#you are very sweet and I recognize your send off so I appreciate your frequent kind words

[punch-love]

I'm sorry for the ppl pressuring you to update Love-Punch. Like, I understand that they enjoy reading it and want to know what happens next, I do too, but you're literally putting it on the internet for FREE. I think more people need to understand that, you don't owe them an update. I hope they don't discourage you too much from writing but you're entitled to take as much time as you want and or need to update, be this fic or literally any other you write.

Have a great day, an even greater life, and stay safe out there!

I was not expecting this message at all, and I appreciate you spending time to consider me like that. I will say, on average, the majority of my readership on this platform in particular have been really respectful of my time and also are semi-used to how many long hiatuses I've taken on the project, so I don't get messages pressuring me very often (comments, whole different ball game lol) I usually get the most pressure from new/casual readers and not people who have been with me for a while.

That being said, thank you for not only highlighting how I'm doing this for free, but also that I don't owe people an update? It takes me on average anywhere from one to three months to complete a single chapter and whenever people pressure me for updates I want to be like, this is a huge creative undertaking that you're snapping your fingers for and expecting words to appear. I also put a lot of pressure on myself to finish it internally, even when I am burnt out on it (which I am/have been for more than a few months) so that's nice to hear. I think when you're working on something with a bigger audience, it can be easy to fall into the pressure chamber and truly, you do not owe anyone anything.

In all honesty, love-punch a project that I don't really have passion for anymore. I've fallen out with the fandom/pairing for a while now and whenever I get comments (good or bad) it makes me feel even more disconnected from it. That being said, it is something I would like to finish specifically because there's a scene in the third act that I wrote the ENTIRE WORK to write, and I would very much like to write it. I try hard not to write things for the fans (the good or the bad) because if I did that, I probably wouldn't get anything done lol. If it gets finished - and it will - it will be for me.

Thanks for such an encouraging message! It's always nice to have someone be like "hey, human on the other side of the content."

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

ooohhhhhh, please can you write a smut with aegon? maybe where he catches her in the town with some guy she’s been seeing and he just gets jealous and they go back to the keep and it’s just angsty but smutty. tyyyyy 😚

Request: Aegon weds Helaena instead of his twin sister. They continue seeing each other but Alicent force them apart and end this with smut

Warnings: 18+, smut, humping, mention of p + v, sibling incest,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Since birth, you and Aegon had always been attached to the hip. You fed from your mother’s breasts at the same time, napped together, bathed together, and continued doing so as you grew up. Where Aegon went, you followed. 

When your bodies started to change, you pointed it out to each other and did things the Faith of the Sevens considered sins. 

Because of your bond, you always assumed you would wed your twin brother when you could flower, but Aegon ended up being betrothed to your younger sister, Helaena. Neither you or Aegon were pleased with the decision. He didn’t love Helaena, and never would. She was just a wife he had to bed until his seed took. 

On nights Aegon didn’t see Helaena, he snuck to your chambers. With you, he didn’t need to imagine someone else’s face to keep his cock hard. All he had to do was look in your eyes — and your perky breasts and pink cunny. 

Eventually, you got caught and your mother took the decision to order a guard at your door at night. 

Three years went by since you last shared a bed, since you last felt each other’s naked body. You had turned to brothels, buying yourself the finest looking men that would fill the void of your brother - although none would equal his beauty. 

It was difficult seeing him around the Keep and staying away from each other. All you wanted was to throw yourself into Aegon’s arms and never let go. 

‘’You smell new tonight, Princess,’’ the blond boy complimented as he kissed your skin, smelling something different. ‘’Although I do not recognize what it is.’’

‘’Jasmin,’’ you said, tilting your neck to give him more space. ‘’I brought home soaps from Highgarden when I visited.’’

He continued to kiss your body as you laid there in the silks of your private chamber, veils of curtains shielding you from the prying eyes of the customers. It was no secret that the princess was frequenting brotels of the Street of Silk, but your naked body was not for open view. Only those who were given golden coins had the chance to see what hid beneath your sumptuous dresses. 

Tonight, his name was Dorian, or mayhaps Davos. It was the same to you. He had a pair of blue eyes that reminded you of Aegon's, which had heavily influenced your choice of boy of pleasure. You've laid with him before. He was one of your favorites. Sweet, delicate faced and he had a decent cock. 

His kisses were light as his lips descended down your naked body. His hands trailed down your collarbones and to your supple breasts. You sighed in pleasure, appreciating the way he was suckling on your nipple. 

‘’Does the Princess like how I'm taking care of her?’’ he asked sweetly, wanting to please. 

You relaxed against the pillows. ‘’Very much.’’ 

Dorian continued to kiss lower and lower, until he reached your lower stomach. ‘’May I touch you, Princess?’’ 

You nodded in consent, a long moan leaving your parted lips when Dorian’s thumb circled your neglected pearl. After a month of traveling, a month of only having your hands to pleasure yourself, your body was sensitive and in need. 

On the other side of the curtains, Aegon was strolling through the brothel with a goblet of wine in his hand, rubbing himself over his breeches while looking for a suitable cunny to dip his cock in. There were women of every kind. Some were half-naked, others fully exposed, all wearing expressions of lust and desire. 

As he walked past one of the curtained-off rooms, he couldn’t help but notice the feminine moans and gasps coming from within. Curious, Aegon paused in his steps and pulled the curtain slightly open.

Aegon’s eyes widened at the sight before him. He almost dropped the goblet in his hand at the pure shock of realizing whose body was being pleasured behind the curtain. His twin sister. His sister that he had not touched in so long. 

You writhed and moaned so prettily on the silken sheets, your face scrunched up in pleasure at the work of the boy of pleasure in the bed. 

With his hand still gripping the curtain, Aegon pulled it open and stormed into the room. His eyes were burning with jealousy and fury, his voice sharp when he spoke. ‘’Get out.’’

The boy of pleasure looked up in surprise, gasping at the sight of your twin brother standing at the end of the bed. He glanced at you, then back to Aegon, not knowing what to do. You had paid for his company, he should stay. But the rage on Aegon’s face terrified him. 

“I said get out,” Aegon repeated with his jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving you. ‘’It’s a command from your prince of the realm and heir to the throne.’’ 

The boy of pleasure hurried off the bed and left the room, leaving you and Aegon together. 

You sat up when the curtains closed again, your eyes wide and your body stiff. With the way Aegon burst through the curtains with such anger and rage on his face, you knew exactly what he was feeling. Jealousy.

‘’What in the Seven fucking Hells is this?’’ His voice was sharp and harsh, and his blood was boiling. ‘’You let whores sully your body with his disreputable seed?’’ 

You poured yourself more wine into your cup and took a small sip under Aegon’s gaze, not bothering to cover your body. ‘’I don’t let them fill me, if that’s what you’re worried about. There is no bastard babe in my womb.’’ 

Aegon clenched his jaw at your response. The fact that you were so casual, that you were so calm was making him even more angry. He took a few steps towards you, his eyes roaming over your naked and exposed body. Gods, you were so beautiful. The memory of the many times he had you like this under him flashed through his mind, and he cursed under his breath, his cock hardening in his breeches.  

‘’You let someone unworthy between your legs. You…you betrayed me!’’ 

You almost laughed at the absurdity of his words. Betrayed him? 

‘’Mother forced us apart,’’ you reminded him. She was the villain of the story, not you. ‘’What was I supposed to do, Aegon? Plot for my sister’s death so I could wed her widower husband?’’

‘’We could have used the hidden passages and seen each other behind Mother’s back.’’

‘’And risk her exiling me to Oldtown?’’ You shook your head, refusing this to be your fate. 

‘’I would not have let her.’’ He climbed over the bed and reached for your chin with a firm grip. Forcefully, he tilted your face up to look at him. ‘’I would not have let her take you from me.’’ Aegon’s voice was lower and huskier now that he was so close to you, and you could feel the heat coming off his body. He let go of your chin but didn’t move away, trapping you between his arms. 

As he hovered over you, your eye’s met with his. You felt like you could almost drown in their blue hue. This was his natural state, you knew. Full of fire and lust, unable to control his emotions. His breathing became deeper and more ragged as he continued to stare down at you. 

You were both silent for a moment until Aegon suddenly lowered his head, burying his face into your neck. He nipped and sucked at your skin, biting down hard just to hear you hiss. His body pressed you down into the bed, humping against you. His clothes felt rough against your bare skin, but the friction of your bodies sent shocks of pleasure through each other. 

‘’Ahh, I need you, Aegon,’’ you mewled in his ear, fingers clutching at his commoner tunic. His hard bulge was pressing against your naked cunny, the wetness seeping from you staining the fabric every time he rubbed against you. 

His lips kissed their way up your jaw, then he brushed his nose against yours. ‘’Have me.’’

The lewd sounds came from behind the curtains echoed through the brothel all night, making customers wish they could have a turn with whoever was giving pleasure. Little did they know, it wasn't a brothel worker who was behind the curtains, but a prince and a princess who were making up for three years of craving each other.

—

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[bluehwale]

I loved that unconventional meeting post could you maybe do a post where they realize that after meeting you for the first time that they might have a crush on you ?

ateez realizing they have a crush on you!

part 2 to unconventional first encounters with ateez (please read this first!)

pairing. ateez x reader (specifically f! reader for seonghwa & jongho)

genre. fluff, humor, teeny tiny angst if you squint

warning(s). injuries, drinking, mint choco ice cream slander, some of the endings are half-assed im sorry

word count. 8.1k oopsies

note. tysm for sending in this request!! and i'm so sorry it took so long to get to you </3 im an ungifted burnout kid so i write and think at a snail's pace lmao bUT i hope u enjoy this one :-D (feedbacks and reblogs are greatly appreciated! ily all muah)

masterlist

kim hongjoong

here's the thing about hongjoong

he can be really cool with his skateboard and his obscure music taste and whatnot

but

he can also be a little bit out of tune with his feelings (this is a certified testimony from his self-proclaimed best friend, wooyoung)

it's obvious from how he has heart eyes for you but wouldn't make a move

"so when are you taking yn out on a date?"

hongjoong's skateboard halts in an abrupt stop after he suddenly plants a foot on the concrete to take a look at wooyoung as if he's grown two heads. "when am i what??"

and wooyoung’s just kinda staring him down like man, you can't be serious rn,,,,,

everyone and their mothers in this skatepark probably knows that hongjoong is basically head over heels for you because

it's just that obvious!!!!

and wooyoung has to resist from pulling out all of his hair in frustration because the man in question is eyeing him as if he’s the weird one

it all started after your Incident™ (you falling on your ass and having hongjoong help you)

you started to frequent the skatepark with your best friend mingi, and hongjoong even mustered up enough courage to ask you for your number one day

and now you both text each other every day >:-D

he even got you your own skateboard

and he also taught you how to skate hehe

he's so whipped

"hongjoong!"

the boy immediately turns to the direction of your voice (he can recognize it even while asleep) and he sees you waving excitedly at him beside an unfamiliar boy with pink hair

unbeknownst to himself, hongjoong's face lights up at the sight of you and he quickly pushes his foot off the ground to skate towards you

"yn!" he hops off his board and pulls you into a hug, inhaling the sweet scent of your hair that makes him feel all warm and fuzzy before involuntarily pulling away to look at the boy with an all black get up beside you. “who’s this?”

“oh! this is seonghwa!” the boy with pink hair nods at hongjoong and gives him a friendly wave in greeting. “he’s mingi’s cousin. he’s visiting for a little while.”

“oh hello, cool skateboard!” hongjoong greets in return, gesturing to the pink skateboard by the boy's feet that contrasts his dark outfit and quiet personality, “i’m hongjoong! i hope we can be good friends!”

maybe not

hongjoong doesn’t know the reason why, but he feels this really uncomfortable sinking feeling in his chest whenever he sees you together with seonghwa

despite his pink hair, the boy looks very intimidating and it seems like he doesn’t talk to anyone except you

and whenever he’s with you, there’s a happy grin permanently etched on his face and you both just look so happy together—

“they probably like each other.”

hongjoong snaps his head to glare at wooyoung who’s munching on a pack of strawberry pocky sticks as he watches you and seonghwa before innocently looking back at hongjoong with a shrug, “what? i’m just saying.”

and hongjoong starts sulking because you know what,, wooyoung might be right :-( 

(you, wooyoung, seonghwa, and mingi actually devised a plan to act upon your crush on hongjoong) ((and wooyoung's role is the catalyst to set the plan in motion))

and you know what,,,, maybe hongjoong does have a crush on you. yeah, but just a little bit—

“oof!” wooyoung winces when he sees you land a particularly harsh fall from your skateboard that leaves you lying face first on the ground, and he scrambles to shove the remaining pocky sticks in his mouth before thrusting hongjoong’s first aid kit towards the shell-shocked owner. “dude, go! this is your chance!”

hongjoong was just zipping up his first aid kit after grabbing his can of antiseptic spray and band aids and was ready to run to you until he sees seonghwa already tending to your wounds as he sits beside you

:-( he’s a second too late

(it looks like you two are talking about something or someone as both of your eyes discreetly flicker to hongjoong (who’s too upset to notice))

what he diD notice, however, is the pack of band aids in seonghwa’s hands

and he kinda has to crouch and put his hands on his knees so that his squinted eyes can see better 

are thoSE

ARE THOSE BLACK STAR WARS BAND AIDS???

he thought cute graphic band aids were his– and only his– thing !!!!

dang it, and they look super cool too !! :-(

his own pack of pink disney princesses band aids fall to the ground as he dejectedly walks back to where wooyoung is and he slumps to the ground to place back his first aid stuff back inside the kit

looks like he won’t be needing them anymore :-(

but he still finds himself heading to where you are, and he can’t help it when he worriedly takes in your scraped elbows and knees that are covered by the black band aids. “are you okay?”

“yeah, i’m good,” you say, and hongjoong’s too distracted to notice you glancing at seonghwa who gives you an encouraging nod. you nervously twiddle your thumbs, “uhH, hongjoong, uhm. listen, do you– i MEAN, would you want to maybe grab some milkshake with me sometimes?”

“oh sure! who else is gonna be there?”

…………..

(on the other side of the park, wooyoung rips out the headpiece that taps into seonghwa’s hidden microphone and almost bashes his binoculars in frustration)

just then, hongjoong feels shivers run down his spine as he feels a pair of dark eyes glaring daggers into his back and he can feel the devil on his shoulder whisper harshly into his ear, “they’re asking you out on a date, idiot.”

(spoiler alert: it’s seonghwa)

“i was thinking maybe it could just be the two of us? you know? aHa but it’s totally fine if you don’t want to—!”

“no nO, of course !!! i’d love to!!!” hongjoong exclaims, shooting up from the ground from sheer excitement at the thought of getting milkshake with you

this is the best day of his life

“great, it’s a date then :-D OH SHIT—”

(another spoiler alert: hongjoong fainted)

park seonghwa

seonghwa can definitely see himself marrying you

but not during moments like this

"shh, don't move."

seonghwa lets out a startled noise when he's suddenly awakened by a weight on him, and he almost screams his head off until his bleary eyes slowly open to see your figure straddling his torso with what seems to be an ice cream stick (?) held in your hand while you inch closer to his face

oh! it's just you! :-D (he thought it'd be his sleep paralysis demon)

it had been your idea to buy a house and live together after he nervously got on one knee on your fifth date; which seems all too soon but it appeases both of your parents enough for them to shut up on the marriage talk, much to your and seonghwa’s relief

and after six months of living together, he's proud to declare that you're his best friend or more specifically, his soulmate :-D

which is why you both are comfortable enough to do oddly domestic things together

"baby," he rasps, voice still thick with sleep, before placing his hands on your hips to circle the skin over your nightgown with his thumbs. he lets slip an amused chuckle when he sees your furrowed brows as he holds you off from coming near him. "what are you trying to do, hm?"

"i'm waxing your brows."

seonghwa's eyes almost gouged out of their sockets

"you're what???" he snaps his head to look at the clock at the far end of the wall, all the while trying to push you off him. "why are you trying to wax my brows at… 2 in the morning??!!!!"

"no, because—" you breathlessly giggle at the panic on his face, struggling to get his grip off your wrists. "you'll thank me for this!!! trust me!"

seonghwa, mortified at the thought of you shaping his brows with only a single ambient light aiding your sight in the dark bedroom, thrashes his legs under you like a petulant child. "i'll have you know that my eyebrows get compliments all the time >:-( !!! now get off me !!"

"huh. they must be lying because you kinda look like the red angry bird, dude :-/"

∑(O_O;) !!!!

the image of the cartoon character pops up in his head; the red bird with thick furrowed brows comically pelting towards a wall of green pigs, stupefying his thoughts

his movements falter

"do- do i really.... look like an angry bird?"

"a cute angry bird," you reassure him, gently running your fingers through his hair when you see him pout after his grip on you loosen and his arms fall limply to his sides on the bed. "now, hold still okay? i'm gonna make you look super pretty!"

you dip the wooden stick into the pot of melted wax in the still plugged-in wax heater sitting on the nightstand, prepping the pink wax around the stick before leaning closer to seonghwa's face

"it's pink?" he softly asks, referring to the wax that he's only just now paying attention to, and you nod in reply

"of course! :-D it's your favorite color."

you miss the endearing blush overtaking his cheeks as you lightly slather the wax on his skin before moving to take a muslin wax strip from the pack beside you

seonghwa's hands are back on your hips (this time for his own comfort) as his wide doe eyes nervously peer up at you who's sticking the strip onto the slowly hardening wax on his skin, ready to pull

"w-will it hurt?"

"nah, you won't even feel a single thing. no need to worry :-D"

rip!

"yAAAAAOOOOOOOOwwWWwWCCcHCHHHHHCH !!!!!!! THAT HURTS !!!!!"

his head twists side to side dramatically and you have to prop your hands on his chest to regain balance on his shaking body and your own from laughing

"you said it wouldn't hurt!" he exclaims with an exaggerated pout, rubbing at the sore skin and his eyebrows furrow when you wouldn't stop laughing. "this is serious! you're hurting your future husband!"

"shut up," you playfully roll your eyes, the smile that seonghwa adores lighting up your face. "don't have to remind me that i'm stuck with your ass forever."

he grumbles, pulling the blanket to cover half of his face and hide the growing smile threatening to take over his face. "i'm calling off our engagement."

you dip the stick back in the melted wax as you hum, "you love me too much to do that."

"that's true."

this time, your cheeks grow hot as you attempt to recover from almost losing your grip on the stick, his statement having caught you off guard. he smirks at your reaction and you playfully swat his arm, earning a small ow! as you sarcastically quip, "how romantic."

you return to applying the wax on the areas of his brows that needs cleanup after your fingers forcefully drag the upturned corners of his lips downwards

"you know... i figured i'll just marry the first person my parents set me up with," he breathes, a soft smile lingering on his lips at your focused expression. "but if it hadn't been you, i'd go through– hm– i’d willingly go through 219 horrible ! horrible ! dates just so i could be with you."

"oh please," you snort, raising an eyebrow at his statement. "you'd probably end up with someone else if you went on 219 dates." 

"you're right.... who could ever resist this scrumptious, absolutely handsome face–"

"i'm gonna make sure the next strip hurts twice as much :-)"

"yN ahaha PLEASE DON'T ahahah I WAS JUST JOKING—"

jeong yunho

"tonight is your first mission."

wooyoung twirls the pointing stick in his hand before slapping it against his open palm, calmly sauntering across the leeway in front of the big whiteboard in the coworking space he rented. "today's topic will cover everything you need to know, so i need you to listen very closely."

amidst the numerous empty chairs behind the large meeting table sits an eager boy with soft brown hair, his wide eyes taking in each and every word on the board while his right hand grips a pen— ready to take notes on the very important lecture wooyoung's presenting today

"but first, a pop quiz!" wooyoung suddenly smacks his pointing stick against the board, smudging the writing that reads dealing with drunk yn 101 written in pink dry erase marker and effectively startling the poor boy from the loud noise

"a- a pop quiz?" baffled, yunho feels the grip on his high-quality japanese brand pen slip. he scrambles over the table littered with his best stationery to prepare a crisp spiderman themed loose leaf paper, "but-but i haven't even learned anything yet!"

"hush, this is to test out your prior knowledge. now, i'll begin with a case study."

jeong yunho, a widely-known overachiever, strives to be the best; especially when it comes to things for you– which is why he currently remains unblinking out of sheer focus on wanting to get his answers right

he has to get it right!!!

"you're both in a cab to go home when suddenly," wooyoung aggressively taps on the stickman drawing that poorly resembles you on the board, "drunk yn sees a claw machine on the side of the road and wants you to win a stuffed animal for them. what would you do?"

what would i do? yunho can feel the sweat beading on his forehead as he desperately racks his brain for an answer that would please the red haired boy who has an eyebrow raised and his hands on his hips

think, jeong yunho! think!

"i would... politely ask for the taxi man to stop and accompany yn to the claw machine—"

"WRONG. ddaeng !!!! man, how are you so down bad– sigh,,,,, dude," wooyoung turns to lean his forehead against the whiteboard and sighs before pulling out his wallet and moves to step out of the room. "i'm gonna extend another hour for this meeting room, brb."

turns out, nothing, not even wooyoung's 4 hour lecture, could ever prepare yunho for havoc personified

a.k.a. drunk you after a night of celebrating the end of your midterms

"noooo!!! oof-" you stumble against your dresser as you try to run away from the wide-eyed boy standing dumbfoundedly in the middle of your bedroom, your bottle of cleansing oil tightly gripped in one of his hand and your cleanser in the other

yunho rapidly shakes his head like a cartoon character to get his muddled brain back on earth when you ungracefully fall onto your carpeted floor and make no move to get up. he moves closer to gently pull you off the floor as he sighs, "you'll regret not removing your makeup when you wake up tomorrow."

"no !!!" you lift your head up at his words, your pleading eyes look close to tears and yunho panics at the sight. "i don't wanna! my eye makeup looks so pretty today!! i don't want it gone :-("

yunho had to refrain from grabbing one of your pillows and stuffing it in his mouth to muffle the scream that almost slipped out at your cuteness

he also almost screamed fuck it! and hop on the bed to cuddle you to sleep right then and there but he remembers that wooyoung would probably be disappointed in him and he also doesn't want you to be uncomfortable from the smudged makeup the next morning :-(

so he stands his ground and tries to think of something that would get your makeup off while still making you happy

"how about we take some pictures?"

and that's how you both end up having a full blown out photoshoot in your bedroom, with yunho lying down on the floor at a funny angle to take pictures of you posing on the bed with your phone while his own phone rests between his armpits (... don’t ask) to shine its flashlight for extra lighting

he can't help his own chuckles from escaping his mouth as he hears your giggles, his chest warming at the sound

after an estimate of 241 pictures taken, you're finally satisfied and allows him to help take your makeup off

"am i doing this right?" yunho nervously asks, gently rubbing the cleansing oil into your skin that slowly blends with your makeup as you dazedly nod, prompting him to take a hold of your chin to minimize your movement and causing you to giggle

"why are you laughing?" he smiles, watching your eyes crinkle as you continue to giggle softly 

"i don't know. i just really really reeeeallly like you."

he knows you're drunk and it might just be a mindless statement and yet still, he can't help but freeze as he feels his heart skip a beat

he stops massaging the oil on your face

you like him you like him you like him you like him you like him you like him you like him—!

“uh,, actually that’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you. i- i like you too—“

“yEah yeah, i know!” yunho feels your hand blindly slap all over his face until you finally muffle his mouth, earning a glare from the boy. “you can tell me that tomorrow. noW get back to cLeansing!!”

yunho huffs and playfully rolls his eyes at you, trying to stop himself from grinning ear to ear while inching you closer to the sink so he can rinse off the oil, “aye aye ma’am.”

“noW uhguh–” you sputter out some water that got into your mouth, earning an oops from yunho, “you have to double cleanse with tHat cleanser,” you point at the tube of cleanser on your sink, “for at least 60 seconds.”

and when he finally lathers the face wash on your skin, he actually starts counting, “one, two, three, four, five, six—”

he'd do anything for you

kang yeosang

there are two things yeosang absolutely hates in this world

number one: your job

“i have to get to work, yeo,” you chuckle, “you gotta let me go.”

the android in question is glued to your arm, refusing to let you out the door by clinging to your arm and snuggling his face into your shoulder in an attempt of convincing you to stay

“You always leave,” the blonde pouts, his eyes glistening at the thought of always being left alone from every weekday morning to wait for you to come back at night. “Why must you go to work? Can’t you just stay here?”

sometimes, you forget that your android is supposed to be a boyfriend android – which is probably why he craves your company all the time

ok you feel a bit guilty now :-(

but you’re gonna have to work because !!! unfortunately, you need money to survive !!!!

“well, unfortunately–” you struggle to untangle yourself from his grip as you try to put on your shoes, “i have to work to get money so that i can buy food to live and pay for my electricity bills that keeps your battery charged.”

he grumbles and lets out a small yelp when you successfully unlatched yourself from him, “That’s so unfair!”

you shrug as your fingers grasp the doorknob to swing your apartment door open, “mhm, it’s called capitalism. see you tonight!”

you come home from work only to find yeosang missing

just as you were about to have your second mental breakdown, you spot a lilac post it stuck to your fridge that reads I’ll be out late. Dinner’s in the fridge. :-) in perfectly aligned and neat handwriting with proper punctuation– it’s definitely yeosang

but where could he have gone to???? you don’t even know if he knows his way around the city !! omg what if he’s lost and can’t find his way back home–

you hear the sound of your front door slamming shut

“Honey, I’m home!”

you immediately rush to your entrance door, ready to reprimand him for going out until so late at night, only to pause when you see yeosang dressed in a… bright pink polo shirt… with a blue apron that covers his front… and a matching blue cap that sits atop his mop of golden hair and wait a minute is that the baskin robbins logo???

“I got a job,” he grins at you, proudly tapping on the circular logo with the initials BR that rests smack dab right above the pocket of his blue apron. “They pay me to scoop ice cream into cups for tiny humans all day! Now you won’t have to work anymore!”

he’s so proud of himself :-D

this way, you won’t be as tired and he also gets to hangout with you all day long at home !! hehe

“you know… if you have a job, that means you’re gonna have to go work everyday,,, so,, you can’t really be with me either way :-/”

his face crumples at the realization

“Do you know the number of the Baskin Robbins down the street? I’ll have to tell them that I’m quitting.”

another thing yeosang hates the most in the world is: you going on dates

“strawberry for golden boy. target located and is currently approaching the table. do you copy? over.”

yeosang can’t really remember why he agreed on showing up with a fake mustache plastered above his lips and a black fedora hiding his blonde hair in the restaurant where you are to meet the guy you’ve been talking to on tinder for days

but anything to make you happy, he guess

sitting in a few tables away from yours, yeosang nonchalantly stirs the spoon in his overpriced cup of hot chocolate as he brings the dollar store walkie talkie upon his lips, “Are the codenames really necessary?”

“…”

he sighs, “Over.”

“of course they are! we don’t want our identities compromised! wait shit he’s getting closer now, i’ll talk to you later. over and out.”

yeosang squints at the guy sitting in front of you, scanning his admittedly handsome face to quickly run a background check on him

.... for safety purposes, of course

choi jongho. born in seoul. went to seoul national university. graduated magna cum laude. is currently pursuing his masters. non-existent criminal record. does environmental volunteer work on a monthly basis. can also ?? break an apple with his bare hands ??

yeosang gulps

this guy is basically perfect

his eyes flits back to you, the sight of you laughing at something jongho said making his stomach churn

and his eyebrows furrow because ?? he’s an android ?? he doesn’t even have an actual stomach so how is he even experiencing all of these overwhelming emotions— oh.

he’s jealous

“—and did you see the way he smiled at me?” you gush excitedly all the way back home, making sure your skips are on par with yeosang’s brisk walk. “he’s adorable! we already planned second date for next week and i’m so excited—”

“52 percent.”

you pause at your tracks, turning to look at yeosang who abruptly stopped walking. “huh? what was that?”

“You’re 52% compatible with Choi Jongho.”

“oh ! i guess that’s not too shabby. although, i thought it’d be a lot higher,” you bring a finger to your chin, deep in thought

“...You’re 96% compatible with me.”

THERE he finally said it

his electric motor is probably overheating from how flustered he is but, according to his system, it’s advised to confess to the person you like instead of holding back your feelings (source: wikihow)

so, he’s doing just that

it’s a good thing that he doesn’t have sweat glands because he’s pretty sure this street would’ve been flooded by now from how nervous he is as he asks, “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

you stood in front of him with your eyes comically widened, and based on your silence, he can kinda guess what’s coming next

aha, looks like he's gonna have to shut down for the next 168 hours!

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, you can forget it. I just wanted to let you know—“ “sure” “—that I like you– ...I’m sorry, what?”

you chuckle at his shocked expression, “i said yes, yeosang. i’ve actually been waiting for you to ask me that.”

(you ended up having to bring yeosang in for maintenance and pay a $150 fee because yeosang literally short circuited at your answer)

choi san

san finds it kinda hilarious how you’ve become his best friend, seeing as you seem to be the complete opposite of him

“what do you mean you hate mint choco??” san gawks, both of his palms lying flat against the glass encasing the freezer lined with tubs of various ice cream flavors as he turns to you with an incredulous look. “how could you even say that?!!!!!”

unbeknownst to san, the blonde baskin robbins employee behind the cashier register scowls at him, annoyed that he’s going to have to clean the fingerprint marks left on the glass

you snort, “everyone knows that cookie dough is superior,” you stick your tongue out at him, eliciting a dramatic gasp from the dark haired boy, “mint chocolate tastes like eating toothpaste with chocolate chips anyway. big yuck.”

“that’s ridiculous!” san, the official defender of the controversial green ice cream, exclaims. “how are you even comparing an oral hygienic product to food?? that’s not fair!! they don’t even taste remotely alike !!!”

“mhm, whatever helps you sleep at night, sannie,” you yawn, purposely flapping a hand over your open mouth to annoy him and you giggle once he starts to pout

“Excuse me," the inhumanely gorgeous cashier calls, surprising both you and san out of the little bubble that seems to form whenever the two of you are together, "are you ready to order? You’re holding up the line.” the blonde says, a grim look on his face

you smile apologetically at the employee who has a blue circular sticker on his uniform that reads new hire and you move to tell him the ice cream you want

while waiting for the employee to scoop your ice cream into a cup, you grimace when you look behind you to see a long line of teary-eyed kids with their glaring parents, probably because it's taking too long to get their ice cream

oopsies

you and san immediately booked out of there after he was done paying

“as i was saying,” san pops in a spoonful of his ice cream before continuing, “mint choco doesn’t taste like toothpaste,” you open your mouth, ready to object, but san took this chance to shovel a spoon of the dessert into your mouth, making you sputter in disgust of the taste and effectively shutting you up, “it’s toothpaste that taste like mint chocolate.”

you pause your steps before turning to look at him in disbelief, “are you even hearing yourself right now?”

he said what he said okay!! and he’ll stand by it ┐( ˘ ､ ˘ )┌

“sometimes…. i wonder what goes on in your brain… because dude, that does nOt make any sense at all.”

ok no, you know what doesn’t make sense?

it doesn’t make sense how san seems to think of you 24/7

when he strolls around the park and sees a golden retriever quietly mingling? that’s you.

the smell of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee when he steps into his university cafe? he loves it because he thinks it smells exactly like you.

someone’s music leaking through their headphones in the hallways? oh wait, you two blasted this song in his car once.

grocery shopping alone? he better grab some of those birthday cake flavored oreos for you even though he hates them because he thinks they’re too sweet.

it’s just what friends do, right?

“what are we watching tonight?”

ever since you two became friends, it’s become a tradition to hold a weekly movie night at your place

and without fail, san always uses this time to try and convert you to become a mint choco ice cream lover

this would be his 12th attempt

“can we watch inside out?” you say, already munching on your microwave popcorn as you lounge next to him on the loveseat in your living room. “i feel like crying today.”

san almost jumps out of the couch to do his little dance

because you know what they say,,,,,,,,,

when you’re sad, eat ice cream!

and he’s gonna make sure you eat some ice cream, alright!! :-D

specifically, his favorite ice cream flavor that he's got in your freezer :-D

so, in the middle of the movie, right after bing bong tragically disappears into the abyss (san still sheds a tear despite this being his twentieth time watching the film) and he hears your tell-tale sniffles, he dashes off to your fridge and grabs the pint of ice cream he brought for tonight along with two spoons before returning back to stand in front of the tv screen

“fear not!” san announces, holding the pint of ice cream above his head while the other hand that is gripping the spoons is placed on his hip. “i have just the right thing to make you feel better!”

he excitedly pries the lid of the pint open and you groan as you wipe the tears under your eyes, “san, i’m really not in the mood to have mint choco ice cream shoved into my throat today—”

you’re cut off by san almost shooting through your apartment roof as he blankly stares inside the pint, “hUH?”

he furrows his brows when instead of the mint green ice cream, he’s greeted by the thick consistency of creamy soft brown ice cream with chocolate chips

it can’t be

why did he get your favorite ice cream flavor instead of his own?????

he hates cookie dough ice cream, and he’s a hundred percent sure he got a pint of mint choco chip ice cream— wait a minute,

“woah, they’re really everywhere,” san mutters to himself while looking at the shelves as he pushes the grocery store cart, “yn would love this!”

“love what?” his roommate, mingi, pops up, dropping a pack of a party sized barbeque chips into the cart

“yn would love this grocery store,” he says, referring to the newly opened grocery store they're in as he hums, “there's every product that’s endorsed by their favorite k-pop group in here. i’d have to take them here sometime.”

“at this point just date yn already.”

san glares at his friend, blindly reaching for what he thinks is a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream with the thought of you stuck in his head, as always, “i don’t even talk about them that often !!!”

“sure you don’t.”

“is that…. cookie dough?”

“yeah, i guess— oof!” he falls to the ground when you literally jump on him

“WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BEST FRIEND?!!!”

after san’s reassured you that he’s still him and not some anti-mint choco san clone, you happily eat up the pint of cookie dough ice cream throughout the rest of the movie while san tries to reflect on the new found revelation that he has a crush on you

now, whenever he looks at you, everything seems to fade away and cartoonish pink flowers would appear around you and start blooming (he also hears a soft tune that goes lalalala~ in the background)

oh, and he also thinks he’d stop eating mint chocolate chip ice cream just to appease you

his friends are right, he is a simp

song mingi

long story short… you decided to move into mingi’s 2 bedroom apartment to escape from your insufferable roommate !! :-D

it had been the boy’s idea because you two meet each other literally every single day and so he thought hey, living together doesn’t sound so bad !!! you should just move in with me!! i have a spare bedroom that’s been empty for a while !! 

and so you immediately packed your things, left your roommate gaping when she saw her previous one night stand awkwardly waving at her as he helped you load your things to his car, and never looked back 

now you’re both currently skipping down the street en route to the local farmer’s market because mingi swears that they have cheaper and fresher produce compared to any grocery store out there

you both stop at the first stall you see

“dude, check it out :O” you point at one of the corns on display, “that one totally looks like nanami :O”

he tilts his head as he tries his best to discern any similarities between the crop and your favorite jujutsu kaisen character………. only to come up with nothing

“hm. i don’t see it.”

“no, no!” you jump up and down, hands flailing everywhere as you try to gesture out corn nanami’s features. “you see! the corn hair is, well, obviously his hair, and the green jacket kinda looks like his suit don’t you think? and oh–”

to any nearing passerby, it seems like you two are a pair of excited newlyweds who were highschool sweethearts as mingi gazes at you fondly as you continue to ramble on about the corn-nanami doppelganger

which sounds totally stupid, but he doesn't mind at all

having been too entranced by whatever it was you were saying, mingi only snaps out of his fixation on you when he realized you caught on to his staring

he clears his suddenly dry throat and his eyes flick to anywhere except you. “ehm, e–EHm yeah right,, i guess he kinda looks like, uh, that corn.”

you playfully bump your side into his arm as you exclaim an “I KNOW RIGHT” and you accidentally start a bump fight when mingi starts practically shoving you back (he sometimes forget just how big he is) and you’re both just giggling at each other like stupid kids until—

“what a good-looking couple! i’ll give you two a discount! :-D”

mingi feels you freeze up against him and shake your head at lightning speed, “oh, we’re not… we’re not a—“

“how much? :-D” he interrupts, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer as he grins at the stall owner who starts cooing

meanwhile, you resist the tempting act of whacking him with your reusable tote bag

and you may be trying to tone down the heat on your cheeks bUT that’s besides the point !!!

you’re not a couple

yet

“how cute!” the stall owner squeals, and you can nearly see the dollar signs in her eyes as gullible mingi fails to see beyond her sly marketing ploy. she hums in contemplation, “hm, maybe i shouldn’t favor you two. wouldn’t be fair for the singles out there, am i right?”

you nervously chuckle, “that’s perfectly fine!” you try to push mingi to move along the market but it’s like his feet are immediately rooted to the ground once he hears compliments directed at you both. “psst mingi, move your ass— aha i’m pretty sure we still have some corn back home anyways—“

“do we really look cute together? :-D”

cue you smacking your palm against your forehead

“why of course!” the woman nods her head eagerly, “absolutely adorable. and especially with a fine handsome young man like you!” she turns to look at you, “he’s a good one. don’t lose him, dear.”

dang, maybe you should ask her which business school she went to because her marketing skills are just straight up fire

mingi knocks his head back as he lets out a hearty belly laugh and if you squint hard enough, you can spot the pink dusting his cheeks. “ah, you flatter me too much, ma’am!.... please tell us more about how cute we look together! :-D”

… he ended up lugging an abnormally large sack of corn all the way home

“people probably think we look like a cute couple all the time, huh?” mingi grins to himself during dinner, eliciting a glare from you as you take another hesitant bite of the… weirdly edible grilled corn salad

your bowls of corn soup and corn rice bowl (don’t ask) along with a cup of sweetened corn for dessert remains untouched while mingi scarfs down his own like a mad man

you don’t even want to know how he’s been surviving on his own

“remind me to never let you grocery shop again,” you grumble, stabbing your fork into the bowl of corn salad as mingi stares at you, finding your anger cute somehow

huh… that’s weird

why does he think your furrowed brows and the aggressive chewing behind your pouty lips are the cutest things ever right now?

uh oh

your heart practically leaped out of your chest as you yelp in surprise when mingi suddenly stands up from the dining chair and sprints to his room without a word

???

you resume back to eating your food

meanwhile, mingi grabs his laptop and looks up a love meter website to calculate love percentage while trying to calm down his erratic heart rate

he quickly types in his and your names into the website and crosses his fingers with his eyes shut as he waits for the results

ding!

he opens his eyes and excitedly reads the words on the screen

90%! Love is in the air!

:-D <3 !!!

“mingi… why are you sitting on my lap.”

“i think i’m in love with you.”

jung wooyoung

“i’m feeling lonely ♫ oh i wish i’d find a lover that could hold me ♫ now i’m crying in my room ♫ so skeptical of love ♫ but still i want it more, more, mOre ♫ i give a second chance to cUPID–”

“sing that song one more time and i will shoot you with an actual arrow.”

“hmph, meanie :-(“

usually, wooyoung would sing along to that stupidly addicting cupid song you always sing whenever you’re with him 

but right now, he’s a man on a mission !! and he’s very serious about it

“i need absolute silence,” he mutters quietly, his eyes zeroing at the very serious task in hand with his brows furrowed in concentration

“you’re being dramatic.”

his head snaps up to look at you with a glare. “excuSe me? i’m sorry that i’m the only one who obviously has a passion for art here!!”

and by art, he means frosting heart-shaped sugar cookies

this is like, one of the first few human activities he’s doing !! so he wants to actually be good at this !! (〃￣ω￣〃ゞ

he doesn’t know why but he really wants to make you proud :-(

you stifle a giggle when you see his hands practically tremble as he continues to squeeze out the pastel pink frosting from the piping bag onto the heart-shaped cookies

how cute

you walk over to him and gently wrap your hand around his that’s currently holding the piping bag with a death grip, making him let out a small yelp in surprise

“you need to relax,” you softly chide, helping him loosen up his grip to gently guide him into pressing the piping bag properly

meanwhile, wooyoung’s trying to refrain himself from jumping out of your apartment window and flying to mount olympus because he can feel your breath on his neck and his heart is beating a little too fast and omg you’re so close to him &:&;;’js!

honestly, this isn’t the first time wooyoung’s felt this way towards you

it’s just,, he just feels so carefree and himself whenever he’s with you 

and also because he thinks you’re the best human ever

and that you have the most beautiful smile

and that if he tries to personify love, the first thing that’d pop up in his head would be an image of you with crinkled eyes and a smile, your twinkly laughter ringing in his ears

but he’d rather let zeus zap him on the butt with a thunderbolt than admit that

“see!” you let go of his hand to excitedly gesture towards the pink cookie you helped him with, “you can do it if you let yourself have fun a little ! this one actually looks pretty decent :-D”

he already misses the warmth of your hand

“are you saying the ones i did before look bad?” he raises a brow, and your eyes nervously flicker to the tray of heart-shaped cookies that looks like it’s been frosted by a kindergartner

you start sweating

“nO of course not aha!!!! haha!!!!” he narrows his eyes at you. “okay not even gonna lie but, they do look kinda bad I’M SORRY”

he huffs, offended. “it's aBstract!”

“it’s lopsided.”

gasp D-:

you laugh when he aggressively rips off his apron before sulking, “i hate baking.”

but he knows that he’d do anything to become human; to leave his cupid errands just so he could be a regular boy who dreams of opening a bakery down the street

and in this alternate universe he’s envisioned, he’d actually manage to do it and that’s where he would first meet you

with his hands coated with flour and him sporting a messy apron, a boyish grin on his lips as he tells you that the small bag of pastry in your hands is on the house and he’d watch as your cheeks endearingly heat up

and then this alternate universe wooyoung would lean against his sleek car as he waits for you outside your apartment for a set date to an amusement park, where he’d win a giant teddy bear for you from one of those rigged game stalls

and he would try his best to make you the happiest you can be every single day

but in this life, he can only distract himself for so long from your fate that's set in stone by the red string intertwined on your pinky finger that stretches out long and far outside your apartment door— a painful reminder of the first thing his mother’s ever told him about love,

that it is never fair.

(he looks at his own gray string looped around his pinky with its short length frayed around the edges before glancing over to you who’s packing the cookies in a tupperware for him to bring while he does his cupid errands, and he knows he doesn’t regret falling for you even though he knows how it’ll end.)

choi jongho

“what do you mean you can’t go????”

jongho may or may not have tears in his eyes right now

“look, man. i really am sorry, i know we planned this weeks ago but it’s an emergency,” mingi sighs from the other line of the call, sounding genuinely regretful. “i really can’t go.”

“the new jujutsu kaisen movie drop isn’t an emergency, hyung.”

“it is !!!!!” mingi exclaims, and jongho wonders whether he’s actually a year older than him. “and i have to be one of the first people who watches it so i’m not exchanging my movie ticket for anything else.”

wow

this hurts even more than the top 10 anime betrayals :-( 

“you know what? you should go do it with yn instead. you two look cute together.”

record scratch

jongho almost drops his phone placed on his ear as he feels his cheeks flush a bright beet red. “whAt !!” he squeaks.

“‘kay! i’ll talk to you soon !!!! have fun on the date hehe :-D” beep.

see… the thing is…

jongho really looks up to mingi

he’s his favorite frat brother !!!!!

and so, he finds himself sitting on the couch of your apartment right after the call, obediently following his hyung’s suggestion

curse his soft, compliant heart

“choi jongho, are you asking me out on a date?”

“-!” jongho chokes on his saliva, sputtering out unpleasant noises before bringing his fist to his chest, “n-not a date!” he manages to choke out and you grin cheekily at him. “it’s just a paint & wine class that i was supposed to go with mingi hyung but he ended up bailing, a-and it’s non-refundable and i’ve already paid in full so i’m basically forced to take you instead–”

“yeah yeah,” you dismissively wave a hand at him, already sprinting to your bedroom to get ready. “whatever. i guess i’ll agree to go on a date with you.”

“IT’S NOT A DATE!”

jongho doesn’t know when it all started

after his frat party, you two somehow always meet each other in every party he goes to and you’d both hangout in the corner of the room together, enjoying each other’s company and leaving together when the bass of the loud music finally deafens your ears

and soon enough, you have his number and he has yours, and the party hangouts turn into lunch hangouts that happens almost every day (he looks forward to it and will sulk when he doesn’t meet you at least once a day)

you also like to give him free iced americano and savory pastries from the cafe you work at !! :-D

safe to say, jongho likes you

uH, as a friend !!! of course

yeah

just as a friend

mhm

“psssst, jongho,” you whisper from across the table, stifling a giggle as you eye the other people attending the paint & wine class. “i think you need new prescription glasses.”

“if you ever mention this to wooyoung hyung, i’ll revoke our friendship,” he grits out before chugging his glass of red wine, the tip of his ears flushed red

turns out, jongho had accidentally booked two spots for a paint & wine class reserved for the elderly (which, jongho thinks, is a stupid idea because why would they let old people have a night of free-flow wine????)

the painting instructor actually felt so bad for him that they allowed you two to join the class anyways

so here you are, sitting in the two seat table smackdab in the middle of the room with everyone’s eyes on you

it also doesn’t help that you two decided to dress super fancy as a joke for the night, with jongho wearing a crisp dark gray suit over a white button up that’s barely buttoned and you with a white floor-length evening dress under the apron they gave you

it looks like you both just ditched a wedding or something

which is precisely the look you two are going for !!! :-D 

and honestly, his hyungs can tease him all they want for all the mini adventures he does with you but he’s truly the happiest when he’s with you (he will never say this to your face)

“look at what i painted!”

jongho looks up from his canvas to see you pursing your lips in concentration over yours, your hand tightly gripping one of the paintbrushes as you finish up some small details before turning the easel to proudly present the A4 canvas to him. “tadaa!”

the reference for today’s class is an acrylic portrait of a brown kitten and jongho personally thinks he nailed his own rendition of the painting projected on the projection screen in front of the room so he’s really excited to see yours!!!

uhm

“...........yn, that’s not the painting we’re doing today.”

you nod, “i know.”

on your canvas, you’ve painted what looks like a hut with three beds all in different sizes, a dining table with three different sized bowls of porridge, and a family of brown bears with a little blonde boy—

"did you seriously paint me as goldilocks?”

you grin cutely at him, “i did!” you point at goldilocks-jongho on your painting, “you’re with your bear family now! isn’t it cute? :3”

(jongho’s trying his best to not bash his head through the canvas because !!!! nu uh nope nO, he definitely does not like you !!! not at all !!!! it’s just the wine doing things to his brain—)

“and i also painted the bears’ bed sheets purple because it’s your favorite color! and— oh shit.”

a loud clink echoes throughout the room, making everyone's heads (yes, the paint instructor as well) turn to look at your table

…………………

you accidentally plunged your paintbrush in your wine glass instead of the plastic cup of water beside it

both of your eyes widen at the sight of the purple paint staining the red liquid in the expensive glass

and honestly, you can probably just ask for a new glass of wine and apologize for this tiny mistake and it’ll be like nothing ever happened (except for the fact that you'll be embarrassed for the rest of the night)

but where’s the fun in that?

you exchange glances before jongho abruptly stands up from his chair, grab both of your canvases in one hand, and interlaces the other with yours as you two run out of the room, both of your laughters ringing throughout the hallway

“that’s so embarrassing!” you yelp, slamming jongho’s car door behind you before he turns on the engine, quickly backing up from the parking lot to drive away from the building. you groan as you lean back on the passenger seat, “please don’t ever take me to another paint & wine class again.”

jongho can’t help but chuckle at your flustered expression as he carefully place the canvases on the backseat without his eyes leaving the road, “i actually think that was pretty fun.”

“should we get dinner?”

“sure, i know a place. we could pretend we’re having our first anniversary so that they’d give us free chocolate lava cake.”

“are you just using this chance to pretend to be my boyfriend again?” you tease, trying to hide the smile on your face

“why are you so shy about it? we literally made out once–”

“I TOLD YOU TO NEVER BRING THAT UP AGAIN!!!!”

taglist. @ad0rechuu @diorwoo @jaehunnyy

[lightlycareless]

Yo but nerdy incel gammer naoya x bimbo reader 🫦

Heya anon!

I'm sorry this took me far longer than anticipated 💀 I still remember I got this ask when I had a friend over and in the middle of the busiest season of the year lol

But I did not forget! I just had the plotline sitting there... waiting to be written by me lol.

And now, it's here :> I don't think I've ever written a bimbo or incel character in my life, so I beg you to go easy on me 😭 This is what I was able to write with my understanding of those terms 😂 (probably raised to like the nth power but hey, who doesn't like extreme methods 🥴) it's also somewhat long, it's either all or nothing anon!!! so thank you for waiting 🥺❤

anyways, here are the warnings: MINORS DNI. misogyny, objectification, mentions and slight depictions of sexual acts, as well as sexual implications (? I hope that's the right term). A tiny, blink and you miss it kind of fluff. Derogative name calling, but good name calling as well. Overall, Naoya is very... ugh. and Y/N is oblivious as ever 😭also if there's some typos, or weirdly constructed sentences... I'm sorry 🥺.

As always, reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ❤❤ Happy reading!

Naoya is on a mission—a stealthy one, evident by his dark sunglasses, dark hoodie, which he wore specifically to hide his distinctive bleached hair, and finally a scowl on his face that would let any onlooker know he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances.

Necessary measures so as to avoid being recognized. But what was the reason behind those safety procedures? Surely, a man of his wealth could afford to hire an assistant to do his errands if he was too… “busy” to do so himself.

But it wasn’t a question of being busy, pretentious, or even uninterested—it’s a matter of secrecy, his identity to remain a mystery; and all because he didn’t want to, or couldn’t be seen indulging in one of his favorite pastimes: gaming.

Thus, a circumstance that had to be dealt through him personally. 

So, with all safety steps in place, he makes way towards the nearest video game store closest to his work, conveniently (or more like unfortunately) located in one of the most frequented malls of the city, in hopes of getting his hands on a brand new copy of whatever popular long-awaited first person shooter came out that season.

He considers himself to be a highly determined and focused person when it comes to pursuing a goal by swiftly evading upcoming crowds of obnoxious shoppers, annoying bystanders that can’t take their business to the sides of the passageway to avoid hindering traffic flow, to finally enter the store and zero-in on looking for his desperately sought after game through the many shelves on the walls.

But the act drops immediately upon noticing a sweet and resonant smell of a perfume, likened to strawberries or cherries, he can’t decide which one, drowning all of his senses.

It’s enough to snap him out of his purposeful trance and send him into an angry mull of just who the fuck thought it was a good idea to spray the store with that awfully distracting smell.

He swirls his head onto the direction of the perpetrator, but just as he was about to silently judge them to death, he notices you.

No, stares at you, wide eyed and speechless upon connecting the dots.

Not only was your scent one to be remarkably notable, but your presence accompanied well the intensity of such perfume, as if that weren’t enough to set all eyes on you.

The first thing that everyone notices, and perhaps what catches him off guard the most, is your stupidly short, off-shoulder, long sleeved pink dress, barely ending just underneath the crease of your bottom. From there, the second most noticeable thing from your attire had to be your thigh high boots. One would think that you were perhaps trying to cover your legs without the actual use thighs, but that assumption would be soon discarded when noting your clothes to be essentially to be a second skin, successfully accentuating each and every one of your curves, leaving nothing to the imagination, and prompting him to dumbfoundedly wonder if you didn’t consider, even for the briefest of seconds, that perhaps this wasn’t the best outfit to go out with.

When he’s able to overcome his initial shock, Naoya proceeds to do what he always does when he finds himself noticing the presence of a woman: attack your presence in the confines in his mind.

First of all, why are you in a store like this? From the very moment he stepped inside he noticed the lack of women—aside from mothers accompanying their sons, much to his relief, for he never correlated one thing with the other, seemingly belonging to two widely different worlds.

It was set from the very start that videogames were supposed to be for male consumption, thus, there's no way you knew what was being sold there.

Did you perhaps think this was some kind of movie store, where you’d be able to find your idiotic romcoms or whatever it is that females watch? Most probably yes.

Secondly, if you somehow knew this was a video game store, it was so obvious that you weren’t here for your own merit. Nuh-uh, women didn’t play video games, without being terrible that is. Or maybe they do, but it’s solely to obtain attention from the other sex and—

Oh, that has to be the reason why you even attended such a place dressed up like that, didn't it? Why would you choose a perfume so striking and an eye-catching outfit, if it wasn’t to get as many eyes on you as you could get?

And you did. In fact, within seconds of silently announcing your arrival, the other shoppers couldn’t stop their glances from sticking onto you as you walked into the store, seemingly unaware of their glimpses and hushed whispers to one another, as you looked around for something to buy. 

«Nothing more than a attention-seeking bitch» Naoya mused as he went back to the shelves before him «As if I were to fall for something that’s clearly bait»

An outstanding contradiction, for as much as he wanted to put himself over the men that were undeniably ogling your figure, he was forcing himself to go back on his search to avoid idiotically looking at you. 

Because with all the berating words he silently attacked you with, he still had to admit that as dense and indecent as you were, you were incredibly attractive.

Another wall that would collapse when he catches your moving figure from the corner of his eye, instinctively making him turn his head towards your direction, breath hitching at his throat when he sees you bending downwards and… flashing him the sight of your white and pink striped panties that has him frigid with bewilderment.

His perverted mind immediately takes him down the three following paths: 

The remembrance of the stereotypical anime girl panties, with a rosy twist that, far from being classic, he can’t help but find intriguing. 

The slight twitch coming from his groin, which he had to control immediately by focusing on everything but you, so as to not look like an impressionable teenager watching porn for the first time—only to fail miserably.

And the notion that you really were oblivious. 

Maybe you were. Because it was apparent to innocent minds that you were only trying to get a better look at the games on the bottom shelf—it wasn’t your fault that your skirt creased upwards and flashed the people around you; but they wouldn’t complain either.

Eitherway, after everything was done and said, Naoya was officially hooked on your presence, because as soon as you leaned back and upwards to your full stature and made way to the employee on the cash register, his gaze followed each and every single one of your steps.

“Hi!” you cheerfully greeted the less-than-deservingly paid employee.

“Yeah?” The young man responds, his head turning from the endless paperwork before him and up to you—his indifferent facade of having to tend to another nameless customer falters for a second when finally noticing you. His eyes widen for a fraction, before going immediately back to his everyday stance when finally composing himself. 

“I have a question…” you say, a slight pout on your lips and a coy look in your eyes, almost as if you were ashamed to be bothering him with your concern, instead of the outfit you were wearing that day.

“Yeah?” He says, and Naoya, who has not removed his undetectable gaze (thanks to his shades) from you, is able to catch his not-so-subtle mocking tone. The young entrepreneur wonders if you noticed such connotations, but judging your cheerful response and your lifestyle, he doubts you to be capable of acknowledging social cues. 

“I was just wondering if you had this game!” you smile, pink manicured nails pointing to the small poster on the counter, the cover art of the newest game in season, coincidentally, the same one Naoya was looking for.

“Oh, that one?” The man taunts “I don’t know, it’s quite popular”

“I know!” You joshed “I was hoping to get one as soon as the store opened, but I had to do some errands first… hope I’m not too late”

“I’m sure you did” He murmurs, now glancing at the screen before him while typing a few words into the keyboard here and there, as if to give the impression that he was checking the availability of the game you wanted, when in reality, he was randomly clicking buttons around the system “Which one are you looking for, the green one or the blue one?”

“PC” You answer directly, and the man’s brows slightly furrow at your tone before going back to his sneerish ways.

“Uh… yeah, sorry miss, looks like we don’t have that one anymore” he shrugs, and Naoya blinks. He was sure to check online to avoid taking on a fruitless trip, there were many copies available due to the pre-order… had he underestimated the popularity of said release? “Should’ve pre-ordered it if you wanted it that badly”

“Aw… don’t tell me that” You sigh, deflating your shoulders and pursing your lips onto another pout. “Do you think you can tell me when you’ll be getting more?” you then plead, no—whine, puppy eyes included, to the man before you. “I really, really want this game…”

The cashier didn’t think that his “playful” actions would lead you into an imploring position, but he can’t say he’s not satisfied with seeing this submissive side of yours.

“Fine” The sight of your body pressed against the counter, gifting him the modest sight of your cleavage is what has him folding to your pleads “I’m not supposed to tell you, but due to high demand we’re getting another shipment overnight, come tomorrow for a copy”

“Oh, thank you so much!! You’re the best, thank you!!!” You grin, excitedly jumping on your axis due to your excitement, and gifting another sight for Naoya and this random employee to enjoy “I’ll be here tomorrow then! I actually have a nail appointment right now, since I don’t like this color anymore—look! It’s quite ugly, isn’t it? I want a brighter color!”

You show him your nails, and he, who isn’t getting paid enough to entertain customers… and isn’t interested in the mundane aspects of his life that don’t entail staring at your figure, just gives you a tight smile and a curt nod.

“I just wanted to see if I could get a copy before my appointment, that's all. See you tomorrow….uh…”

He tells you his name, and you give him another grin.

“Cute name!” You giggle “See you tomorrow then!”

And just as you entered the store, you disappeared. Leaving nothing more than your sweet scent to linger behind. Less than a second after that, everyone goes back to their previous behavior, aside from a few murmurs of disbelief and surprise, as if nothing happened.

Naoya, on the other hand, couldn’t help himself from following you with his eyes as you stepped out of the store back into the mall, but just as you were about to disappear from his sights, a small crowd of people suddenly intercepted you. 

The image is… confusing to him, to say the least—were they your friends? That would’ve explained their sense of familiarity, as well as your all too happy disposition to entertain them, but if so, why didn’t they accompany you?

He wanted to keep starting for a bit longer, at least until he was able to figure out what kind of relationship you had with this surrounding horde, until one of the people behind him snapped him back to reality thanks to the sound of someone clearing their throat, as to remind him he was hoarding a large part of a shelf, so either step aside or… or step aside.

Naoya briefly glances at the annoyed person behind him, before rolling his eyes and heading towards the same cashier that attended you, intent on confirming the words he’d told you.

“Are you out of copies for that game?” Naoya asks, gesturing to the same poster as you.

“This one?” The cashier refers to the large banner behind “Nah, we still have lots of copies, for what console do you need it?”

“Playstation…” Naoya caution, confusion slowly setting in his mind as the employee goes to the back of the store, eventually coming back with his copy. It’s then that he decides to confront him “I thought I heard you say you didn’t have any”

“Oh, that?” He says, scanning the box before placing it on the counter “I was just having a bit of fun, really. You don’t really believe she knew what she was looking for, do you? Probably a gift for her boyfriend or something”

At the mere notion of you having a boyfriend, something likened to disappointment stings Naoya’s core.

“Wouldn’t mind having her come around more often, though” the young man says to fill the silent void between the two. 

Naoya remained silent, but not impassive. Just as he paid his purchase, his mind began the mental work of what he could do with this new angle he hadn’t considered before.

Did this mean you’ll be coming back tomorrow?

Absolutely—you essentially promised this random guy that you’ll be coming back tomorrow, and if you really wanted that game, then you would. 

So, with the determination that your promise provided, he came back again the next day. Discreetly as he’d done the day before, silently awaiting your arrival just a few feet away from the store’s entrance: for the moment you’d grace his sight with your presence.

An hour passed, and you were nowhere to be seen. He’s dangerously close to finishing his break, and past the limit of cursing and berating his naiveness of believing that your ditzy self would actually keep up with a promise you made to a complete stranger.

Naoya is more than ready to head back to his work and forget all of this, until you finally make your entrance.

And with an even skimpier outfit than before—a pink v-neck crop top, a low waisted denim skirt, resting just beneath your belly button, and white boots. 

The way his mind is able to whip away from anger and into perverted intrigue is outstanding. When he was reprimanding himself for being a foolish time-waster, he was now wondering if you were wearing completely white panties, or perhaps blue stripes…? Naoya didn’t bother to think about your bra. It’s obvious you weren’t wearing one anyway, just as the day before, evident by the way your nipples poked through the fabric, so why waste energy thinking about that?

After a few seconds of indecent thoughts, Naoya makes his way towards the inside of the store, hoping to catch a better glance of you—all while putting up the act of an absorbed shopper, and not of a debauched young man.

You didn’t use much of your time to look around, much to Naoya’s dismay who hoped you’d gift him another peek of your panties, instead, you went straight to the cashier, which you excitedly greeted upon recognizing him to be the same from yesterday, followed by asking for the copy he promised to have today.

“Oh, sorry—sold out already” he says matter-of-factly, and your eyes widen.

“What??” you breathe “Oh, don’t tell me I was late again….”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll be getting another shipment overnight, though. Why don’t you try tomorrow? I might be able to hold a copy for you”

“Oh, would you really do that?” You ask, eyes glistening with hope “Thank you sooooo much!! You’re really the nicest guy ever…”

And so, you leave.

Naoya wants to scream at the man for seemingly letting you go so easily—but he’s quick to remember that there are a few things that he can’t get away with, especially if they aren’t employees under his company, so instead, he swallows his resentment and leaves the store as well.

His eyes darted across the crowds, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and maybe… well, he wouldn’t consider it stalking if he was just seeing you at a distance, but all technicalities accounted for, he would be “observing” you for a bit.

However, you're nowhere to be found—not even the group that stopped you yesterday was there! You were essentially lost between the crowd, leaving behind yet again, your lingering scent and the flimsy promise of coming back the next day.

Tomorrow came by, to Naoya’s relieving expectation and personal satisfaction upon seeing another skimpy outfit on your body, but to your detriment, for you were received with the same excuse. 

I couldn’t hold the copy, I wasn’t sure if you were coming so I sold it. It’s what he said to you when approaching him. And yet, you didn’t say anything—you didn’t appear to be upset, if anything, you just took it, and came back tomorrow.

Once again, Naoya was there too.

Oh yeah… I told you that, didn’t I? Yeah, we didn’t get any more today. Maybe tomorrow!

Naoya couldn’t really care less about this guys toying intentions with you, however, he’s getting tired of this senseless chase. It was entertaining, sure, he had to admit that he was looking forward to the moment he’d see what kind of outfit you’d wear that day.

However, it was slowly becoming annoying how he had to go out every day, get covered up so no one from his family or business-ventures would catch him essentially hunting an indecent woman, and wait for you as if he were some kind of pet, when it should be the other way around.

And while that may be the primary reasoning of his newfound path, the other subconscious underlying argument was that he hated seeing you give this scumbag all of your attention—and quite stupidly so. A sensation that would’ve been described as anger, if not… jealousy.

No, it couldn’t be jealousy, of course not.

Naoya was never jealous. However, he was protective of things he thought were exclusively reserved for him. And just as it was as noted before, he was one to act firmly and directly when it pertained to something he wanted.

So, having had enough of your endless goose chase with this insignificant man, he decides to put an end to your misery by buying a copy and handing it to you personally, so you can finally set your sights on a man of higher caliber.

“Wait… you… you got this for me?” you faltered while carefully receiving the box from his hands, as if it were the most sacred item in the whole world and could break easily even by an unsuspecting gust of wind, before looking up to him in awe “I—I thought they were gone… How… Did you know I was looking for one?”

“Guess I’m just lucky. Although I’m not sure that’s the console you wanted” Naoya responds, feigning ignorance so as to not reveal he’d actually been stalking you for a while. 

“It’s perfect! You hit it right on the money!” you giggle, giving him a sweet smile that has Naoya growing a bit uncomfortable for the sudden tightness in his pants. 

He tries to distract himself by thinking how fortunate he was that you didn’t ask any more questions regarding his… mysterious assumptions.  But by the way you thankfully offer yourself to him, unknowingly inviting, he’s finding it to be an incredibly strenuous effort. 

“I… I don’t know what to say! Thank you so much!! I’ve been wanting to get this game forever now!! But now I can finally play it, my followers will be eternally grateful to you, kind stranger…” you swoon, and Naoya… Well, he remains speechless, but for another reason now.

“Followers?” Naoya skeptically repeats. He can’t help but judge by your attire that you’re most possibly inclined to have those kinds of followers, but if so, what kind of use would you have with a game of all things? Well, guess he’d just have to find out…

“Oh, right” You sheepishly chuckle as a subtle blush appears on your cheeks. “I’m a streamer! I broadcast whatever game I want to play that day, or what my followers tell me to”

“Streamer” Naoya says to himself, he never thought that this game was actually for you to consume. Guess he misjudged part of the female population. But at the same time, this revelation brings him a much needed lifeline without having to put much of his effort: somewhere to unadulteratedly watch you, and without having to worry who sees him in turn. “Where… Do you stream?”

“On twitch” you reveal “I used to have business cards but I ran out of them a while ago and the new ones haven’t arrived yet… Oh, I know! Do you have social media?”

“I… rarely use it” he responds honestly. His father told him to keep his personal image to the cleanest possible, if he didn’t want to ruin his chances of inheriting the company, that is. 

Didn’t stop him from doing what he wanted, of course, just led him to be more… discreet.

“Eh?! That's impossible! A handsome man like you must have at least an instagram! … Or a girlfriend” you whisper the last part, almost as if you were talking to yourself, but his focus on you allows him to intercept your words as if they were spoken to everyone in the vicinity, and it makes him feel… 

“I… don't” Naoya responds, but he doesn’t know which of your questions. 

Thinking back on it, he was to have a girlfriend—more like an arranged marriage with a daughter of some rich family, or something like that— but it never went through, the family deciding to back away out of nowhere. 

He thinks himself too young to be tied down to difficult commitments anyways, such as women tend to be, so the sudden change fit him well.

And even though it’s been a while since he’d seen her, he can’t help but compare you to that thwarted woman.

While you socially didn’t fit the eccentric criteria of the Zen’in men, far too lewd to fit the traditional values of an old money family like his, Naoya is not cut of the same fabric as them, not entirely anyways, and he knows it wouldn’t have taken much before he found himself seeking you, for his wife wouldn’t give you the entertainment you would undeniably prove him.

“Really? That’s quite a shame…” you wistfully sigh, and just like his answers, he doesn’t know which question you’re responding to. “Well, if you ever decide to open an account, you can find me like this”

You show him a screenshot of your social media handles, and Naoya, quickly, if not desperately, writes down your information.

“Thank you so much, um…” you say once he puts his phone away, pressing your lips together as the pink in your cheeks turns red.

“Naoya” he responds, admiring how a woman as shameless as you could still feel something likened to embarrassment. A delightful… and cute realization. 

“Y/N” You say back “It was nice meeting you, Naoya-kun”

It’s a simple, innocent gesture, the formality of two people becoming acquainted with each other. A straightforward social interaction, but for Naoya, this was nothing but the start of his demise.

From the moment he went back to his office and searched you up on all of your available social media, he started an addiction consisting of keeping up to date with all of your movements.

Whether this be through your instagram, he’s set up notifications to let him know whenever you posted something new, a post, a story, a livestream, it doesn't matter. And he cares even less about what he’s doing when he’s notified about this—he could be in the middle of a meeting with an important client, but if his phone vibrates, letting him know you posted something, he would unlock his phone and check.

And it's with the intricate of his obsession that he began to stalk you whenever he virtually could, and physically as well.

If you tagged yourself to be going somewhere, he’d pull whatever strings he had to pull to be near you. Silently, distantly watching you and your outfits that he’d continue to spend his time guessing just what kind of underwear you’d be wearing, perhaps even lingerie? When he wasn’t “admiring” your outfit, of course. His favorite instances during these outings were when you were alone, away from the small crowd of people he assumed to be your followers, seemingly doing the same as him by hounding you as some kind of piece of meat, to those that acted somewhat civil near you; your friends, which he found surprisingly normal compared to you.

But when you streamed… that’s when it was officially recognized that he had an addiction.

It wouldn’t take him long to figure out that just as how you acted in person, it was heightened x100 times online. It was a mystery as to why you haven’t been banned from the platform for dressing so scandalously, but even if you were, he would personally hunt down the CEO at his HQ to demand the reinstitution of your channel. He needed, wanted, desired to see you everywhere, anywhere.

But just as most addictions go, one day he just couldn’t fill his need.

Naoya didn’t like being pushed to the side, as his useless brothers had always been when it comes down to matters of the company, when he knew he was capable of achieving so much more.

And specially, he didn’t like how you were giving others—your followers, attention.

But he found it hard to approach you for some strange reason. There was something inside his mind that filled him with a sense of fear that had him believing that if he wasn’t careful enough, important enough, you’d disappear from his life.

He had to stand out, he had to get all of your attention on him, as to avoid sinking down into the forgetfulness of your memory, but above all, he needed to be reciprocated with the same toxicity he was giving you, or he'd fail to continue on existing.

So, like any rich man with spending issues his age would do, he started to spend large, ludicrous amounts of money to your persona: either through donations your streams, or by the wishlist link you posted in your description box, carefully selecting the outfits he’d thought would benefit you the most, before adding the entire list on his shopping cart and checking out.

He’d been a silent observer of yours since he began to follow you, but when you dedicated a stream solely to open the uncountable number of boxes that were delivered to your apartment one day, that’s when he finally stepped into your spotlight.

“Naoya… Naoya… it’s familiar to me but I can’t pinpoint where….” you say as you continue to carefully cut another box open, setting your cutter aside and revealing the contents to your followers, which, far from admiring the nice things you’ve gotten or relishing on the fact that someone was kind enough to buy them for you, couldn’t help but show their concern for this sudden big-spender of an admirer.

One even reminded you to be careful, but that message was soon drowned by the swarm of messages from the other side of your fandom that asked you to model the clothes you were showing off.

And you, too distracted by the nice and pretty things this mysterious Naoya guy got for you, remained completely oblivious to the other’s concerns.

“I swear, I had it on the tip of my tongue!” You frown, looking through the box to check there was nothing left behind.

Naoya knew that you wouldn’t read his message, at least not through the large stream of messages that seemed to push down whatever new comment managed to get past your moderators. So, he took it as his personal mission to talk to you via donations. That way, he could ensure you would read what he had to say, and set him aside from the lowly scum that seemed to follow you.

Thus, he sent you another donation of $5000 dollars, with the following words:

“From the store”

You lifted your eyes from the box and onto the screen. Carefully reading the message attached. Naoya felt an indescribable feel of realization upon seeing your smile widen and your eyes glistening with excitement on what seems the moment you finally remembered who he was.

“Oh! That Naoya!” you gasp “You’re the one that got me that game! Oh, how could I forget your kindness! Well, it has been a while since I saw you… so please don’t be too harsh on me”

The chat is quickly inundated with questions of who’s Naoya? And when did that happen?

“I thought I told you guys about him, but I didn’t say his name out of privacy, so it would make sense why you wouldn’t remember—well, that doesn't matter! I think we all owe him a thank you for all he’s given me!”

The chat box is once again inundated by comments of random followers thanking Naoya—a gesture that he paid little to no mind to, for he didn’t do that to get their recognition, at least not theirs. Your undivided attention is what he wanted, but if this is what it took to get there, he’ll take it.

Upon detecting motion on your side, Naoya’s eyes dart away from the messages and back to you, only to be received with a surprise that has his heart skipping a beat and his lungs emptied of air.

You’re closer to the camera, your body slightly leaning forward, enough to reveal the mounds of your breasts, before suggestively looking at the camera and cooing.

“Thank you, Na-o-ya-kun”

It’s so intoxicatingly sweet the way you unknowingly seem to murmur his name. Enrapturing him, and your thousands of followers, by the way look at the camera with those e/c bedroom eyes. Even the way you’re flaunting your body…, it’s almost as if…. As if you were seeing him on the other side of the screen. 

It’s all so personal, so… intimate, that he disconnects from reality at the moment, his mind only being able to focus on the now imprinted image of your body and sound of your voice, and the fiery need building up in his crotch.

He’s done it before. Touched himself at the sight of your image, but never during your streams. He thinks it’s… foul, dirty, and often prefers to do so in the privacy of his bedroom. But when he sees you acting so alluring, and just for him, it was the hook, line, and sinker he needed to chase his release. Even if it somehow manages to stain his keyboard, he doesn’t care, for all that he needs is you.

Naoya doesn’t even realize the moment you ended the stream, but when he does, it's past the third time (or was it fourth?) time he already came to your visage. Upon seeing the familiar offline banner, he thinks it’s time to turn off the computer and head to bed—not without checking the following post you always did when ending your streams, that is.

But just as he’s about to log off for the day, he receives a notification. 

A private message… from you.

[username]: Naoya? I hope I got your username right…

He doesn’t care that you didn’t even bother to check the name of your highest donor of the day or lifetime if he was being noisy about it. All that he can think of is that, after all of his efforts, you finally approached him!

[naoya]: Yeah, it’s me.

[username]: Yay! I’m so glad I got it right! …

Anyways, I just wanted to thank you personally for all that you’ve donated to my streams and… well, once again for the game you got me that one time! I was so tired of going to the mall everyday… you really were like some kind of guardian angel ❤

A guardian angel might be the wrong term—he’s more like a predator, and there’s not a step that he hasn’t meticulously calculated to lure you into his trap.

Which you were doing so easily, as expected from an easy prey like you.

[username]: I don’t know how I can ever repay your kindness, Naoya-kun, but I do think this will be a good head start ❤

Naoya intently stares at the chat box as the three dotted symbol, the one to indicate you to be writing, continues to flicker before him.

Anticipation rises from within him as seconds pass— He doesn’t know what to expect from your silence, perhaps an extensive bible to describe your feelings of appreciation? Women were… mushy like that.

His thoughts were immediately terminated upon seeing 6 files attached to the chat, pictures labeled for Naoya, with a suggestive subject “for you ❤” that hastily prompted him to download your archives as soon as they were safely scanned. 

When the photographs pop up on his screen, his heart skips a beat and his cock twitching  slightly back to life.

You are presenting yourself in a way that’s borderline explicit. And it’s now that he realizes that you are, truly, an oblivious vixen that doesn’t know the dangerous game you’re playing with him.

There was a recurring theme with all photographs, and that was your presence before a mirror, however, each and every portrayal was different: in one, you were sitting down in what seemed to be your bed, phone covering your face, wearing one of the outfits he got you from your wish list: a white skirt, a white crop top and some white bunny ears resting on top of your head.

With your barely distinguishable dainty look, this would’ve been nothing more than an innocent picture, had it not been from the pornographic demonstration you were doing with your delicately separated legs which allowed him to see you were wearing nothing underneath your attire.

He could almost see the intoxicating color from your pussy peeking through your lips, but alas, that wasn’t meant to be… yet.

The next picture had effectively sprung against the painful constraints of his pants: it was of much less sensuality, but inciting nonetheless. You were once again covering your face, this time however, you were far more… assertive when it comes to your posing. Wanting to show off your newest light pink lingerie… you adjusted your body to highlight all of your delicious curves to him… alongside the subtle “peek” of your nipples.

His heart was beating out of his chest when he went through all of the photos, with a grin parting his lips when he came to the dawning conclusion that you were giving him a sample of your body, a tease of what’s his, to ignite his continued interest in you. 

«It seems I might have underestimated you, Y/N…»  he says as his mind produces just all of the nasty things he would do to your body if he only had you underneath him… «But if you want more from me, you’d have to do better than that»

As much as he feels the burning desire to snatch you away from the public eye and keep you locked away just for his use, he knows that’s not the right thing to do for now.

Naobito has taught him many times that part of being a successful man is to know how to play their cards correctly, only to relax once victory is assured and undeniably under his court.

To not be brash and impatient, if he is to see the fruits of his efforts.

So, with great effort, he pushes his lustful desire for you deep inside his essence and sets the next trap.

[naoya]: I didn’t do any of these things for that—although I must admit that you look very cute in all of the outfits.

He’d modestly say, as if he hadn’t furiously jerked off to your pictures seconds prior and subsequently planned his ownership over you.

[username]: Oh no! I didn’t mean to offend you… did you not like them?

[naoya]: Far from that, I liked them greatly, but I was hoping for something else.

[username]: I’ll do anything that you want.

He smiles, he can’t wait for you to say those words in a different context.

[naoya]: How about we go out, get something to eat? 

[username]: Would you really do that for me? I don’t want to abuse your generosity…

[naoya]: I don’t think a beauty like you could ever do that…

[username]: Naoya-kun… you’re too kind to me! And I barely even know you… are you sure this is ok?

The way you described him, act hesitant towards him… it was all energy that if you’d bothered to know him on a more personal level, would never dare to use on him. 

But you don’t need to know that, not right now anyways. Not when he still had to secure the catch.

[naoya]: Set the date and I’ll pick you up. And don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I’m actually… excited to see you. 

[username]: Ah! You’re too smooth for me!! Are you sure you don’t have a girlfriend?! But if it’s no problem… See you the day after tomorrow?

[naoya]: See you then, Y/N..

And so, 2 days pass, and you see him on what turned out to be the first of many “dates” you’d begin to have with Naoya. 

The first place that he would take you, in efforts to impress you and seal your interest in him, was a small restaurant located on the wealthy side of the city, a place known to be prestigious for the likes of him, yet secretive. 

Emphasis on the last word, the main reason why he took you there: You didn’t really fit with what many socialite’s would consider… adequate, more so due to the attire you’ve decided to wear that way—A hot pink mini skirt, with a slit on your left side, and a white long sleeved off-shoulder top, which Naoya quickly noted to be your favorite style. 

Luckily there was no dress code required at the restaurant… not that they would dare kick the Zen’in heir out, but still… 

Either way, as much as he wanted to get in your pants, he didn’t want to be seen attempting to, so he requested to be seated in the most distant part of the restaurant.

Luckily for him, you didn’t question his decision when he ordered the server to place the two of you in a private booth—far too enthralled by the fancy aesthetic of a place you never been before, and never thought you would, to even care.

You felt like a fish out of water, intimidated by this new aura that seemed to provoke a sense of departure from you, but Naoya’s striking golden eyes and handsome smile managed to keep you by his side, as well as the distracting ice-breakers he used to get you to open up to him and become comfortable around him.

Not that he really cared about your personal background, but if he wanted to play the part of listening and caring friend, and see if he had to deal with any loose ends once he finally made you his, he had to commit.

And you obliged, revealing to have a family of living parents which were still married, an older brother who studied accounting, an older sister who studied engineering, both having successful and thriving careers, and… you. The younger sister.

“Do they agree… with your lifestyle?” He has the sudden urge to ask, which makes him immediately regret not being able to control his words, however, his worries escape through a subtle sigh when he hears you respond nonchalantly.

“Oh, I don’t live with them. And it’s been a while since I last saw them, or had contact with them, I guess they’re just too busy to do so!” You giggle, completely oblivious to the information you just disclosed.

«Why am I not surprised?» Naoya silently snickers. If he had to fill the blanks, he assumed that you were kicked out of the house for acting like the whore you are. He had no evidence, but no doubts either. «I have to commend them, really. They unknowingly set you on my path… But don’t worry, I’ll take you under my wing. And who knows? Maybe I'll be able to mold you into a woman they’ll be finally proud of»

“What about you, Naoya-kun? What’s your family like?” You’d ask, and he frowned.

You didn’t need to know of his highly prestigious background, or the wealth that he owned.

Why did you need to know anyways? So you could attempt to suck out money, more than he’s already given you, from him? No, you don’t need to know that—you had no need for that; if you wanted to suck off something it would be his cock, not his family’s riches.

But even then, it doesn’t bother him that much, because he knows because he knows that you’d take whatever it is that he gives you, like the sleazy obedient girl you’re beginning to promise him. So he just gives you the following poor excuse of an answer.

“I don’t like talking about work, baby, it’s stressful and boring most of the time and I don’t want to ruin my time with you bringing that up”

And just as how he expected, you ended up falling for his charm—no, more than falling for him—completely succumbing to his act, evident by the way you pressed your body against him and reached over to softly kiss his cheek, redness in your face as you sheepishly murmured:.

“I’m sorry, Naoya-kun. I didn’t mean to upset you…” you say, resting your head against his shoulder as you inched as close as possible to him and wrapped his arm against your body.

The way he’s able to feel your breasts has him tense and hot in his seat, speechless as you ignorantly continue on with the conversation “We don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to! How about… what’s your favorite meal from here? Or what do you like to do as a hobby?”

He swears he can feel himself falling in love with your idiocy. He didn’t have to do much to have you folding to his misdirection. If he keeps on this path, it wouldn’t take long before he could claim you as his and finally have fun. 

In fact, he thinks he might need to do less than that, because why else would act that way, if deep inside, you weren’t expecting the same?

That had been his popular belief, until one day, after going out on a date and subsequently bringing you back to your apartment,  he realized he miscalculated your lascivious behavior.

It was after a silent ride back home, late at night, but his mind was anything but quiet. 

The two had gone out to get a few drinks that night, with Naoya hoping to soften you enough to finally get what he wants from you, and you… well, wanting nothing more than to spend more time with the man you eventually labeled as your knight in shining armor.

You had taken perhaps a bit too much to drink to even notice the way Naoya’s gaze was basically eating you from head to toe. And he couldn’t wait for the moment he’d stop the car and finally claim you as his—he initially planned on having you in a more secluded, comfortable area for maximum enjoyment, but the way your body was unknowingly inciting him, by either rubbing against him, even “unintentionally” brushing your ass against his crotch while dancing, he guessed he could take a raincheck on that idea.

When he finally arrives at your familiar apartment complex, he’s quick to turn off the engine, unfasten his seatbelt and lunge himself over you, clashing his hungry lips against yours in such a hurried way that you’re unable to do anything else but whimper against his mouth out of surprise by the sudden action, before melting against his touch.

You moan, indulging in the lustfulness Naoya’s desperation once apparent when he coveted your lips, pulling you as close as possible to him as he continued to devour your mouth. 

It’s almost as if he wanted to imprint your taste in his tongue, giving you little to no space to breathe, no energy to react, aside from whimpers and moans when his lust became too much for you to handle.

Subduing completely when it was time for his thumbs to imprint your figure on them, roaming each and every curve he could get his hands on, areas you never thought were capable of bringing you goosebumps, less jolts of pleasure.

However, as much as Naoya confidently declared his enjoyment of this advancement, you were still struggling to receive his affections as openly as you were supposed to. 

Your mind was struggling to come to a conclusion, for everything happened so suddenly.

A few seconds ago you were looking forward to getting back home, changing into something more comfortable and maybe asking Naoya to stay and watch some movies, but before you were even able to process your arrival, he’d attacked your lips.

To say that you didn’t feel… good for his desire would be a blatant lie, which made this whole ordeal even more difficult.

It was obvious that he wanted you, why else would he do all the nice things he did with you? Yet, it was also obvious what he wanted to do with you, becoming clearer and clearer by the second as he continued to attack your lips, and now, the waistband of your skirt.

However, your indecision would come to a screeching halt when his hands landed on your breasts, groping and pinching the sensitiveness of your mounds, which caused you to gather all of your strength onto your arms and push him away.

His sudden departure is one that goes undetected by Naoya at the first instance, believing it to be nothing more than a reflection of your overwhelmed senses and is quick to attempt to latch back to your body, but when you repeat the same gesture and with a startled face no less, he’s finally able to recognize this as anything but an incident, subsequently discarding any leniency he had towards your initial lapse and look down at you with irrefutable indignation.

“What the fuck?” are the first words that flow past his lips, and this, being the first time you’ve seen his anger, you don't know how to react outside of shyness and regret.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Naoya-kun” you begin to murmur, looking down to your lap “I… well… I—”

“What?” he scowls “Look up to me Y/N.” he orders, and you, hoping to lessen the gravity of your actions, do as requested “What the fuck was that about?!

“I… I don’t know” you confess “I just… I was just startled, that’s all”

“Startled” He repeats mockingly. Naoya wishes to bring the explicit pictures you’ve sent him throughout the duration of this… arrangement, as evidence of your quiet compliance, but he also desires to know what your stupid mind fashioned as a justification to your action, so, he goes down another path. “Did you not expect this to happen one day or the other?”

You remain quiet, unsure what to respond.

“Answer me, Y/N!”

“That’s not… That’s not what I meant” You cry, shaking your head as tears now begin to form in the corner of your eyes. Naoya had never been this… intimidating to you before, but even with this short demonstration, you’re able to say that you never wished to see this ever again. “I just… I just don’t want to ruin what we have”

“What we have…. And what is that, hm?” he sneers, finding your responses to be more and more laughable by the second.

“...I feel like… if we go too fast… you… might not want to see me anymore”

“Huh?” Naoya is, once again, baffled by your seemingly stupid conclusions. Or perhaps you caught on to his intentions? “What are you even talking about”

Silence envelops the two, a crushing stillness that has you feeling more and more hopeless before him and his penetrating gaze.

You wished things would’ve proceeded differently, happening in a much more… wholesome way, as you always imagined your first love to be. 

But you console yourself by remembering that all relationships had rocky moments, and all of them were different. Maybe yours was to have one from the very beginning. 

Whatever the outcome, there’s no denying that you’d been dying to tell him something for a very long time, in fact, you feel it slowly fighting its way out from your heart and onto your throat at this very moment..

And while his actions were a bit unexpected… there was no other way to perceive them than reciprocated feelings, and subsequently, the right moment to tell what you’ve been aching to confess to him….

“I really like you, Naoya” you declare, through ruby-red cheeks and flickering gazes between your trembling fingers and his golden eyes, silently fighting with two sides of your emotions: fear of rejection… and suspense for acceptance. “I’ve… I’ve known for a while now, and there’s nothing more than I would like to be with you! I always look forward to spending time with you, going out with you, and… obviously doing these things too… But… I want to take it slow… because I don’t want to mess it up. I don’t want you to think I wanted something else from you”

Naoya’s eyes widened, and the anger he felt for your unwanted disruption was quickly replaced with surprise.

Did you… did you just… confess your feelings for him?

Oh.

Oh, he doesn’t know what to say, how to react—outside of the sweet relief of accomplishment.

This was way better than he imagined things turning out to be!

Had it been any other woman under this situation, she would’ve pulled out the stops and exited the car, especially after the slightly degrading way he spoke to you just now, and he would’ve naturally set his eyes on a new endeavor, not bothering to mend something unsalvageable.

But that’s not what happened, at all. If anything, you essentially revealed yourself to be captured by his ambitions. 

Not only that, but to be deeply infatuated with him!

These observations bask him with nothing more than a perverted variation of fulfillment a narcissistic person often gets when efficiently manipulating others. The signs of your compliance, even through your slight offense and his disrespect, gave him the understanding that you’ve handed yourself to him to be exploited.

Sure, still somewhat far from what his ultimate goal is, but there’s always something good to rescue out of the bad.

The pieces were finally falling into place and it could literally not have been any more perfect.

“Oh… Y/N” Naoya would eventually respond after a few seconds of silence. His tone is low, soothing, and his face sorrowful, as if attempting to show his regret and pain for having treated you the way he did. “I didn’t mean to scare you, princess…”

You don’t respond, outside a slight pout on your lips and your watery eyes looking up to him.

“Truth to be told… I also have feelings for you. And how couldn’t I? Whenever we go out I have the best time of my life… I did this because I thought you liked me too… but I guess I misinterpreted our relationship”

“Naoya—!”

“It’s ok, I understand. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did... We can just act like this didn’t happen at all and move on, or… stop talking to each other completely”

“No! That’s not what I want!” You gasp, guilt starting to settle in your heart, a sign of Naoya’s manipulation taking a hold of your conscience. “I was… well, startled. It’s my first time feeling this way… so I didn’t know how to react. But I really do like you! I like you a lot! And I want to continue seeing you… if you let me”

“I like you too, Y/N” Naoya murmurs, softly rubbing his thumb against your cheek, wiping away a tear, an endearing distraction to hide the devious intent behind his following actions. “But I’m too hurt by the way you reacted to think about anything else right now”

“Naoya… please don’t say that! I’m very sorry!” you plead as another wave of tears falls down your cheeks “Please don’t be sad… There's nothing more I want than to see you happy! ...Is there…. Is there something I can do to make you feel better?”

Naoya fights as hard as he can to push back a smirk from parting his lips.

“There is something” he threads, slowly, carefully, like a predator ready to pound its prey. “But… I don’t know, it’s stupid—nevermind”

“No, it’s not! It’s not stupid…. Please…. tell me” you whine “please”

“I was just… wondering. As long as something isn’t touched, it means it’s fine with being seen, right? Just like in the museums”

“I… guess that makes sense” you agree, tilting your head to the side as you struggle to understand how that correlates with making him feel better. “But what do you mean?”

It’s painfully obvious that he’s setting you up, but your naïve mind prohibits you from perceiving danger from your beloved Naoya. Making you an even easier target for his immoral desires.

“Your tits”

“W-what?” you blink, perplexed.

“Show me your tits” He repeats, as if it was the most natural, obvious thing to tie in with his analogy, certainly so after a slight argument. “As long as I don’t touch you, it should be fine, right? That way, we can both be happy—I’ll get what I want, and I’ll respect your limits”

“Oh… I don’t know, Naoya… it’s so… sudden”

“Ah, I should’ve known.” he laments, looking away from you. “It was something stupid after all”

“It’s not stupid…”

“No, it is. Forget about it, I shouldn’t have asked you that” he sighs “... I just assumed that… well, since you already send me pictures, you know, the ones where you always look so pretty, I thought it wouldn’t be that much of an issue to ask my girlfriend to do the same but in person”

You were no stranger to generous rain of compliments when you performed rather amicably or dressed up nicely, always seeming to relish on the attention to make you feel appreciated and loved.

But when they came from Naoya, a person you’ve grown to cherish and admire, it gave you a dosage of recognition you never received before. It’s why you were so eager to comply to his requests, whether to go out with him and let him decide each and every location of this outing, taking no consideration to your preferences, stopping a stream simply because he wants to play with you privately, or ultimately changing your schedule to fit his, much to your followers discontent… These were just small sacrifices for him to be happy and perhaps take your relationship to the next step.

You never thought it capable to like Naoya any more than you already did, but you were earnestly proven wrong when he implicitly declared the formalization of his courtship with you.

The apex of your longings makes your heart soar, and just like you’ve always done, obliging to his request.

“Close your eyes” it’s what you tell him, and for the first time in his life, Naoya obeys orders that do not come from him without questioning.

Without seconds to waste, you carefully hook your fingers underneath your top and lift it, stopping just by the beginning of your collar bone and keeping it there as you muster the courage to lay bare before your now boyfriend.

You take a deep breath, swallow your nerves and proceed:

“Open your eyes”

No amount of pictures, or imagination, could ever compare to the reality before him: the pair of soft breasts that he’d been dreaming about for weeks now, were finally revealed to him. And much better than he could’ve ever thought so.

He’d always been one to judge women’s bodies, whether it being an addition or subtraction of something so they would fit his impossible criteria.

But with you, he finds himself admitting that there’s nothing to change—although he wouldn't mind taking a physical test to remove all doubt.

Your breasts were of a perfect size, enough to benevolently fit in his hands. Your nipples, the ones that you’d incessantly tease him with whenever posing for selfies, were protruding just slightly thanks to the cold atmosphere inside the car, which caused him no concern if you wanted the heater to be turned on—if anything, he was grateful you’ve decided to not wear a bra for the day, prompting him to make a mental note on you to eradicate the undergarment from your closet all together.

Naoya wished to defile them in all ways imaginable—mark them as his own, fill them with hickeys, bites, use them as de-stress toys after a long day of work, prohibit you from ever wearing something to cover them from his eyes whenever present, and who knows? If he persists long enough, he just might force something out of them—whatever it took for your little mind to understand these weren’t yours anymore, but his. 

It was highly paradoxical how timidly you were behaving a few minutes ago, even more laughable to see that all that he needed to do was guilt trip you to still get a piece of what he wanted.

The longer he observes you, the stronger the desire inside him to caress you becomes, to the point where he’s no longer able to keep his side of the bargain, and like second nature, his hand begins to approach your skin.

But before he’s able to brush your warmth, you playfully smack his hand away, snapping him out of his trance and looking up to your flushed face.

“You said no touching” you remind him with a giggle, before a shiver bolts through your spine “...I’m cold” 

“Right” Naoya addressed, now observing how you pull your top back in its place before rubbing your arms with your palms. In a way, he was glad that your voice was able to put a stop to this madness he felt slowly growing in the constraints of his pants, because if you didn’t… he didn’t know what he would’ve done. He tested your limits just enough, he knows how to be patient.

“...Did you… like it?” You ask to fill the awkward silence between the two.

“Of course I did, baby. I knew my good girl could never disappoint me”

At the usage of good girl, a nickname you’ve never been graced with before, and the soft smile decorating his handsome face, your heart skips a beat. You seem to be surprised over and over again on just how much you’re able to love Naoya, a realization that prompts you to gift him a sweet smile of your own as you reach to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“I had fun” You say, your thumb softly rubbing his knuckles as you reflect on tonight’s date “I always do whenever we go out”

“That’s good to hear. I also enjoy the time we spend together” Naoya responds with a statement that’s surprisingly genuine coming from him “Let’s get you back to the apartment before it gets too cold”

You nod, and he gets out of the car first. You stay inside, waiting for him to go around and open your door. 

This wasn’t a common agreement, at least not at the beginning; the first time you exited the car without his help he seemed to get pretty upset about it, reminding you that it was his duty as a man to do so. His dedication to chivalry on the subsequent days is what perhaps led you to believe you felt something more than just friendship for him.

Naoya then guides through the apartment complex and onto the metal door you recognized as home.

It was a decent place, your boyfriend noted, not too shabby—with a few adjustments here and there to be done, but nothing urgent. It went well with your income… although he could get you something much better, but for that you’d have to be more than just eye candy.

He watches you put the pin code of your lock, opening the door and stepping inside the apartment. Once he considers you to be safe, he bids you farewell.

But just before he’s able to leave, you tug him by the hand, moving him to just a few inches away from him and pulling him by the collar down to your level, and then, you place your lips onto his for a kiss. 

It lasted for only a few seconds, and it was nothing if not sweet and soft. Your rendition of a farewell, to pour your feelings onto it and remind him just how much you care for him.

And most importantly, your first kiss as boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Goodnight, Naoya” you whisper once you pull away from his face, eyes flickering from a black space next to him and back to his eyes. “I…—Thank you… for… everything. For all the gifts you’ve given me, the places you’ve taken me… and most importantly, for being patient with me. I really am the luckiest girl in the planet for having someone like you”

You peck him on the lips once more and with that, you turn around and vanish into the safety of your home.

Naoya is left behind to deal with the aftermath of today’s successions. He wouldn’t say that it was something he expected, but certainly it’s not something he would complain about.

This could’ve really turned out for the worst, but fate wasn’t to go against those that work hard, just like Naoya had done. Even with this slight delay.

If anything, your sweet kisses were the signal that he was looking for to indicate him he was going down the right path.

He just has to keep watering you, like a flower, and it wouldn’t take long before you finally bear fruits. 

And that’s what it seemed to occur from that day forward.

With the limit of your sexuality already reached, Naoya was able to kick things up a notch: he’d begun to demand far more explicit things from you, things that would literally get you banned from any social media if you even dared to post them. There was no more coy playing, no more teasing: he wanted the absolute exposure of your body for him to indulge in. 

He’d order you to spread the lips of your pussy so he could see the cute color of your insides, showing him the rim of your tight little ass, asking you if you’ve ever touched yourself there, to which you’d deny in embarrassment, for how could he ever assume you’d do something like that! To straight up send him recordings of how you’d play with yourself, if you hypothetically did such a thing.

All things that you obliged without questioning, because there was nothing to be ashamed of, after all, wasn’t he your boyfriend? He was just preparing you for the moment this would eventually happen, so you wouldn’t be too squirmish when he was finally ravishing you.

And his greatest achievement yet, he even managed to convince you to do certain things when you were before him, without the obstacle of a screen between the two. The epitome of his influence would be the day he got you to rub his cock, with the pretense of getting familiar with what would basically be inside you, so as to lessen your tension.

You complied to everything, although shyly, and with hesitance that could be compared to inexperience. But Naoya didn’t care, that was something that could be easily fixable, all that you needed to do was let him guide you and you’d soon be a natural—you already had the theoretical part of what it takes to be a whore thanks to your streaming career, you just needed to nail the practical part with him.

But as close as he felt as he was, he couldn’t be any further away from his goal.

It was only a matter of time before Naoya began to realize that no matter how many gifts he gave you, how many dates he took you to, or how many times he’s tried to convince you that he wants more than just simple touches here and there… you were not succumbing to his needs.

He’d unknowingly bumped into a dead end, and he began to grow desperate.

He’s never had to struggle so much with a woman before—he never had to, his good looks, prestige, and money often did the job. He just had to flaunt it to whatever catch he wanted to obtain and that was it.

But you… you’re fighting back against him. 

You’re confusing, you’re flirtatious with him when online, but when the two of you are together, it is as if you’re a completely different person. Often pulling out the excuse that you want to take things slow with him, that you’re afraid of ruining whatever relationship the two of you have going on, or that you’re too inexperienced and want to feel a bit more confident before going all the way.

He was only willing to play the game of patient, kind, and loving boyfriend without getting anything in return for so long.

His patience was inching dangerously close to its limit, but it wasn’t until one late night after an unfortunate losing streak from his favorite video game that he would begin to lean towards detonation. 

“Oh… um… looks like we lost again” you say as the defeat banner flashes across your screen. This had been, yet again, another loss to add to the countless list of defeats of the day. You were bummed, disappointed. Believing to have all the advantage to win, but as the system marked, it was not to be your fate.

However, these setbacks hold little to no space in your mind, not when you’ve long accepted these are things that happen regularly when playing online. Besides, you were playing alongside Naoya, and you wouldn’t let this minor inconvenience sour the time you were having with him!

“But I still think we did pretty good!” you’d say, attempting to lighten up the mood upon noticing his silence. You might’ve been a bit more easy going when it came to accepting defeat, but Naoya, always the competitive one, had a harder time doing so. Luckily for him, you were there to balance his anguish with your liveliness, just as you hoped by suggesting the following. “Wanna play another match? Or maybe we can take a brea—”

“This is fucking bullshit!” Naoya’s voice suddenly thundered through your headphones, cutting through your words and silencing you subsequently.

It’s not uncommon for Naoya to curse whenever he’s feeling unlucky, so you don’t react much to it. Gaming was one of his few escapades after all, and he lives a rather stressful life thanks to his job (or so you presume, he doesn’t tell you much), so you allow him to do whatever he needs to do to vent out his frustrations.

However, his rage has never extended onto the physical realm, and when the sound you assumed to be his hands slamming against the keyboard became apparent through your speakers, you decided it was necessary to intervene.

“Naoya-kun… hey, it’s ok—” you’d begin, only to be interrupted once more.

“There’s no fucking way we lost!”

“Babe… it happens! Sometimes you’ll get paired with a team of a higher rank, especially after a winning streak, but that’s alright! I’m sure we can win the next one, and if you want, I can bring one of my friends to he—”

“I don’t think the other team was the problem” He suddenly says, grabbing your attention almost immediately upon implying something that went against your common belief. “In fact, I don’t think they’re the problem at all”

“What do you mean?” you cautioned, mind scattering to find a justification behind his wording.

This is only the third day you’ve played this game —which he coincidentally pre-ordered for you just so the two could play together— so it would make sense as to why Naoya would consider you as the reason for this loss, however, this is nothing different from other games from the same genre, if not from a different dynamic here and there.

So, to think you’ve actually cost your team the victory was something you still had trouble accepting completely. “I… still think we did good”

Nonetheless, Naoya’s words were never direct, an ulterior motive always underlying, but your rose-tinted glasses never allowed you to detect such fallacy from your beloved partner. Which would ultimately be your demise.

“God, you’re so stupid, aren’t you?” Naoya accused, having stopped listening to your soothing words from the very moment you opened your mouth. “It’s so clearly obvious and you just can’t fucking see it”

“See… it?” you faltered, feeling even more confused than before “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Naoya-kun… our stats are pretty good, I mean, maybe I could’ve focused a bit more when we—”

“Unbelievable, you’re always like this” Naoya mocks, finding your naïve mind to be… incredulous, as he’d always have “It’s always the fucking same, you’re too dumb, too distracted to notice what is going on around you. Why am I even wasting my time with you?”

“Then tell me” you say, trying to fight against the pain his stinging words bring to you—they feel like needles against your heart, but you think of them as him trying to get out his frustration for a long night of defeats, nothing more, nothing less. “Tell me so I won’t do it again”

And he was, in a way. But the percentage relating to his anger before the game was minuscule when it came to the general frustration he’d been carrying towards you for the last few days, and your inability to give him what he wanted. This was nothing more than a cover for his true feelings, which, thanks to your urgency to please him, would finally come undone and plunge him into losing all of his inhibitions.

“Hah! I really do have to spell it out, don’t I? I give you money, I give you food, I give you clothes, and still, you can’t think anything with that stupid little brain of yours, can you?” he’d begin to rant, disclosing the inner thoughts he’d always had when around you.

“I know you’re angry, Naoya-kun, but you don’t have to say that…” to say that you were agonizing due to his words would be an understatement, but even with the pain he’s merciless inflicting on you, you still find it in you to defend his excuses under the basis that he was just angry and that deep inside him, he loved you.

Oh… if only that were true.

“Oh, really? Then how do you want me to say it to you? By ordering you to open your legs and show me? Because that’s the only thing you’re good at—no, not even that!” He laughs “You won’t even do that! Because you’re too afraid, too scared to do something that might ruin what we have” 

He’d said mockingly, using what you trusted him with against you. A clear tactic of a narcissistic, someone that can’t see beyond their own nose. 

This unexpected side of Naoya has you bewildered, disoriented, that you didn’t even notice when you’ve began crying, only that your cheeks were already soaked.

“Stop it, Naoya! You’re being rude!”

“Ah, of course, because when I’m not giving you attention and money, I’m being rude”

“That’s not what I said!” you cried. “I’ve—I’ve never said that! Never!”

“I’m wasting my time with you” He repeats, a sentence that plummets down onto you like a bucket of ice cold water. “I’m giving you all that you want, and yet, you don’t give me what I want, because you apparently want to take things slow—but you're not slow when you’re being a whore to your followers!”

“Naoya!” You bawled “Why—why are you even saying this? It was just a game! We can still play again and win another match! You—you don’t have to get all this angry and ugly with me—!”

“I’m done with you” He says coldly “I’m done spending my fucking time and money with you. I should’ve seen this coming the moment I set eyes on you. Whores like you are only for a good time, but you’re not even good for that”

…

…

…

“...Is that what you think of me?” you manage to ask through a constrained throat. It’s a miracle that you were even able to speak a whole sentence without crying or stammering.

But it was all for naught.

And when time passes, and all that you could hear from Naoya was the occasional exhale from his nose—too consumed by his anger, alongside the sensation that there is nothing more to say— you hang up the call, exit the lobby, and log off.

Naoya somehow manages to go to bed that night: not without repercussions of course.

He’s angered and frustrated when his head hits the pillow. But not because of his actions towards you, no, if anything, he thinks what he did was a long overdue reality check.  

He was upset because all of his efforts officially concluded in fruitless results. For a man as successful as he’d always been, this was a rather unwanted turn of events. He never had to struggle this much to obtain what he wanted, it had always been a matter of just asking and he’d receive it. 

But you, a simple woman with nothing more than air in her head, proved to be more of an annoyance than he ever thought you would be. 

You were promising at first. There was something that pulled his attention to you whenever he found himself with free time to think. 

Yet, that had been a grave miscalculation on his part. Thus, could you blame him for being frustrated? It was only natural that after pouring so much effort, gifts, attention, money onto you, you’d give him something back.

And yet, you didn’t. 

It’s why he allowed himself to last out the way he did. That, and because Naoya knew that you’d be running back to him after your insignificant emotional charade was over. 

After all, he essentially ensured his place in your life after becoming the sole income of your commodities. You were dumb, but not that dumb. And you wouldn’t risk losing all that just by running away, would you?

So, he’s able to go to sleep and move on with his life when the sun rises the next morning.

Taking into consideration his train of thought, the first thing that he does once completely awake is check his phone if there’s any notifications from your part. He doesn’t keep his phone connected to the wi-fi throughout the night under the excuse of not wanting to receive messages from work—if it was urgent, then they’ll have to wait until he’s at the office.

Something that you knew perfectly, which led you to message him directly to his personal number first thing in the morning. A short good morning! Text which came either before you went to bed after a long stream, or when waking up…

He glances at the “messages” app in hopes of finding a red circle on its corner. It’s there, but...

There’s nothing from your section.

There are no new messages from you. The only ones filling his inbox are those of his brothers demanding an explanation regarding his bank statement which had suddenly been plagued with incalculable expenses from a few weeks ago to now.

The answer was obvious, everything pertains to you, but he’s not one to tell them things that aren’t his business so he limits himself to rolls his eyes and deletes their messages before moving onto your social media.

If you haven't messaged him there, he was sure he’d find you to be active on your instagram. It was your most active social media, the place you’d spent most of your time, right after twitch, under the pretense of wanting to share a bit of your personal to your large following. He considered it to be… redundant, nothing more than to show off. But as the businessman as he was, he had to commend your commitment to keep them hooked on your “brand”

Naoya once attempted to get you to stop posting all together, so as to keep you solely for his eyes, but you denied his request, citing that “you couldn’t defraud your faithful followers!”

Noting this to be a senseless battle, he lets it go.

So, he rightfully assumes that you were already posting shit about being hurt and betrayed and whatnot, all in an attempt to obtain pity from them, because he’d be damned if he decides to allow it from himself.

But… he’s wrong.

There’s nothing new coming from your side. No new story, no new post, not even a livestream—nothing but complete radio silence.

He wants to admit that this is somewhat concerning considering how active you are throughout the day, but his pride is all too powerful to even let him feel anything else but anger, tricking him into believing that this is nothing more than a cry for attention for your followers, or more specifically, him.

So, he closes the app, gets ready, and moves on with his day. 

He goes to work as if nothing happened, finishing up some projects that his family has been pestering him about for the past few weeks, a timeline that he could’ve easily spent focusing on his job instead of you, but for someone as talented as him, it was only a matter of focusing for a few hours to get done with all of them.

It’s during his lunch break that he finally decides to check his phone for traces of your presence. Naoya expects you to have already messaged him, probably hungry trying to get a free meal out of him—only to be surprised that you remained quiet. There isn’t an update to be found anywhere from your social media, not even directly to him.

You were essentially off the grid for well above 12 hours and he… he can’t help but start to feel worried. But his concern doesn’t flood him until you missed your scheduled stream for the day and the subsequent ones.

Your followers were also aware of your sudden silence, but their assumptions are not confirmed until you went a whole week without posting anything. It’s only then that they decide to flood your posts with comments to reflect their concern, and hopefully… an answer to this agonizing mystery.

It’s rare for you to miss so many streams like this, I hope you’re ok, Y/N-chan 🙁

What happened?? Are you sick or something? I was looking forward to tonight's stream! It’s the only day I get to see you!

Maybe she forgot about it??

Nah, that’s impossible, she never does that, not without telling us anyways.

Did she get hacked maybe?

Don’t think so, all of her things are still here. If she were hacked, she would’ve started posting some crypto shit.

Did she go missing?? Can someone ask any of her friends if she’s ok??

It was only a matter of time she would ditch us after getting all that money from us. She scammed us 🙄

Scam?? Are you an idiot??? She’s giving us free content, the least you could do is support her! Besides, this is very rare coming from her…  Something must be going on; if you don’t have anything to say, then don’t say anything at all.

She could be in danger for all we know… should we call the authorities?

The last comment makes something daunting resonate inside Naoya—agitation strikes his chest as he plunges for his phone and types your number. 

He… he doesn’t think you’d actually do something just because you were upset with him… right? But there’s nothing wrong in making sure either! 

But what if you did? What if you did do something because of what—

For the first time in his life, he finds himself indecisive when it comes to you, sinking deeper and deeper into his despair when the phone continues to ring and you are yet to pick up.

At least you haven’t blocked him, he attempts to console himself, or discarded your phone because either option would’ve sent him straight voicemail or the warning messaging of a disconnected number.

Alternatives that did nothing to ease his concern, worsening when each attempt continued to give him the same results.

His apprehension is eating him alive, and by each passing day, each passing hour, he can’t stop thinking about you, that is, until he finally concludes that he needs to know if you’re alive, or that at least still living in the same city, or he won’t be able to live anymore.

A newfound determination Which leads him to muster up all his courage and make way to your apartment once and for all.

He jumps out of the car as soon as the engine is turned off, not caring if he locked the doors or if he parked in the right spot—the neighbors could call a tow truck, or rob him for all he cared for. All that he wanted to do was see you again.

Naoya runs towards your apartment complex, skipping through the steps until he arrives at your recognizable door, frantically ringing your doorbell to urge whoever’s on the other side of the door to attend to him. 

His heart is beating painfully against his chest, ears ringing as nobody seems to answer his call—a dark premonition becoming a reality.

Did you really leave? Did his words really hurt you that much, that you decided to just leave everything behind and disconnect from the world? No. That couldn’t be—you wouldn’t dare leave him without saying a word! He… he gave you everything you ever wanted, how could you let a few words he only meant at the heat of the moment change what the two of you had? What you felt for him?! It didn’t matter, if that was the case, then the only thing he had left to do was to find you. Bring you back to him even if it means going to the end of the world to do so.

His family had connections all across the country, he was sure he could set some kind of bounty on you to find your whereabouts, and once you’re back with him, he would never—

“Coming!” A voice comes from the other door. It’s soft, distant, but carried an urgency as if the owner had been busy prior to their visit and was now rushing to tend to the door. It’s enough to quiet his rambling mind, at least for a few seconds. Unfortunately, his body continued to tremble with uneasiness, more so when quick footsteps were now heard within the vicinity.

The lock clicks open, and the door slowly slides to the outside.

Naoya’s blurry gaze falls onto the figure before him, releasing a heavy breath once he realizes who it is.

It’s you.

Naoya feels both elated and relieved to see you still living in the same apartment, and seemingly safe and sound, but you don’t hold the same sentiment, in fact, your intrigued face is quick to change into one of anger once you realize it’s your ex-boyfriend visiting you, and in accordance to your feelings, you’re quick to reach out for the door knob and slam the door shut on his face, that is, if he hadn’t been fast enough to see your reaction coming from a mile away and put his foot between the door and the frame, trapping you into confront him.

“Wait!” He huffs, placing his fingers on the edge of the door (while silently hoping you wouldn’t crush them) and pulls it back “Don’t—Don’t close the door on me!”

“Leave me alone!” you cry back, tugging and pulling at the door as hard as you can, almost as if you were intending to crush his fingers, or foot, or maybe even both. But having the upper hand when it comes to strength, Naoya is finally able to pull the door away from your grasp, forcing you to react with a quick gasp. “I—I said leave me alone! Why are you even here?!!”

“Isn’t it obvious?!” He cries back, pushing his way into your apartment. “I wanted to see you!” 

“And what for, huh?! Why—Why would you even want to see a stupid woman like me?!” 

Naoya is hit with a slight wave of regret upon being on the receiving end of his mistreatment. It has his conscience vacillating for a quick second before latching back to reality and refocusing on you.

“I just want to talk” He frowned “You were basically gone for a few days, don’t you think that’d be concerning for anyone?!”

“Why would it?” you breathe “You said I was nothing more than a whore—no, less than that! Why—why would anyone care—care about someone as worthless as me?!”

“Because you’re not worthless to me” Naoya blurts, and now it’s your turn to waver. It’s like whiplash after the last conversation you had with him—a sensation that naturally has you doubting his words.

“That’s not what you—”

“Yes! I know what I said!” He groans out of frustration, the harsh tone of his voice makes you flinch and take a step away from him. Naoya quickly notices your jolted eyes, and in fear of pushing you into another vanishing spiral, his eyes soften. “Just— please, I want to talk”

Whether to hurry this whole ordeal to an end, or because you never expected him to come seeking you… you allow him to stay.  

Naoya would’ve never assumed something happened to you by the looks of your apartment—it looked cleaned, organized, and decorated with things he recognized to be part of your hobbies.

An easy expectation to have, for he’d never visited your apartment in the short time he was dating you.

Had he been there before, he would’ve noticed that the cups were no longer in their respective cupboard, or that you have been eating nothing more than what you considered comfort food, an unhealthy lifestyle to reflect your unhealthy thoughts—but even if he became aware of that, you doubted he would’ve even cared.

However, your… “casual” attire stepped in where your home failed to do so. You were wearing nothing more than a light blue fleece tracksuit, a makeup-free face and a hairstyle that implied your need to stay inside the house, caring less if you looked good or not, you just wanted to be comfortable… and alone.

And if none of these things helped him understand your feelings, the somber look in your eyes, nothing but a shadow of the joyful glint they would usually carry, would.

Guilt sinks deeper inside his core as you proceed to close the door behind him, making your way back to one of the couches in your small living room and sitting as far away as possible from him.

By the way you refused to speak to him, not even to show common courtesy and offer him a glass of water, Naoya soon realizes it’s your method of telling him to start the conversation. After all, he’s the one that wanted to talk, no? Why shouldn’t he be the one to do so?

He’d been in situations where he’s the one leading conversations, through different and tense meetings that often entailed important deals that could either make or break his company and the legacy of his family.

In other words, Naoya is no stranger to stress and public speaking.

However, none of those nerve-wracking moments could compare to what he’s feeling now: he would’ve never imagined that talking to a woman, of all things, could have him shaking like a leaf.

But you weren’t any woman— you were the one he’d been fancying for a while now, invested so much time, so much energy… as well as gravely wronged.

All things that he’s never had the fortune of encountering before, but he wasn’t raised to cower away from the face of uncertainty, and just like his father taught him, he decides to approach the situation with the obvious.

“You… you’ve been gone” He begins, tensely looking at you as he debates whether to sit by your side or remain on his spot “And you’ve been avoiding me too”

“I needed a break” is all that you say, perhaps to deflect facing the truth. However, both knew this was nothing more than a fallacy and it wouldn’t take long before he calls it out.

“That’s bullshit!” He argued, a bit too loud for your liking, and you frown. Upon seeing your scrunched face, he’s washed over by another wave of guilt and retracts his words. “I mean… that’s not true. You never go absent on social media”

“What do you want me to say, Naoya?”

“The truth, for a start”

“If you’re going to act like that, you can leave my apartment—” you say, intending to push yourself up from the sofa, but Naoya walks over to your spot before you can do as much as lift an inch away from the furniture, followed by sitting by your side to keep you there.

“Fine, fine!” He breathes, holding your arm “I was worried, ok? You didn’t even answer my calls”

“I didn’t think you would care—I mean, who would care for a less-than-a-whore person like me? And don’t touch me!” you tug your arm away from him. 

“I didn’t think you’d overrea—”

“Shut it, Naoya!” you scolded “Is this—Is this all that you came here to do? Make fun of my feelings?! You—you hurt me!! I didn’t want to take your words at heart, thinking it to be nothing more than your anger speaking but when you started calling me those awful names…. that’s when I knew everything was a lie”

“What do you mean by a lie?” He counters “I gave you all you ever wanted, didn’t I?!”

“That’s not even the point! And even if it was… I—I thought you did it because you liked me. Me! Not…. not the person I was before the camera or in my social media, but because you wanted me. But… you don’t like me, do you? You don’t like me at all” 

Naoya blinks “How did you even get to that conclusion? We basically spent all of our free time together!”

“Because you don’t tell me anything about you! About your family, about your work. You don’t let me visit you at your office, you don’t want to go to public places, you haven’t even introduced me to your friends! It’s like you’re ashamed of me!” you sobbed, hiding your face with your hands to avoid embarrassing yourself before him any further “You made me feel ashamed of myself, that I—I thought maybe I… I shouldn’t even bother being here”

“What?” Naoya sputters, inching closer to you and grabbing your wrist in hopes of pulling them away from your face, but all that you do is turn away from him. “You can’t possibly be serious—”

“Am I lying?!” you shriek “Do you not avoid the topic whenever I ask you about your job, or your family, or when I tell you about places we could go, but you just shut them down because it’s too frequented?!”

“Now it’s a problem if I want to go somewhere private?!”

“Just admit that you don’t want to be seen in the public with me! That you’re ashamed of being with a whore like me! Why—why did you even stick around for so long if you don’t even like me?!”

If he was to answer that question, it would be an easy, direct “I just wanted to fuck you” explanation.

However… his conscience can’t seem to formulate that thought at the moment, because the reality was that… he no longer felt like that towards you.

In fact, he didn’t feel like that for you for a long time. now.

What initially started as just another “high-maintenance” hook up, nothing more of a relationship of benefit slowly became… something else.

Truth to be told, he was in complete agony the days you were absent in his life. He tried to focus on his job, get projects done, hold meetings, interview new candidates… but he couldn't. His mind always found himself back on your silent social media, or your non-responsive messaging chat, the vacancy of your cheerful good morning! That would greet him before anyone else.

The congratulatory cheer when he’d occasionally confide in you of a job well done after a long day at work, or the euphoric glint in your eye whenever you opened one of his gifts, followed by a hug and kiss on the cheek as a thank you before showing it off to your followers.

The silly videos you'd send him thinking they would make him laugh, or the long gaming sessions you’d give him, and only him, even when you have a large following that would literally do anything to be in the same room as you…

Or how you’d remember the little mundane details of his hobbies by gifting him items relating to such details, such as the newest manga book from whatever series he was currently reading, or a shirt that you saw one day at the mall and thought would fit him nicely.

Attention that none of the other women had bothered to give him, at least not as heart warming and genuine as you’ve done. 

They might’ve been appreciative of what he’d done, but it was clear that there were no intentions of appreciating him as a person. As Naoya, and not the heir of a rich company.

But you didn’t. He felt seen with you and…

And he didn’t know what he had until he’d lost it. When his hot headedness led him to discard you and subsequently, to the prospect of never seeing you again.

It’s now, found in your warm presence after so many cold absences, and in the reflections of all that you’ve done to him, that he realizes that you’ve always given him what he wanted and that he’s unequivocally fallen in love with you.

“I see” you murmur upon noticing his silence and… taking it as an affirmation to your painful suspicions “...please, leave me alone. And don’t look for me, I won’t be staying here any longer”

Naoya can’t move.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I have things to pack” you say as you stand up “I would appreciate it if you left me to do what I need to do”

He can’t believe your words. Or more like, he doesn’t want to believe them.

His worst fear, a life without you, is just moments away from becoming true. You had… had decided you no longer wanted him to be in your life—you were more than ready to toss him away, and… leave, never to see him again.

And that—that hurt him.

Is this how you felt when he told you all those things?

Oh… how could he ever do this to you?

He—he can’t let this end that way. He can’t let you go, not… not like this.

So, just as you were walking away, presumably heading back to your bedroom, Naoya jumped up from the sofa and ran towards you. You yelp as he pulls you by the arm and into his chest, quick to wrap his arms around you as he holds you as tight as he can without hurting you.

You thrashed and pushed him as hard as you could, wanting nothing more than to be away from the man that broke your heart in a million, irreparable pieces and never see him again.

But he can’t let you go, not until you hear what he was now absolutely sure of.

“I don’t like you” Naoya says, and you believe your heart to crumple once more, that is until… “I love you”

“W—what?” you gasp the only words that could escape your lips in this moment of incredulity.

“You heard me” he remarked “I… love you, Y/N”

“Don’t lie to me! I can’t—I can’t deal with more pain… please”

“You’re none of those mean words I told you” he continues on “I was angry, misguided for what I thought you wanted from me, what I thought I wanted from you, but these days without you have been nothing more than pure agony”

“Then why… why would you call me that?” you whispered against his shirt, quieting down your attack against him. “Why would you push me away?”

Because he was afraid you weren’t as interested in him as he was in you.

A materialistic world was all that Naoya has ever known in his life—give people what they want, and you’d be getting what you wanted.

But it seemed that no matter what he did, you just… never seemed to completely give yourself to him, almost as if you were holding off because… because you didn’t want him.

“I got… jealous… and scared” is what he’s willing to admit “I get jealous when I see you get all that attention… I just… I just think that maybe—”

“I might look at someone else?”

Naoya doesn’t respond, and you take his silence as a positive answer.

“Oh… Naoya….” you finally look up to him, soft eyes landing on his watery ones. “I would never, you know I would never”

He doesn’t want to respond, too ashamed to have believed you capable of pain, when all you’ve given him was happiness.

“It… also hurt me to be away from you… because… because I—I love you too”

Naoya freezes. It was now his moment to doubt his ears.

“Do you… do you mean that?”

“Of course I do” you smile with a sniffle “I thought I told you before but I’ll tell you again—I’ve never felt the way I do with you with anyone else. With you… I feel loved, safe. And there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with you… so it pains me to hear that you’d think I would ever leave you”

“I'm just worried… you have a large following that seem to adore you”

“Well, that’s my job” You remind him “And… It's how we met… If I didn’t stream video games, we would've never met at that store… and subsequently, I would’ve never fallen in love with you. But… if it’s something that you don’t like… I can’t stop it all together”

“Would you do that for me?” Naoya asks, surprised by your sudden suggestion.

“...I didn’t like being away from you” you admit, pressing your cheek against his chest and listening to the soothing sound of his heartbeat. “You’re the only one that… has ever treated me like this. How you do… as nicely, lovingly as you do”

“...does this mean you won’t leave?” Naoya asks, and you shake your head.

“... I wasn’t planning on doing so permanently… I just wanted to try something differently”

“And your followers?”

“I… can arrange something. I know they’re not going to take it well but… I’m sure they’ll get over it” you grin “But I’m not sure how I’m going to pay for this apartment if I’m not working anymore”

“Come live with me”

“Wh—What?”

“... I can get something just for the two of us, away from our family” Naoya explains “The reason why I kept you away is because they’re not known for being very… friendly. If I told you just the amount of shit they get me into because they’re jealous of me”

“You don’t have to tell me anymore” You chuckle. “I believe you”

“Well, we should get back to packing your things if you want to move to my apartment”

“Now?!” You gasp “But I can’t leave if I have a lease!”

“Leave that to me, I’m sure your landlord wouldn’t mind getting an extra for your release”

“Oh, Naoya… I… I don’t know how I can ever repay you for all of this!”

“You can start… by doing my lunch” he sheepishly suggests, and the way your face lightens up has his heart fluttering.

“Does that mean…?”

“On certain occasions, there are days I have to go out”

You don’t let him say anything else as you pepper him with kisses all over his face. A gesture that Naoya takes with great pleasure as he reciprocates it with kisses of his own.

And so, this seals your acceptance of his apology. Followed by packing your things, changing your clothes, and leaving the apartment as soon as you were ready to go into his car and face your new life alongside him.

And how couldn’t you? He’s kind, loving, attentive, the kind of person anyone would want as a partner. He even looked for you to recognize he had messed up. 

It might also help that he’s the heir of a prestigious company, but you don’t think that influenced much when it came to forgiving him. 

Had you known he came from an important family, you would’ve treated him differently. You would’ve never set eyes on him after seeing him in a social event. You would’ve never approached him at the mall one Friday afternoon, under the pretense of looking for a physical copy of the newest release once you figured out he liked video games, or venerated him in the way you knew men of his kind often enjoyed to rope him into your claws, play coyly around him to get him to obsess over you, convince him that you love him and you could never imagine a life without him, and subsequently ensure a lifestyle of comfort for the rest of your days.

No, you could never do that.

After all, you’re nothing more than an oblivious woman, incapable of ever harming anyone, just as Naoya believed you to be :) 

[nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice]

here lies the complete story of the Crocverse (AtLA zukka modern AU)

The general facts are as follows: 

Iroh owns a croc store and Zuko works there

Sokka works at Trader Joe’s and loves crocs

Bending is a thing

Jeong Jeong owns an antique store and is furious the croc store ruined the vibe of the strip mall

Sokka and Zuko go on a date to Olive Garden

Toph and Zuko hate crocs

Bumi owns a Jamba Juice

Worldbuilding 

This takes place in Florida

Bending is a thing, but it is unclear whether or not the Avatar is a thing 

The 2008 financial crisis was a thing that happened in this universe 

Characters 

Iroh is the new owner of the strip mall Croc store. He loves and appreciates crocs in a big dorky way. 

Zuko is his disgruntled nephew who works at the Croc store. He hates crocs with a passion and is in kind of a Linkin Park phase. (He is not an eboy, no one is an eboy, society has moved past the need for eboys.) 

Sokka works at the local Trader Joe’s. He wears Hawaiian shirts all the gd time. He is incredibly excited about the croc store and gets addicted to buying crocs. He also likes wearing a ‘men want me, fish fear me’ hat and sometimes completes his ensembles with fanny packs. 

Katara works at a Petsmart. 

Jeong Jeong owns an antique store next to the croc store and is pissed that the croc store ruined the vibe of the strip mall. 

It is undecided whether or not Aang works at Bumi’s Jamba Juice or if he works at the Trader Joe’s bakery. Regardless, he’s more of a Birkenstocks guy and finds that crocs and airbending don’t really work together. 

Piandao is the Trader Joe’s manager. 

Hakoda is currently deployed and Sokka is trying his best to cope (with unhealthy shopping habits). 

Dynamics 

Zuko goes to Jamba Juice a lot. Toph also goes to Jamba Juice a lot. They become buds because they go ‘well we’re both loners going into school with few or no friends and we both love Jamba Juice and hate crocs, that’s as good a place as any to start a friendship’ 

Sokka loves to explore Jeong Jeong’s antique store. Jeong Jeong considers Sokka to be a local menace (and he’d never say it but he’s his local menace and would be hurt if Sokka started poking around another antique store). 

Iroh really wants to be friends with Jeong Jeong (who could honestly use a friend, he’s kind of a hermit). Jeong Jeong is firmly annoyed that Iroh ruined the vibe of the strip mall. 

Zuko likes hanging out at the antique store and occasionally runs into Sokka. He voices his displeasure for the croc store on multiple occasions and Jeong Jeong feels incredibly validated. 

Zuko has kind of just planned to not have friends for his senior year. Iroh thinks that unacceptable. 

Iroh loves Sokka’s outfits a whole lot and compliments them all the time (while also trying to set him up with Zuko as friends). 

Sokka initially thinks Zuko is just kind of weird and asocial, but then one day at Petsmart he’s bothering Katara at work and he sees Zuko sitting on the floor of the reptile section just looking at all the tanks. Katara tells Sokka that Zuko basically does this every other day and Sokka realizes how soft this guy is and just kind of goes ‘oh’. 

Sokka goes to the crocstore and buys some pride crocs to send a message to Zuko. Zuko is oblivious. 

Eventually, Sokka pulls the “so… do you want to do an activity together?” and Iroh comes over with a “he’d LOVE to” and gives them an Olive Garden gift card. 

Sokka hopes Zuko thinks this is an actual date, Zuko is unclear on whether or not this is a date but puts on a button down shirt just in case, and Iroh doesn’t realize it’s 100% a date until Zuko comes out with his shirt and Iroh decides that it is of the utmost importance that he does Zuko’s hair. 

The details of the date have been decided on….but @animegenork is writing the actual fic and if you really want the sweet, soft zukka details you’ll have to wait. All I’ll say is there are turtleducks and smooching involved. 

Relevant Backstory 

Iroh didn’t actually want to own a croc store. He used to own his own tea/coffee store, but when the economy tanked and his son died, it ended up going bust. 

Iroh didn’t have much contact with his brother after Lu Ten died because Ozai was an unsympathetic asshole about it. The last time he saw his brother’s family was at Azulon’s funeral. 

A few years after the falling out with Ozai (and Iroh’s contact with his niece and nephew being basically reduced to birthday phone calls) Iroh finally upgrades to an iPhone with Facetime. When he calls for Zuko’s birthday, Iroh is VERY FUCKING DISPLEASED to see that someone has burned off half of Zuko’s face (and it doesn’t take much thinking for him to guess who). 

Iroh scoops Zuko up ASAP and Zuko moves in with him. 

Iroh attempts to bring Azula, but she firmly does not want to go with him and Iroh can’t exactly just kidnap a child in this day and age. 

So instead of reinvesting in a new tea shop, Iroh invests his time in legal work to go after Ozai for being the Fucking Worst™. 

He also puts Zuko in therapy, because god knows the kid needs it. 

Iroh worked in middle management for various retail stores and landed a management position in a croc store. Eventually, he opened up his own branch in Florida (which is where our story starts). 

And really, it wasn’t Iroh’s dream to own a croc store, but he accepts that life doesn’t always go exactly how you plan it. Iroh recognizes that what he can focus on is bringing joy to people and trying to project kindness into the world every day. Maybe you end up onwing a croc store. Maybe you’re in a bunch of bs legal crap because your brother is a monster and there are two kids who need someone, but you can make the best of it and it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy simple pleasure where you find them. 

Other details 

The Crocverse is a Mouth Wheat Boy Free Zone. Jet is just not a croc person. Jet has no reason to enter the croc store. This AU does not have room for Jet. I’m sorry Jet stans. (I’m not.) 

Zuko and Sokka are upcoming high school seniors (age 17). 

Katara is an upcoming junior (16), Aang is an upcoming sophomore (15), and Toph is an upcoming freshman (14). 

The swampbenders are frequent patrons of the croc store because they’re good for marshy areas.

The only people who are actually croc enthusiest in this world are Sokka and Iroh. 

Sokka likes wearing neon turquoise crocs the most. 

Sometimes Iroh wears rainbow tie dye crocs to support his gay nephew .

Final words 

This is what I meant when I said the Crocverse was never really about the crocs. The crocs were just a framing device, they’re just how we got here. At its core, the crocverse is about these characters and their struggles, and more importantly how they find each other despite the struggles. It’s about Zuko learning how to make friends. It’s about Iroh wanting the best for his nephew and trying to make the best of a less than ideal situation. It’s about Sokka trying to figure out what to do now that his dad is gone and learning how to open up about it instead of cope with unhealthy shopping habits and deflection. It’s about going to Petsmart and spending an hour looking at the reptiles because you deserve it. It’s about going to Jamba Juice and making friends with the other loners. It’s about learning that you don’t have to be alone. It’s about ditching Olive Garden for a better date somewhere else and smooching the ridiculous Hawaiian shirt Trader Joe’s employee because he’s funny and caring and maybe, just maybe, you deserve that. It’s about letting new people enter your life when you think you have to be alone. It’s about being teenagers together before life starts for real. It’s about, above all else, finding those weirdos who will be there for you and accept you for all your quirks and baggage. 

And that’s the Crocverse. I will shut up about it forever now. 

[eri-baby]

chongyun crushing on a shy/dense noble fem!reader

a/n: this idea has been on my mind for a long time now, and i'm finally posting it! chongyun is probably very ooc, but listening to his character's voice-over's gave me the idea that he's just an earnest guy and i found that adorable.

i picture that chongyun first saw [ ] at a banquet where all the wealthy and influential were invited. she was quiet, reserved, rarely speaking to anyone. it was hard not to notice her when gossip about her was circulating all around the room. they called her a mist flower because she's "a cold person" and yet they appreciated her beauty. [ ] is expected to become one of the leaders of liyue in the future, maybe even one of the qixing, because of her family's influence and her being a well-educated young woman. chongyun ignored the rumors about her and respected her resolve to make liyue a better place.

from that day onward, chongyun wanted to know more about [ ]. they were similar, after all. chongyun and [ ] were both cold in the eyes of the public. he thought he would be able to get along well with her. he had nothing but respect for her.

whenever he had a comission, he asked clients or locals within the area about the noble [ ]. he discovered that [ ] often travels around liyue to personally watch over the state of each area. if anything were ever amiss, [ ] herself is the one who creates solutions and funds them. she shut down businesses that were swindeling people, found new jobs for the innocent workers involved, and earned back money for the victims. he found more admiration for her.

xingqui turns out to be somewhat childhood friends with [ ]. they spend time together every now and then. xingqui described her as a well-meaning girl who can never get her point across because of how awkward she is. she focuses more on the problem at hand and solving it rather than interacting with others which makes her come across as prickly.

chongyun was excited when he heard that [ ] had spoken about him. she asked xingqui about the young exorcist, and commented that exorcists like chongyun help maintain liyue's glory. it took him two months to stop centering all conversations around [ ]'s passing comment.

he has attempted to speak with her, even frequenting areas she was said to be seen in often, but the most he would get were glimpses of her before she scurried off or was escorted away by one of her chaperones. it disappointed him greatly that he never had the oppertunity to speak to her since he was so invested in her and her work.

i think he would barely realize his own feelings for a total stranger. xingqui and xiangling are sick of hearing about [ ]. they're scared of the day [ ] actually talks to chongyun. she's the only other thing on his mind other than training and exorcism.

he was disappointed and ready to give up on ever talking to [ ] after months of trying, until he was assigned to a comission in her estate. apparently weird things have been happening in her room. items have been misplaced, at night there were whispers coming from the closet, banging noises were coming from the walls. it caused her family great distress.

chongyun was, needless to say, stressed about making an appearance in [ ]'s household. how should he introduce himself? how should he speak to her? will he be able to speak to her? what should he bring? he bothered both xingqui and xiangling as he asked all these questions over and over again. xingqui was so annoyed that he finally relented, telling chongyun that lady [ ] is fond of the glaze lily flower. chongyun was gone before any of them could say another word.

the local florist in liyue harbor had not even a single glaze lily in stock. chongyun had to go all the way to a faraway town where a different florist was. he was lucky it was a colder day. with a boquet of glaze lillies in hand, he was ready to travel back to lady [ ]'s estate. on the way back, he passed by a little girl who was in tears. the little girl had dirt stains on her clothes but no injuries. she begged him to save a girl who had gotten trapped in a cave. the little girl was looking for her doll and she asked the girl, who's physical description matched [ ]'s, to enter the cave with her. the girl relented but inside they were attacked by a ruin hunter. the girl managed to get the young child out of the cave before rubble fell over the other entrance. it had been a long time but the girl still hasn't turned up.

chongyun immediatly dropped the glaze lillies in his hand and rushed to the direction the little girl pointed in. the cave had two openings, one of which had been blocked by rubble. chongyun went through the second one. he found at the other end lady [ ] fighting off a ruin hunter with her bow. chongyun finished it off for her.

he immediatly dropped down beside her and asked her if she was okay politely. she had no idea what to say, in fact she wasn't even expecting any help, and nodded quietly. he noticed that her ankle was swolen so he used his cryo vision to ease her pain. he quickly helped her up, even carrying her despite his fear of triggering his congenital positivity. he was lucky that the weather was cold and so was the cave, and that [ ]'s body temperature was also cold because of her vision.

"I am Chongyun, from an exorcist family. I was heading to your home, Lady [ ], to deal with the evil spirit in your room, until the little girl you had rescued stopped me and asked me to help you."

"I... see. We'll have to double your payment for saving me, Exorcist Chongyun."

"Oh, no! My services are free of charge!"

she became quiet and smiled to herself. he could hear her quiet giggles, making his cheeks heat up slightly. he worried about his congenital positivity.

both of them were somewhat awkward and dense. the truth was that they were both panicking. chongyun had no idea what to say and neither did [ ].

chongyun was the first to speak after a few minutes of awkward silence

"I'm sorry I don't know what to say to you."

"I have no idea what to say as well."

they both laughed together about being dense in social situations. from then on, conversation flowed somehow a little easier because they found that they had something in common. the more they spoke to each other, the more similarities they found.

it turns out that her reputation of being a cold person was a result of her being misunderstood. [ ] doesn't know how to say things other than straightforwardly, and when she panics she has a tendency to freeze up making her tense in conversations.

chongyun as well had a one-track mind. everything he did was to become a better exorcist, which made him terrible at conversations especially outside of the exorcism business.

she spoke about the responsibilities of supporting the nation of liyue and her dream of traveling every inch of their lands and waters because she wanted to be one of the pillars of liyue in the future. it was her dream to become a qixing, like ningguang, to support liyue's growth.

he shared his dream of becoming the greatest exorcist. he wanted to find an evil spirit or demon that wouldn't avoid his congenital positivity, and to be able to control his congenital positivity. his dream was to rid the world of all evil spirits as the greatest exorcist in all of history.

they each shared the hardships of reaching their dreams and their desires to reach their goals. it was everything and more than he imagined talking to her. he had always wanted this oppertunity to speak to someone similar to him.

they reached the outside of the cave only to be met with servants from [ ]'s estate. she was taken away from him and rushed back to her home while he was thanked for saving her. apparently there was no evil spirit in their estate, at least not a real spirit. they were abyss mages planning something terrible again and [ ] was the victim. her family sent servants to pick her up from this town, only for them to hear from the little girl about what had happened. chongyun was greatly compensated for his help. he didn't even get the chance to say goodbye to [ ].

weeks had passed without chongyun seeing nor speaking to [ ]. he sent her a "get well soon" present but received no response. each passing day made him more and more depressed, which xingqui was not used to. xingqui told him that [ ]'s family was probably trying to keep her away from the public and were being overprotective but it didn't make anything better.

aether came in with paimon and a package in hand. he had somewhat a smug smile on his face, having some awareness of chongyun's crush on [ ]. he said that he had been comissioned by lady [ ] to deliver the package to chongyun directly. without allowing aether to finish his sentence, chongyun took the package from the blond's hands and carefully opened it.

inside it he found a letter and a jade insignia. the jade had an intricate glaze lily symbol carved on it with other symbols chongyun could not recognize. he brought out the letter and read it.

Exorcist Chongyun,

I apologize for not sending you a thank you note earlier nor seeing you at all these past few weeks. I haven't found a perfect oppertunity to escape from my family until now. My leg is fully healed, and I can even run. Please be assured that your present and the glaze lillies you had intended to give me have reached me. The little girl I was helping gave them to me and said they were from you. Thank you for such thoughtful presents.

I am aware that you don't accept payments, so instead I have sent you this as a gift. It's an insignia that identifies colleagues of mine and allows them to enter into one of my private and personal cottage. Rest assured, there will be plenty of cold sweets for you waiting there and the cottage itself is kept cold.

Please see me at Guyun Stone Forest. The insignia will lead you to me.

From [ ].

he barely finished that letter and he was already out. as the letter stated, the insignia did lead him to the secret cottage. on one of the mountains, there was a contraption made of stone that he would place the insignia in and then a stairway would appear. it led him up to a snowy floating island with a cozy cottage.

[ ] was sitting on a swing supported by a tree and waved to catch his attention.

"Greetings, Exorcist Chongyun."

"Hey, Lady [ ]."

[soukokuwu]

OSAMU DAZAI

dazai x reader ⚉ angst, mostly (slight swearing, as usual) ⚉ note: did not proofread this because i procrastinate so much, i’m sorry, hope it’s still okay ⚉ the ending is... happy/sad you decide ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ⚉

(also: this is an alternate scenario for my earlier dazai work! anyway, not my best by a mile, so constructive criticism is very welcome)

⚉⚉⚉⚉⚉

He had predicted this far, so why? Why was this scene breaking his heart even more than he thought it would?

You were hunched over on the sofa, head in your hands, elbows propped on your knees. Dazai was seated beside you and was as insightful as ever; he knew you were trying your best not to cry, not to show your tears.

⚉⚉⚉⚉⚉

Just moments before…

“Who the fuck is she?”

You had had enough of this. He had been coming home later than usual these few months, bringing back with him the stench of alcohol and the pungent smell of women’s perfume. Sure, you loved him, but enough was enough. Even you can’t stand sharing the one you loved with someone else.

At first you had thought that it was for a mission, but the month spread into two, and by the third you had given up. You had not once asked him anything about it, simply out of the respect and trust you had for your partner and his unconventional job – being one of the detectives at the Armed Detective Agency. You knew that meant sometimes cases were confidential, or that Dazai simply wouldn’t tell you about it to protect you. To ease his potential concerns, you never questioned him. But this was definitely different, and you knew it. This was no case.

You had made sure to check it out for yourself. You knew his favorite bar spot: Lupin. Thanks to being in a relationship with the most tactical person you knew, you had picked up some skills. One night, exactly two months ago, you had told him you would have to go out of town to visit your aunt, an easy lie to get away with since he didn’t care much of what you were up to by then. That night, you made sure to wait until you saw Dazai leaving the bar before you made your way in. It was way too risky to head in while he was still there. Even loaded with alcohol he would have mad observation skills and realize you were there. But of course, aside from making a new friend in the bar with which you had to praise your boyfriend and act like nothing was wrong in spite of what he’s been doing, you found next to nothing about Dazai’s secret affairs.

But that didn’t matter anymore. Not now, as you were choking yourself from holding back your tears. His voice was clear as day, and there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his reply. “One of the bartenders at Lupin” fell from his mouth, as nonchalant as ever. There, he admitted it.

As you looked at his face, it was as though you couldn’t recognize him anymore. This wasn’t the Dazai you fell in love with all those years ago. No, this person in front of you, he’s different. No way the Dazai you fell in love with would ever do this to you. You felt a tightness in your heart as you continued to wonder what it is that you had done wrong.

It killed you inside; remembering all the sweet moments that happened over the years. Every single memory that you remembered just felt like a knife through your heart.

“How long has it been?”

He chuckled, not sounding the least bit apologetic, “three months.”

“Fuck, Osamu.”

⚉⚉⚉⚉⚉

Dazai was still sat next to you, paying attention to your every movement. He noticed the way your shoulders were trembling, because try as hard as you may, you couldn’t stop yourself from sobbing.

He knew how you were feeling, but he couldn’t bring himself to comfort you. He loved you – and he still does – but he couldn’t admit that to you. Not after what you think he did. This was going according to plan, so why couldn’t he feel any sense of accomplishment? Instead, all he felt is anger and regret welling up inside him. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to turn back on his decision to push you away.

A penchant liar, a wanted man – Dazai knew he couldn’t be the person you deserved no matter how hard he tried. You deserved a better life than this. One with no threats, one where you didn’t have to look over your shoulder every time you stepped outside. He knew you wouldn’t leave of your own accord, so, he dealt with this the only way he knew how: lies.

For the past three months he had been frequenting Lupin, but as much as he wanted to push you away, he couldn’t actually bring himself to be intimate with another woman. No fucking way. No one could hold a candle to you. So, he thought of an alternative.

⚉⚉⚉⚉⚉

Exactly two months ago:

“Thanks for this.” Dazai could have gotten it easily himself, but he didn’t want to risk getting caught buying props for his ruse.

“And what exactly do you need it for? Can’t you just ask your girlfriend for hers?” His partner, Kunikida, grudgingly handed Dazai what he had asked for. Why on earth would he need women’s perfume? It wasn’t your birthday or any special occasion, that much he knew. Kunikida smirked, thinking it could be that maybe Dazai was being thoughtful for once and gifting—

“No, I’m done with her.”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“It’s exactly as I said, Kunikida. Are you going deaf?”

As much as the blonde wanted to punch him, he held back, clenched fists by his hips. “You’re being an ass.”

“I know that.”

The blonde could feel the anger bubbling up inside him. He had seen them together, and as much as he and Dazai didn’t really get along, he had to admit that getting together with you was the one decent choice the guy has made in ages. He didn’t know you personally, but Dazai had been going on and on about you ever since you got together with him. All of a sudden, he realized what the perfume was for, and he scoffed at his partner’s cowardice.

“If you want to end it, just man up and break it off. Don’t you dare make her think she isn’t enough of a woman for you. She’s the best you could ever do.”

Kunikida didn’t have to ask to know what his partner was thinking. Asking him to get some lipstick and ladies’ perfume? He was just looking to make you think that he’s cheating on you. Whatever Dazai was planning, he definitely did not approve.

Dazai laughed in self-deprecation as he finally looked up to look Kunikida in the eyes. “You and I both know that if I tell her the real reason that she wouldn’t leave.”

Not wanting to hear any more of it, Kunikida stormed off, obviously against Dazai’s decision, but he also knew that he shouldn’t interfere in other people’s affairs, which only served to frustrate him even more. But before he could leave, he turned back to Dazai once more, “if you want to protect someone, protect them with your own two hands.” To which, of course, Dazai pretended not to have heard.

Later as Dazai up and left, he spotted a familiar figure in the alleyway, walking towards the direction of the bar. He sighed as he approached the man, not feeling up to his usual routine of annoying him to no end. “Whatever you want I’m not giving it to you, I’m about to go play some mind games, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be off.”

Left behind without being given a chance to say anything, the ginger scoffed and crossed his arms. “Huh? What’s this shitty Dazai talking about? I didn’t even know he would be here…”

⚉⚉⚉⚉⚉

“There’s nothing I can do anymore.”

Dazai snapped out from his thoughts as he processed what you were saying. He didn’t expect such a reaction, such… calmness in your tone. He almost thought he was dreaming. He lightly pinched himself on the arm. No, he definitely wasn’t dreaming. Slowly, he brought himself to look at you.

Your beautiful eyes were staring straight at him, as though they could see right through him. Of course, this shouldn’t come as a surprise. You were the only one that ever could. Rarely has anyone ever made him stumped, but if anyone could be an exception, it would be you. And now, you caught him off-guard with how stoic you were.

“What – what do you mean?” Dazai croaked out, eyes unblinking, fingers slightly twitching.

Then he heard her laugh a similar laugh, much like his self-deprecating laugh with Kunikida. “Exactly that.” And she proceeded to the bedroom, presumably to pack her belongings.

Somehow, Dazai felt his hands moving of their own accord, and pull her back. And as she stood next to him, he realized what went wrong.

She thought she knew everything. One thing that she got right was that he was deliberately pushing her away. But what she didn’t see through was the real reason why he did it. Because in her eyes, he only saw sadness. And he knew. He knew at that moment, she thought he had implied she wasn’t worthy. She thought she failed at bringing him joy. She thought that everything he faked to push her away was to send a message: You don’t cut it for me, you’ve failed at making me find a reason to live, and I got bored.

That was far from the truth, though, and Dazai couldn’t bring himself to confess. He knew that in doing so, it would not help him achieve his goal. So, he kept up the part he was acting, and gave her a deadpan smile, trying not to let his voice waver as he told her, “I’d appreciate it if you left as soon as possible. I’m expecting company.”

⚉⚉⚉⚉⚉

“Isn’t that…?”

Dazai looked at where Ranpo was gazing at and saw you there, with your long wavy hair in a ponytail, sampling flavors at the new gelato store in the corner of the street. He felt his heart skip a beat, not that he would ever let it affect him. Today he had a case to see to with his subordinate, and Dazai was trying his best to concentrate on said case.

It had been a year since that fateful night, and he’s been doing his best not to keep any tabs on you. Which was relatively easy, given the nature of his job. All he had to do was keep himself busy. Very busy. He also noticed that he couldn’t even joke about a double suicide with any of the women he usually would flirt with, but he dismissed it, refusing to think of this as an effect your departure had left him with.

“Mhmm,” he mumbled, before turning away to get back to the case on hand.

But before he could get away completely, Ranpo’s sudden exclamation caught his attention. Dazai couldn’t help but look, curious at what’s gotten him so surprised. Then, Dazai realized, you weren’t alone, as your hands reached out for someone else’s, dragging them with you toward the gelato store.

You had chosen a classic butterscotch flavor. Dazai had expected that, seeing as it had been your favorite since you were a child. But what he didn’t expect was to see you with someone, let alone someone he knew. As he watched you feed a spoonful of your favorite flavor to your new lover, Dazai felt his fists clenched tight, which Ranpo caught on to.

“Isn’t that…” Ranpo trailed off, this time referring to your companion. But then he decided it was maybe best not to pursue the matter so much. He was almost, if not more, insightful than Dazai was, and he knew exactly what kind of reaction he would get should he press the matter further. “Dazai, it was you who felt she needed to move on, no?” he reminded him.

“To keep her safe, not –” Dazai raised his voice before getting a grip on himself as he noticed he was attracting some attention from the people around him. Not to mention nobody aside from you had seen him as rattled as he was right now. ‘Not to let her fall back into it,’ he finished in thought to himself.

But to his dismay, as he shifted his attention back to you, he realized you and your lover both didn’t notice him, because your attention was on each other, and only each other, both of your smiles sickeningly sweet. All he could think of was how all that hard work, all those sleepless nights spent after you left, was actually going down the drain. Because he didn’t make you safer, no. If anything, his heart sank as he realized that he definitely pushed you into a more dangerous life.

Why would you do this? Why were you with him? Out of spite? No, Dazai knew you way better than that, and you weren’t so petty. That could only mean one thing – what you felt for your new man was genuine. And as he heard you exclaim your next sentence, hands tightly intertwined with your new lover’s, Dazai knew he was at risk of losing it.

“Let’s go to the beachside next, Chuuya!”

[notapaladin]

oh you take all of the pain away

Acatl has nightmares. Teomitl helps. That’s it.

Also on AO3

-

The shadows on the wall were taunting him. Acatl closed his eyes again, but it didn’t help.

This is ridiculous.

“Mmm,” Teomitl murmured into his ear. “I can hear you thinking.”

That was also ridiculous, but oddly endearing. He huffed out a breath and shifted back to curl more fully against Teomitl’s lean, well-muscled chest, enjoying the warmth of his skin for a moment before it occurred to him that if he could still feel said warmth, something was definitely wrong. Namely, that he was still awake, and it was far past sundown. “Mrrrgghhh...”

Teomitl’s arms tightened around him, and a soft nose pressed into the curve of his shoulder. He was being cuddled like a child’s favorite toy, and if he hadn’t been so irked by his continued state of wakefulness he would have smiled. His lover could really be terribly sweet sometimes, even when his speaking breath tickled. “Go t’ sleep.”

He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth to grumble, “I am trying.” There wasn’t any heat in it. He was far, far too tired for that. After the night they’d had, where Teomitl had slipped into his courtyard at sunset and proceeded to very thoroughly make up for the time they’d spent apart in pursuit of the loose threads to a particularly nasty haunting case, every muscle in his body felt like half-melted rubber. He ought to be sleeping like a corpse. He was almost too tired to think.

And his body refused to quiet down. He rolled onto his stomach, burying his face into his arms with a grunt; it was an action that took him out of Teomitl’s arms, generally something he regretted, but cutting out distractions—and Teomitl was certainly a distraction, half-asleep and so wonderfully warm—sometimes helped him sleep. Not always, but sometimes.

Besides, it wasn’t like his lover was going anywhere. A hand smoothed down his spine, gently shifting his hair off his back, and he let out a long sigh. Maybe if he just lay here, he could become one with the mat.

There was another soft mumble behind him. “Night.”

He hummed in acknowledgment. Good night, love.

In the cool, still darkness, Teomitl’s presence a bulwark at his back, with no sound save for their steady breathing, he slowly felt himself fall.

And fall.

And fall.

Down and down and down...

Only to land on his knees with a shock like a distant blow. The ground was cold and hard under him, and strangely lumpy; as he got to his feet, he saw why.

It was not dirt, nor carved tiles, but hard-packed bones made of gold and jade. He touched a fallen clavicle. It was slippery. Feeling disconnected from his own skin, he picked it up and turned it over in his fingers as he walked. Teomitl fidgeted with things like that, too—not bones, but rocks and sticks and whatever he happened to be holding. He said it helped him focus.

It didn’t help Acatl focus. He walked through the Sacred Precinct, but it was a Sacred Precinct unlike any he had ever seen before. Beautiful, shining, with gold plating every temple wall and turquoise set into the very steps of the pyramids—but empty. There was no sound, not even his own footsteps. A river of blood flowed down the steps of the Great Temple to collect in a pool at its base, but even that made no sound. There were no priests chanting hymns, no commoners offering penance. He was alone.

Alone...

No. Not alone. Teomitl was here somewhere, he knew it. He couldn’t hear that familiar, impatient tread, but he knew it was just ahead of him, that if he ran faster or called out his lover’s name he would be there and—

And—

He opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. What good would calling out do?

He turned the corner and entered the palace gates, and the first sounds he heard fell like hammers on his ears, for all that they were the thin, chattering-infant voices of ahuitzotls.

“All hail...”

“...our great Revered Speaker...”

“Drowning, drowned, all are drowned...”

The courtyards were not empty. He thought he would have preferred it if they were. No, they were filled with ahuitzotls on their hind legs, dressed in the feathers and gems of nobility, and all chattering amongst themselves. As he walked past them, they stopped to watch him go. His skin crawled. He knew better than to run.

“...They cast the reeds...”

He kept walking, and the palace changed around him. Now the frescoes were set with gems, now hammered gold had been set into them to accentuate the eyes of the gods that were, he felt, definitely not watching. Under his bare feet—when had he removed his sandals?—the floor grew warm and slick in a way he recognized far too well. Fresh blood. Another river. No. Another lake, mirroring the one on which Tenochtitlan lay.

The doorway in front of him stood wide, and he knew what he would see when he walked in. He didn’t want to. Duality preserve him, the last thing he wanted was to walk through that door.

His legs carried him forward anyway, and when his gaze adjusted to the brightness he choked back a noise that wanted to be a sob.

Teomitl had gotten there ahead of him, and was sprawled negligently on the throne with a bloody macuahuitl in his hand. The blood was deeper here, lapping at his calves and Teomitl’s sandaled feet, and his lover looked...bored. No, not bored. Vacant. There was gold on his arms and fingers, turquoise at his lip and ankles, and his face was as expressionless as a doll’s. Fear stopped Acatl’s throat.

Before he knew it, he was wading towards him. The blood parted like humid air. “Teomitl!”

Teomitl lifted his eyes. There was no hint of recognition in them. “We do not give you leave to call Us by that name, priest.”

“Teomitl—it’s me—”

His next step went through nothing at all, and the world was filled with blood-tinged saltwater. Teomitl’s throne cracked and broke apart as he watched, sending him tumbling through the depths an arms’ length away. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t move.

Terrified, he opened his mouth to call Teomitl’s name again, but water rushed in to fill his lungs instead of air, and he thrashed desperately.

Now, for the first time, Teomitl was looking at him as though he knew him, and his eyes were wide with panic. A flailing hand reached for him—their fingers were close enough to touch—but when it encountered his skin, it slipped through as though he was already a ghost. “Acatl!”

He couldn’t respond. Blood and water filled his mouth. I’m sorry. I love you.

Eyes wide open, he watched Teomitl sink into the darkness.

“Acatl-tzin!?”

Everything was dark. His limbs refused to obey him.

Something shook him, hard. A voice he knew as well as his own snapped in a note of panic, “Wake up!”

All at once, it was like a spell had been broken. His eyes shot open, and the tension coiling through his paralyzed limbs finally resolved itself in a jolt that had him sitting up and staring into space. His heart was hammering fit to escape his ribcage, and each breath burned. When he felt wetness on his face, he realized he’d been crying. “Hah,” he managed, aware now that Teomitl was staring at him. He couldn’t turn to face him. He couldn’t bear to.

Teomitl’s hand hovered in midair, as though he was afraid to touch him. “...Love...”

“Just a dream.” He sucked in a breath. His chest still hurt, and it was hard to breathe through the horrible congested feeling of too many tears. That’s right. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real. Wherever my soul wandered in my sleep, I’m here now. This...this mat under me, these four walls around me, this is real. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I was awake. Ish.” Teomitl made a quiet grumbling noise, and Acatl immediately felt much worse. Of course Teomitl had been easy to rouse; as swiftly as he dropped off to sleep, he’d always struggled to stay that way, and what sleep he did get was all too frequently disturbed by nightmares. He’d sworn that Acatl’s presence helped, but...well. It clearly hadn’t tonight. “How do you feel?”

Acatl grimaced, staring down at his hands. If he balled them into fists, they didn’t tremble so badly. “I’m fine,” he lied. It would be true eventually.

Teomitl saw through him in an instant, as always. And, as always, he had no patience for it. Gaze focusing into a sharp glare, he snapped, “You are not, you’re shaking. I’ve never seen you have a nightmare like that before.”

He focused on his breathing. In. Out. In again. Slowly, his heart started to calm, and the residue of that sick terror started to drain out. “...I’m...” But he couldn’t finish the lie.

Seeming to come to a decision, Teomitl moved to cover Acatl’s hand with his own. The touch was a shock for a moment—that was right, he had a body other people could interact with—but then it sank in. The warmth of his lover’s skin, the smooth callouses from his swordwork, the faint raised scar across his palm. “No. I heard you weeping for me.”

He closed his eyes briefly. No, that wasn’t a good idea. He could still see the ahuitzotls when he blinked. He opened his eyes again, and this time he looked at Teomitl. His beloved looked drowsy, moonlight shrouding his features, but he could make out a hard, stubborn set to his mouth that he knew very well; it said that Teomitl knew what Acatl was doing, and he didn’t appreciate it. And Acatl had promised him honesty. Reluctantly, he nodded. “Mm.”

Teomitl gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “...Want to talk about it?”

Despite himself, a smile tugged at his lips. As carefully as the question was phrased, it was obvious what Teomitl wanted to hear, and he wouldn’t stop until he heard it. No matter how much he’d grown, he’d always be the man that had upended Acatl’s lonely life and built a space for himself in it with nothing but dogged persistence and a radiant smile. “...You won’t take no for an answer, will you?”

Ah. Perhaps he’d been a bit curt, because Teomitl looked stung. “I would. You know that. But if it disturbs your sleep—if wherever your soul has wandered has hurt you—then I want to know about it.”

“So you can kill it?” Acatl quipped, half-serious. Granted, he wouldn’t put it past him...but still.

“Hrmph,” Teomitl muttered. “If I can, yes.”

Oh, my love. He exhaled. “...Alright, then.”

But saying he’d tell his lover about it and actually making his mouth form the words were two different things, and for a long moment he couldn’t figure out where to begin. Finally, with Teomitl’s thumb making little circles over his knuckles, he started to speak. “I was in the Sacred Precinct, and everything was made of gold, but I was alone. I knew you were there somewhere, just ahead of me, but I couldn’t see you. So I went into the palace...and it was full of ahuitzotls dressed as noblemen and warriors, all praising you. All calling you their savior.” Teomitl’s muttered, “ew” bolstered him somewhat, giving him the strength to continue. “Then I found you, and...”

He trailed off. He couldn’t continue. Teomitl’s fingers tightened on his. “And?”

“You didn’t know me.” His voice shook. “You were on the throne, dressed as an emperor, with blood up to your ankles, and you looked at me like a stranger.”

Teomitl sucked in a breath. “I could never.”

“I know. But you know how things are in dreams.” He was starting to suspect what had brought it on, too; the army was preparing to put down another rebellion, one that would take his lover away from him for weeks, and there was always the effects of Tizoc’s presence to worry about. He’d thought he’d gotten over his concerns. I trust him. We trust each other. But...I suppose my sleeping mind doesn’t agree.

“...I do.” Teomitl grimaced. “But that doesn’t sound like the worst of it.”

Acatl shook his head. “It wasn’t.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No, you were right. Talking...it does help.” It reminds me that it wasn’t real. It hasn’t happened, and Duality willing it will not.

Teomitl laced their fingers together, biting his lip. “Alright.”

He’d lost his momentum, and it took a while for him to regain it. “Anyway. Then...then...” He took a breath. “We were drowning in blood, and I saw recognition in your eyes again as you died in front of me. You—and I was right there!” He shuddered at the memory, feeling cold despair grip his innards again. I was right there. I watched you die. I watched you drown, still trying to call my name—calling for me to save you, and I couldn’t. “I couldn’t touch you—it was like you were already a ghost...”

“Acatl,” Teomitl breathed.

He swallowed, shaking his head. Enough of that. Teomitl’s right here, holding my hand. I shouldn’t be this affected. “I’m sorry, I’m overwrought—”

Teomitl kissed him. It was quick and sudden and hard, licking into his half-open mouth and leaving him reeling from the sensation of a hot mouth and a clever tongue and the faint sting of teeth. He was kissing back before he knew it, grabbing for his lover’s shoulder just to keep himself upright; when a hand found his waist and gripped hard in response, fingers digging in to the meat of his side, he let out a breathy whine that wasn’t even remotely one of pain.

Then Teomitl broke the kiss, gazing steadily into his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. “You’re mine, aren’t you? I won’t leave you behind.”

“You can’t—” Promise that, he was going to say, but then Teomitl’s mouth was on his again, stealing the words. This kiss was slower, more tender, but no less devastating for that. When that tongue slid into his mouth again and the hand at his waist slid up his ribs, he arched his back with a moan. He might still leave me, came the treacherous thought. He is a warrior, and once he is crowned he’ll have no shortage of enemies. But that’s not tonight, is it?

Teomitl shifted attention to his throat, lips moving against the sensitive skin. “I can, and I will. Let me prove it to you.”

Then he was uncurling himself, sliding a thigh between Acatl’s legs as he pressed him down to the mat, and Acatl let himself be molded. Yes, this was what he wanted—Teomitl on top of him, all solid muscle and strong, gentle hands, a mouth pressing kisses to his collarbone and a hand lightly tugging at his hair to keep him in place. His hands just seemed to fit at Teomitl’s back, mapping out muscles with his palms and making his lover shiver appreciatively; he had a moment to feel smug, but then teeth nibbled at his throat and he shuddered all over, feeling the tension in his own spine drain away. “Mmm...”

“That’s good,” Teomitl breathed. “Lay back, love. Let me take care of you.”

A hand skimmed down his stomach; as tired as he still was, his body twitched to life. Falling in love with Teomitl had done wonders for his stamina. The thigh between his legs rubbed against his rapidly stiffening cock, and he exhaled sharply. “Oh.”

“See?” Teomitl’s voice was soft. “We’re both here and alive. Together.” He wrapped a hand around Acatl’s cock, thumbing the sensitive spot below the head as he started to work him to full hardness. It didn’t take long, not with the friction of that perfectly placed thigh, and when he squeezed a little harder Acatl gasped.

“Ah...!” It trailed off into a sharp cry, because Teomitl knew just how to touch him. The twist of a wrist at just the right angle made him shudder anew, rolling his hips into that wonderful hand. He was full of sensation, had to do something with it; needing more, he slid a hand up into Teomitl’s hair and drew him up to for another long, hungry kiss. Yes. Yes. Every beat of his heart said it—that they were here, that they were alive, that nothing would part them if Teomitl could stop it.

Teomitl returned the kiss eagerly before drawing away with a wicked smile. “Oh, I wish I could see you now.” He punctuated his words with a slow upwards stroke, and when Acatl sighed in pleasure he chuckled quietly. “You sound as good as you feel.”

That was accompanied by another rippling squeeze, and for a moment Acatl couldn’t even think. Heat rose slowly through his veins, coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he rocked steadily into it. There was Teomitl’s sure, strong hand and the steady pressure of his thigh rubbing against his balls; he ground against it breathlessly before finding words again. He knew he was blushing. “Nnh...voyeur...”

Teomitl smirked, unrepentant, and pressed up with his thigh, pulling a ragged groan out of him. “You deserve to be looked at.”

He huffed out a breath, turning his face away. You always say that. That I’m beautiful, that I’m desirable—I don’t know where you get that from. You’re the beautiful one. And the one that deserved attention too; when he shifted, grinding against him, he could feel Teomitl’s hard cock grazing his own. Loose-limbed with his own desire, he managed somehow to get a hand between them and reach for it; it all but twitched against his fingers, and he gasped a little at how eager his lover was. “Nnh...wait, wait, let me...”

But Teomitl was shaking his head and drawing back, robbing him of his prize. “No.” His grin flashed white teeth in the darkness. “This is for you. You can make it up to me in the morning.”

And there would be quite a lot to make up; Teomitl was still keeping that slow, steady pace, but it was relentless. The building pressure at the base of his spine was enough to make Acatl groan and arch, letting his head fall back. That exposed his throat, and when Teomitl’s mouth found it again he let out a ragged moan at the faint scrape of teeth at his pulse. The way he was going, there would certainly be makes the next morning. He thought he should probably care about that, but at the moment it didn’t seem to matter. No, this slick rolling pleasure was far more important.

“Mmm...” More, he wanted to say. More of this. He couldn’t find the words, but that didn’t matter either; Teomitl knew what he wanted. He only had to let him give it to him. So he bucked into that clever hand, grinding against on his thigh on the way down, and let the sparks coalesce into a blaze.

“That’s it, c’mon...nnnh...” Acatl had slid against Teomitl’s cock again, and this time his lover wasn’t able to ignore it; he gave a rough, wonderful little growl and wriggled against it, seeking more stimulation. When Acatl reached for him again, he didn’t pull away.

Oh, and Teomitl was so responsive. He had to have been hard since nearly the moment they’d started touching; when Acatl squeezed, circling the head of his cock, his groan was loud and sweet to Acatl’s ears. Emboldened, he did it again, establishing a steady rhythm. “What was that,” he breathed with a hot grin, “about me making it up to you in the morning?”

“Acatl-tzin.” It came out in a near-whine, one that went straight to his cock; he shuddered, fucking into Teomitl’s grip, and redoubled his efforts. Teomitl kissed him roughly, all teeth and tongue and a deliciously reverberating moan, and as the hand on his cock sped up he knew he was close. It would be easy to lay back and enjoy it, but he wanted to please his lover as well.

I love you, he thought, and when he got his mouth back—Teomitl had moved to his throat, muffled gasps and soft cries setting his blood to simmering with desire—he gasped out, “Need to touch you—oh.” He hadn’t thought Teomitl was holding back on him, but evidently he had been; he shifted to press their cocks together, grinding hard against him, and it turned the world behind Acatl’s eyes to white sparks. Words failed him. He was so close—gods, so close—

His orgasm rolled through him like the tide, and all he could do was groan as the inexorable tremors rippled through him. Teomitl’s followed a moment after, hitched breaths ending in almost a sob as he spilled himself over Acatl’s skin.

Even when they both came down from that high, they didn’t move. He knew he should clean up, but he was utterly content to lay on his back like a lizard and bask in pleasantly languorous postcoital bliss. His nightmares had never felt further away, nor had he ever been so wonderfully aware of the body he inhabited. Teomitl was the one to wipe their combined spend off their stomachs with the nearest piece of fabric and immediately flop onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow and gazing at Acatl so tenderly that it made his heart melt. Acatl had to touch him again, settling a hand on the curve of his waist and letting his lips curve in a soft smile. My beloved. You’ll always keep me safe, won’t you?

Even in the darkness, Teomitl’s smile was like a sun rising. “...Think you’ll sleep better now?”

“Mm...” He considered it. He was tired, both in body and mind, and his release had certainly relaxed him. But there was sweat drying on his skin, and the temperature had dropped quite a bit. “It’s a little cold.”

Then he squeaked, because Teomitl was scooping up one of their discarded cloaks and wrapping it and his arms around him like a giant tamale. He found himself with his face buried in Teomitl’s chest, soft cotton cocooning him gently, and he drew in a long breath that was full of the scent of his lover’s skin. He was safe. Teomitl would protect him. “Mmm...”It was a little difficult for him to get his arms free of the fabric, but he persevered until he could slide them around Teomitl’s waist, holding him close. There, that was better.

“Warmer now?” Teomitl nuzzled into his hair, sounding gently amused.

He yawned, working his jaw in an approximation of a word. “Mm-hmm.”

“Good.” Teomitl stroked his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut on a long exhale. His lover’s voice lowered. “Let’s go back to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning, Acatl.”

He smiled. “I know you will.”

[p-jiminaa]

Play Date (Part 2)

Park Jimin and You.

Summary: It’s all started with a WhatsApp status.

Genre: Fluff, fluff, fluff, and little angst towards the end.

Gif is not mine, credit to the owner.

Masterlist

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

Jimin had been texting and calling you when you did not respond to either his calls or texts and it's started since you got into the car actually. And when you see 25 miscalled and 60 texts the last one being ‘CALL ME ASAP’ from him you decided to call him back. Not that you intentionally ignore him, but since your father caught you escaping your ballet practice he sent you there which surprised you because you thought you’ll be listening to his chattering.

“Are you okay?” He answered your call after three rings. He worries so much about you that he could not hide his panicked voice over the phone.

You hummed. “Did he hurt you?” He asks again. 

You laugh at that. “He’s my father Jimin. No matter how mad he is at me, he never hit me.”

“Then why does it took you so long to call or answer any of my text?” He asks again, sounding angry. Well, you're in your ballet class for two hours so of course, he would be worry.

“He sent me to the ballet studio and I am in practice for the past two hours. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you.” You explain slowly.

You heard him letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank God! I thought...”

“Nothing going to happens, please don’t worry about me.” You assured him.

“But he looks so furious.”

“That just his appearance.”

Silence engulfs both of you after that. But you heard some commotion on Jimin’s side and you recognized the background voices.

“Is that Jungkook and Taehyung?”

He laughs. “Yeah. They are busy choosing which girl is hotter on the television.”

“Asks them to find a date. Then their attention will be on that person only.”

“I know right. Just like me.” He said proudly. You can imagine his smug expression after saying this.

“Yeah. Casie seems fine.” You teased him.

“She’s my presentation partner.” He answers you instantly.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Y/n...”

“Can you fetch me up? Father told me he’ll be away and his concubine is not home.”

“Okay. Now?”

“Yes.” You say shortly.

“Okay, Girlfriend. And Y/n...” you hummed. “I know you’re hiding something from me. You can talk to me about it. But I am not going to force you. Okay?” He explained. It’s so good how someone can understand or feel that you’re actually having trouble even before you tell them.

You smile. “Thank You, Jimin.”

“Okay. I really need to hang up. Don’t want my girlfriend waiting for me.” He says happily.

“Pabo!”

“And you’re dating this Pabo.” You rolled your eyes to his statement.

***

Jimin’s facial expression turns to sorrow when his eyes landed on your cheek. “You told me he didn’t hit you.” He said angrily. His happy demeanor changed drastically when you got into his car.

“I am okay.”

“But this is too much!” He says, turning to you, eyes scanning your red cheek and touching it softly. You winced when his hand touched the red mark.

Letting out a breath you tell him. “It’s not him Jimin.” You paused briefly, gnawing your lower lips contemplating if you should tell him or no.

“It’s his concubine? I am going to kill that wo...”

“It’s my mother.” You abruptly interrupt him.

“Wh.. what?” Shocked covered his expression.

“My father called her telling how bad I am acting lately. How I missed my ballet practice and how I went out without his permission and he put the blame on my mother who should be the one taking care of me, not him.” You feel your lips quiver after explaining that to him and you cannot hide your glassy eyes from him.

“Oh Y/n...” he says as he pulled your body to him. “I am so sorry. This all happened because of me.”

“It’s not your fault. I’ve been like this even before I know you.”

You feel how he patted your back, calming you down.

“It’s really hard to continue living to remember how unwanted you are in this world.” You said finally. It feels like a burden has been lifted that you finally say the words but you say it to the wrong person. He should not be the one who hears this from you, it should be them, your parents.

“Don’t say that.” He tightened his hold on you. “You have me. You have us. You’re loved by us. So never ever feel unwanted.”

“I know.” You said with a cracked voice, unable to hide your sadness.

You both stayed in that position for a few minutes and Jimin keeps on calming you by patting your back softly.

*** “Can I sleep at your place tonight?” You saw how hard it is for him to cover his changed demeanor when you asked him the question.

Understanding the situation, realizing that you’re not more than his ‘play-date’ you hit his shoulder playfully.

“I am joking. Relax.” You say as you fastened the seat belt. But you wish you were because you're not. The last you wanted right now is to be under the same roof to someone who feels burden by your existence.

“N..not that I don’t want you at the dor...”

“Jimin, it’s fine. Now send me back please.” You said reassuringly. You forgot that before this ‘play-date’ started, a woman unknown by you is a frequent visitor at his home. Not that he did that every day, but you remember how you found or meet girl on your way to their dorm or you can say house especially if it’s during the weekend and you forgot that today is Saturday. Jimin is actually living at a two-story house outside the campus with his other six friends. They rent is paid by them equally and they usually have a party on Sunday night. Well, it's not every weekend though but it is a frequent thingy for them.

When he drives you home, you never say any words, and he kind of distracted too so you decided to stay quiet. But when you feel the car stop you see that you have arrived.

“Thank you for the ride Jimin.” You say, unbuckling your seatbelt.

“Hey...” he said, pausing you who were about to get off from the car. “Let’s just go back to my place.” He blurted out suddenly.

Is this man for real? “It’s fine Jimin. I forgot that today is Saturday and you usually have a party.”

“I... I stop attending the party since I asked you to be my date.”

His sudden confession caught you off guard.

“Why?”

“Because I just want to be with you. I know I told you about how I am not ready for a commitment but I am trying. So that ...”

“So that it’ll hurt me less if you decided to stop all of this?”

“Wait... no. I am just...” As if he realized your words, you saw how his eyebrows quirked upwards. “So you’re thinking of stopping?”

Isn’t this temporary? “What about you?” You challenged him. You need to know his thought on this. If he thinks that all of this playdate is just a kind of thing that he wanted to do because he’s bored, then you’re not going to do it.

“I... I don’t know.”

“I am going to be honest here. I like you and I am not going to lie that every action of yours did not flatter me because it did. I love how you take care of me, I especially love how you‘re so straightforward to me about your feelings. I know it’s just a matter of the heart and I am not going to force you for anything. But Jimin, please promise me one thing. If you ever think that all of this should stop and you finally realized that you don’t want me anymore, tell me in a very gentle way.” So it'll hurt me less. You say the last one to yourself.

Although frown covered his face, you know he understands by your words. Slowly, you saw how he nodded his head. “But I promise I’ll never let you down Y/n.”

“We’ll see about that.” You send him a wink before you got off his car. When you reached your room, Jimin sent you a text which does not really surprise you.

I know your parents mistreated you a lot and that why you have trust issues. But Y/n, you need to know that not everyone is annoyed or upset at you. Some love you so much more than you love yourself like how I love you more than I love myself. I am so happy that you finally opened up your feelings to me. I appreciate that. That means you trust me more than before. Please never ever feel unwanted because you’re so important to me. Please keep in mind that. I let you sleep now. I am just texting you to remind you how important you are to certain people especially to myself. Sleep tight, Girlfriend.

-PJM

When you read the texts you wanted to do nothing other than to hug him. How sweet and thoughtful he is towards you. Its been only a few years since you guy knew each other but he’s showing more love to you than your parents ever does. Hence, you do what you think the most unthinkable thing at the moment, you drove to his place. Yes, you drove to his place only to be disappointed when you see so many car parks in front of their house and alongside the road on his home. Not only that, you saw several people are on the doorways, standing. Not only that, you saw how dim the light and the loud music from inside. Now you realized, the reason for his reluctance and you’re right all the way about your guess. He wanted to spend the night with another girl. Well, who wanted a girl like you; a girl with a toxic family.

When you thought that driving here is already a stupid decision of yours but you’re more stupid when you decided to park your car and went inside. Yes, you went inside and your eyes quickly landed on the guy who sent a text message to you saying that you’re the most important person to him when his action stated otherwise. You saw how he laugh with whatever the girl is talking about with his arm draped on her shoulder. Shaking your head, realizing how stupid you are for believing his words easily you turn and walks towards the door before you feel your arm been grab and turn you around.

“Y/n...” Jungkook asks, frown painted on his face surprised by your sudden un-invited appearance at the party. “Jimin is...”

“I know.” His eyes blink when he heard you said that.

“Let’s go to my room.” He says as he sees your glassy eyes. So he took your hand and lead you to his bedroom upstairs. Truth to be speaking, it's not like this is your first time here. But it’s your first time in his room. He directed you to his bed and sat you at the edge of the bed while he sits opposite you.

“I am... did you see him?” You nodded your head.

“She’s a friend. To all of us.”

“You know you don’t owe me any explanation.”

“But you look so...”

“I know and I am fine. I just realized that I trust people too easily.”

“No. No, you’re not Y/n. Believe me, that girl is a friend, not only to Jimin but to all of us.”

“Why are you comforting me. As I said just now, I am fine Jungkook.”

“It’s just that Jimin Hyung loves you so much that I don’t want you to think differently about him just because you saw him with a girl.” You shrugged your shoulder in response as you didn’t know what to reply.

“I think I should go. Plus I am not even invited.” You were about to get up but he caught your hand, stopping your movement.

“You can stay. I don’t know if you realize but  you look damn tired.”

“And where would you sleep?” You don’t even know why you agreed to his suggestion so fast but yeah, maybe because you’re tired.

“I can sleep on the floor.”

“Nonsense!”

“Fine. I’ll just sleep here...” He patted his bed.

“What?” You say, surprise to his suggestion.

“I am not going to...”

“Kidding JK. I know you can behave yourself around me.”

“Oww... we’ll see about that.” He says, wiggling his brows.

You lifted your forefinger asking him to come closer to you and he obeyed. “If you ever touch me even a little, I will not hesitate to kick your precious baby JK down there.” You wink as you finished muttered that sentence.

“Fine Noona!” He says as he walks away from you and to his closet; changing his clothes (not that you’re spying on him but yeah, your guess is correct when he lie down on the bed with new clothes. You can still hear the party going on below and you’re kind of surprise that he’s staying with you here.

“Why are you here?” You ask as you lie down on the bed, turning your body to him.

He turns his body facing you. “I don’t like the party.”

You scoff at his answer.

“I am serious. The reason I am actually at this kind of event is if the party is happening here or when I am hor*y.”

“TMI!”

“Well, you ask, I answer.” He says, smiling teasingly. You rolled your eyes at that before he laughs at your reaction.

“Thank You.”

He smiles softly and nodded his head. You don’t know how or why but you fall asleep easily. Maybe because you know at least spending the night here did not have any risk of getting your sleep disturbed with the concubine shouting you in the morning or maybe because you’re just too tired.

Your sweet sleep was disturbed by several hard knocks at the door and someone calling for Jungkook’s name. Your eyes open widely when you finally recognized the voice.

“What do we do?” You ask Jungkook who has the same expression as yours. You don’t know why but it feels like Jimin caught you cheating by spending the night at another man's room. But then, why would you worry about this. You’re sure that he too spent his night with the girl last night.

“Just stay here. If he insists on coming, cover yourself.” He says as he got off and went to unlock and opening the door.

“Why hyung! It's only 8!”

“Can I borrow your shirt?”

“You have many shirts.”

“I am tired of wearing the same one.” He replied.

“But hyung...” and before Jungkook finishes his word, you heard the door being slam against the wall. You lifted the comforter, covering your head though it’s kind of useless because he can see your hair or body from the outline of the comforter.

“Shit! I didn’t know you have company.” You heard Jimin’s.

“That what I am trying to tell you!” Jungkook’s response. “Now if you excuse us. You’re literally intruding.”

“Right. Sorry.” A few moments later you heard the door’s being close.

“We’re safe now, I guess.” He says in a doubtful tone.

You pull down the comforter to be greeted by Jungkook standing at the end of the bed. “Now what?”

He shrugged his shoulder. Not helpful at all!

“Jungkook!” You whisper shout.

“I don’t know. Wait for him to go out. He’ll be gone in a few moments trust me. That the reason he asked to borrow my shirt." Jungkook’s explained to you thought he does not look so sure with it.

Exhaling a breath while closing your eyes you thought of a thousand excuses to tell Jimin if you ever get caught and none seems logical at the moment.

“You look so worried.” Jungkook’s voice cut your train of thought.

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Fine! I am! Like what should I feel right now since I just slept with you? I feel like cheating on him."

"Correction, we sleep together but we do nothing."

You furrow your eyebrows. "As if that would change anything. You do know that if anyone were to see us together their first thought would be that."

"Well, yea. But then I can assure you Jimin would understand that."

Well, that does not make your heart at ease you for sure and you don't know why that you're acting like this. He's the one that you caught with a girl last night. Yea whatever. "Can you like to see him outside? If he's out then I am going home too."

"Okay." He answers you short and walks outside. He emerges to the room again fifteen minutes after but bringing breakfast this time. That melt your heart a little.

"I thought you're doing your spy job"

"I did. But I am not going to starve you." He then passes you the plates with a sandwich in it also a coffee.

"I feel like a princess."

"You live like a princess and this is nothing compare to your breakfast at home I guess."

"Not going to lie there." You say followed by a laugh. "No Jungkook. This is better. In fact, this is thousand, no million better than at home." You said sincerely and you see blush emerges out from his face.

*** "Are you sure?" You ask as you stand in front of the door.

"Yes, Noona. 100% sure. He went out when I made you breakfast earlier and it's been fifteen minutes."

"O- okay." You say shakily.

He actually wanted to send you out but you told him that it's better for you to go alone, not to create another misunderstanding if other's were to see you and he agreed reluctantly.

So you walk alone towards your car before you realize that someone is standing beside your car. Cancel beside but he actually leaned his back against the door of the driver seats, arms wrapping above his chest. You pace decrease when you see his frown face but you've reached him in no time and with a smirk, he says to you

"Having fun with Jungkook?"

[tbasilpitch]

i love you (ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?)

fav trope/cliche: a friends to lovers au (they’re both normal in this)

The first time Baz sees him, it’s outside his teacher’s classroom. She’s partly blocking the doorway, and her rings clack pleasantly against the doorframe as she taps against it, all while speaking softly to the boy in front of her. Distress cries out in the wrinkle between his brows, his lips turned down slightly in a subconscious pout. 

Baz doesn’t catch what she says to make the boy nod solemnly, but his pout is replaced with a shy smile when she bends down to grasp him in a swift hug, before pulling away and turning to look at Baz instead. 

“Basil!” She exclaims, and he knows she’s about to spout one of her ideas on him. And as much as Baz loves Ms. Rosemary, sometimes even he can’t stand them. 

“Yes, Ms. Rosemary?” 

“Basil,” she brings the boy in front of her, and straightens herself off the door frame. “This is Simon Snow. He just moved here, and I think the two of you would be very good friends.” 

As it turns out, this was one of Ms. Rosemary’s better ideas, and he made sure to get her a lovely gift during Christmas as a thank you. Simon was exactly what Baz had needed in a best friend: at least as a six-year-old. He would split his scones with Baz secretly during English behind their books, and was killer at dodgeball: both feats that had earned him the title of Baz’s closest and most treasured friend. It was enough for now, and he became a constant in Baz’s childhood from then on. The days had blurred into sleepovers at Baz’s house and Simon watching movies while Baz read in the background, an easy comfort that had come from spending ample amounts of time together. 

* * * 

They were almost 11 now, and Baz couldn’t picture his life without Simon in it, the one thing that stayed constant even when everything else skittered away. 

“Baz,” Simon poked his shoulder with the end of his pencil, repeating the action until Baz sighed and looked up. 

“What is it? I’m trying to read,” he held up the book as evidence, but there was no true annoyance behind his words. 

“That girl won’t stop glaring at you. The one with the purple hair.” 

“Penelope Bunce,” Baz supplied immediately, his eyes drifting back to the book. 

“Yeah, her. Why is she glaring at you like that?” 

“Because I checked out the last copy of this book, and now she has to wait till I finish it to read it herself.” 

“Haven’t you read it already?” At Baz’s hum, he continues. “I think you should let her read it, Baz. Really.” 

“And why is that?” 

“It’s the right thing to do, Baz,” Simon explains. “It’s nice.” 

And Baz wants to argue, to say that he isn’t nice, that he never was and never will be. Almost as if Simon took all of the niceness he could’ve had, being nice enough for both of them. Baz wasn’t bitter, of course, he’d have given it to Simon willingly anyway. He’d give Simon anything, really, if he asked, but this was something that Baz refused to dwell on. Simon was his best friend, wasn’t it natural he’d feel this way? So he simply nodded and passed the book to Penelope Bunce, who smiled at Simon, and nodded at Baz appreciatively. And just like that, all because of Simon Snow, he had made another friend. 

* * * 

The fight came out of nowhere. Simon had been getting ready for his date with Agatha--his girlfriend of almost a year--and was holding up hangers to his chest to show Baz, who was trying not to react to any of them. It was a waste of time, anyway, all of them looked stunning on Simon, who’d grown up absolutely gorgeous. His hair, curly and untameable as a child had only worsened with time, and now it lay atop his head in messy golden loops that caught the light wherever he went. 

He held up a dark blue shirt, and Baz felt his breath catch. It brought out the darker blues in Simon’s trite blue eyes, creating a subtle shadow. Simon looked at him questioningly, and Baz almost said no, don’t wear that shirt, wear anything else. But Simon was his best friend, and what type of best friend would he be if he didn’t let Simon look his best for a date? 

Except Simon frowned, and accused Baz of trying to make him look terrible for the date, which had come out of nowhere and was clearly him lashing out about something entirely unrelated to the shirt. 

But Baz stubbornly took the bait, and they’d launched themselves into the first fight they’d had in years. Neither of them liked to fight; they were both too close to each other, and the arguments got more personal, the insults growing increasingly harsher. 

Baz had mentioned how much he despised Agatha without meaning to, and it had done nothing but further escalate the situation. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t be best friends, then. We don’t match anyway.” 

“Simon, you don’t mean that.” 

“Stop telling me what I do and don’t mean! I don’t think we fit anymore, Baz.” 

Baz caught the underlying statement, just leave. 

And so he did. 

*** 

They hadn’t spoken in months, and in that time Bunce had taken Simon’s side (of course) leaving Baz with his old friends Dev and Niall. Who had both, conveniently, decided to leave the library minutes before Bunce herself came strolling in, making her way to Baz’s table. 

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” 

Baz ignores the lead snapping off his pencil tip and continues writing, forcing his eyes to stay on the page and not wander up to where Bunce stands, undoubtedly with her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed to slits. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responds calmly, flipping the page. “Simon’s my friend and so I love him, sure.” 

He hears the chair scrape against the floor as Bunce sits down, grabbing the pencil out of his hand before he has a chance to stop her. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Isn’t that your problem, then?” 

“Baz,” she says sternly, and he finally meets her gaze. 

Suspicion dominates her look, but there’s a small ebb of something else fluttering within. It takes a moment for Baz to recognize it, and he softens his tone when he does. Concern. Small but enough for Baz to remember that he and Penny were friends once, a time before Simon Snow and before they’d become academic rivals. 

“What do you want me to say, Bunce? That I’m hopelessly in love with someone I used to call my best friend before I fucked that up and now I’m nothing more than one of his hundred admirers?” 

“You’re not,” Bunce lightly rests her hand against his as she gets up, adjusting her bag against her shoulder. “Just another admirer, that is. You’re his best friend, Baz, you always have been.” 

“That isn’t enough, is it? It’s too hard,” Baz confesses, tracing a pattern on the table. 

It was too hard, watching him fall deeper in love with Agatha and pretending like it didn’t bother him. In another world, maybe, there’s a Baz strong enough to repress his feelings enough to stay Simon’s best friend. But in this one, Simon’s eyes are a tad bit too blue and his smile a smidge too bright for Baz to look away. 

“You know what, Baz? Why don’t you try talking to him?” 

“I can’t.” And with that he shuffles his things together and drops them in his backpack, leaving before Bunce has the chance to get another word out. 

* * *

“Baz,” an achingly familiar voice calls his name, and Baz anticipates it before he feels it: Simon’s tell-tale pencil end against his arm. “Can I borrow a piece of paper?” 

Baz nods and turns around to hand it over, careful not to look at Simon. He doesn’t want to see the indifference on his face, the subtle hurt at Baz’s random distancing. But Simon clears his throat, and Baz, a constant disappointment to himself, meets his eyes. 

They’re carefully shielded, and Baz realized with a start that he could barely read them as well as he used to. Simon smiles at him slightly, whispering a soft ‘thank you’ as Baz nods again, before turning back around. 

It isn’t until close to the end of the class until he feels the tap of a pencil again, and a paper being passed to him. He opens it gingerly, tracing a fingertip over the messily written words. Less messy than usual, he notes, and he smiles at the thought of Simon trying to tame his handwriting. 

Can we talk? I have scones I’ve missed splitting with someone. 

There’s two boxes underneath, and it’s so utterly cute that Baz can’t help but tick “yes” and pass it back to Simon. And the smile on his face when he sees it, Baz thinks, is worth the heartbreak. 

***

He meets Simon on a bench in the park they used to frequent as children, and Simon waves the bag of scones in the air. 

Baz sits next to him, accepting half a scone and watching Simon push dirt around with the tip of his shoe. 

“You said you wanted to talk?” 

“Yeah, I did,” Simon admits, “Listen Baz, I didn’t mean anything I said that day. It was stupid of me and I shouldn’t have any of it.” 

Baz nods, repeating the apology. It falls flat even to his ears, and so it comes as no surprise when Simon frowns. 

“Baz? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, Simon.” 

“Why didn’t you like it when Agatha and I were together?” Simon asks suddenly, apparently having reached a conclusion. 

Why don’t you talk to him? 

Baz raises an eyebrow, and a sweet smile graces Simon’s face. 

“Say it,” Simon whispers. “Please.” 

And Baz looks at the boy in front of him, his constant throughout everything, and thinks of all the times they’d spent in this park together, never quite expecting it to turn out like this. 

“I love you, Simon,” he says softly, and Simon grins, pulling Baz to him. 

“Me too, Baz. I think I always have.” 

Simon kisses him softly, and pulls him into an embrace when they part. And as Baz hugs Simon tighter, he sends another thank you to Ms. Rosemary, who’d brought this gorgeous nightmare of a boy into his life in the first place. Because truly, when he thinks about it, he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[ashtheshortstack]

take my scars & make them stars - ch 4

Rating: M Ship: Kristoff/Anna Chapter Four

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Sick Fic, Cancer Fic, Chronic Illness, Chemotherapy, Modern AU, Coffee Shop AU, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Angst with a happy ending, Mutual Pining, Mentions of Character Death

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It was a date. He said it was a date. As much as that excited her, she didn’t want to jump into something too soon. Especially with her health. And when she explained that to Kristoff, he completely understood. Which only made her like him more.  

So, they were dating. But there wasn’t a label. Anna couldn’t bear saying she had a boyfriend during this trying time of her life. 

But, even though Kristoff wasn’t her “boyfriend” didn’t mean she didn’t start popping by the coffee shop on the regular to pay him little visits. It was always the same excuse—that Elsa wanted coffee. They both knew it was a lie, but it gave her a reason to go up to the register.  If she stuck around too long, sometimes Kristoff would take the coffee. S’mores lattes weren’t his favorite, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Anna had never used Snapchat—she’d thought it was silly to send pictures all the time—but after Kristoff asked if she had one, she downloaded the app in an instant. And, quickly, that became the way she kept him updated throughout her day. Kristoff’s snap stories were very sophisticated. They didn’t usually feature his face, but mostly the coffee shop with different work-day filters. Lots of snaps of Sven being excited when Kristoff arrived home from work. On the occasion, there would be a Sven shaming story if the dog tore something up while he was away. 

But the private snaps he sent to her privately were much goofier. And she appreciated that. Anna liked that he was so real with her. So himself. Maybe he put on a front for those who viewed his stories, but not her. 

Kristoff sent her a picture of a large spill of coffee all over the floor of the shop with a caption of “why” and that’s all. Anna couldn’t help but giggle from her seat in the hospital lounge. At least the chairs she sat in during chemo were comfortable. And with Kristoff sending her entertaining snaps, it made her day just a little better. He always had a way of cheering her up no matter how miserable she may have felt. 

She sent him a selfie of her grimacing and looking away from the camera with the caption “at least it’s not vomit this time”. Did she keep bringing it up? Yes. She was mortified about the whole situation, so making fun of it at least let Anna live down her shame. 

His response was quick. A selfie of him grinning stupidly with “i’ll clean up your vomit anytime” attached. She snorted at that. Why was he sweet and disgusting at the same time? But she appreciated it nonetheless. 

Dr. Mattias entered the room with his usual smile, preventing Anna from returning a snap. She’d have to wait and send him a response later. 

He greeted her as usual before sitting in the chair across from her. “So, Anna, how are you today?” 

“Pretty good, considering,” she replied with a smile. She couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy. It was probably a bit obvious to Dr. Mattias that she was bubblier than usual. But that was okay. Everyone was allowed a good day. Especially when on chemo. 

“That’s great,” he said, clicking his pen. “How are your symptoms?” 

Her mind flashed to her date with Kristoff. Pursing her lips, she glanced away. “Um, I was wondering about physical therapy?” 

Dr. Mattias seemed stunned at her words, his brows raising, but he answered her anyway. 

                                                     o~o~o~o

  Anna sent Kristoff a snap video of her walking on the sidewalk downtown towards the coffee shop. In response she got a blurry image of his face with “oh shit” across it. She couldn’t help but giggle. He really was funny, even if he didn’t want to admit it. She could tell Kristoff was jittery and had a rough exterior… but she planned on cracking it down. 

The bell rang above her head as she entered the door. There was a new barista there she didn’t recognize. The girl had raven hair and a darker complexion… she actually looked a lot like Ryder. Maybe, they were related? 

Kristoff smirked when he saw her. “Why hello there, how can I help you today?” 

“Hello, Christopher,” she cooed. 

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. “Oaken ordered me a new name tag, will you stop harassing me?” 

“No.” 

He snorted. “So, a s’mores latte for Elsa? ” Kristoff smirked, a knowing glint in those honey-brown eyes. 

Anna shook her head. “Nope! I’m having a cheat day. It’s getting chillier so I can reasonably get a hot cocoa. For Anna. ” 

“Well, well, well,” he grinned. “I finally get to write your name on a cup today.” 

Humming in response, Anna pulled out her wallet. “I guess it’s just your lucky day,” she teased with a grin before handing him her card. 

“Yeah, sure. It’s a true blessing when I get to write ‘Anna’ on a cup. As if it isn’t a common name.” 

“Bet you think about me every time another Anna comes in.” 

Kristoff’s cheeks flushed at that. “Shut up,” he pouted as he snatched a cup from the counter and headed over to the machine. 

Giggling, Anna moved to the side as the girl took the next customer. Her name tag said “Honeymaren.” Jeez, no wonder the owner couldn’t order the correct names. Did anyone here have a basic name? She was a little jealous of the uniqueness of it. Perhaps how her name was pronounced was a little different, but still. 

Kristoff returned with her cup and handed her the credit card as well. “Here’s your special cheat day drink, feisty pants. Glad you went with a caffeine free option.” 

“Well, I can’t get too crazy.” 

He laughed.

“When do you get off?” she asked, smiling slightly. 

Shoulders slumping, he sighed. “Still got a few hours today.  How about we meet up tomorrow? I have some work on the job site first, but I can see you afterwards?” 

Anna sipped at her hot cocoa with a smile. “I’d like that.” 

“I’ll text you?” 

“Yeah,” she said with a smile. 

                                                 o~o~o~o

  It didn’t take long after she left the coffee shop for the snapchats to start again. It was nice that she received so much attention from him. Kristoff really knew how to make a girl feel special.  

When Anna made it home, she was utterly exhausted. She crashed on the couch, finishing off her hot cocoa with a sigh. Setting the cup on the side table, she flopped back on the cushions. 

“Hey, long day?” 

Anna sighed when she saw Elsa rounding the couch to sit on the arm with a smile. “You don’t know the half of it,” she murmured. 

Elsa smiled at that. “I see an Arendelle Roasts cup, so someone paid Kristoff a visit.” 

“I did…” 

Her sister just gave a knowing smirk before looking away. “Sooo, how was chemo today?” 

“Same as usual… Miserable.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Well, it was a little better actually. Kristoff convinced me to get a Snapchat, and we’ve been snapping each other a lot. He sends me some really funny stuff. I dunno, it was just a nice positive during treatment today. Does that seem silly?” 

Elsa was smiling at her. “Whatever makes you happy, Anna. Just a little pick-me-up is better than nothing,” she paused, “but we both know Kristoff is a little more than that.” 

The dreamy sigh that left her lips was a bit embarrassing. She couldn’t help it though. Kristoff made her mushy inside. He really did make her happy. It was a nice change of pace. 

“He’s really great, Elsa. Why couldn’t I have found him sooner? Ugh, I wish he’d gone to academy… maybe I’d never been with Hans.” 

Her sister gave a small shrug. “Life works in funny ways. This was just the right time to meet him.” 

Humming, she nodded. “Maybe, you’re right. He did say he used to be kinda grumpy.” 

Anna heard a faint laugh before slowly nodding off to sleep. 

                                                 o~o~o~o

  Kristoff had asked her to meet him in the park the following day. Anna wore appropriate fall clothing. She was so excited that it was finally cooling down. The heat was so exhausting, especially while she was on chemo. The treatments made her feel so weak and heat did not mix well with her symptoms. It sucked. A lot. 

Fall would be a calmer time. She hadn’t yet experienced chemo with the cold… she wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. But her light jacket over her purple dress and dark leggings was comfortable and worked well with the temperature. She was a little disappointed she wouldn’t be able to participate in the pumpkin spice craze as it began due to her ban on caffeine. But it would just make it all the worthwhile for next fall. 

Anna sat on a swing that overlooked the pond. Ducks waddled by, making her giggle at their quacking. There were a few girls sitting on a picnic blanket nearby… but Anna chose to ignore their frequent glances in her direction. It wasn’t exactly a poor you stare, so Anna wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. So, she stared at her phone and ignored them the best she could. 

Only when Kristoff told her that he’d arrived did she look up from her spot. She waved at him when she saw him crossing the browning grass. He wore a clean green flannel, but the skin beneath glistened. His hairline was damp as well. Clearly, he’d gotten a bit sweaty while working on the site. It was strange… the sudden spike in her libido at seeing him like this despite her sex drive practically being nonexistant since her first few months of chemo. Sure, she’d had thoughts about Kristoff before, but not like this. She hadn’t felt desire for someone in so long. And Kristoff definitely triggered such a reaction from her. 

But how was she to help it? His shaggy blonde hair, tanned skin in sight where his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, rugged torn jeans, and work boots… it suited him. And Anna couldn’t get enough of it. As much as she loved Kristoff in a cream colored apron and a button up, this just did many different things to her. 

Kristoff returned her gesture, waving a large palm in her direction as he sped up to reach her. There was a grin etched along his lips as he approached. When he came to sit with her on the swing, it seemed entirely natural for him to place an arm on the back of the bench behind her as Anna snuggled into his side. 

“Hey, how was work today?” she asked, smiling up at him. 

Giving a lopsided shrug, he hummed. “Nothing too exciting. Building, measuring, hammering--the usual,” he glanced down at her. “How was yours?” 

“Laid around, puked some, drank a smoothie because I can’t chew--the usual,” she laughed bitterly. 

“It’ll get better, you know.” 

Sighing, she nodded and leaned her head against his chest. “I know.” 

“Did you talk to your doctor about your symptoms?” 

Anna sighed. “Yes, we decided on some physical therapy options to help blood flow to my fingers. I just--God, Kristoff, I can’t wait until this is over. I mean, I know it’ll never be over over. Dr. Mattias already told me I’ll have to go back for regular number checks the rest of my life once in remission. But there can’t help but be that part of me that wonders if there’s more they don’t know about. If I’ll never actually be in remission and--oh, jeez. I’m sorry, Kristoff, I’m totally being negative and rambling.” 

Kristoff’s palm patted her upper arm lightly. His eyes seemed so sad when he regarded her. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re free to rant as you please. Don’t stop for my sake.” 

She couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you. I don’t mean to just--talk about myself so much.”

“I like hearing you talk about yourself.” 

She snorted. “Don’t lie.” 

Cocking a brow, he smirked. “But I do. I really admire you, ya know? The way despite how everything you’re going through, you manage to keep a smile on your face.” 

Anna felt herself swoon at the compliment and hoped her reaction didn’t show too much on her face. Even though she trusted Kristoff, she had jumped into a relationship too quickly before, so she didn’t want the blonde to know how crazy she was about him. How much his compliments meant to her. Even the small ones. 

She responded by snuggling closer to his chest, pressing her body against his own. God, he was so much bigger than her. Anna knew she was scrawny from treatments… would he still be this broad compared to her even when her body returned to a healthier weight? She glanced down between them, noticing his hand sitting on his own thigh. Without a second thought, she grabbed his palm with both of her own. Anna idly played with his fingers, really noticed the contrast with her own. His hands were so healthy while hers… were so boney. And tiny. And weak. Her fingers ached just trying to squeeze his. 

Kristoff chuckled, turning his palm over and opening his fingers to her. Anna’s lips twitched and she gazed up at him as she intertwined her fingers with his. Humming, she relaxed into his touch as his thumb gently rubbed the back of her hand. The touch actually sent a warming sensation to the tips of her tingly fingers. 

It was nice being like this. To just enjoy one another’s company. She was sure she would find something else to talk about, but for now… this was enough. 

As she opened her mouth to speak, she looked up at him. Only to see him scowling off in another direction. His brows were pinched and a tight frown was etched along his lips. Anna followed his line of sight to see who he was glaring so harshly at. It was the two girls who had been staring at her earlier. They were giggling and whispering at their phones until they looked up and saw Kristoff’s eyes on them. The smiles on their faces quickly fell as they both glanced around uncomfortably, each looking very ashamed. Kristoff didn’t stop his squint until the two girls packed their things and quickly left. 

The entire encounter didn’t last but five minutes, but it felt like an eternity to Anna. What had they done to make Kristoff so angry?

“W-What was that all about?” 

His face relaxed as they watched him leave, eyes softening when he gazed at her. “Sorry, they were taking pictures.” 

Anna felt her cheeks flush as she glanced down at her lap. “Oh…” There was a beat of silence for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. “Well, I now know what you meant when you said you used to be grumpy. That glare could scare off anyone.” 

Snorting, he shook his head. “Sorry… People like that just piss me off. It’s not your fault that you’re going through this. You aren’t a side-show attraction.” 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” 

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s you that’s amazing.” 

She giggled at that before tapping on her knee and pursing her lips. “I… I-I need to know, Kristoff. What did you really think of me when you first saw me?” 

“That you’re beautiful. You have the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen, and your freckles are adorable.” 

“That’s it? You didn’t think ‘oh, poor thing she looks sick?’” 

He shook his head. “You’ll never look like that to me, Anna.” 

Her lips twitched. “Yeah? What will I look like?” 

“A fighter.” 

Anna’s eyes went wide. Her cheeks flushed as she glanced away. “That’s just cheesy, and you know it.” 

“But it’s true,” he said with a grin. 

“You think I’m really a fighter?” 

“Yeah, like a warrior who has a battle to win. And I have no doubts you’ll see this fight to the end. Don’t you believe so?” 

Anna squeezed his palm. “As long as I have you.” 

[wisdomrays]

TAFAKKUR: Part 33

Your Ear: Part 2

Maintaining your balance

So far, what I have told you about is my duty to hear. Now I must also tell you about my duty of balance, so that you can better understand how miraculous I am.

Have you ever seen an acrobat walking on a rope or a mountain climber in action? Or shall I give a better example that might be more familiar to you? Remember what you do on your bicycle to keep from falling off. At the slightest mistake, the acrobat might topple from the rope, the climber might slip off the cliff face, and you might fall off your bicycle. While you are making unconscious (reflex) movements to keep your balance, have you ever thought about what busy operations are going on in my system? I have been equipped with very sensitive receptors which help you stay stable during your continual, different movements. Those receptors immediately recognize the changes occurring as a result of your slightest motion; they warn your body to adjust to your new position by sending out information to the spinal cord and to the brain about the new situation.

You may wonder how these two processes, hearing and balance, can take place in such a small area of the body, the inner ear. It is our Creator, God, who puts microscopic cells in a narrow place and runs the most sensitive and important operations via those little cells.

How do you feel the sensation of balance and how do you react with the right reflex action? To find an answer to that, you need to re-examine my anatomical structures mentioned before. At the base of my semicircular canals is a bulb-like enlargement which opens to the saccule and the utricle. My three semicircular canals are situated at 90-degree angles to each other in three-dimensional space.

My semicircular canals contain few sensory hair cells but there are plenty of them in the bulb-like enlargement. The strands of these cells, which are placed delicately, have enough elasticity to twist and bend during a movement. The receptors for balance in the saccule and the utricle are covered by a thin membrane which contains a gelatinous layer and tiny calcite crystals (cupula terminalis). Depending on its density, the endolymph fluid in my semicircular canals moves against the direction that your head and body move in. Similar to the uncontrolled movement of passengers in an accelerating or moving vehicle, depending on the speed and the direction, the movement and the speed of the endolymph differs from the general movement of your body. For example, when a car turns right, the passengers move to the left with the turning acceleration, and when a fast-moving car brakes suddenly, the passengers are thrown forward. Similarly, depending on its acceleration and momentum, every change in your movement causes the fluid in my semicircular canals to move. Triggered by the movement of the endolymph fluid, the gelatinous mass with the calcite pieces is displaced, causing the strands of the receptors to twist. Every movement of your head warns the cells of different parts, and via the vestibular nerve (nervus vestibularis) the nervous system is notified of changes occurring in your balance.

Thankfulness and contemplation

You have now seen what amazing works my two compartments, the balance and the hearing organs produce. All through your life, the former serves you by maintaining your balance without missing any of your movements, while the latter enables you to learn about the thousands of types of sounds in the world. Once you consider all of your movements in your life, you will see that my two organs perform their duties perfectly without ever getting tired, giving up, or complaining. We do not ask for any fee from you in return for those benefits, either. In fact, when God Almighty created you, placed us in your skull and set up our connection with the related center in your brain, He did not ask for any fee from you. All He wants you to do is to think about those blessings and be thankful to Him.

If you visited a hospital, you might see a lot of scenes which would lead you to think about God’s blessings on you and thank Him. Serious ear illnesses include middle ear infection (otitis media), which is frequently seen in children; otosclerosis, which is the limited ability of the stapes to transmit sound waves because its base becomes fixed to the oval window; and several hearing disorders which might be present at birth or occur later in life, depending on the level of damage to the auditory nerve. Witnessing the effects of those illnesses, you would understand how important it is to be able to hear and stand straight and balanced, and so see how blessed you are. At every step you take, when you are lying down or standing up, or every time you hear the twittering of birds, a nice melody, or the sweet voice of your parents, you will now appreciate the greatness and the mercy of our Lord God Almighty, who has engraved the meanings of all those sounds in your mind.

Until now, you have used me to listen to others, but today it was my turn to be listened to while I told you about myself. However, I must admit that I have only been able to explain to you the details of about one-hundredth of the beauties displayed in me and my delicate anatomical structure. If I attempted to present you with all the details about me discovered by developing technology and science and the meanings attached to them, there would not be enough pages in the magazine that you are holding now. Indeed, you do not need that much information either. My main aim here is to draw your attention to me, and thus let you know our God and bring you closer to Him. I hope I am successful in that. From now on, you will hear my ringing occasionally and remember me so that you will be saved from your heedlessness once again.

[tsunnychan]

a change of pace: new year’s celebrations

i can finally rest.... this is the last piece of sylvgrid i’ll write for the next few months to come

it’s been a crazy run (I have never written so much since high school) and every second has been enjoyable

reconnecting and making new friends @shining-jul-of-hope and @nicolewrites to die on the new sylvgrid hill :). i might not be writing or as active, but i’ll definitely be reading!!

ao3 

summary: on the brink of the New Year, Ingrid recounts the friendships she's made and the ones maintained.during the actual countdown, she thinks of something else.

-

It is about five o’clock in the evening on New Year’s Eve, but that didn’t stop Sylvain from bringing out the alcohol and board games. Currently, there’s a rather large gathering around the dining table to watch, apparently, the most intense game of Monopoly to date. Hilda and Marianne stand behind Claude, looking over his shoulder and counting the amount of properties he owned. Meanwhile, Annette is pulling on Felix’s arm as she verbally counts out loud how many properties and railroads Sylvain owns as he casually waves off her concerns, gesturing for Petra to roll the dice, Ashe sitting to her right explaining the rules. Once she does, the sounds of simultaneous glee and frustrated groans erupt immediately after, several hands reaching for their drinks, grumbling as they took more shots.

Ingrid snorts into her drink as she watches Sylvain and Claude exchange high-fives across the table, while Petra holds up a handful of rainbow paper in confusion with Ashe frantically trying to explain the different values of money.

She mutters to herself, “those two should never be allowed to play boardgames together…”

She’s just about to take another sip when a warm arm wraps around her waist and a teasing voice singsongs into her ear, “Ooh, Ingie! Scoping out which boy you’d like to smooch tonight?”

Ingrid chokes and almost spits out her drink.

Thankfully, Dorothea waves off any worried glances sent their way with a wink, patting Ingrid’s back not-so apologetically as she tries to catch her breath.

Face red and still coughing, Ingrid glares at the innocent smile on her friend’s face. “That is not what I’m doing.”

Dorothea sighs dramatically and slides into the stool next to her, resting her elbows on the countertop. “Pity. I’m sure one of them would’ve enjoyed that.”

Despite not drinking anything, Ingrid almost chokes again. Her mind briefly flashes to the jade pendant in her room before she violently pushes the thought away, hoping, praying, the sudden heat on her cheeks is passable for alcohol. She whips her head over to friend, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean by that?”

The mock-forlorn expression on Dorothea’s face melts into one of mischief. “Oh, Ingie. I’m not one to spill other people’s secrets.” She wiggles her fingers at her, the blue gemstone of her ring sparkling under the kitchen lights. Dorothea winks again. “Besides, you know I’d much rather keep you to myself.”

Ingrid sighs, exasperated, but smiles anyway. She sips at her drink carefully, not wanting a repeat performance of earlier. “Well, all of that aside, I’m glad you like the ring enough to wear it often. I’m not very good at picking out jewelry… but I really wanted to thank you. You saved me from a huge headache.”

Just thinking about that disastrous blind date from last year makes her nauseous. At her father’s request, she’d agreed to meet with a potential business partner, interested in bailing out her father’s company and taking over production costs. These requests had steadily streamed in after… Glenn’s accident, so it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, nor anything she couldn’t handle on her own.

So, she went to the meeting alone.

It’d been some distance away from Garreg Mach, closer to Mittelfrank Opera House, and a corner of her mind began sending her warning signals. She stood across the street from the appointed address, and she just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Then, a slim arm looped around hers and tugged, a sweet voice gasping, loud and abrasive, “Oh, Ingrid! This is where you were? You should’ve told me you got lost! I would’ve escorted you myself!”

And suddenly, she and this mystery brunette were flying down the street and she was thrust through the doors of the opera house. Ingrid was still busy trying to catch her breath and figure out how this girl new her name and why that gut feeling of hers disappeared.

The doors slammed shut and Ingrid flinched. She looked up, the other girl dusting off her clothes and rearranging her skirt. She looked vaguely familiar… Before she could voice her thoughts, the other girl made eye contact and smiled. “Well, Ingie, I’d say we dodged a huge bullet there. Perhaps, literally.”

Several thoughts ran through Ingrid’s mine, but the first one that came out was, “Ingie?”

She received a coy smile in response. “Ingrid Galatea, right? Sylvain’s friend?”

Ingrid’s head swirled even more. “How do you know Sylvain? Wait, don’t answer that—”

At that, the other girl threw her head back and laughed, so freely, that Ingrid wondered what she’d said. She watched as the other gleefully wiped tears from her eyes, smile wide on her face. “Oh, Ingrid. Sylvain is cute, but…” she winks, and Ingrid feels herself flush. “He’s not my type.”

Seeing her confusion, the other girl’s playful smile turned gentle. “In all seriousness, we worked part-time jobs together. He comes to the opera house now and then to help out and relax. He talks about you all the time”

After a few more moments of silence, Ingrid finally forced out the questions she meant to ask. “Who are you? And why did you bring me here?”

A mixed expression flashed over her face, but it’s not there long enough for Ingrid to recognize. “I’m Dorothea Arnault. I’m actually in the year above you, which is probably why you haven’t seen me around before… and as a Blue Lions’ kid, I doubt you’ve been around the Black Eagles dorms very often. As for bringing you here…”

Ingrid felt a sudden chill as Dorothea’s eyes turned hard. “Let’s just say that scumbag businessman you were going to meet? The only thing he has to his name is blood money.”

She freezes. “What?”

Dorothea scowled and crossed her arms. “He’s a frequent visitor to the opera house, donating this or that. Our company looked him up and we’ve banned him for life.”

“How did you know where I was going?”

Dorothea sighed heavily. “The opera house may have banned him, but we don’t have the power to remove someone from the city. That building you were going to? That’s his base of operations. He’s got this whole region wrapped around his pinky with blackmail.”

Ingrid shifted uncomfortably, dread settling in her stomach with this new information. She was going to have to write her father back. Another thought popped into her head. “I might be Sylvain’s friend, but you’ve never met me before. How did you know it was me?”

Dorothea laughed again, shaking her head. “Ingie, Sylvain paints a very vivid picture of the best friend who cleans up after him.”

Ingrid couldn’t help but scoff and roll her eyes, muttering, “Sylvain…”

Dorothea walked to her side and held out her hand. “As insufferable as he is, he does care. He’d cover my shifts so I could come back here to perform. So… any friend of his, is a friend of mine.”

Ingrid felt the corner of her mouth lift and took the proffered hand. “He does have his redeeming qualities, doesn’t he?”

Dorothea laughed again and linked their arms together. “That he does. Speaking of performances, we have one in a few hours. How would you like to stay and help? As a thank you to your lovely savior?”

Ingrid flustered. “Well, I’m not much of a performer—”

“Then how about you stay and watch? I’ll even give you a make-over, free of charge.”

“I thought you said this was my ‘thank you’ to you?”

Dorothea winked and bowed dramatically, and Ingrid realized exactly why Sylvain and Dorothea were friends. “And it would be such a gift to dress you, Miss Galatea.”

Ingrid wasn’t able to get many other words in edgewise, as Dorothea pushed her to the dressing rooms and threw her a slew of dresses to try on. A few weeks later, Ingrid nervously entered the Black Eagles dormitory for the first time and handed off a little black box to Dorothea. “I know this isn’t much and I’m not the best at picking gifts—”

She was promptly pounced upon after her new friend saw the glittering blue gemstone set in a simple band. She received an exaggerated, wet kiss on her cheek. “Oh, Ingie! You shouldn’t have!”

Ingrid laughed as Dorothea’s hold on her grew tighter. “You’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t have, if it’s going to give you the wrong ideas.”

Dorothea pulled back and smiled innocently. “Me? Never.”

Ever since then, she and Dorothea had met up regularly. She would always run by her father’s requests with her and they would go on the occasional shopping trips where Dorothea urged her to try on far too many clothes out of her comfort zone.

But even then, Ingrid appreciates it. Having grown up with brothers and having three additional headaches to monitor in the form of her childhood friends… it’s nice to be taken care of for the things she never cared about before.

Then, Dorothea reaches over and swipes her drink, finishing it off in one go, breaking her out of her reverie. Ingrid raises her eyebrows, growing apprehensive. Dorothea only ever pulls a stunt like that when she’s ready to talk her into something she will wholeheartedly not agree with. “…What are you plotting now, Thea?”

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Dorothea grins. “How about a little make-over?”

Four hours later, Ingrid now sits in her bathroom, fidgeting in a gauzy mint dress, as Dorothea adds another layer of eyeshadow. “Dorothea… is all of this really necessary?”

“Ingrid! Tonight’s a special occasion! Didn’t you say you would dress up for special occasions?”

She wrinkles her nose as Dorothea brushes over it with blush. “I’ve celebrated New Year’s with everyone before and I’ve never dressed up.”

Dorothea sighs and sets down her brushes with a clatter, and Ingrid takes this as her cue to open her eyes. She’s slightly taken aback at her reflection, gold glittering on her eyelids, cheeks rosy, lips glossed… She gulps. “Dorothea… what are you getting at with all of this?”

Her friend sighs again and sets her hands on her shoulders, resting her chin on top of Ingrid’s head. “Ingrid, were you really not scoping out a boy to smooch tonight?”

She splutters, “W-what? No! What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, some of Fódlan folklore says the first person you meet on New Year’s and how you meet them, determines the rest of your year. And a kiss is for strengthening ties you want to maintain in the future.”

Ingrid’s face is impossibly hot and she wonders how strong the alcohol Sylvain bought really was… “W-what’s your point?”

“Not thinking about Claude or Sylvain?”

The heat in her face instantaneously spreads to the rest of her body and she physically bats away a laughing Dorothea. “No! Dorothea, why would you say that?”

Her friend shrugs, sly smile on her face. “No particular reason, just curious. You seemed so amused looking in their direction. I just wanted to know which of the two you were looking at.”

Ingrid stares at her friend in mortification, but only receives a wink in response. “Or maybe… both?”

Ingrid shoots up from her stool and covers her face, only to have her hands wrenched away. “Your make-up, Ingrid! Don’t smudge it!”

“Dorothea!”

Taking pity, Dorothea sighs and sits Ingrid back down, gently smoothing down her hair. “Relax, Ingie. I’m only teasing… mostly.”

Still burning in embarrassment, Ingrid mutters, “I was looking at them because I was thinking how they should never be allowed to play boardgames together… They’re going to drink everyone under the table at this rate.”

Dorothea snorts and begins to rifle through Ingrid’s jewelry collection. Her eyes land a new white box and she opens it. “Ingrid, when did you get this pendant?”

Ingrid’s eyes dart to the piece in question. “Oh. Sylvain bought that in Sreng for me as my Christmas present.”

Dorothea hums noncommittedly as she fishes out a delicate silver chain from her own jewelry box. She threads it through the pendant and places it around Ingrid’s neck, fastening the clasp.

Ingrid’s eyes widen. “Thea, isn’t this your chain—?”

“Hmm, think of it as a gift. You gave me a ring, and I’ll give you a necklace chain.”

Ingrid’s fingers hover over the jade pendant and Dorothea smiles at her in the mirror. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

  Reminded me of you.

  For the third time today, Ingrid feels herself flush.

Ingrid is two drinks into the night when she finally finds Sylvain leaning against the far wall of the living room, nursing a near empty cup with a similarly empty expression on his face. She joins him, shoulders brushing, only slightly worried when he didn’t so much as look in her direction. She purses her lips. “What, lose all that hard-earned money from Monopoly today?”

Sylvain blinks and his eyes adjust to her. He’s silent for a few more moments, studying her. Then, he laughs and shakes his head. “Well, you know Claude.”

She knocks his elbow with hers. “I also know you.”

He snorts. “That you do.” Then, “is that the necklace?”

Her stomach lurches suddenly and she forces herself to nod. “Yeah, it is. Dorothea gave me the chain for it.”

Sylvain is silent again, before the corner of his lips curl up. “It’s pretty. You look nice, Ingrid.”

There’s a blush burning on her cheeks yet again, and another that starts in the center of her chest. She swallows hard, their conversation on Christmas Eve pushing to the forefront of her mind. Of the words she didn’t say out loud. “Hey, Sylvain?”

“Hm?” His head rolls toward her, lazy smile on his face. The countdown to the New Year fades into the background and Ingrid never realized how golden his eyes could get. She drops her head to his shoulder abruptly, heat shooting down her spine. She’s definitely had one too many drinks.

“Ing?”

His hand is hovering over hers, and before she can overthink it, she grabs it and squeezes. She swallows the lump in her throat, trying not to think about the heat of his palm and how right it feels with his fingers slotted between hers. She forces herself to meet his gaze again. “I’m glad you’re home.”

She can hear Annette and Ashe scream, “Happy New Year!” from the other side of the room, but she’s focused on the pink in Sylvain’s cheeks and wonders if it’s from the alcohol he brought. A tight squeeze of her hand brings her eyes back to his. Somehow, the gold in his eyes melts even further and she’s lost. So lost, as her mouth dries when that small smile, just for her, grows on his lips. “Me too.”

And maybe not for the first time, if she’s honest with herself, Ingrid wonders what it would be like to kiss her best friend with the secret sunshine smile.

[sugar-cookie-french-toast]

Letting the Lady Lead

Written for my Secret Santa,  Wanderoyy, who Ships Goldie and Scrooge and wanted Bottom!Scrooge with Dom/sub dynamics... They say we canot send things any later than December 17.  Is there a rule about sending it too early?

He closed his eyes and slowly let air in and out of his lungs, doing his best to draw all the tension he’d built up flow from him.

  He felt a deceptively delicate hand slide gently down his arms and a warm smile crossed his face.

  “They good?” The Lady asked.

  Scrooge tested the binding on his wrists.

  They were tight.

  Barring some unforeseeable accident that rendered the binds unusable, he’d have to work to get out of them, but they were not so confining as to put him ill at ease.

  His knots were, suffice to say, were perfect. As was to be expected of Goldie O’Gilt.

  “Good, enough.” He said outloud, allowing a small thread of approval into his voice.

  “Will you manage to behave yourself if I don’t tie your ankles down?” Goldie teased.

  Her tone was light and easy, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a serious question.

  Scrooge was self-aware enough to know he’d been too aggravated, his mind pulled to the edge far too to frequently lately.

  He wondered if part of that was because he hadn’t been given a chance in far too long to just let go, running a business, making money, adventuring with his family, well, that was all fine and dandy on its own, but there were some things that, in the minds of a sexual being, well…needed the warm touch of a lover to settle.

  “I…” He began, searching his mind for an answer.

  An honest question, developed in concern for his person merited an honest answer.

  “I donae rightly know…”

  He sighed in obvious frustration, wracking his mind, trying to form some sort of answer for his partner but Goldie shook her head, beautifully coiffed tresses dangled immaculately about her head as she pressed her beak against his in a kiss.

  Those wickedly talented fingers moved up the inside of his thighs, instinctively resulting in a pleasing tremble up their owner’s spine.

  Goldie smiled at his shivering then lightly nipped at Scrooge’s chin, causing the man to jerk his head upwards, biting his tongue at the feeling of her teeth snagging at his skin.

  “You don’t know?” She repeated, the Duck’s sharp eyes assessing him, leaving everything that he was open to her private scrutiny.

  “Not very forthcoming, I must say.” Goldie said, frowning herself.

  “You know I don’t like dealing in ‘maybes’.”

  The Lady kissed Scrooge’s forehead, and he hummed, enjoying the feel of her beak rustling up against him.

  “At least not here, in this bedroom we’re just us.” She patted his fluffy head then ran her fingers through his white downy feathers.

  “You and me.”

  She lowered herself to eye level.

  Scrooge sighed, frowning then—

  “Not tonight.”

  At the Lady’s startled expression, he hastened to explain that he had intended that statement to be directed towards Goldie’s earlier question.  Scrooge was grateful for the feathers that obscured the resulting blush burning across his face as he admitted to this.

  But when he opened his eyes and met Goldie’s he knew the woman did not judge him for it.

  He relaxed a little in his bonds.

  This was always the hardest part of their nights together.

  The powerful persona he had constructed over the tatty little thing he was in his youth was his protection against the world that would always see him for his pitiable beginnings if he didn’t do his damndest to hide the true reality of utter poverty from prying eyes. Little by little as he had scrapped the pieces of what had made up the old him, tossed it to the pyre like so much rubbish, to the point whose many who had known him in his youth would barely have recognized him had they lived to see him fully materialized as an adult.

  He was what he had made himself to be, the daring adventure capitalist Scrooge McDuck, and what little was left of the little Scottish shoe shiner was buried so far down scientists had yet discovered a method of reaching it.

  Though his origins were never far from his thoughts, he had in short, let the imaginary persona consume his life.

  And now he was being asked to give it up.

  To release himself from his burden, and allow someone else to take over. It was difficult to admit, even to himself that there were times, like tonight, that he didn’t want to have to control himself.

  What he wanted, needed, if he were truly honest, was for the Lady to take the lead this time.

  He’d been forced to exercise enough control in his normal everyday life that some small part of him could admit that perhaps a brief divorce between himself and self-control was certainly in order.

  To permit himself the freedom to let go and not worry about revenge plots from one of his many enemies, disgruntled employees and their inventions, the worries that came with having his family returned to him, and the fragile egos of his company’s investors or even the betrayal of his own body whenever Goldie’s thawing presence drew too near.

  He thought of that last and sighed in something very near surrender but with almost none of its negative assets

  (even now he could admit to being a tad self-conscious about just how much he wanted this, he was over a century in age and far too old to be acting like a hormonal youth).

  “I don’t presume to think I could, even if I wanted to.”

  This was admitted in a voice so quiet he almost didn’t recognize it as his own, biting his tongue again.

  Goldie’s lovely smile shifted to something warm, and with that small movement alone, Scrooge knew.

  She understood.

  It wasn’t surprising. The two had been participating in whatever this was for long enough to be able to make a mostly accurate read on each other and they both knew to watch for the signs that it was time to make sure they had a night alone.

  He’d done the same for her, the years and millage making it difficult to discern exactly how many times.

  “It’s all right.”

  Goldie said leaning in, pressing a firm beak against his own, gently taking her time, and deepening it inch by inch.

  “I’ve got you, Scroogie.”

  She said, and this close to her, bound to O’Gilt’s presence in more ways than one, he could even believe it.

  “You’re safe.”

  She whispered the words like a promise but oh so slow and soft, a sweet secret sealed with a kiss, just like she always did in times like these.

  “Anything goes four letter, you will inform me at once.”

  Scrooge nodded, sinking against the plush armchair.

  “Agreed.”

  He said it simply, not taking his eyes off his companion.

  The feel of his hands moving over his feathers, rubbing slow circles over his thighs and stomach and chest, working small amounts of sweet smelling oils into it that mingled nicely with his usual cologne.

  It was intoxicating.

  Those hands worked him hard and long, her fingers delving into places he wouldn’t have even thought of touching himself, it seemed impossible for something so simple to feel so right, and watch her move, so rhythmic and precise, he knew Goldie must have had many other lovers to work so well yet he feel no jealousy.

  No, he praised them as he praised Goldie within and without, letting this strong, hypnotic, vision of a woman handle him with grace the courtesans of old could only have dreamed of.

  So wrapped up in what must be heaven taken physical form, it took a moment for his pleasure addled mind to register that Goldie had spoken a question.

  “Safe-word?” The Lady asked, a little more insistently.

  His immediate thought made him smirk, and he grinned up at her in amusement.

  “Glomgold.”

  This earned him a smack across his bum as the Duck rolled his eyes in exasperation.

  “Outta bust your chops for that one, McDuck.”

  Her muttering were mutinous but she allowed it nonetheless, telling him, without words that his partner was more amused than annoyed.

  Goldie held herself over Scrooge, kissing his beak with a gentleness he had not experienced from anyone else in his long years of existence, it was finer than any time aged wine and Scrooge relaxed into it, even as Goldie reached for the buckskin paddle on the bedside table, he found himself simply acknowledging the beauty of the situation to himself.

  When it was all over, after he had moaned and twitched and given everything he was to her, like an offering to an ancient goddess of old, sacrificing himself be whatever Goldie had wanted of him, he would take the time to appreciate the trust and the mutual rewards involved in this intimacy of theirs. He would reflect on why it was that Goldie was the only person he would ever let see him like this.

  Goldie was the one he could let it all go with because she was the only one who could pick it all back up again without letting any of the internal mess he had made of things bleed over into other areas of his life. She walked the boundaries between personal and public lives and knew their blades and jagged edges all too well herself.

  But in those precious moment when pain intermingled with pleasure he found there was no real need to think about it, or anything at all really.

  The woman held him tightly in his thrall. Goldie had everything under control and Scrooge found he trusted her with that power, and by acknowledging both he found that was enough to give him a type of freedom all its own.

[northeasternwind]

more SI xcom garbage, #2

Wow, this is a lot of fun to write but super boring to read. As compensation I have included a Bonus Bradford chapter that was originally only going to be posted at the end where the other characters react to the ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I may have the order of some events mixed up look at how low-effort this is

There are injuries on your first op, but no deaths, so the mood is bright when the Skyranger returns with the converter in tow. Central smiles and claps you on the back on his way to debrief the troops, and you get the feeling that perfect missions are quite the breath of fresh air around here. Poor Bradford.

You learn that you can still see numerical health and probability values, which is a fucking godsend, and combat still appears to be your-turn-their-turn, although that’s not what the troops remember when you take a peek at their after-action reports later. You’re certain this is one of the easier difficulties, because their aim is much better than it should be (ha ha. ha.), but that also means that when they inevitably miss they’re going to be in much more danger than they would have been otherwise. Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer…

Anyway, you decide that on the guerilla side of things, living life as a rebel leader isn’t going to be much harder than just playing XCOM. Which is good, because otherwise you’d get everyone fucking killed. But you assume there’s more to this than just the combat, so you head down to the hangar to start getting a feel for What Normal People Are Like Here.

Shen’s enthusiasm is indeed endearing in person, and you instantly decide that you love her as she rushes past. A real person, especially an Asian woman, would not take kindly to being cooed over the way you intend to do to the Senior Command team, but as they are not real you decide you don’t really care as long as they don’t find out. War is hell; may as well find entertainment where you can.

“We’ll be able to get the ship off the ground with this!” she tells you excitedly. You grin, unable to help mirroring her excitement, and watch her wheel the thing away with the help of some of the other staff. She… It’s not hero worship, exactly, but she’s almost as eager to help you as Central is, and you can’t really bear the thought of letting her put so much effort into this war only to find that you are the weak link. So you resolve again to try your best.

You soon discover that you can, in fact, live your life outside of missions if you so choose—you only seem to have “control” during your free time and thank god, because the minutia of commanding is lost on you—but frequently it is much easier to simply let time pass the way you’re used to while playing. Day and night pass before your eyes on the hologlobe, the crew discovers Central’s lack of flight experience, and your trance is only interrupted when Tygan informs you that his research on the weapon mods is completed.

Because you already know what the chip does, of course. Weapon mods are more important and so, for that matter, is armor, which is why you set him to hybrid materials next.

“Commander,” he says evenly, though not without some vexation you think. “I am certain our soldiers appreciate your dedication to their safety in the field. However, given your vegetative state after your rescue and Advent’s penchant for invasive implants, I would recommend that we investigate the technology we extracted from you as soon as possible.”

If this were actually happening to you, you would agree. However, it is not, and you already know that you have nothing to worry about in that regard, so you stick to your guns:

“The chip is next on the agenda. I promise, Tygan.”

Tygan looks unhappy, but he nods. “Of course, Commander. I’ll have a full report available for you as soon as we’re finished.”

You choose to return immediately to the hologlobe. You generally have no memory of traveling from the bridge to research or back again, but instead of jumping right back to what you were doing your awareness instead transitions to walking onto the bridge, as Central speaks with—

Oh. The War of the Chosen DLC is turned on.

“Actually think they might show up,” Central says to himself before turning to you. For a second his expression shifts to one of disapproving concern, and you take a second to wonder what exactly you’ve been doing while passing the time.

Then his expression clears and he gets down to business. “Commander, that was Konstantin Volikov…”

The Skirmishers are adorable and you love them. They would resent that, but you don’t care.

Your only one, of course, is currently in the hands of the Assassin (who has fucking Shadowstep), but you’re pretty confident about your chances of getting him back. Elena petitions Volk for support herself, apparently not wanting to lose the one and only Skirmisher she actually knows to be friendly.

They’re all friendly, perhaps the most so of all three factions. It makes you sad that the reasons no one trusts them essentially boil down to looks and mind control, but there’s really nothing to be done about that. As long as your troops follow your orders, it doesn’t really matter if they trust the Skirmishers or not. After some thought though, you take the intercom and inform the crew that any hazing worse than biting off raw fish heads will be harshly disciplined. You’re not sure how yet, but Bradford will probably figure that out for you.

You actually can’t send out a team to find Mox just at the moment, so you set your men and Betos to locating the Templars first (because Templars with Bladestorm are your favorite units, and if you’re going to live through an alien-zombie apocalypse you’re at least going to have fun damn it) and return to monitoring the Hologlobe.

Next order of business, it turns out, is the first retaliation.

Central’s unrestrained distress and general yelling is much more… alarming in person. You’re not used to a Call of Duty protagonist as openly idealistic as he is, and generally you associate raised voices with danger.

“Commander—!”

“I know. Get a squad ready to—”

He brushes past you and is out the door before you even finish. Poor guy.

The yelling is slightly less endearing when you’re trying to focus on giving orders—despite all the obvious advantages of your Phenomenal Cosmic Powers, it turns out XCOM is still harder when you have to actually, verbally tell your soldiers what to do. If you open your mouth it’ll probably be to say something mean, so you decide to ignore him instead.

You never really realized how much Movie Screaming is just stock audio. Even if you never recognized it, there must be some part of you that can tell that the screaming you’re hearing now isn’t like the sounds you hear in fiction. A shiver runs through your whole body, but the fact that you don’t actually get to see anyone dying is very helpful.

The Faceless are worse. In the game their skin appears more leathery than their description seems to imply, but in person you get to see them in all their slimy, oozing glory. A woman’s face melts, elongating into something from your nightmares, and your hand flies to your mouth as you dry-heave.

“We’ve heard rumors of some kind of new alien infiltration unit,” Central says. “I’m guessing this is it.”

You hastily swallow past the lump in your throat. “That’s gross. Yikes. Ignore it for now, focus on that sectoid first…”

It’s only when the Assassin comes within visual range that you remember that she, in fact, exists. You can’t control whether or not they decide to pay your squad a visit so there’s no point in making the effort to remember.

“That’s the Elders’ Assassin,” Central reminds you unnecessarily, raising his voice at the sight of her.

You purse your lips. If things continue ringing true to the game, the Assassin will be a much bigger problem in combat than her brothers, who mostly piddle around at the edges of the map and do nothing. Well, with Shadowstep you have no way to prepare for her, so you order your soldiers to remain within visual range of each other and ignore Central’s incredulity at your lack of further orders.

You manage to clean up the situation and kill the Assassin with only five civilian casualties, but the entire team is injured and Central looks ready to strangle the Speaker with his bare hands. You do have Faceless corpses for making those sweet, sweet meme beacons, but you promised Tygan you’d let him work on that chip and then you have to get the radio research going. And you’ll probably get distracted by other, shinier research after that, so you doubt you’ll end up capitalizing on this opportunity.

Still, no one is dead. ...None of your people, anyway.

Between the Resistance Ring, the infirmary and the Gorilla Tictacs School you have neither space nor power for the Proving Grounds. Tygan hasn’t recommended it yet, but you know it’s coming and set your only engineer to digging out towards the exposed power coils. She’s a little disgruntled at the less engaging work, but you don’t care.

You keep the soldiers on a rotation, train up the rookies and smash a relay that would have guaranteed ambushes on all your covert ops (no. But you have an awful track record with those, so you tend to think of any risk as being guaranteed). Nothing of note happens until your covert operatives return with a new friend, the location of Templar HQ and directions on how to contact Geist.

“We understand the value of cooperation,” Geist tells you over… well, Skype. “Your reputation preceeds you, Commander— in two months you have accomplished more than the rest of the Resistance has in two decades.”

“I have good staff and a mobile command center,” you say blandly. “Thank you, Geist. We’ll be in touch.”

You are (quietly!) delighted to find that though your Templar… representative? Liaison? is largely inexperienced, they learn very quickly and seem to have a lot of untapped potential. You have every intention of making Geist regret giving them up.

“Commander,” Shen begins next time you head down to Engineering. This whole time there hasn’t been a single combat medikit on the Avenger, and you now have enough dosh to bother rectifying that. “Don’t the Templars seem a little… weird to you?”

“They sure fucking do. But they’re a cult,” you explain. “As long as the Elders don’t give up psionics there is literally no point in deliberately sabotaging us. Only accidentally…”

“That seems a little overconfident to me. You’re really not worried about a single one of the factions?”

“Central will beat Volk to death with his bare hands if he tries something and they both know it. The Skirmishers’ motives are entirely selfish, so like the Templars there’s no point in worrying about betrayal from that corner.” You shrug. “Even if they do sabotage us, there’s little they can take that we can’t do without. Risk-reward.”

Lily shifts her weight onto her other foot. “If you say so, Commander. But promise me you’ll at least remember this conversation?”

“I will,” you tell her, with as much sincerity as you can muster.

You are absolutely not going to remember this conversation.

If it had come from Tygan alone, Bradford may have reevaluated his opinion of the scientist’s sincerity, but Lily was so utterly dedicated to XCOM and so trusting of her father’s word that he was forced to take their concerns seriously.

“Weird?” He frowns. “The Commander’s a little distant, I’ll give you that, but that’s nothing new. Is it grating on you?”

“No, but isn’t it a little strange how…” Lily purses her lips. “How well the Commander has taken all this? They’re not upset about being captured, they’re not creeped out by the Lost, and they don’t really seem all that torn up watching civilians die.”

“We… can’t save them all, Lily. We tried.”

“I am certainly glad the Commander understands the limits of their own capabilities,” Tygan says. “But in conjunction with their blasé attitude towards the aliens and their reluctance to begin research on their own implant—”

“They gave their reasoning for that and I see the logic in it,” Bradford interrupts, something burning in his chest.

“I do as well, and have no argument. We are simply saying that we would expect some measure of… urgency, or concern.”

“They have to keep their mind on the op,” Bradford says. “It was the same during the invasion. There’s nothing wrong with feeling put out about it, but I promise you it’s not because they’re a traitor.”

“That is not in question,” Tygan says. “I merely wonder at the Commander’s composure in the face of such slaughter.”

“Don’t mistake composure for serenity,” Bradford says, more forcefully than he means to. “None of us has any idea what the Commander is thinking.”

“We know,” Lily says earnestly, “but that doesn’t stop it from being creepy. Were they really always like this?”

Bradford swells with indignation, but he didn’t get to live as long as he has by being impulsive: he thinks back to the invasion, to interrogations and new species and deaths, and the first time they’d watched a sectoid commander control one of their operatives…

“Yes, they’ve always been this way,” he says. “But I think it’s just a side-effect of being in command. They’ve always gone out of their way to protect civilians and limit casualties, even at the cost of time or resources.”

Tygan nods. “Yes, that is why I hadn’t said anything. It seems unlikely that the Commander simply doesn’t care for humans and humanity, so I had wondered if perhaps this was a new development—if the aliens had done something to limit the Commander’s emotional capacity, or if I’d damaged it myself when extracting the chip.”

That brings Bradford up short. His grip on the rail in front of him tightens. They wouldn’t dare…

“I doubt it, but it’s not impossible,” he settles on. “Alright, if it’s bothering you both, I’ll keep an eye on them. But you follow orders and come to me before you even think about taking matters into your own hands, am I clear?”

“Yes sir,” they chorus, and that’s that for now.

(Later he will take a deep breath and remind himself that the Commander is not actually synonymous with the Resistance, and that not every word against them is tantamount to treason. But when he looks closer and starts noticing the strange behavior that was obvious to Shen and Tygan from the start, he still does it while worrying for the Commander’s well-being, not humanity’s)

[paxvictoriana]

The Incredible, Radical Jessica James

• • •  [spoilers below]  • • •

In the middle of a blind date she doesn’t particularly want to be on, The Incredible Jessica James’ eponymous heroine squares off with her equally uncomfortable, male dinner friend/potential boyf/adversary.

They volley back and forth several brutally, “completely honest” questions.

After a few, he asks her, “How do you pay your rent?”

“I… work at a non-profit, in Hell’s Kitchen.” (Pride in her voice, though a somewhat knowing tone: yeah, I know. Very Brooklyn answer.) “I teach public school kids how to write and produce their own plays.”

“So… how do you pay your rent?”

She laughs.

Already – my Netflix ticker says this is barely 13:50 into the entire movie – the two biggest threads of the film come together: (1) an endearing, realistic romantic comedy starring Jessica Williams (that Dope Queen off The Daily Show who now does other stuff – namely, this) and rom-com’s staple dorky everyman Chris O’Dowd (because the thinking, even semi-straight woman[**] needs an IT guy); and (2) the female Bildungsroman.

If you’ve taken an English class any time since approx. 1980, you’ve probably had to learn and use “Bildungsroman” in an essay. It’s the coming-of-age novel, the story of growing up, an arc from innocence to experience. Except, as a pivotal cohort of feminist critics in the 1980s argued, the female Bildungsroman means “growing down,” a story of women being taught by society: Lower Your Expectations! Conform! Settle! The debate around what even is a Bildungsroman has wrestled with how gender-specific a story about maturing and (in essence) #adulting can be, given that women in Western society since the inception of the novel itself haven’t really had the options to leave home, discover themselves as autonomous, free, independent selves. The male Bildungsroman, in other words, is about the boy who grows up to be a man, and gets a job; the female Bildungsroman is about the girl who becomes a lady, and finds the right husband. Sure, there’s status and some freedom attached to that – class status and thus economic freedom, as the bourgieness of the novel excels at rewarding. But by and large, no matter how failed the male career, no matter how much the woman takes on a new career of domestic labor, the novels usually emphasize along these lines. Men achieve professional success; women aren’t left to be spinsters.

(A professor in my department, Jesse Rosenthal, pointed out how pervasive this narrative still is within even the most indie, “unconventional” of tales. His case study? (500) Days of Summer. As he recounted to a class on the 19th-cen. British novel, here’s a movie putatively about the romantic maturation of the male subject – a rom-com trajectory usually reserved for women [i.e.. He’s Just Not That Into You could never be She’s Just Not That Into You]. But Joseph Gordon Levitt’s problematic-nice-guy fairy tale, complete with problematic-indie-dream-girl Zooey Deschanel, isn’t his acceptance of a limited role in his next relationship. It’s a successful job interview. [roll credits])

So the fact that The Incredible Jessica James coupled, in several senses, these two plots wasn’t surprising to me. Less than 15 minutes in, and yeah, obviously, Chris O’Dowd is gonna get the girl, and Jessica is gonna get over her ex by realizing that she “deserves” this more mature guy. Her work is great and all, the story goes, but obviously what we want is Bridesmaids with a lady of color. Comedy + late capitalism’s precarity (Jessica, how do you pay your rent? Are you going to have to go live with your parents like Kristin Wiig had to after the cupcake biz tanked?) = love story. And bonus points for being about Instagram, and having a WOC lead where a white actress would have been five or ten years ago (slash even now): kudos, my friends. Kudos.

But… that’s not what happened. And here’s where this movie is radical.

Because The Incredible Jessica James is a female Bildungsroman [or Bildungs-Film] that subtly, cannily, definitively breaks the mold. 

It isn’t a story about a woman realizing how wrong she is to be hung up on the wrong, bad boy, and thus the return to the family, to society’s right side of the tracks, to *herself* that is made whole again by giving up her rebellious adolescent wandering and waffling. Instead, TIJJ presents a heroine who goes through a series of rejections not of lovers, but of jobs [displayed on her wall: see first screencap]. It tracks her indefatigable efforts to make what she loves (theater) into a career, even a somewhat uncertain one. It’s about her slow realization – not the sudden “awakening” narrative that critics have ascribed to female/feminist Bildungsroman of old – that what she’s doing, working every day with kids, continuing to send out her resume, writing and reading and connecting with the public circles of her aspiring field – all that, is a career.

Take, for example, a crucial marker of James’s acceptance of herself, and of her status, as grown-up, matured, sufficiently adult that she’s no longer faking it til she makes it: she’s Made It. The blueish-purple jumpsuit spotted in a Brooklyn consignment shop, the kind that is explicitly labeled as male by the sewn patch of its previous owner, “Randolph,” tall enough for even the pretty tall JJ. 

Working-class, second hand, male-identified uniform; natural hair in box braids; red lipstick and bright eyeliner. This is how Jessica meets her parents. But the music slides to an uncomfortable stop as Jessica gets off the Arrivals moving walkway: her parents are bourgie, sweet, stable, and utterly unlike her in spirit. This is the American middle-class dream – as authors from Frantz Fanon to Paul Gilroy to Ta Nehisi-Coates have written – that preys on Black people specifically, the double-consciousness of passing as it works in all its formulaic vapidity. Jessica’s younger sister, too, has bought into this dream: she takes one look at Jessica.

“You look like an auto-mechanic,” Jerusa (her sister) points out in a tone dripping with judgment.

“It’s cool, though, right?” Jessica beams.

“Yeah…” her sister nods, meaning the opposite. “I mean, you’re not going to wear it to the party?” [Her very normative, unironic, and uncritical baby shower.]

“… Nope,” Jessica deflates. Pretending this has been her plan all along.

Because this family isn’t ever going to be the place where Jessica can be anything other than stifled. The prim-and-proper group sits in the suburban family room late that night, merrily gooey-eyed over a romantic drama they’re watching on TV, whose dialogue (that’s all we overhear) is so utterly, sickeningly banal that Jessica doesn’t even enter the room. She hangs back, in the darkness. The entire setting – with all its race and class implications (and the sincere and moving subplot about the James family’s struggles with making their own rent, and how this continues to the present with Jessica’s public school kid whose divorced parents are fighting over custody, intertwines class and race throughout) – requires, in sum, the painful subjugation of Jessica’s self. A “growing down,” a compromise, as its definition of “growing up.”

Women of traditional Bildungsromane, Abel, Hirsch and Langland posit, “are not free to explore; more frequently, they merely exchange one domestic sphere for another. While the young hero roams through the city, the young heroine strolls down the country lane” (8).

Jessica James, by contrast, goes back to New York.

And back, at least superficially, to the romantic sphere of this rom-com. Where her jumpsuit is acceptable; where people like her appreciate thoughtful, empowering arts (instead of, like her mom’s Very White Book Club Lady friend wants, Cats). Where her lesbian best friend (that actress from Master of None) is the elective community James wants, not the family she’s contractually obliged to recognize in her blood. Where Chris O’Dowd is; where her career is.

So how does the movie wrap up the romantic plot without making this about Jessica’s successful “deserving” of the Right Man™?

(It’s worth noting, before we spoil the ending, that the Boone – aka O’Dowd – subplot of the movie focuses on his not being able to get over the right girl. He stalks his ex-wife, amusingly because it’s Chris O’Dowd, but I think the movie implies cringe-worthily and creepily too: the dude side of rom-coms, it seems, is bleak; not somewhere the film is especially interested in lingering, and neither really are we. He’s eventually ashamed of himself, and this humility is deliberately more endearing than his Every Breath You Take enactment was. Admittedly, we could get into the politics of who says they’re sorry at various points in the film, who asks for and who gives forgiveness, and the ways in which being placed in a position of forgiving is, in a way, simultaneously powerful and powerless. But Nietzsche and feminism is a debate for another time.)

What I’m especially struck by – and I’ve watched this movie myself and with my sister, and then thought about it again after it was praised by another woman I love who watched it an ocean away – is that TIJJ ends with Jessica.

The final two scenes are crucial here. The penultimate brings together the two guys; formally, the two choices of a Bildungsroman: forward, or back? Jessica’s ex, Damon, finds her backstage after the kids’ theater night concludes, and opens with how he “know[s] how much this means to” her. For a split second, I panicked: OH GOD, fuck, this is why we can’t have nice things. They’re gonna have this guy realize how great she is – because obviously the only way a guy can appreciate a woman is for him to be in competition with another man. She deserves better! I shouted internally. Don’t take him back: sure, you realized you were as responsible for the break-up as he was. So what! You can do better.

But they hug, they sigh, and he leaves. (At which point I breathed a sigh of relief.)

Enter Chris O’Dowd. (At which point I was back to, fuck conventionality. What a missed opportunity.)

Turns out, though, the movie saw me – and the Bildungsroman – coming a mile off.

Because Jessica – unlike Rachel – gets on the damn plane.

Jessica, after all, has been offered a huge job opportunity in the most novelistic of cities: London. But things are just getting back on track with Right Guy; but going is her dream, is her big break; but he, like Damon, just realized how great she is – he read her entire corpus of theatrical writing, and declared – #honesty – that he’s still coming to grips with her complexity, on the page and off; but; but; but…

But… she forgot to tell him about London. And in a sense, this is where swelling crescendos of orchestral joy began filling my head, because if this had been a rom-com like the others, if this had been a female coming-of-age story like the others, she would never forgotten about him. Ever. Not once. He would have been her one phone call; her best friend-par-excellence; her Person. Instead, that honor goes to Tasha, the semi-parodic self-involved best friend who always, though, has Jessica’s back.

And so when the clearly wealthy – loaded, because of an app that is explicitly about the formal gesture afforded by technology of Family, without the actual emotional or affective labor of having to talk to those totally different people who somehow raised you! – Boone mentions “frequent flyer miles,” we can anticipate an airplane that Jessica (by now we can say, of course) will be on.

“Just if you wanted to… bring someone with you… to show you around the town,” he hedges, just before the cut.

“How does that work? [...] Frequent flyer miles?”

Cut to Jessica – in the god. damn. JUMPSUIT. Pleased as punch, sitting in – oh yes, we can have nice things – not even economy seats. The nice seats.

At which point, the truly INCREDIBLE part of this movie becomes clear:

Tasha: Dude, I can't believe your boyfriend bought us tickets to London.

Jessica: Okay, who said anything about him being my boyfriend?

T: Wait. What are you talking about? This is like, the most romantic gesture I have ever seen.

JJ: Yeah, it's dope. But it takes more than a couple of roundtrip tickets to London for somebody to be my boyf.

T: That is so boss.

Shandra – the elementary school girl whose divorced parents prompted Jessica’s own reflection on her parents/childhood – returning to her seat: What is so boss?

T: Uh, Jessica.

S: Oh, yeah. Duh.[… I]t was really cool of your boyfriend to get me a ticket, too.

T: Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa. Sister. Just because a guy buys a lady a couple of roundtrip tickets to London does not make him her boyfriend.…

[a beat]

S: You know, I like your jumpsuit.

JJ: Thank you. Yeah, it's pretty bad-ass, right?

S: Hm. Yeah, it is.

They all exchange smiles, the camera zooms in for one final-close up of Jessica’s excited anticipation of landing for the beginning of – not her romance, but – her career.

COME ON! You’re telling me the final scene of this movie is a new affinity, a new definition of family, in which the white, straight, married couple form is reshaped into the female solidarity of friendship, while the child of that hetero dyad of yore is now the dark-skinned girl who herself is a budding author, having been mentored by Jessica, who is – onscreen – mentored by another strong, Black female playwright??? You’re telling me that throw-away moment in the corridor backstage with Chris O’Dowd that seems like the lead-in to a kiss is in fact his last appearance onscreen??? You’re telling me the movie, moreover, goes out of its way to stress – TWICE -- that whatever erotic/romantic relationship they’re in, Jessica didn’t accept this trip as the quid pro quo of settling down??? YOU’RE TELLING ME THIS NEW COLLECTIVE IS SO AWARE OF ITS MEMBERS’ QUIRKS AND FOIBLES AND SELF-AUTHORSHIP/FASHIONING THAT THE FINAL LINES OF THE MOVIE UNDERSCORE THAT JESSICA CAN, IN FACT, DRESS HOWEVER THE FUCK SHE WANTS, AND THAT SOME PEOPLE WILL LOVE HER FOR IT, AND FEEL THE SAME ABOUT THE THINGS SHE LOVES???

Get out of my face, TIJJ. You have *EXPLODED* the female Bildungsroman, and maybe the Bildungsroman full-stop. There is no return to the original society, no compromise, no settling. Jessica isn’t the one forced to the margins of the story by choosing either independence or submission: the family is.

For that matter, romance sort of is. Jessica has no “boyf”; Tasha has no (onscreen, stable, couple-form) gf, but neither is she a hypersexualized lerb. She masturbates on/off-screen, but it’s one of her quirks! She and Jessica go to a lesbian bar, where Tasha chats with several recognizably-styled queer ladies: but she is neither reduced to her own romance plot, nor denied any sexuality at all. She and Jessica, however queerly you read their relationship (and I don’t especially, but I see how one could), are the empowering couple of the film, supporting each other not just in romance but in their mutually-reinforcing careers.

This is a rom-com about aiming high, about finding a career not in, because of, or in spite of a guy, but because it’s the one through-line of the entire story. Jessica begins and ends loving her work, and the slow build of that love rewards her by the end. She has Made It. The fact that she probably goes home to an attractive dude who boosts but is not himself responsible for her career – sure, he gets her upgraded tickets, but her confidence, “forthright[ness],” and drive suggest she would have made it to London without him, no question, by whatever means necessary – is icing on the cake. Yes, there was a maturation narrative within the romantic plot (she learned to leap in her relationships; she also learned, as Boone did, to have realistic expectations of where both partners are at any given moment in a relationship). But this, the movie stresses, is not the end of the story. It’s a subplot within her story.

[gif from x]

I don’t think it’s unimportant, either, that Jessica Williams – a fine actress in this movie, entirely winning the screen – plays the heroine. By which I mean, I think it’s all the more radical that to play the romantic interest to gaze adoringly at rom-com’s Irish nerdboy Chris O’Dowd, the director/producers/writers picked a woman whose best-known appearances are in scathing condemnations of male privilege, white supremacy, and American patriarchal, racist, and just terrible norms in general. That such a woman is the new face – but I didn’t even get to talk about the fact that in a few scenes, Jessica J/W’s complexion is a little spotty, which made me (with a long history of struggling with the medical and psychological reality of being a teenager and then adult woman with terrible acne) want to cry with gratitude: this is what a heroine looks like? 

Sure, Wonder Woman is fab, but damn I needed this representation so much – maybe more – than the superheroic, impervious demi-goddess from Themyscira. I needed a strong, self-loving, no-nonsense, tall, Black, not-quite-starving artist in Brooklyn, jamming with headphones in the concrete stairwell of her building, who proudly declares, “I’m freakin’ DOPE.”

I needed a new female coming-of-age story – especially in 2017 –, and, somewhat subtly but unquestionably, The Incredible Jessica James delivered.

***

{** I use “women,” “men,” “male,” and “female” throughout this piece to refer mostly to the historical categories of those identities/concepts. I also want to be clear that I’m not trying to gloss over this film’s missteps; rather, I’m trying to celebrate its major, but possibly missable, wins. Lastly, I know that in German Bildungsroman means *novel* of development/maturation, not *film*. Don’t @ me.

Thanks to Jesse Rosenthal (JHU) for getting me thinking about the basic understanding of the Bildungsroman in such concise, formal terms. For the debate about male vs./and female Bildungsromane, see – to name just some –, Abel, Hirsch and Langland (eds.), The Voyage In: Fictions of Female Development (1983); Lorna Ellis, Appearing to Diminish: Female Development and the British Bildungsroman, 1750-1850 (1999); Rita Felski, Beyond Feminist Aesthetics: Feminist Literature and Social Change (1989); Franco Moretti, The Way of the World: The Bildungsroman in European Culture (1987); and Susan Fraiman, Unbecoming Women: British Women Writers and the Novel of Development (1993).

The Incredible Jessica James (2017), dir. and writer Jim Strouse; produced by Beachside Films/Netflix. S/o to casting, Kate Geller and Jessica Kelly. Thanks also to Springfield! Springfield! movie scripts for their transcription, which saved me time. }