pact with and the Prince they swore their loyalty to. You had agreed to be a part of Diavolo’s charade, and your first date went well. This was natural.

You nodded. “Okay.”

Closing your eyes, you leaned into his warmth as his palm made its way to your cheek and curved at your jaw. The gentle pressure of his lips on your own lasted for a mere second, and the loss of contact prompted your eyes to open, the desire for more reflected in your eyes… and his.

In front of you, Diavolo revealed the rare sight of his vulnerability. You’d never known it before, but there was a limit to his seemingly perpetual composure. As you gazed at the undeniable flush on his cheeks and the hesitation painted all over his countenance, the longing to see more of this version of him led adrenaline to spike in your veins.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and whispered, “Do you need me to do more?”

Diavolo’s eyes widened at your astute inquiry, but he made no move to deny it. “Will you?”

The question sounded like a challenge, but underneath that layer, it was a plea. He wanted this, and you did, too—even if it was only for show.

“I can,” you confirmed, “if you’d like me to.”

At your agreement, his hesitation dissipated. He leaned in and brushed your lower lip with his thumb. “If you continue to tempt me like that, you need to prepare yourself for the consequences.”

“I’ve been prepared for them. Ever since I said ‘yes’ to you.”

You closed your eyes as Diavolo bent his head and pressed a gentle kiss on your lips. It was a real one, this time, and you returned it enthusiastically, throwing caution to the wind. His palm moved past your cheek, down to your shoulder, pausing on the small of your back until it settled around your waist, fitting your bodies together. His warm tongue slid past the seam of your lips to meet yours, deepening the kiss and awakening a wave of desire inside of you.

Before it could get out of hand, you broke the contact of your lips on his. You caught your breath while Diavolo leaned his forehead against yours. Your lips stayed a hair’s breadth away from each other’s, sharing warm puffs of breath and brushing as you whispered, “Good night, Diavolo.”

“Good night, my princess.”

The first kiss you shared with Diavolo had been the beginning of many.

A certain thrill hung in the atmosphere whenever the two of you were in the vicinity of each other. More often than not, your encounters would lead to the two of you leaving hand in hand to move to a more private setting as everyone watched. Although there was no reason for you to continue your charade behind closed doors, the moment your eyes met his, kisses followed. When your relationship with him took a physical turn through your heated kisses, your attraction to him inevitably grew stronger.

Being the heir to the Devildon’s throne, Diavolo was a busy demon. Despite this, he would still take you on dates. You’d gone to Ristorante Six a few more times. There was an instance when he wanted to go to AkuDonald’s, and you were more than happy to introduce him to your favorites. Your date at Hell’s Kitchen went well, too. How he managed to find the time for these things, you had no idea. The following dates you went with him were accompanied with gifts, and soon, across your bedroom’s shelves and beside your pillows, various plush toys from Cranesanity rested—all acquired personally by Diavolo. It was both amusing and endearing, his interest in that game.

On a Sunday afternoon, weeks after you began your dangerous affair with him, Diavolo invited you to come over for tea in the Demon Lord’s Castle. Much like how it began after your second date, he had asked you in a way you’d consider normal, this time, through a text message. Either way, if he was the one who invited you, you’d be delighted to accept.

With the inky view of the Devildom outside the sitting room window, you sat across Diavolo, a round ornate table full of pastries between the two of you. The freshly brewed Ceylon tea by none other than Barbatos, a culinary legend, was warm and fragrant in your teacups. One of the best things in the Demon Lord’s Castle was the food. Barbatos’s cooking was the best, truly fit for royalty, and worth every praise you’d heard about it. As Beelzebub would mention now and then, from being served such food alone, Diavolo was lucky to have Barbatos as his butler.

While eating, Diavolo brought up how the RAD Newspaper Club contacted him and asked for his approval for your photo in the academy’s courtyard to be published. Before giving them a response, he wanted to know if you had any objections or conditions for Mephistopheles to take into account.

“I have no problem with it, honestly. It would be better if the denizens knew, wouldn’t it?” you responded after giving it some thought, meaning every word you said.

Diavolo nodded, considering your answer.

“What about you? What do you think?” you asked.

“I’d like nothing more than to let everyone know about us. Not that they don’t know already, but officially, I mean.” Diavolo chuckled and handed you a printed copy of the photograph for your approval. “We look like quite the pair, don’t we?”

As you examined the picture, a smile made its way to your lips, a tiny, if not bittersweet, one. You, Diavolo, and the Mirage Flower were at the center of the frame. On the surface, the two of you looked like a couple in love; convincing, real. You knew better, though, and that reality left a pang in your chest. “We sure do.”

A celebratory ball was going to be held at the Demon Lord’s Castle in honor of Diavolo’s prophesied ‘Queen.’ In other words, the ball was going to be held to honor you. The situation was similar to what happened some time ago when the demon brothers, through their gratitude, made you the guest of honor during Diavolo’s birthday. It lessened the nervousness you felt and replaced it with anticipation.

Still, it would be nice to thank Diavolo for everything he had done for you. You looked back on the facts you’d learned about him in the past few months and listed the arts, cute animals and items, and sweets as the things he was partial to. His tastes were eclectic. When you first met him, you wouldn’t have guessed he considered flowers and small animals to be comforting.

In the end, you decided to go for the ‘sweets’ option. Macarons and cupcakes would be nice, wouldn’t they? Both of them would be cute and sweet. You decided to experiment with a few trial batches before making a final one to give Diavolo as a gift on the day of the ball. 

Luke, who you were convinced was truly your guardian angel, was more than happy to assist you when you asked him for help.

Once your classes were dismissed, you returned to the House of Lamentation with Luke. After he demonstrated how to make macarons and cupcakes, you sat side by side and chatted as you waited for the pastries to bake.

“So,” Luke began out of the blue, “you’re really dating Lord Diavolo, huh? I couldn’t believe it when I first heard about it.”

While you had experienced telling white lies to children back in your world, at the moment, you found it difficult to believe how you were lying to an angel. “Haha, yeah. It’s been a while.” 

“I’m still not over the fact that a good human like you ended up being destined for a demon all along! Even if that demon is Lord Diavolo…” Luke frowned. He had always been like this, worrying about you, a human who was constantly surrounded by demons. To him, now that you were going to be Diavolo’s Queen, your entanglement with demons had become inexorable.

You couldn’t help but reach out to him and ruffle his hair. He was truly an angel, a good kid.

“H-Hey,” he complained but did nothing to move your hand away, “stop that!”

“Thanks for worrying about me, Luke.” You smiled at him reassuringly and patted his shoulder. “Everything will be fine. As you said, Diavolo and I… well, we are destined, after all.”

The sound of the timer prompted your heads to turn to its source. Luke’s face lit up as he excitedly grabbed his mittens and skipped to the corner of the room. The heavenly scent of pastries wafted all over the kitchen as he drew the oven’s door open.

You, however, stayed in place and merely watched, once again having difficulty believing how you lied to an angel.

Diavolo’s trusted footmen fetched you from the House of Lamentation to the Demon Lord’s Castle. 

Over the last few months, you’d developed a sense of familiarity not only with Diavolo’s staff but also with the ins and outs of his grand home. You’d stayed over numerous times that the guest room you frequented in was now assigned as exclusively yours, with your personal effects in it, serving as your room. Aside from your possessions, brand new designer clothing purchased by Diavolo—which were, unexpectedly, all in your size—as well as makeup, accessories, toiletries, and everything you could need, occupied the walk-in closet.

“Is this really necessary?” you had asked him when you found out about his shopping spree, worry trumping the other mixed emotions you felt at the sight of more gifts.

“I want to give all the best things to you.”

“If you say things like that, I…”

“Don’t you think my future Queen deserves the best of the best?”

“...Right, of course.”

Diavolo’s Queen. That person was not you. You sighed and reminded yourself he was the Demon Prince. He had an eternity’s worth of money to spare, purchasing these items was nothing to him. He prepared this for the Queen in the prophecy, a partner deserving of such luxury. When you eventually had to use some of the items for attending events with Diavolo, you told yourself you were just borrowing them. You handled everything with care and returned them to their original place after use—as if your hands never touched them at all.

You arrived at the Demon Lord’s Castle and found yourself sitting on the plush sofa inside Diavolo’s study. After recently having a vision of Diavolo playing hooky, Barbatos requested for you to keep an eye on him, insisting his master would listen to you. Barbatos asked you to make sure Diavolo would finish his tasks before the two of them had to leave for a meeting with important figures of the nobility in the Devildom. You obliged, having nothing else to do on a Friday night, preferring Diavolo’s quiet company over the club music and neon lights in town, which would no doubt be full of demons unwinding tonight. While you scrolled through Devilgram, liked your friends’ photos, and laughed at funny videos, Diavolo went through his stack of papers diligently. As the pile grew smaller, he hummed to the tune of a song from Mononoke Land, which piqued your attention.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” you commented. 

“I am.” He nodded happily. “You’re here, after all.”

You smiled at him. “I’m glad.”

Diavolo signed his name at the bottom of the page he was working on and placed his seal on it. After the wax dried, he closed the folder and placed it to the side, leaning back against his seat with an exhausted sigh.

You glanced at him and asked, “You’re finished?”

“It seems so,” he replied, checking the grandfather’s clock in the corner of the room, “and with a few minutes to spare, too.”

“Barbatos will be pleased. Congratulations!”

He chuckled and shifted his gaze back to you, a mischievous smirk on his lips. “Don’t you think I deserve a reward?”

“Maybe,” you played along coyly. “What kind of reward do you want?”

“Something only you can give me.”

“Such a thing exists?”

“Yes.” He gestured to you with his fingers, beckoning you over. “Come here.”

You locked your D.D.D. and left it on the sofa, standing up and stepping in front of his desk. “What can I do for you, Diavolo?”

“You can come closer.”

You circled the desk until you were beside him. “Here?”

“Not quite.” He took your wrist and encircled your waist with his arm, pulling you into his lap. “Right here.”

You shifted and found a more comfortable position with your legs hanging from the side of his knees. “That’s it?”

“No.” Diavolo brushed your hair aside and caressed your cheek. “Kiss me.”

Gladly, you thought but ultimately chose actions over words as a response.

Your lips had long been acquainted with his, but every single time remained as a sensual experience that left you wanting for more. Sometimes he’d be slow and gentle, taking his time to savor your taste, while other times had been quick pecks on your lips when either of you would be busy and in a rush to say goodbye.

But now, the kiss the two of you were sharing could only be described as passionate. Your palms rested on his shoulders, and slowly, you wrapped your arms around him, closing in your bodies toward each other. His lips moved against yours so greedily—lustfully—that you felt sinful as you reciprocated, drowning in his warmth.

When you pulled away to catch your breath, his arm tightened around your waist, and his mouth swept over your cheek, leaving a trail of kisses in its wake until his lips found your neck. He kissed you softly, his tongue darting out to dampen your skin before nipping and sucking at it.

“Diavolo,” you closed your eyes and whispered, not wanting to make noise but unable to hold it in.

“Let out your voice,” he said, moving his lips downward after leaving a lovebite on your skin. “I want to hear you.”

His long fingers unfastened the button of your blouse, giving him more access to your body. As he moved to the next button, however, a loud knock on the door caused the two of you to freeze.

“My Lord,” Barbatos called. “It is time for us to leave.”

Without waiting for an answer, the sound of footsteps echoed on the empty hallway and faded as Barbatos gave the two of you privacy.

He knows, doesn’t he? That Barbatos, you thought, internally panicking. You moved away from Diavolo and fixed your hair and clothes. Even though your mind was all muddled now, you managed to casually tell him, “I guess it’s time for you to go.”

Deep inside, you were anything but calm. Your head replayed the events that occurred minutes ago. That was a close call. Too close. What in the Devildom were you thinking? Seriously… 

It always irked you how times when, after sharing a kiss, Diavolo appeared to be unbothered existed. You preferred the vulnerable expression he had shown you during the first time you agreed to kiss him. Still, you were curious, and you turned your head to peek at the face he made tonight, but nothing could have prepared you when your eyes met his.

His gaze on you was full of desire, an emotion you’d only seen on him in flickers before; a speculation you doubted but was now a blatant truth. He stepped closer to you and pulled you in a tight embrace, letting you feel the extent of his arousal as he stroked your hair and inhaled your fragrance.

“We’ll finish this next time,” he whispered.

And then, he sealed his promise with a kiss.

After seeing Diavolo and Barbatos off, you opted to go home instead of staying longer in the Demon Lord’s Castle. You needed time to think, and being in a place full of memories with Diavolo didn’t help in clearing your mind.

You’d long accepted your attraction to him. If you were to imagine what it would be like to be in a relationship with a soulmate, every detail would be the same as the romantic affair you shared with Diavolo, except it would be real. Tonight, you had to face the music and admit it to yourself: you wished it was.

The situation was getting out of your hands, and at a loss of what to do, you grabbed your D.D.D. from your pocket and dialed a reliable friend’s number, knowing this decision would change your life.

As insisted by the angels, Solomon went to town to order takeout for dinner instead of experimenting in the kitchen. That was when he received your call. The two of you agreed to meet up at Hell’s Kitchen, as you spontaneously decided to purchase food for the demon brothers as well. It had been a while since all eight of you had gone for a meal there. Solomon wasn’t in a rush and had time to spare, so he was more than happy to sit down with you for a chat as you waited for your orders to be processed.

“Shall we have a round of Demonus tonight?” he asked, leading you to a nice, secluded table in the corner of the room.

“Sounds good,” you replied with a nod and took the seat in front of him.

After some idle chat, a waiter brought two horns of Demonus for you and Solomon.

With his elbows on top of the table, Solomon rested his chin over his folded hands. He broached the subject with a smile, “So, what did you want to talk about? Spells? Pacts? Demons? Recipes?”

You took your time in replying, not having uttered this word in this world before. “I’d like to talk about… soulmates.”

“Soulmates? Well, that’s something I didn’t expect.”

“Yes, I… I wanted to know if there are demons who have soulmarks.”

“How come? By any chance, do you have a soulmark?”

It was difficult enough for you to acknowledge you had one, but if you wanted to acquire information from Solomon, your best bet at the moment, you had to come clean about your situation. “Yes, I do.”

“Does Lord Diavolo know?”

“No, this is a secret I’ve never revealed to anyone before.”

Solomon contemplated the situation you had given him. “That is certainly complicated.”

You sighed and took a sip of your Demonus. “I know.”

“I hate to be the one to break it to you. I’ve been around for a long time, but I’ve never met a demon with a soulmark.” 

“I see. That’s…” Sad? Unfortunate? Heartbreaking? What were you supposed to say when the disappointment clouding your mind felt so heavy?

“I’m sorry,” Solomon said sincerely.

“It’s… It’s nothing. I’m alright.”

He took a sip of his drink and allowed you to process the information he had given you. As you did, you couldn’t help but dwell on another matter that continued to plague your mind. After a few minutes, you decided this would be the best moment to ask.

“Solomon…”

“Yes, what is it?”

“Have you heard about Diavolo’s prophecy?”

A sly smile made its way to his lips. “Let’s just say having pacts with seventy-two demons has its perks.”

That caught your attention. He knew something about it. “Will you tell me?”

“Why not ask him yourself?” Solomon suggested. “It’s something that concerns you as well, doesn’t it?”

There had always been a sense of camaraderie between the two of you as the only humans in the exchange program. Revealing the fact you had a soulmark was one thing, but telling him about the secret you shared with Diavolo was another. Still, if you were to receive the answer your gut feeling told you that you would receive, there would be no need to worry about that any longer. 

“I’m going to tell you another secret.”

Solomon nodded encouragingly. “And it will remain as one.”

His quip made you laugh, but the amusement faded in the blink of an eye, the words you were about to utter weighing you down.

“The truth is, I’m just a stand-in for whoever is the one in the prophecy,” you confessed. “I’m sure you’ve heard of her, but Maddi… well, long story short, Diavolo had to drive her away, but she steered the conversation to the prophecy, and I happened to be there, so…”

Solomon peered at your face, his expression grave. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes, I was there. That’s what happened.”

“And the demon brothers don’t know, so you can’t ask them yourself.”

“That’s right.”

He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Okay, I’ll tell you.”

Relief washed over you at his agreement. If Solomon ended up refusing, you didn’t know who else you could approach.

Solomon cleared his throat and divulged, “It was long ago, so the version of the story varied, but from what I’d gathered from the different sources I had, one thing was constant: a witch had a vision of the future when the Demon Prince was born. It was said that Diavolo’s Queen would be the bridge to his goals, and only when the Queen would rule by his side would he be able to see them into fulfillment.”

This was the revelation you needed, the answer you sought after. If the prophecy was made when Diavolo was born, it meant that he had been waiting for his Queen for millennia.

It must be lonely, you thought, but loneliness was something you never saw on him. 

While you never cared about finding nor ending up with your soulmate, it was a different matter with Diavolo. The Devildom would always be his number one priority. To figure out the dream the prophecy was referring to was easy: for the three worlds to live peacefully in coexistence. He’d expressed that many times before. The establishment of the exchange program was a stepping stone to actualize his vision, but he was still waiting for his Queen, a position vyed by many but was in your wrongful hands.

It would be fine to continue pretending to be his Queen if you weren’t in love with him… but you were. How could you continue kissing him and wishing every caress of his lips was sincere? It was as if you were a traveler with a parched throat who spotted an oasis from afar, only to discover it was a mirage once you reached it. Even now, a flicker of envy sparked within you for the nameless, faceless Queen of the Devildom he was bound to have by his side. At once, you discarded the thought and decided it wasn’t a good feeling to have, to covet him, who is destined for someone else. It would be wrong of you to continue pretending to be someone you weren’t, especially since someone who might be out there already existing, deserved this place. 

Solomon’s worried voice roused you from your reverie. “You seem shaken. Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m fine,” you responded with a shaky voice. “It’s just… a lot to take in.”

“What do you plan to do now?”

“I’m going to break things off with him.”

“You say that, but will he let you?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” You let out a sardonic chuckle. “It’s not like there was anything going on between us, to begin with.”

“Hmm…”

“Solomon? What is it?”

“Oh, nothing.” He shook his head and smiled. “I’m curious to see how this unfolds. I wish you the best of luck.”

“Thank you.”

Yes, breaking things off with him would be the right thing to do. After all, you couldn’t help but imagine yourself in Maddi’s shoes as Diavolo blatantly rejected your affection. The thought alone was painful enough. Before that could happen, you’d part ways with him in amicable terms and through your own will. The exchange program was going to end soon, anyway. Truly, there was no point in holding on to him any longer. This would be for the best.

You would set things straight and end your arrangement with him the next time you planned to meet each other: at the upcoming celebratory ball at the Demon Lord’s Castle.

Notes: I went through a writing slump for a while, so I decided to work on a few shorter pieces before writing this chapter. Finally, it’s here! To those who had been waiting for this, I hope you enjoyed reading. Thank you for your patience! ♡

See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil

Obey Me! Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[knjoodles]

learn to love; jungkook | 03

pairing: teacher!jungkook x singleparent!reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 3.8k

summary: raising your daughter alone while simultaneously watching your ex-husband live the life of his dreams away from the two of you hurts. badly. it hurts a little less, though, when you find an unlikely friend while looking for help.

lowercase intended 

01 | 02 | 04

   after dropping seyoung to her school, you sat in your car contemplating what had just happened, running your hands over the leather of your wheel. you thought it was inappropriate to be this interested in your daughter’s teacher. he was objectively handsome, his striking eyebrows and gentle dimples key features of his face. his body, well, he was lean and fit, standing taller than you with toned arms and legs. it was obvious he took care of himself very well and, from how organized the classroom was, that he was very attentive in nearly every aspect of his life. maybe it wasn’t necessarily the things you saw on the surface but what you learned from his habits that drew you to him.

  it wasn’t as if you were head over heels in love with this man. you knew what that felt like with hoseok, and this feeling? it wasn’t that. but, that didn’t stop you from giggling like a little girl in excitement over the image of his heaven-perfected facial features flashing in your mind. 

  thankful that some of your team members, like you, are also parents, you were relieved when they assured you it was alright that you’d arrive later to drop off your daughter. pulling up to the front of bighit’s shockingly large headquarters, you left your car, adjusting the bag hanging off your shoulder as you stepped in.

  your friendly coworkers greeted you kindly, waving and beaming at you. though you weren’t very social, your name flew around quite often in the workplace. your huge achievements and resilient aura while simultaneously being a single mother are what made you so popular without you even trying. your coworkers admired just how much shit you persisted through to get where you are today. you’re a tough lady, and you’re proud that it’s well known. “(y/n!)” a familiar voice sung, making you turn your head. you found a frantically waving sooyoung in front of you, dangling out of a conference room. “bang pd’s having an exec. meeting in our usual room. guess what? we have a new album to produce!” she danced as you approached her, visibly excited at this news. park sooyoung, your partner in crime. 

  even though she was two years your junior, sooyoung had been with you through almost everything. anything that currently affected you, sooyoung knew about. the two of you were joint at the hip during college, as the two of you shared the idea of naïve students to join a sorority. once you both realized how shitty it could be, you broke the ‘girl pact’ and left, renting an apartment together. from bonding over how much you hated the attitude of an idol to laughing over soju and ramen, you’d never give up a second you spent with her. she was the only constant in your entire life at this point, the only independent variable. your relationship with her never faltered, it only grew and grew so much that it’s as if your love for her is essentially etched into your heart. she’d helped you plan the wedding, plan for seyoung, file for divorce. she was your shoulder to cry on, your great escape. you could find no one quite like her who’d help you like she did. her broad, welcoming smile and simple beauty was a refresher from the caked makeup of idols wandering the hallways, just as unhappy with their look as your eyes were from having to see it. “sooyoung!” you waved back, following her inside the conference room and shutting the door behind you. sitting down at the desk labeled yours, you sat at the head seat, projector clicking on behind you. your team members surrounded you: sooyoung, yunho, euijin, namjoon, and jinah.

   “alright, cap’n!” yunho exclaimed, twisting on his swivel chair, fingers drumming his laptop’s keyboard. “what’s the plan? we’ve got a couple of unused demos from clc’s old albums we can freshen up and reuse for loona’s comeback! may i?” he suggested. at your nod of approval, he screen-shared his laptop screen to the projector, important tabs being dragged into view. 

   “great.” you smiled, pulling your laptop from its case. “yunho, leave those up there. those are all the tracks we have for the album, correct? first, i’d like to thank all of you for bringing together your top demos. after listening to your tracks, i know for a fact that we all took bang pd’s enthusiasm for the transferred girl group very seriously, and i appreciate that. second, i have made the final cuts after consulting your votes, and we’ve concluded that so what, hash, number one, oh yes i am, ding ding dong and three six five will remain on the album. one of every one of our songs has made it onto the album. congratulations! now, about logistics,” you started, your excitement for an upcoming album clouding all other thoughts. when you went to work, surprisingly enough, it felt as if you were on vacation, as if you were doing something right again. passion pumped through your veins once more, captivating the rest of your team. it was go time. 

   “fuck, you did it again, (y/n). great work.” namjoon sighed, shaking your hand as he rose from his seat. “i can’t believe we got this much done in such a small amount of time. i could’ve gone way longer, it’s a shame we had to cut it short.”

   “i know!” jinah chimed in agreement, gathering her things. “i couldn’t handle a second of what you do every day, (y/n). you’re amazing.”

   “no, you can,” you denied, correcting the both of them. “if you’re on this board of what, six people? it means you’re one of the most hardworking, competent, and passionate producers bighit has ever hired, to the point where you’re one of the heads of operations. you could all handle what i do, that’s mainly why i chose you to lead your respective sectors.” you chuckled, pulling your bag onto your shoulder. “and, i wish we could go longer, too. i have a parent meeting with my daughter’s teacher, so that’s the reason why you’ll all be sleeping early tonight.” you joked, earning a hearty laugh from your colleagues. you waved goodbye to each of your teammates, wishing them a good night and a safe drive the way you always did. this left you and sooyoung, babbling just like you did when you were younger. 

   “hey, you going anywhere tonight?” sooyoung asked, heels clicking on the marble floors.

   “i mean, i have the meeting with seyoung’s teacher. did you forget already?” you chuckled, poking fun at her. “but no, i don’t have anywhere to go after that. what, did you want to come with me?” you raised an eyebrow and watched sooyoung’s face relax, obviously thankful that you brought it up instead of her.

   “oh my god, yes,” she groaned, smiling. “my car’s being repaired and i don’t want to take an uber home. me, you, and seyoung can have a mommy-daughter-auntie night! please?” she gripped your hand, tugging it like a child. 

   “fine!” you laughed, pulling your hand away. “it would be good for seyoung to have someone while she waits for me to finish with her teacher. even though it’s fifteen minutes, she can get pretty bored and or antsy when she doesn’t have something to entertain herself with,” you thought aloud, knowing that because seyoung’s growing up, she’s more excitable and more curious about things. you silently thanked sooyoung from sparing you all the dramatic nightmares of a mother when she knows her child has to sit alone, without her. you invited sooyoung into the front seat of your car, her long legs slithering into place. 

   “have you met him already? my sister works at yooseong, she told me jungkook is new,” sooyoung explained, suddenly very invested in seyoung’s new teacher.

   “well, i did meet him earlier today, but,” you paused, face contorting to a confused frown. “how the hell did you know he was teaching seyoung?” your eyes widened, your lips forming an astonished smile. “sooyoung!”

   “i might’ve pulled some strings,” she raised her hands in defeat. “it’s just because i was curious about seyoung! my sister knows how close we are and how much i love seyoung, i practically begged her to tell me!” sooyoung confessed, voice rising practically three octaves. “but, seriously, how is he? is he a nice guy? he better be a nice guy,” sooyoung warned, fists balling. you loved how her personality towards friends contrasted heavily from the woman in the workplace. sooyoung working had an aura so intimidating and sharp she could cut, but sooyoung chatting had the aura of a big cuddle bear. 

   “he’s, well,” you started, trying to gather your words. you couldn’t say much about him, the two of you only had a two-minute conversation. “i don’t know a lot about him because, as i mentioned, we met this morning, but, sooyoung, do you know what he looks like?”

   “no, i don’t.” she shrugged. “soojung only gave me his name. what, is he scary? does he not look like he’s supposed to be there?” sooyoung pandered you with questions, her eyes and tone full of concern.

   “no, no!” you replied, shaking your free hand. “he looks fine. i just, well, i don’t know how to explain it. do you remember when we met hoseok at that party a long, long time ago?” you asked, earning a slow nod from her. “he reminds me of that hoseok. a bubbly, kind, caring, hoseok.” you paused and listened to the silence in the car, the traffic outside being the only thing preventing this conversation from being more awkward. “i... i don’t know,” you sighed, laughing at your strange thoughts. “i don’t even understand how that works! i met him for two fucking minutes and in those two minutes he managed to remind me of the one man i loved with all my heart?” you breathed heavily, recollecting yourself.

   “hey, woah,” sooyoung cautioned, rubbing a hand your back. “don’t make this teacher that personal for you. he’s not hoseok, he’s someone else, and if you keep associating him with that scum on earth you won’t ever have a good relationship with him. remember seyoung needs this, and so do you. seyoung first, and then you.” sooyoung’s hard-knock advice never failed to be your reality check. she’d always remind you of what was important so you wouldn’t get so caught up in your emotions. “i suggest you talk to him and get to know him, so you can see just how different he is from hoseok. i mean, if i had any kids, i wouldn’t let them near hoseok. he’d probably lock ‘em in a closet and sleep with his girlfriend for the thirtieth time in a row.” she rolled her eyes, slapping the dash of your car in anger. “i hate that guy. i know you don’t want me to hate him, but i do. i capital h, a, t, e him. hate.” she complained, folding her arms. 

   “no, i get it. if he wasn’t the father of my child, i’d hate him too.” you pulled into the driveway of the school, seeing students waddle off with their parents as the school day came to a close. you led sooyoung to seyoung’s third-grade classroom, the door now decorated with adorable mini paper handprints of each student, their name written in the center. in the lower right corner, you could see jungkook’s large handprint with ‘mr. jeon’ scribbled on it about twenty-six times, one for each student to write his name. you chuckled at how cute it was and opened the door, the room buzzing with excitement as parents came to collect their child. 

   “ah, ms. (y/n)!” jungkook’s head rose from the pile of homework on his desk to greet you. he stepped out of his chair and walked towards you and sooyoung, twisting his body to avoid the high-energy children. 

   “he knows your first name?!” sooyoung whisper-ashouted, awe-strucken.

   “i almost told him my last name was jung! i wasn’t thinking, i just said the first thing that came to mind!” you whispered back, panicking that you were having this conversation as he made his way to you.

   “you couldn’t remember your last name?” sooyoung retorted, utterly confused. “jesus, (y/n), seriously?”

   “yes, seriously,” you responded as jungkook finally reached the two of you. “it’s nice to see you again, mr. jeon.” you shook his hand politely, smiling. 

   “it’s nice to see you, too!” he turns to sooyoung, squinting slightly. “i don’t believe we’ve met, but you look so familiar —“

   “i’m soojung’s sister, sooyoung.” she smiled, waving. 

   “the famous soojung is your sister? of course!” he returned her friendly gaze, nodding. as you all chatted nicely a teacher entered the room, telling all children who haven’t been picked up yet to head to the cafeteria for extended care. “it’s nice to meet you. i do have a meeting with (y/n) at the moment, so may we please be excused?” jungkook, asked, adjusting his shirt. 

   “yeah, sooyoung, can you get seyoung? she hasn’t noticed we’re here yet,” you laughed, watching your daughter march happily out of the classroom. “seyoung!” you called. her head spun and her eyes widened when she caught sight of you, but her mouth twisted into an excited grin at the sight of sooyoung. 

   “sooyoung auntie!” seyoung exclaimed, running to give her a huge hug. 

   “hi, baby!” sooyoung pat her head affectionately, taking her hand. “i’ll take care of her. you guys get going!”

  and so, after all the students had left, you sat down in front of jungkook’s desk as he tidied it up, moving large stacks of paper behind him. “i’m sorry i couldn’t have cleaned earlier,” he sighed, filing through cabinets and stuffing papers inside. “when you’re in charge of twenty-six kids at once, things don’t always end up getting done very quickly.” he joked, sitting at his desk. 

   “oh, tell me about it,” you replied, laughing. “seyoung’s quite a handful at home; she’s full of beans!” you pulled out a small notebook from your purse, wanting to make sure you'd jot down everything down from this meeting.

   “i can tell! she’s very excited in class and has shown just how enthusiastic she is about the tangerine points.” he chuckled, motioning to the large counter scribbled on the corner of the whiteboard, dedicated to tangerine points. “but, today, we’re just going to talk logistics, what i should know about your child, what i should know about you, and anything else you see important. i wanted to talk about seyoung first, but, if there’s something you wanted to open with, we can start there?” he asked, opening a desk drawer and pulling out a file labeled ‘seyoung’.

   “oh, no, this meeting is about seyoung, so it’s appropriate we start with her.” you tittered, earning a laugh from the man across from you.

   “you’re funny!” he smiled, opening the file. “well, this is seyoung’s file; it has her records from kindergarten to second grade, her personal information, and any notes other teachers have made regarding her and her performance. i looked over it before our meeting, and may i just say, great job, (y/n). your daughter is amazing, she shines particularly well. she has a lot of potential, and you seem to have unlocked it in her early years! congratulations on that.” he nodded at your smiling face, turning pages of the contents of the file. “i did want to mention that, even though she does very well, seyoung is very talkative in class. not to the point where she disturbs class time, but enough for me to mention it to you. do you understand what i mean?” he asked, motioning towards you.

  you looked up from your notebook, finishing a sentence. “yes, of course.” you nodded. “is there anything you wanted me to do about this, like talk to her at home?”

   “i think that’d be the best move, just telling her that class time is for work, and recess is for play. i told her today that i needed her to listen more in class, and she assured me she’d do exactly that!” he smiled. “i’ll wait until tomorrow to further contact you about this because i’m pretty sure she’ll listen to me. i also wanted to discuss her emergency contacts? the school was going to call you about this, but once they heard we’ve scheduled a meeting, they asked me to discuss it with you.”

   “of course,” you replied, very confused. you closed your notebook, palm resting on top of it, pen in hand. “go on?”

   “after you, we have park sooyoung, kang seulgi, and her father, jung hoseok. we’d called mr. jung a couple days ago for annual information verification and a woman picked up. once we asked for him, they told us we couldn’t have his information and hung up. is the number written correctly? we want to make sure all information is up to date.”

  you sighed, angry at how you knew exactly who picked up the phone and how she has no filter when it comes to her personality. “the information i put on seyoung’s documents is up to date, that’s just his partner.”

   “oh, i see,” jungkook muttered, afraid he may have pushed a button. “i’ll let the office know, and we’ll try to contact him again. my dearest apologies for bothering.”

   “it’s fine,” you waved your hand, smiling bitterly. “you’re just doing your job! but, anyway, is there anything else about seyoung? i know the school year has just begun, so there may not be much from your end just yet, but i’m glad you can see just how gifted seyoung is. she’s my pride and joy.”

   “i’m glad she has a supportive family,” he smiled, adjusting the papers within the file and closing it, tucking it back into its respective folder. “that’s very important in a child’s life.” he stood up from his chair, prompting you to do the same. “i’m glad we could have this talk, ms. (y/n). we can call this a success!” he shook your hand firmly, smiling brightly. after gathering his things he led you outside of the classroom, presumably walking you to the front. “i’ve heard of your work for these big k-pop groups. i almost trained to be in one myself, but i ended up going to college and becoming a teacher.”

   “that’s so interesting! did you get accepted?” you gazed at him in surprise. he had the looks and charisma to be a famous idol.

   “i did! i was accepted to many, many companies, but i couldn’t leave my parents at home, so i stayed.” he explained, smiling. “it was my dream to perform, up until i got my teaching degree. i love these little ones, and i love what i do. i don’t know if performing could give me even the slightest bit of happiness that seeing bright, young minds every day offers me.”

   “that’s such an interesting story. it’s very respectable, your love for teaching. i appreciate it, deeply.” you replied, opening the door of the school for him after he finished checking out. “thank you for this!” you shook his hand one more time, this time, with confidence. 

   “no, (y/n), thank you.” he smiled, his eyes locking with yours.

  the two of you went your separate ways, him to his car in the teachers’ designated parking lot, and you to your car, where you saw sooyoung texting on her phone and seyoung snoozing away in her car seat. “what the heck happened to seyoung?” you asked, startling sooyoung with the sudden opening of the car door. she scowled at you, slapping your arm.

   “(y/n), if i didn’t love you, you’d be dead meat.” sooyoung turned her head and glanced at seyoung’s sleeping form, her head resting against the cushion of her car seat. “we talked for a little bit, but she was just so tired that she dozed off the moment i started playing some music. it’s okay, though, that means we’ll have some silence on the way back.” she smiled, buckling herself in. “how’d it go?”

   “how’d it go?” you repeated as you pulled out of the driveway, spotting jungkook getting into his car from your rearview mirror. “well, it went pretty well, i’d say. he told me about how seyoung’s a gifted child and we went over some database things as well.”

   “of course he told you she’s gifted! what have i been telling you ever since she was born? this girl is going to grow up and become president.” sooyoung whined, squeezing your free hand briskly. “what about him?” she asked, shaking her shoulders. 

   “jungkook? what about him?” you asked, stretching your neck to eye the exit you needed to take. 

   “everything! he’s more good looking than i ever imagined him to be; is he single?” she exclaimed, making you almost break right in the middle of the highway. 

   “is he single?” you sputtered, face reddening. “how would i know something like that? his love life has nothing to do with seyoung’s performance in school!” 

   “i don’t know, i just saw the two of you standing next to each other and i knew it could work out! i mean, two attractive people with a perfect height difference and similar interests? how can that not spell out love to you?” sooyoung snorted, grinning. 

   “oh, no, sooyoung,” you warned, shaking your head. “do not try to play matchmaker with me again. you remember what it was like when i met that weirdo, yugyeom, through you? are you serious?” 

   “come on, he was nice! he paid for dinner!” she defended.

   “no, i paid for dinner, he told me about his life story on the first date. never again will I ever trust you to match me with someone else.” you corrected her, the two of you laughing at the absurdity of that night.

   “it was one time!” she cackled in between breaths. no matter what it was, sooyoung could always make you burst out into hilarious laughter. “but, you didn’t answer my question. is. he. single?”

  you paused, glancing to the side. “he doesn’t have a ring—”

   “he doesn’t have a ring!” she exclaimed, shaking her fists in excitement. “no ring, no problem!”

   “hey, that doesn’t mean he’s not seeing someone! i mean, have you seen him, sooyoung? look at him! he probably has thousands of people in his messages asking for dates.” you groaned, realizing that if you did want to start something with him, you’d probably have no chance.

   “yeah, (y/n), i did see him.” she replied, looking at you. “i was looking at him, and the whole time, he was looking at you.”

—

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[reigning-rhapsody]

Bittersweet

Strifesodos, past Gengeal; 2841 words

No TWs

The ear piercing noises of pots and pans and what sounded like now unusable plates briefly silenced the patrons crowding Seventh Heaven and let about everyone in the bar flinch in unison- all but one. Cloud merely quirked up a brow as his head shot towards the kitchen where the newest member of the staff, though it had been months since he’d joined and kept some work away from the ever so eager-to-work Tifa, had been on duty to cook for the evening.

I am, by no means, a great cook, he’d warned them at first, which turned out to be more than true, but his tastebuds didn’t lie, nor did his memory. He could tell what needed more salt and what had to stay cooking on the stove just a bit more until it was at its best, and he knew quite a few recipes for someone that, apparently, was no good as a chef. He wants to evade working any more than just as a bartender, Cloud assumed at first exactly because of that, but as good as the man was when it came to acting, as he had proven quite a few times, what he told was no lie.

Tifa insisted he should try cooking, and Gaia, it was worse than Marlene’s mud-pies from when she was younger. According to Barret, at least, who entered the establishment with a growling belly longing for a meal right as their chef in the making had finished his… attempt. A burnt pot and sore stomachs were the victims in the aftermath of Genesis Rhapsodos’ cooking despite everyone who passed him in the process paying attention to him wearing the glasses he was supposed to have sitting on his nose.

If one wanted to trust the promises given by Tifa, who insisted that teaching her new co-worker how to make some proper dishes was essential, he was a fast learner, and occasionally he even suggested to make a few meals he had memorized. No one knew as to why it was that he had recipes in mind, but no one bothered to ask either. One thing was clear though, the guy sure liked apples.

“Cloud, can you check on him?”, Tifa’s voice rung behind the blond addressed by it, barely able to be heard as the chatter and laughter picked up among the patrons again. She was busy, carrying two trays with food and drinks and a plate on one of her outstretched arms on top of it, so it was understandable she didn’t even wait for an answer and moved to the table that awaited their order. His next delivery would be in about twenty minutes and as slow as he could make himself walk, to evade whatever mess just occurred behind that door a few feet ahead of him would was impossible. Better get it over with quickly.

With a sigh, Cloud turned fully to face the direction of the kitchen and closed the gap that separated him from the door with a few swift steps slipping past filled tables. The blond swung the door open while his unoccupied hand rested in the pocket of his baggy pants. “Hey, the hell-?” He started, cutting himself off as his Mako infused gaze fell upon a kneeling Genesis staring at the floor like he was about to propose to it. Or rather, to the soup on the ground surrounding an upside down pot, porcelain pieces of what once upon a time were bowls circling the romanticized mess like ivory rose petals.

Genesis didn’t look up, nor did he answer, nor did he acknowledge Cloud and pretended the delivery boy wasn’t even present. He picked up the shattered vessels meant for the customers to eat what he begrudgingly prepared out of, seemingly doing his utmost to keep his eyes averted, or fully hidden to begin with.

Cloud narrowed his eyes and stepped forward so the door could fall shut behind him, swaying in and out of the room a few more times and allowing whatever curious mind sat in the much busier space of Seventh Heaven to catch a last glimpse of the scene playing out in the no-customer space, although who was sunken on the ground being covered by Cloud standing in front of him. He approached Genesis, both hands now in the confided space of his roomy pockets as he simply stared down at who he usually had to crane his head back for to make eye contact. Seeing someone who held himself so highly on the floor picking up shards with his own hands, it was amusing in a slightly sadistic way to say the least.

He knew that speaking up would only end in a discussion, then an argument and then a passive aggressive verbal fight that could break out into something physical at any given second. At least it sounded like that, anyway, but if it was the truth stood in the stars since the pair usually got interrupted when they got into another of their near daily banters. So he kept quiet and stayed put until the slender ginger would say the first word. And so he eventually did, pausing his task to exhale a defeated sigh and with what was left of his pride for the day.

And yet, he didn’t look up. “Not. A word.”, Genesis punctuated with a clearly irritated voice and Cloud just replied with an entertained huff. “Need help?”

“No.” “Uh-huh.” He didn’t have the time to put up with the mage’s stubbornness and crouched down, reaching out to grab the pot whilst his eyes remained on the culprit of the ruined meal. Finally eye-to-eye, Cloud noticed the missing black frame supposed to reach behind Genesis’ ears, “So, let me guess…”, the younger man started, turning the pot around and holding it by the handles, “You knocked this all over because you’re not wearing the glasses?”

That earned him a venomous glare, but an exposed one. Unlike Genesis’, his own vision was just fine, and thus not spotting the black supposed to be added to the color scheme around his face wasn’t just an illusion. “I don’t need them,”, the redhead barked back, “As I’ve told you before. You all are being dramatic over nothing at all.”

Hearing him out of all people judging what crosses the line of being too dramatic made Cloud snort and shake his head at how ridiculous that was, much to the wannabe-cook’s further annoyance. They locked eyes, three triplets and one glassy, milky-white outcast cataract.

The cracks scarring the porcelain skin roped themselves from his left eye over the same side of his cheek, shimmering through the applied makeup that attempted to hide them in vain as it had been vanishing with the sweat glistening on the man’s face from standing in a hot kitchen for hours on. Like veins dotted with thorns, they reached down his neck, reaching over the visible parts of his equally pale chest that was exposed due to the button up Genesis wore being partially undone. He could only guess how much of his body they tainted. They are what caused that vision problems too, as he’d been told by Genesis.

“I know I’m just mesmerizing, but make yourself useful if you refuse to let me handle this on my own.” An arrogant voice pierced Cloud’s zoned out thoughts and he blinked himself back into reality, not having the best experiences with anything piercing him. If it wouldn’t have been a vocal trigger that brought him back though, it would’ve been the smell of something burning.

“Agh- shit!” Genesis cursed under his breath and got on his feet again, groaning at his aching legs that fell asleep staying in the same uncomfortable position for some time. Cloud followed and watched the man place down the pieces of the bowls he’d already picked up next to the stove where a pancake was smelling like the victims of his flames- although it wasn’t on purpose for once.

Another swear muttered as he turned off the heat, or at least what Cloud assumed to be one since it was spoken in the ginger’s native language, and grabbed a spatula that rested on the workspace to his right to try and scratch the pitch blackness off the bottom of the pan. After some hard work was put into saving what could be saved, or what he hoped to save at least, that being the pan, Genesis put the inedible dessert on a nearby plate flipped over.

Both pairs of eyes in the room stared at it in silence, Cloud approaching with caution like what was sitting there was a Behemoth about to jump up and eat both of them whole whilst minding the puddle of broth, veggies and meat on the floor. He then stood next to the creator of the ‘food’ and stared it down. Roasted darker than his outfit, the smell was absolutely unappetizing and nothing looked appealing about it at all. It even took he blond a bit to figure out that there were apple slices mixed into the darkness, swallowed by it like stars during a cloudy night sky.

“Well… not that it was satisfactory, anyway.” Genesis admitted in defeat, much to Cloud’s surprise, although his ego must have been knocked down a few from their earlier confrontation. He might even go as far and claim he saw the slightest, embarrassed blush tinting the ex-SOLDIER’s pale cheeks, though mentioning it would only result in more than just a pancake ending up scorched.

“How the hell did you survive this long?”, Cloud asked with a wrinkled nose.”

“Thank you for your, as always, comforting words.”

“And what do you want me to say?”

“Nothing. It’s-”, Genesis took a deep breath, tightening his ponytail by dividing it into two strings in his hands and pulling, “There was never a need for me to learn how to cook. As a child, we had someone that cooked for us, and when I went to Midgar I first lived off of cafeteria food.. which I, eventually, resented and blatantly refused to eat. Then it was takeout, mostly, and once we became firsts we got an apartment together, so I had Angeal cooking for me.”

The drop of his name briefly silenced Genesis who still had his leer cast upon the failed attempt of a pancake. His lips thinned and he swallowed dryly, hands placed flat on the surface of the workspace. He exhaled a breath through his nose and his shoulders twitched weakly in a half-chuckle. “‘You’ll stay out of the kitchen when I’m cooking. You’re banned from the stove, Gen.’”, Genesis mocked a deeper voice to the best of his abilities, a bittersweet smile curling on his lips, “Sugar sweet, no? I never needed to learn how to make anything for myself. It was a thing I had done for me, and people never minded, either.”

“Not that that would have gotten me to start learning.” He added after another few seconds filled with nothing but the mechanical whirring of the fridge a few feet away from them. “Angeal, he uh… He loved cooking, but baking even more. The pie he made was to kill for, and whenever he made it, I would sit there and watch. Talk to him, sometimes even help. Providing he let me, that is.”

Finally, he looked up again and turned his head to look at the other swordsman. “No matter what I will make, it won’t live up to what he did.”, his head then hung low once more, “Nor would it satisfy him.” The normally so confident and boasting voice, teasing and preaching highly poetic metaphors nobody but him understood, grew lower in volume, quieter with every word vocalized and brought to live by it, although it sounded dead, unenthusiastic. It wasn’t a voice that fit Genesis.

“Or me.” His hands visibly gripped the edges of the big table harder, like he was trying to ground himself so he wouldn’t fall into a void that existed to eat him up from the inside, fill him with the worst of what life had to offer. His eyes fell shut, knuckles turning white and his fingers shook ever so slightly until he straightened his posture to one that equaled that of a candle and let out a shaky breath between agape lips, mismatching eyes fluttering open again. “I should clean this up now. Don’t you have a delivery to fulfill, hm?” Genesis ushered, his intent to get Cloud out and not show any more weakness than what just occurred beyond noticeable. It went under his skin, let the hair on the back of his neck rise and spread goosebumps across his arms.

It was… so damn depressing to witness.

“Ah. Ah- yeah, right.” Cloud reminded himself and reaches for the PHS in his pocket, flipping it open to check the time. He had a few more minutes. Watching Genesis move to a cabinet where a few kitchen towels were stored from the corner of his eye, the blond warrior pocketed his phone again, ran a hand through his artfully spiked hair, took a deep breath that let his chest puff out, counted his blessings and took off a glove with his teeth to grab the round little mistake sprawled out on the plate. Leather glove dropped in his lowered hand once it returned from brushing back the sunny mess on his head, he made sure the golden-brown side was the one facing the floor and placed it against his lips. He swallowed, opened his mouth and took a generous bite.

The first few times of chewing were experimental, eyebrows knitted together and eyes nearly pinched shut, though he discovered that keeping the part which wasn’t tainted by the lord of the Underworld and all evil himself judging by the pitch blackness trademarking it did make it a lot more bearable. Whenever some of the burnt bit brushed over his tongue he just gave it his best to swallow that piece, his tastebuds welcoming the sweet flavor of the apples dancing over it whenever he was lucky to have some in his mouth the more bites he took.

Two down, about two or another three to go. It wouldn’t be a chore to eat it if it weren’t for the burnt side, he had to admit, so Tifa wasn’t lying when she said he improved and was indeed a fast learner.

“You’re insane, Strife.”

Cloud nearly choked on the load of pancake occupying his mouth the moment Genesis caught him forcing down the food. He cleared his throat and properly swallowed what was left on his tongue. He ‘tch’ed, glaring at the dessert like it was his worst enemy. “I didn’t eat anything yet today’s all. Don’t want Tifa to get on my ass for not eating again.” “And how would she know?” “She… just does- you should be glad I’m making what she’ll say to you less worse.” The sunny haired man silenced himself by ripping another huge piece out off the pancake, so much it only left one last bite instead of a possible three. Although his angles eyebrows raised into a less hostile expression when he saw the slightest bit of a smile growing on the auburnet’s plush cherry lips. He stopped chewing for just a moment, taking in- no, admiring what he did by refusing to let someone sulk and keep self loathing. “Get out, or I’ll tell Tifa all of what just occurred was your and only your fault.”

Cloud playfully rolled his eyes, though did as told and moved towards the door, no intentions of a further exchange made- not on his side, at least. “Oh, also-”, he was stopped by Genesis speaking up once more, coming to an abrupt halt and half turning around, “You should pay me a visit when I am on cooking duty again sometime, maybe I have more blissfully tasting food for you to devour.”

Cloud snorted, “No promises.”

“Don’t you speak to me with a full mouth, learn some manners.”, Genesis retorted with a playful hum before truly dismissing the other with a flamboyant wave of the hand that didn’t hold a soup-soaked towel.

This time truly exiting, Cloud pushed the last small bite of the pancake into his mouth and chewed with stuffed cheeks, hands returning to his pockets as he eyed the bar counter where the delivery was stored. Forcing down the rest of the half-bitter-half-sweet mistake, he glanced over his shoulder one last time to see Tifa hurriedly moving into the kitchen. He exhaled in amusement at the distant chatter coming from behind the door swaying door before it fell shut completely and blocked out the conversation though. Cloud moved behind the bar to crouch down and grab the package that needed to be driven to Junon and set on his way out of the warm and cozy confinement to let the cold air hit him full on.

Genesis sounded more like himself again, he noted.

[crabbng]

did this on twitter for hana and bon! i’ll put all their answers under the cut, please enjoy <3

HANA:

1. what's their favorite beverage - alcoholic and/or non-alcoholic? hana likes nice, comforting warm drinks like hot chocolate and apple cider, he hasn't really had experience with alcoholic drinks 2. what's their favorite flavor? (spicy, sweet, sour, etc.) umami tbh, some nice hearty savory stew flavors 3. what's their favorite food? BEEF Clapping hands sign STEW Clapping hands sign he also like sweets, pastries and candies and whatnot 4. breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, snacks - which do they look forward to the most? dinner cause he imagines it as a family meal, and also it's the heartiest meal 5. do they have a food or flavor they absolutely hate? bland things like.. boiled green beans.. like.. wet tasteless vegetables.. he is not a fan but who is tbh 6. can they tolerate spicy food? yeah! he likes some good heat in his meals 7. what is their favorite animal? DRAGONS! cause they're cool. also... because baby. 8. what do they wear to bed? boxers or nothing in his own home, in the castle tho he wears like. pj bottoms. 9. what position do they like to sleep in? curled up around a pillow or in a blanket, or flopped on his belly 10. are they a morning person or a night owl? he would like to be a morning person, but he tends to get excited about whatever he's working on and accidentally staying up late, which then makes him sleep in late.. 11. are they a heavy sleeper or do they wake up easily? HEAVY SLEEPER. the boy sleeps like a rock. 12. it's a rainy day, what will they do cooped up inside all day? hana has a WHOLE ROOM of stuff to work on. he tries to get old tech up and running again (with.. limited resources) or to get it to be useful in other ways. 13. do they have a favorite scent or smell? honestly... musty smell of city that was cut off and unused for a thousand years. 14. what do they smell like? do they wear perfume or cologne? a little bit sweaty, a little musty from hanging out in an abandoned city, a little like oil, wood shavings.. he smells like whatever he's been working on. he tries to just smell neutral around other people. 15. baths or showers? BATHS! BUBBLES! RELAX TIME!! taking time just to be hana. nice. 16. how good are they at cooking? it's not gourmet or anything but he can cook a tasty meal. he's worse at baking but he's practicing!! 17. what's their favorite time of year and why? winter!!! pretty snow.. relaxing quiet.. getting to go inside and get all warm and cozy.. nice. 18. do they have a favorite holiday? tbh i dont know what holidays there are in kos world... i oughta think of that.. but anything with people getting together and celebrating together is something he'd like to participate in someday 19. do they prefer buying or receiving gifts? buying!!!! hana loves giving gifts. tbh he doesn't receive a lot of gifts. maybe like.. a jar of jam one time and it made him cry. he kept the jar. 20. how tall are they, and how do they feel about their height? 4' even. he's fine with his height tbh, his insecurities come in when he thinks about what OTHER people think about his height. he definitely recognizes that he looks different than everyone he's been around. 21. can they play any instruments? not really.. he made a guitar once. was NOT good at it. 22. do they have a nice singing voice? NO! cant keep a tune to save his life, but he's the only one (besides baby) who's heard him sing so it really hasn't mattered 23. do they talk to themselves? YES! it could seem like he's talking to baby, but really... she can be asleep or somewhere else and he's just still talking to himself. who else does he have to talk to?! let him live. 24. do they enjoy music? what kind? tbh he probably enjoys "old timey" music he found in the ancient city so like.. synth pop LMAO 25. do they make friends easily? yes! surprisingly, from his popularity in the town. he had a bad first impression whoops. but he's just very charming and sweet and wants to be your friend. 26. surprise birthday party! how do they react? crying. happy crying. but a lot of crying. he won't stop. please stop crying hana. second surprise party would go over better, he'd just cry at the beginning and then have fun at the party. 27. what is their favorite flower, if they have one? hydrangea.. symbolize heartfelt emotions 28. how does your character feel about wearing jewelry? neutral? i like putting him in a lot of jewelry, but it's not something he'd do himself. besides like. his ear and nose piercings (and the other one lol) those are kind of special. he's had those since before he can remember 29. if they wear jewelry, what's their favorite piece? his teal earrings! he was gifted those (one of the like 2 gifts he's received lol) by someone very important to him 30. fashion forward or fashion disaster? fashion neutral? he's definitely not fashionable when he dresses himself (in the clothes he made himself lmao) but he's not like.. offensively disastrous 31. what kind of underwear does your character wear? boxer briefs? for comfort. that's hana's goal picking out his own clothes. comfort. 32. do they wear makeup? what kind? not regularly but he's not against it. he likes looking pretty. he likes eyeliners especially but will sit there and let u put whatever on his face. 33. do they paint their nails? HELL YEAH he paints his toenails since he works with his hands and it'd chip off. after bath nail painting time. paints baby's claws too. 34. are they quick to get haircuts or do they often let it grow out? after his introduction to the townspeople with his hair that had been grown out for years and NOT well taken care of.. he keeps up with haircuts now. he doesn't want to give people reasons to dislike him lmao 35. do they know how to whistle? through the front gap in his fangs yes 36. or how to braid hair? he knows how to braid his own hair for sure. he hasn't had other hair to practice on but he would know how to braid like.. leather cord or stuff for other crafts projects. so i think he'd be good at it. he'd learn like fancy patterns and such 37. are they scared if anything in nature - bugs, snakes, lightning, being on the water, etc.? lightning and storms definitely. he spent his formative years under a mountain, safe from all that, any sort of dangerous weather freaks him out. 38. have they ever thought they were about to die? not that he remembers. but there were times. 39. how do they react to getting sick? a big baby. snuggled up in a thousand blankets with chicken noodle soup and hot teas. 40. are they afraid of blood? not especially? he's been injured before and had to patch himself up. bad injuries tho... lots of blood..... he wouldn't do great with that. 41. how do they earn money? hana builds and repairs stuff for the town mostly in exchange for produce and such. he doesn't really.. have money. 42. are they satisfied with their occupation or long to do something else? he enjoys helping people, so in that way he's satisfied. he'd rather people were more interested in his side job of repairing old tech and making his own tech stuff but... that's not legal. 43. how creative are they? quite creative! he has a number of different crafting hobbies and is always looking for more. he's not great at like.. like if you gave him a paintbrush and were like 'paint' he would just paint whatever was in front of him. not some imagined thing. 44. do they know how to draw? how skilled are they? he's good at like.. accurately drawn schematics? technical drawings. i dont think he would be great at like. portraits tho. like. he could probably draw an accurate face but it'd like completely lifeless. 45. what do they carry around with them during the day (ie in their pockets, a bag, a purse...) 1) a baby 2) his tablet, that's what's with him all the time.. except rn in the story.. when he is without both.. :( 46. do they have a sweet tooth? OH YEAH. he doesn't get a lot of sweets where he is (he's working on learning how to bake them) so he really enjoys good sweets when he gets his hand on them 47. haute cuisine or cheap eats? hana likes good homemade food, i guess cheap eats would be the closer of the two 48. do they know how to swim? HONESTLY.. PROBABLY NOT.. boy has not been around water much 49. do they have any scars? how did they get them? nah! at this point he is more or less scar free. i'm sure he has a few tiny ones from like.. when baby was playing a bit too wildly or something and he got a nasty little scratch but nothing like... big. 50. what kind of handwriting do they have? neat, messy, cursive, MESSY. like a kid who was never really taught how to write. he usually writes on his tablet, which has been taught how to recognize his handwriting and converts it to readable text.

BON:

bon can be hard so on questions where it's not really applicable now (like.. favorite foods and the like), i'll just go with what WOULD have been the case. when he was younger. 1. what's their favorite beverage - alcoholic and/or non-alcoholic? flavored sparkling waters, he likes the bubbles. he likes high alcohol content drinks, so it does its job. 2. what's their favorite flavor? (spicy, sweet, sour, etc.) he likes fresh, citrus-y flavors, whatever category that slots into. 3. what's their favorite food? THE ALL POWERFUL ORANGE, a good orange is a treat for bon 4. breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, snacks - which do they look forward to the most? snacks, cause he can generally eat them alone and not be judged 5. do they have a food or flavor they absolutely hate? puddings and yogurts and stuff like that, soft foods 6. can they tolerate spicy food? a fair amount, but he does have limits (he will not admit it) 7. what is their favorite animal? farm animals, especially working animals, they're nice and usually calm, bon likes that 8. what do they wear to bed? either whatever he's wearing at the time he knocks out or nothin 9. what position do they like to sleep in? huddled in a corner 10. are they a morning person or a night owl? BOTH! he's not a sleeper. if you find him sleeping its because he was probably up the past 3+ days and he just knocked out. 11. are they a heavy sleeper or do they wake up easily? if he's sleeping cause he hadn't slept the past week, he doesn't wake up easily, but if it's a purposeful rest he wakes up to a pin dropping. also re: bon sleeping, he technically can go without sleep indefinitely but he has to go into his lava form to kinda.. refresh his stats so to speak 12. it's a rainy day, what will they do cooped up inside all day? pre-incident: read! study! practice magic. post-incident: think about mortality and stare at a wall 13. do they have a favorite scent or smell? fresh air on a cool day. but he's also nostalgic about the stink smell of a tavern. 14. what do they smell like? do they wear perfume or cologne? ash and smoke. and on special days ;) burnt flesh ;) he doesn't wear perfume or cologne, he just smells weird all the time. 15. baths or showers? showers, a quick spray down and then he's out of the water as quick as possible. 16. how good are they at cooking? QUITE! bon can cook and he can cook good. he's stayed with a lot of families over the years and learned a lot of good tricks and recipes, plus what he learned from when he was growing up and would somewhat regularly cook for himself. 17. what's their favorite time of year and why? summer. he does well in the heat. also the days are longest. bon likes it when it's light out. 18. do they have a favorite holiday? bon doesn't like holidays! cause holidays come with traditions. and traditions come with expectations. and expectations come with punishments. 19. do they prefer buying or receiving gifts? giving, i guess? receiving gifts can come with a price. but it's nice to give a gift and know you expect nothing in return. 20. how tall are they, and how do they feel about their height? bonk is 5'9", he's fine with it 21. can they play any instruments? YES!!! he can play a variety, his favorites are harp and fiddle, though he also can play a mean flute, though that was mostly from his upbringing so he doesn't like it all too much 22. do they have a nice singing voice? YES!!!!! he has a most beautiful voice. he can rouse a room with a good folk song or bring a room to tears with a mournful ballad 23. do they talk to themselves? ahahaha yes. we have already seen this in comic. bon struggles with differentiating between reality and his.. imagination i guess. so. that can often lead to him just talking to himself. 24. do they enjoy music? what kind? yes! bon enjoys all sorts of music, but mostly songs you can sing along to. bar songs, shanties, ballads, he enjoys them all. he like songs that have an emotion to them if that makes sense. 25. do they make friends easily? NO. bon is both unfriendly and untrusting. however. if you are nice to him but once........... he Will die for you. and he will die for any child. loves childs. 26. surprise birthday party! how do they react? POORLY. either confused why people thought it would be a fun idea or angry that he was caught off guard. now... if you do it right..... have the surprise just be like.. a cake waiting at home or something.. a quiet night.. he will appreciate it. he Will die for you. 27. what is their favorite flower, if they have one? daffodil.. rebirth.. eternal life.. unrequited love.. perfect 28. how does your character feel about wearing jewelry? he's not a huge fan tbh. makes him feel like someone's shiny show piece. but he does like an earring or two or three 29. if they wear jewelry, what's their favorite piece? he doesn't wear jewelry regularly :( but he likes earrings! he likes little hoops that go on the top of his big ears 30. fashion forward or fashion disaster? more fashion forward than a disaster. he doesn't dress himself like.. super well.. cause his clothing tends to not last super long, but he knows how to look good 31. what kind of underwear does your character wear? NONE he's flying free 32. do they wear makeup? what kind? again, not any regularly, but will rock a good eyeliner if offered 33. do they paint their nails? no lmao good luck painting his lava nails, he'll melt ur brush, oh god and im sure the smell of burning nail polish is just awful 34. are they quick to get haircuts or do they often let it grow out? he cuts his hair pretty frequently (not well) he cuts like.. parts at a time. like 'hm this section looks a lil long' CHOP~ 35. do they know how to whistle? like a got damn bird 36. or how to braid hair? yes! he is good at this. 37. are they scared if anything in nature - bugs, snakes, lightning, being on the water, etc.? not really? he's had a lot of experience living outdoors so things that may have scared him at one point have been dealt with and most things it's like 'well i cant die so it really doesnt matter', cold and rain it's like 'well ill get real hecked up for a while but.. whatever' 38. have they ever thought they were about to die? YES! quite a few times, though not anymore lmao. one of the first times he ran away from home and nearly starved to death, the... incident, and when he was turned into a basbeo, just to name a few 39. how do they react to getting sick? pretending like he's not. pushing himself too hard until he cannot pretend anymore. nowadays tho.. he just turn into lava man and boom. all better. 40. are they afraid of blood? nah, he's seen plenty of it by this point to just not even register it. not even mostly his own! see this isn't a sad answer. 41. how do they earn money? HE DON'T! what use does a dog have for money u feel me 42. are they satisfied with their occupation or long to do something else? bon was basically a travelling bard at one point and oh boy he longs to go back to those days. his current occupation of 'guy who steals, kidnaps, murders and destroys on command' just isn't fulfilling for him. 43. how creative are they? i'd say pretty creative. he's not really doing anything with it right now, but he's a pretty imaginative guy. 44. do they know how to draw? how skilled are they? i think so! i figure that would be part of his lessons when he was younger. so he's probably.. too good at it. opposite of hana, where he's be good at portraiture and like.. pretty scenes. this also makes me think of little bon running around and putting lil devil horns on his mom's portraits 45. what do they carry around with them during the day (ie in their pockets, a bag, a purse...) doesn't really have.. a lot of things.. in the same vein tho, that jacket he wears, he's had for a while, and it's been through a lot now (i.e. the missing bottom) but. it's something he repairs and takes care of. it's special to him. for reasons. 46. do they have a sweet tooth? not especially, he doesn't like Sugar Sweet stuff, but he does like.. apples n stuff. he'll eat a peach croissant and enjoy it. everything in balance. 47. haute cuisine or cheap eats? cheap eats: more food for less 48. do they know how to swim? yes but he doesn't do it anymore cause he'll get too cold and seize up and lava man will just become a rock. he can use like.. hot tubs and very warm baths. he CAN enjoy those. 49. do they have any scars? how did they get them? well! bon had scars previous to his charred limbs (you'll see them soon) from being burned. because of.. reasons. i never know how depressing to get when talking about bon :( anyways, his charred limbs didn't happen immediately after becoming a basbeo. it basically happens when there's like.. a struggle for control between bon, his elemental, and who or whatever (maighstir, priomh, tera, his cuffs, etc.) is trying to control bon's transformation abilities. like either trying to use more power than he's being allowed, or to resist using it at all. they feel weird and crusty and leathery and warm! so the last one is kind of nice. it is unpleasant to hold his hand. 50. what kind of handwriting do they have? neat, messy, cursive, BOY CAN'T WRITE ANYMORE! he used to have really neat cursive handwriting like.. calligraphy style.