#..maybe I'll keep this in mind for a future piece...

[luxmoogle]

A menace. But a cute one.

[lymtw]

A Perfect Night For Wine

(Toji and His Shy Girl)

Toji invites you over with a simple text of:

You busy tonight, doll?

To which you respond with:

I don't think so... Not that I know of. Why?

He laughs through his nose when he reads your message. Even the way you text him has your timidness imbued into it. It's precious.

Come spend the night at my place. You told me you're off tomorrow, right?

I am, but are you sure? Driving home is not a problem for me. I can hang out and go home after.

You're staying. I wanna try something with you and it requires you to stay the night. You can't go home.

Oh okay! I'll be there in 10.

Drive safe.

Toji likes that you're very precise about the time you'll be arriving somewhere, and if you're ever late when it comes to spending time with him, you apologize profusely, nonstop. You won't stop blubbering about why you're late and how sorry you are for making him wait, even after Toji's expressed that he's more than understanding. He's the king of showing up late to plans, so he can't be a hypocrite and scold you when you don't do it often at all.

You're so sorry, though, and you don't shut up about it until he makes you shut up with a kiss. You're helpless, and you can't for the life of you figure out where to put your hands when you're so focused on the grip he had on your waist to pull you up against him.

He releases your lips, cracking a grin at the look of wonder on your face. He can't deny the pride that swells in his chest at his ability to disarm you and prevent you from having a total meltdown over a three minute delay.

Toji has gotten so much better at handling situations like these with you. It's only fair for him to gain satisfaction out of making you feel better. After all, you are a first for him. You're emotionally fragile, you're a nervous wreck, and your voice competes with the wind just to be heard. Toji doesn't set aside the fact that you're also beautiful, warmhearted, and you try for him. He sees your attempts to be affectionate. You'll slowly reach your hand out to hold his and then bail the second he catches you. He ends up having to interlock his fingers with yours because your embarrassment doesn't allow you to try again. He still appreciates that you leave your comfort zone for him and allow him to guide you towards new experiences.

"Stop with the guilty feelings, ma. We have all night and all day tomorrow. What's a couple minutes to ensure you get to me in one piece?" He says, comforting your droopy self. You look like a sad, abandoned puppy, now sporting rosy cheeks from his surprising gesture.

"Okay," you say, feeling a little more at ease. "What did you have in mind for tonight?"

"Follow me," he says, leading you through his living room to his kitchen. He pulls out a stool for you and points at it. "Sit." You want to laugh at the way he says it like he's teaching commands to a dog, but you know he doesn't mean it that way, so you obediently sit down like one anyway.

"Have you eaten anything?" He asks, silently hoping you have because he doesn't have anything to make you dinner. He would have to order in or pick something up.

"I ate a couple hours ago. Still pretty full," you respond, watching him reach up for something in his cabinets. There's now a tall glass bottle with a red label and matching cap sitting on the counter.

"How 'bout it?" He says, a large hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle. "We could go to the couch and watch a movie or something."

He's never seen you under the influence of anything, but based on your reaction, maybe he'll get a show tonight. He's always wanted to know what you would be like if you were more extroverted and outspoken. There's nothing wrong with the way you are, but if things keep going the way they're going between you and Toji, he's bound to meet your chatty alter ego at some point in the future. What better way to have this experience than in a secure place with someone who can handle their alcohol and take care of you if it turns out that you can't.

"Okay, sure." You giggle, excitedly.

You're a lightweight. Even the fruitiest, sweetest alcoholic beverage will quickly take a toll on you while you're sipping on it. Wine is a step up, so you'll have to try your best to keep it together for the sake of not looking sloppy in front of Toji.

Toji brings down two glasses, and pours out the deep red liquid into them. One for you, one for him. He hands the glass to you, and nods at your quiet "thank you".

Toji watches as you immediately take a sip. He sees the way your nose scrunches at what you consider to be a funny taste, but the second you put the glass down, you smile like nothing. You don't like it at all. You hate the bitterness, and the fact that it's made with fermented grapes lives in the back of your head.

"How is it?" He asks, holding back a chuckle. You're too sweet for your own good, pretending to enjoy this for him.

"I like it," you say, pressing your lips together.

"Yeah? I think it's kinda gross. Guess I was expecting more from a fancy ass bottle, but brands are gonna brand, huh?"

You giggle, almost involuntarily. You're one gulp in, and already you're starting to feel the effects.

One of your worst habits includes chugging drinks that don't taste good, just so you can get them over with. You even do this when your drink is messed up at coffee shop. You're too nice to ask the barista to remake it, so you suck it up and drink the incorrect beverage solely for the caffeine you hope it has in it. This time is no different. You hate the taste of alcohol. You don't do plain shots, you can't stand hard ciders, and wine is no exception, but you're doing this for Toji. He cracked open the bottle to share with you, so you're going to drink every ounce of the liquid in the glass, whether you like the taste or not.

You bring the glass to your lips again, taking a much larger sip. The glass is a little less than halfway now, and your eyelids are starting to feel a little heavy. Not in a sleepy manner, but you can't seem to hold your eyes open as wide anymore.

You exhale through your nose, shut your eyes, and then blink them back open to take note of your altered state.

"That was a lot. How are you feeling?" Toji asks, noticing a shift in your demeanor. You seem a little more sluggish now. You turn your attention to him, your eyes rolling when they turn to meet his.

"I'm good, how are you?" You ask, like it was the start of a conversation rather than an ongoing one. Your eyes almost shut completely when you smile at him.

"You're tipsy already, aren't you?" He asks, with a grin on his face.

"Pshh, what? No, i'm not," you say, contradicting yourself with a giggle. "Answer the question, baby. How are you?"

"Fine," he responds, lingering on the pet name. You've got loose lips, now. In any other circumstance, you would address him by his name. Most of the time Toji is the one giving you pet names, for the sake of flustering you. He loves the way you look at him when he calls you doll or sweetheart, somewhat shocked every time the words leave his mouth.

"Yeah? That's good." You pick up the glass one more time, sighing before you mutter, "'scuse me. Gotta finish this."

With that last sip, the glass was now empty. Even Toji thinks you drank that too fast, but he still has the courtesy to ask you if you want more.

"Mhm, I'll have a little bit more. Just a tiny bit." Toji pours as much as he did the first time, chuckling when you nod in approval of the quantity. "That's perfect. Absolutely, perfect. You're a genius, my love." You flash him a smile before starting on the next glass.

Toji was considering having another glass, but that was before you called him "my love" in a tone so warm that he felt like he just had a bowl of hot soup that was now settling in his stomach. That was before you smiled at him in such a free spirited manner. It was too late for him to see you in this state while completely sober, but he sure as hell wouldn't be adding anymore alcohol to his system. He can't miss something like this, so instead he leans forward on the counter, and intently watches your every move.

"I got something on my face?" You ask, dragging your sleeves all over your face. You examine your sleeves and they're clean. "You liar. You're looking at me like that for nothing." You squint at him, a slight scrunch in your nose to define your defensiveness.

Toji laughs, his focus now on the small pinch in your brows. "Don't go picking fights over nothing. It's not a crime to look at my pretty baby."

Your faux tough exterior immediately crumbles, the irked expression on your face dropping to the ground, at the sugary words he uses on you. Your face feels very warm, and now there's an indefinite blush on it. You can't stop smiling at the look on Toji's face. He's so focused that he's gone speechless, and you eventually break into a laughing fit because of it.

"Hey... i'm usually the quiet one. Why aren't you talking, pretty boy? Need me to shut up?"

The pet name has Toji glancing at your glass, noticing that it was full for less than five minutes. This was new— you being flirtatious towards him. He didn't have any complaints about it whatsoever.

Once again, the quantity of the wine in your glass was below the halfway mark. "Nah, baby. Talk to me. You must really like the wine, huh?"

"Mmm..." you lean forward towards him, with your elbow on the counter and your chin in your palm. "What makes you say that?"

He actually snickers this time, earning a sly grin from you. "You're chugging it like it's water. It's either you love it or it tastes like ass and you're dying to spit it out."

You pick up the glass again, one last time. "Let's find out if I like it," you say as if you're not on your second serving. You let the liquid hit your tongue, and you are instantly repulsed by the flavor. The glass is tilted all the way up, signaling that you've finished two cups of wine in less than fifteen minutes. Your cheeks are filled with the drink, blown up like a puffer fish, which makes Toji smile softly with anticipation for your reaction. Your tongue stays on the roof of your mouth, keeping the wine in your cheeks separate, to give you a break for a few seconds. You release the bubbles of your cheeks and your mouth is flooded with the bittersweet liquid. You swallow the burgundy mouthful and smile with your lips pressed together once it's all gone. The mouth drying effect of wine is your least favorite thing about it.

"So?" Toji prompts.

"It's-" you gag, clasping a hand over your mouth with wide, slightly teary eyes.

Toji's chest and shoulders shake as he contains his laughter, his lips pressed together tightly to stifle the smile threatening to show itself, but his eyes tell you everything.

"Wooo, sorry about that," you say, chuckling through the embarrassment. "It's good," you repeat, still muffled by your palm.

"Yeah? Want more?" Toji asks, holding up the bottle with a teasing grin on his face.

You almost gag again but manage to control yourself. "No, thank you. Any more and I'll doze off, and we both know that's not what i'm here for." There was a hint of sultriness in your tone, something Toji was not sufficiently familiar with. It was a completely welcome shift from your normally tentative way of speaking to him.

"I know why you're here, but I wanna know what you think you're here for."

You stand from your stool and lean more of your body onto the counter. Your hand reaches for his, and for the first time, you don't pull back before making contact with his skin. "To love on you, of course," you say, with those pretty rosy cheeks. Your eyes remained glossy and your nose was still red from trying not to bring the wine back up earlier, but Toji thought you looked so cute.

"Is that right?" His thumb brushes over your knuckles, feeling the softness against his rough fingertip.

"Let's go watch that movie you were talking about and you'll see what I mean."

Toji was loving this. Your confidence, your lack of holding back anything you had to say, it was truly baffling how you could be someone else entirely with just a couple glasses of wine.

You keep his hand in yours, and as if it were your house, you say, "come on," and drag him along to the living room.

This time you say "sit" and point at the couch. This time he's the obedient dog and does as you say, sitting on the exact cushion you were pointing at with a smirk on his face. He moves the couch pillow aside to make room for you, but you had another seat in mind. You take two steps towards him before slowly dropping yourself into his lap, straddling him.

"I see you're finally taking your seat on the throne, hm?" He grins, resting his hands on your waist. This is the closest Toji's been allowed to watch you giggle without you burying your face into his neck and it's a trip. He can see the details of the creases around your eyes and the lift in your cheeks as you smile. He feels fuzzy, and he didn't even finish his glass of wine, so he knows it's not that.

"Stop making me laugh and pick a movie, will you? I'm here for that, too."

He picks up the remote for the TV and turns it on. "How are you gonna watch the movie while facing me?"

"Actually,.. can I tell you a secret, baby?" You ask, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your fingers play with the hair that reaches towards the nape of his neck, combing through it gently.

"What's that, princess?" Toji asks, vert eyes flitting between your eyes and that sweet smile of yours.

"I don't wanna watch a movie. I... wanna look at you... and that's it." Your nails gently scratch the back of his head, eliciting a tingly sensation that makes chills run down his spine.

"That's cool, too," Toji says, turning the TV off again, not caring that it was on for less than a minute before you changed your mind. He sighs, adjusting his position beneath you. Your thighs are secured around his hips, your knees touching the backrest of the couch.

"You're so handsome, my baby. God, look at those eyes," you whisper in awe, before giggling and bringing your hands to his face. You trace the bags under his eyes with your thumbs while admiring the haunting shade of green that scopes on you. Toji's hand comes up to loosely wrap around your wrist. He's not there to stop you, he just wants to move along with you as you observe his face.

"I know I don't say this to you enough, but I find you..." you sigh, blinking slowly, "enchanting..." You lean in and kiss the left corner of his lips—his right, and feel the smooth, tattered skin beneath your warm lips. "and I love you," you mumble into the cicatrix. "So fucking much, baby. And i'm sorry that you'll never know exactly how much because you aren't me." You're looking at him with so much adoration and touching him with a delicacy that can't be put into words. It's a deadly combination, one that has Toji in a chokehold and forces him to soften up even more for you.

He tightens the hold he has on your waist, pulling you closer until your stomach is pressed to his, as a result. You being so affectionate towards him is making him feel really good, and you have no idea because you're too focused on appreciating him. He's subconsciously leaning into your touch, his softened gaze meeting your lovestruck one.

"Fuck. I love you, too, princess," he murmurs, squeezing your wrist in his hand. He pulls your hand down to his chest. "Want you to aim for my lips, this time."

"Okay," you say, smiling before closing the distance between your lips and Toji's. He can still taste the remnants of the wine you inhaled minutes ago, but it tastes much better and a lot sweeter on you. Toji can hear your high pitched little hums as you kiss him, happiness pouring into your kisses. You're trying so hard not to laugh in his face, and trying is the best you can do, right now. You never were good at hiding your smile from Toji. He can't see it, but he can feel the way your lips widen, and he's occasionally kissing your teeth when your sluggishness keeps you from matching his pace. With little pants leaving you, you drag your lips away.

He sighs, frustrated by the loss of your softness against him. "Baby..." he groans, the sound almost whine-like to your ears. He wants more, so much more of you, and you're ignoring him. You're too busy kissing his chin, and his cheeks, and the tip of his nose.

You drag your other hand down to his chest and keep your hands splayed out on it as you let your lips trail his jaw, lightly sucking on the skin. Toji can't help but think about how this version of you will be gone in the morning. You won't be as outwardly affectionate, you'll go back to second guessing every move you make with him and shrinking every time he steals kisses from you, instead of confidently kissing him back like you did a minute ago.

You make your way down his neck, pressing kiss after kiss on him before you move towards his ear. "I love you, Toji," you whisper, kissing the shell of his ear after. "Love you, love you, love you soooo much," you barrage, before throwing him off with a bite to his earlobe. You giggle like a menace into his ear, the warmth of your breath luring goosebumps out onto his skin.

He chuckles, repeatedly squeezing the soft skin of your waist between his hands. "Yeah? Tell me again," he murmurs snaking his hands beneath the back of your shirt. Your skin is very warm, and there's nothing to blame but Toji and that shitty wine for making your body react this way.

With uninterrupted hands, you course your fingers through his hair and lean in to bite him again, this time on his neck. Toji chuckles at how you instantly rush to soothe him with your tongue and a warm kiss, even when you inflicted zero pain on him.

"I love you, Toji," you repeat into the wet indentations you left behind. "My love... my handsome man... I cherish you, you know?"

Toji is practically purring at all the affection you're showering him with. The slurring of your words is blocked out and they remain clear as day to him. He manages to hum a deep little "mhm" to your last statement.

"It's just so hard to talk to you sometimes. You... you're so intimidating, sometimes. I don't expect you to understand..." you divert your gaze to his shoulder, not able to look him in the eyes as vulnerability takes sudden control of your emotions. "It seems like I don't appreciate you sometimes—all the time, but I do, Toji. I do appreciate you, and I can't ever say I love you enough to show it. Words aren't always enough."

Toji catches the waver in your voice and his eyes dart to yours. You're tearing up, and you're trying to still your quivering lips by pressing them together.

"Shit," Toji mutters under his breath. You have the saddest expression he's ever seen and it's messing with his heart. He pulls his hands out of your shirt so that he can swiftly pull you into his warm embrace. "Hey," he coos. You're shaking against him, holding your breath to avoid sobbing. Your lungs burn, but you'd rather feel that than make a scene of your tears. "Don't be sad, mama. What's with the tears, hm?" he murmurs. He can feel your tears dampening his shoulder, but the fact that you haven't made a sound is concerning. "Breathe or you'll die," he says, only half joking. He rubs a soothing palm against your back, his other arm around your waist.

You let out what sounds like a mixture between a choked laugh and a sob, slowly but surely regulating your breathing. You don't even feel like saying anything anymore because you know your voice will give way to even more pity.

"You're more than enough for me," Toji says, his chin resting on your head. "I know how you feel, you know how I feel. We're complete." He can feel the way you scrunch his shirt up into your fists. As if he would go anywhere without you. "I get you and you're stuck with me. Got it?" You silently nod against his shoulder in response. "Sit up and let me look at you."

You really don't want him to see you this way. Your eyes feel swollen and you don't feel presentable.

"I can't..." you say, barely audible. You release his shirt and let your hands go limp behind him.

"Why not?"

"I'm not pretty right now. Don't look at me."

"I'm gonna look at you," he challenges with a teasing grin.

"Toji, don't look at me."

"Too late, it's happening. Plan's already in motion," he says, sliding his arms onto your shoulders.

"Toji, don't-" He effortlessly pushes you off his shoulder and gives you a once over. You look defeated and you're unable to look him in the eyes, but at least he can see you now.

"Don't know what you were so worried about. You look the same but more blush-y." You finally give him your slightly reddened eyes, a soft smile appearing on your face. You look like your sober self. "Yeah, you look the same."

"Are you lying?" You ask, still not regaining the full strength of your voice yet.

"I wouldn't tell you if I was, but no, i'm not lying. You're so pretty." Toji wiped away tears that were stuck beneath your eyes, and you giggled. He washed away your sadness within a couple minutes. Toji always did this for you in exchange for your love and affection. He lifted your spirits when you didn't feel deserving of him, and with time, he got much better at recognizing the signs that came with this ridiculous idea you planted in your head.

"You're done loving on me? Already?" He asks in playful disbelief.

"You're not done with me? Do you actually want more?" You ask, hesitantly.

"Don't want more, I need more," he corrects, returning his hands to their rightful place on your waist. "Get all up on me, princess."

You giggle, leaning closer towards him to peck a kiss onto his cheek.

"Mhm, like that," he says, contently, when you pick up the pace and start smothering him. "Yeah, baby, there you go." His forearms go beneath your shirt, encircling around your bare waist and pulling you close to him like before. "Who's getting spoiled like me?" He says through a grin. You're holding back laughs as he continues to praise you for your affection.

"S-Stop," you say through a wheeze, not able to contain the sound any longer when you looked at him.

"What are you laughing at, huh?" He chases you this time, pressing his nose into your cheek before planting a light kiss into your jaw.

"You're so unserious," you say, turning your head as he keeps going with the kisses.

"Mmm... I'm serious about you," he says, feeling the vibration of your laughter against his grin. "So serious."

Your cheeks feel incredibly hot from how much you've been smiling. In this little drunken haze, things are so good. You're so happy, you're so affectionate, and you talk so much. This isn't like you at all, but it's not hurting anyone, especially not Toji. There was one minor slip, but you moved past it so quickly like the words never left your head to begin with. You're just so simple... so easy to take care of.

Toji notices the way your eyes are starting to lid with tiredness, and while he would love for you to doze off in his arms right then and there, you'd probably prefer waking up in a bed.

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" He suggests.

"What? No! I just got here... We can still talk, and kiss and- I'm not even tired."

Toji grins at the way you fight him on this, and he has half a mind to indulge you when you look so adorable, but he has to stand his ground. He's right.

"But, you are. You can't even hold your eyes open, anymore."

You feel sad again because the rest of the night would be going to waste if you both go to sleep early. You're there to spend time with Toji, and yet you feel like it's your fault your time is being cut short. You're thinking you shouldn't have drank the wine so quickly, if at all.

"Listen, doll," Toji says. He doesn't like the sadness that resurfaces on your pretty face. He doesn't think you should look that way because of him. "We're just gonna go lay in bed. We don't have to go to sleep. We can stay up as long as you want. Light on or light off, whatever you wanna do, let's just move it to the room."

You sigh, still not completely convinced that the night isn't over, but Toji managed to persuade you. "Will you carry me, please? My legs feel like jelly."

"Of course. What kind of person would I be if I let you stumble into the room on your own?"

You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, your face buried into the crook of his neck. "You'd still be my favorite person, but i'd be a little upset..."

Toji stands from the couch, humming in response to your quiet mumbles.

"...but not really upset. Just a little bummed. Not for too long, though, 'cause I love you, but I would expect an apology from you if I fell down," you draw out.

Toji cracks at your little ramblings. It's a ten second walk from the couch to the bedroom, and the whole time you were working through a hypothetical conflict.

"Yeah? You'd want me to say sorry?" He asks, setting you down on the bed.

"Mhm, and then I wouldn't be upset or bummed anymore," you mutter to yourself as you roll onto your back.

"That's fair. Want the light on or off?"

"Off," you blurt. "Let's tell scary stories," you trill, enthusiastically. You pull the blanket over your lower body until it reaches just below your chest.

Toji makes his way to the bed after turning off the light. He takes his shirt off, and out of habit lets it fall to the floor. "We're not telling scary stories this late at night," he says, joining you beneath the blanket.

"But, they're funny," you say, turning to face him. "I don't get scared, either."

"Depends on who's telling the story. I'm sure as hell not gonna feed you a nightmare, doll."

"Boo," you say, lowly. "Whatever, i'm over it already," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

Toji watches you grow more and more tired as you throw random, nonsensical topics at him. You're taking longer to respond by the minute, and you're dozing off while humming in thought. You shake awake each time it happens and try to keep the conversation going, but Toji just shushes you and tells you to go back to sleep.

"I can see the moon through the window," you mumble, looking past him.

"I know, shh..." he hushes you, again.

"There's only like... one star," you whisper, in awe.

"Baby, come here," Toji says, like he's about to lecture you about the rules of sleep, but really he's just thinking that if his body heat doesn't put you down, he's gonna have to stay up with you until you fall asleep on your own.

You scoot closer towards Toji, tucking your arms into your chest when he reaches out to pull you into him the rest of the way. His body exudes so much warmth, you feel like you don't need the blanket at all.

There was nothing left for you to say when you couldn't see or feel anything but him. It was as if you were gone the second he enveloped you in his arms. You were small to the brink of nonexistence, no longer there to tell him what your surroundings were, or to ask him thoughtless, silly questions. You were no longer there to fight off the sleep he only seemed to bring closer towards you. Feeling his warm skin against you made you change your mind about this invisible fiend that was pulling your eyelids down. You now welcomed the calls to rest from your steady heartbeats.

Your silence gave him the answer he needed, but for good measure, he poked at you with a whisper of, "Ma?" and waited a few seconds for your response. Nothing. He sighed and coiled around you tighter. Thoughts of the night ran through his head. Your soft, yet, occasionally bruising kisses and the imprints of your teeth on his skin, your unapologetic laughter, your certainty in using the pet names that claimed him as yours. He was weak for the amount of times you openly told him you loved him. It was a psychedelic dream, to say the least. One he hoped would continue once he followed you into slumber.

You woke up hours later, completely smothered by your bear of a man. All you could do was stare up at the ceiling, while you waited for Toji to wake up because he was literally breathing down your neck. His arm rested over your chest, his legs were tangled with yours, and his face was right beside your face. You weren't feeling the effects of the wine anymore, and luckily, you didn't have a headache or any signs of a hangover. You were back, which meant...

"What are you staring at?" A deep, raspy voice jolts you out of your thoughts.

You look at the handsome face next to you, and as if your heart can hear and see, it wakes up. "Nothing. Just woke up," you lie.

"Mm... you were staring hard at the roof. I thought it came to life or something," Toji chuckles. You smile, briefly, before looking at the ceiling again.

Toji releases you and flips onto his back, wanting to know what's so fascinating about the space you're looking at. "What are you thinking?" He asks, when he discovers nothing but blank space.

You take your time, not wanting to stumble over your words. Your heart skips a beat when he turns his head to look at you. In the time it takes for you to respond, you both could have gone back to sleep again.

"A penny for your thoughts?" he finally says, following the idiom with a question. "Did I even use that correctly?"

You can't help but laugh, nodding your head to answer his question. "I'm thinking about last night. Sorry if I said anything stupid."

Toji turns his body towards you again, thinking the only thing that's stupid is that he's still staring at the roof instead of staring at you. "You didn't. You were calm, from what I got to see, at least."

"So... boring."

"Not boring," he instantly catches. "You were perfect. You didn't have me running around chasing you, you weren't a brat—it couldn't have gone better, ma." He purposely missed something in his less than brief recount of the night to you. He can think back to the emotions that seeped through your little daze, and your insecurity about outwardly showing him love, all he wants, but there's no way in hell he's bringing that up to you, now. "You ramble a lot," he adds, a soft smile emerging on his face.

You can feel your cheeks warming up. "Oh god," you groan in embarrassment. "That's not- Sorry, that sounds... not so fun. Annoying of me, actually."

"Stop, it was cute," he assures, adding more fury to the blush creeping on your face. "Then you wouldn't go to sleep 'cause you kept seeing stuff outside the window."

You wanted to drown yourself in the blanket. Shame and embarrassment were winning their battle against you, as always.

"That was also cute," he says, watching the way your lips twitch as you bite back a smile. "You know my favorite part, though?" He says, grinning as he leans towards your ear.

"N-No, what?" You ask, trying so hard not to giggle.

"When you kissed me and told me you loved me," he murmurs into your ear like it's a dirty secret.

You snicker, the short sound of amusement evolving into laughter within seconds. You throw the blanket over your face and partially over Toji's face. The sight of your veiled body shaking with laughter lured out a couple chuckles of his own.

"That's funny?" He asks, pulling the blanket down, allowing you to see the sly grin he's sporting.

"A little bit," you respond, smiling— a remainder of your laughter.

"Silly girl. Come here," he says, dragging you back into his arms. "There's no reason you should be awake at six in the morning on your day off. Let's go back to sleep," he murmurs into the crown of your head. "We can go out for breakfast, later."

"Okay," you mumble, eyes shut already as you embrace the natural warmth of his body.

"One more thing," he murmurs. You don't raise your gaze, but your ears are open and you're listening closely. "Tell me you love me."

You didn't expect that, but you weren't going to deny him of such a simple thing. The words were easy to recite because you meant them with every fiber of your being. "I love you, Toji," you comply, immediately.

He sighs, contently, almost like hearing those words revitalized him. "Love you, too, mama."

That went out to every version of you.

[i9chicago]

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Sweet loving you.

pairing — spencer reid x professor! fem! reader.

genre — smut (18+ so minors dni)

summary — you think you despise dr. spencer reid with all your bones, you think he's too good and too accomplished at what he does, and you think he despises you too. till you discover his particular liking for you that night when he saw you in a red dress.

word count — 9k (i'm so sorry)

warnings — oral (f receiving) fingering, soft dom! spencer cuz it's rotting my brain cells. masturbation. semi-public sex. lots of kissing. reader is a neuroscience professor.

a/n — this is my first fic here so be nice or i'll cry. english is not my first language so forgive me for any grammar mistakes. like for part 2 (please) ehh, i hate the ending. that's it. hope at least you enjoy it! <3

Red was never a color linked to joy. For some, it was the antithesis of calm—an unruly hue brimming with everything those fond of gentler tones tended to avoid: anger, desire, unbridled passion. A color that rose along a scale of relentless intensity, evoking not warmth, but power.

That’s why you chose to wear a crimson dress fitted neatly across your back, for the event. It didn’t need to be overly elegant or striking— just enough to keep you from feeling underdressed. Just enough to give you the confidence to stand tall and lift your chin in a room full of professors and potential future colleagues, the ones you'd meet again in hallways and over hurried lunches. You loved teaching. And truthfully, you didn’t mind being surrounded by university students who emailed you at four in the morning with long-winded excuses dressed up in flowery language to explain why they missed class or hadn’t done the work. You bit your tongue and kept going. People in the field admired your approach to teaching and your background in neuroscience had taken you far—far enough to park your car outside a sleek hotel and walk through its doors to stand among the best. To make your position as a tenured professor feel less like a myth spun into fantasy in your own head—and more like the fact it was becoming.

It was meant to be a calm affair, or so claimed the invitation embossed in gold thread and impeccable calligraphy, which promised a welcoming evening for the newly appointed tenured professors. You were one of them, even though you'd only been teaching for a year. Your heart thudded in erratic rhythms and you clutched your small handbag so tightly your knuckles turned white, the click of your heels echoing across the ceramic-gray tiles. Tilted your head, curious, catching sight of a golden chandelier overhead, mirroring the three-dimensional designs painted into the ceiling. It was such a pivotal moment, and yet, in all the hours spent getting ready, your mind had spiraled through a thousand reasons for things to go wrong. You couldn’t help it. Your head was always turning against you like it took some kind of pleasure in watching you unravel into a mess of nerves and dread, about the room’s reactions, about your own autonomy. Maybe you’d spill wine on your dress. Maybe you’d choke on a piece of ice from a champagne flute. Maybe you'd talk too much and accidentally let slip something painfully personal. The other professors didn’t need to know that. They didn’t need to know anything about you. Still, when alcohol starts to feel like a second skin, you’d promised yourself you’d manage it, one drink every two hours. Enough to keep disaster at bay.

You greeted a few adjunct professors as they passed by, and the moment you stepped into the grand hall, your jaw nearly dropped. The entire place was blue. Neon lights laced the walls, and a young DJ—probably no older than twenty—was spinning electronic remixes of ‘80s hits. It was almost a joke. There were far too many people for this to be just faculty. You doubted it. The entire teaching department must’ve been here, something you hadn’t quite expected. You’d imagined a more traditional venue: jazz music, old money burning through the most expensive drinks at a quiet bar in the corner. Instead, the tables were dressed in white linen with centerpieces of soft blue and white flowers. And suddenly, you felt overwhelmed. You accepted the glass of champagne a waiter offered you, now, it felt less like a choice and more like a necessity. You didn’t see a single familiar face and with the sheer number of bodies crowding the space, heat began to wrap around your bones. Usually, you were good at socializing, at least good enough not to make a fool of yourself. Winning over professors — especially the ones in physics— was a simple task, and the unspoken rule from the arts department was clear: never, under any circumstances, cross them. So yes, faking camaraderie came naturally to you. And with a few drinks, the task became almost idyllic.

You approached a table and picked up a small peach pastry, the sweetness of the powdered sugar melting on your tongue as your eyes scanned the room, now with a faint smudge of red lipstick on the bite. Then, something shifted. You felt it a gaze on the back of your neck. You turned slowly, your breath catching just as your pulse began to quicken.

Spencer Reid. And he was looking at you.

The same who was too ‘good’ to consider a tenured position at the college. The genius. The chosen one. The prodigy. An FBI profiler whose dignity vanished from the young girls in his classes as soon as they saw him or attended his seminars purely to watch him talk and talk and spill random data that none of them really cared about. They just went to see him. And he didn't even notice. Or, if he did, he was perfectly good at turning a blind eye to it.

It made your blood crawl. Cause you spent months hearing praise behind your back about how all his degrees and accomplishments put him in an optimal position to walk the halls as if he were a member of royalty himself. Sometimes you would see him in the gardens talking to some students being so generous and so kind that you would inevitably roll your eyes at his perfect kindness that you wanted to avoid seeing him as soon as possible. Everyone talked about him and you could understand why: He was an excellent prototype of the good man wrapped in good faith. Occasionally, you would meet his gaze at teacher's meetings, passing a cup of coffee in the mornings of pure silent politeness because neither of you had ever conversed in sentences that veered beyond a harmless thank you and good morning. You offered him your best smiles as his fingers brushed yours as you held out the cardboard cup full of black coffee and he would stare longer at your lips before sliding his periphery into your hands and leaving, as if touching you made him burn, as if he ached for the involuntary touch of your skins. Your friends were aware of how much you didn't like at all everything that endorsed his presence, and they didn't understand. You had a stable job. And of almost the same vitality as his. They told you that your reasons for loathing him were ridiculous, childish and, for a moment, they said you just didn't like him because he incarnated in flesh and blood everything you were attracted to in a man. And you were perfect at dismissing that.

Because it was. And that's what you really fucking hated.

You were unlucky. That was it. As if there was some bizarre entity pre-existing that dragged your decisions into an eternal abyss and turned you into a mixture of bad experiences that only increased as the years went by. And Spencer, in theory, seemed to be too surreal. Sure, his proportions as a whole were appropriate. And you had no trouble figuring out why young girls sighed with their hand on their chin every time he opened his mouth. There was no name for what you felt for him. It was just... It was weird. Weird for you, even, because you were used to being around people like him. But never like him. No one was like him.

Maybe your friends were right in saying that your occasional disdain for Spencer was born solely out of a need for adrenaline that you simply stopped paying attention to him. When your eyes met his in the distance, in a crowd, he smiled at you.

Bastard.

He had no right. He had no right to smile warmly at you as he raised his hand slightly in greeting, which he then lowered because of how awkward and absurd it looked. Much less did he have it to look this well melted by a suit that seemed to be itching his skin. With the red tie and the white shirt stuck to his body. All your attempts to pretend to be indifferent when it came to him were more than unsuccessful, in fact, irrational was a better word to describe it. You did nothing more than answer his greeting with a rehearsed smile as you turned to the food table swallowing a couple of those peach snacks, which you simulated with another swig of champagne feeling how the taste of alcohol numbed the few senses you had left one hundred percent. You sighed, much to your dismay, the dress was starting to feel tighter and tighter around your waist and you felt a flash of wind caressing the bare skin of your back. And to think that Spencer was probably watching you sent a searing heat through all your extremities. You stood up on your back and walked to the other end, however, the glass goblet you held in your right hand had a small crack that dug into your palm making you gasp from the sting of the glass against your flesh. Blood, thick and metallic, gushed out in small gushes from the wound. You felt dizzy for a second. And you wanted to go straight to the nearest bathroom.

Spencer followed your figure gliding through the crowd. The music was loud and what he heard from some of the professors, even if he didn't like to admit it (they were a bit older and kind of jerks) he stopped listening to them the moment your eyes connected with his and just lost himself in how he felt his heart rate become erratic. Superficial. He didn't need the world to be quiet to hear his heart racing. And it wasn't in the ingestion of alcohol, so in his glass rested a simple apple cider that he drank with enthusiasm. It was in how you received his perception, he was used to reading between the lines. And he had spent a lot of time reading specifically how you responded to being in his presence. Always evasive. You pleaded silently. He was not indifferent to your avoidance and sometimes caught you looking at him when you thought he didn't notice. In some other context it would seem creepy and worthy of concern. But it was you. All he saw was you. He wanted to see why his limits seemed to be nonexistent when it came to you and everything that warranted your mere objectivity. He listened to you in your classes, giving extensive perorations on the theory of neuroplasticity, and your students raved about you.

There was something irrefutable in how you learned to avoid him with a grace that overwhelmed him. He wished the words you never pronounced could be a clear language. But no. You chose evasion, silence. An elusiveness so subtle that it only left room for curiosity, for the need to understand why you were doing it. As if everything between you was an unwritten dialogue that he couldn't complete.

He could hear the softness of your words as he rummaged deep into his memories, when you talked about the evaluative changes in neuroscience in front of a packed classroom, your voice flowed like a calm river but inside him everything was churning and he didn't even bother to look for its root. It didn't bother him, actually, he was fascinated by how you were able to captivate everyone, and, at the same time, keep him out of your reach.

It killed him. It killed him slowly and torturously how he begged you with the simplicity of his gestures and looks and you purely eluded him. But what killed him the most was that, despite being so close, it always seemed like it wasn't enough. That he never reached that last layer that protected you.

He couldn't help but feel like a doomed voyeur watching as that invisible barricade between you held firm. Talk to me. Look at me. Why not? How long will I endure? Every vestige of desire of his was mounting to catatonic levels.

A cold current was seeping deep into his skin, icing his fingers as he waited, patiently, for some movement, a sign from you.

But nothing.

Only the pleasure of your indifference, so bitter and bewitching, like a trap he didn't know how to escape from. And, damn it, he loved it.

The white walls in the bathroom loomed over you as you walked in hoping for an aid kit somewhere, you looked in the mirror for a moment, realizing how lousy the night was going and you were just getting there. It was supposed to be a good time to continue making friends and finally find more people to have lunch with at noon. You should have seen it coming. You thought for hours about whether it was a good idea to attend and your apartment, not far from the hotel, a few blocks from the venue, was a mess. Dresses strewn across the floor and your cat found the jumble of sleeping fabric in every corner of the house fascinating. The pain in your hand was getting more intense, too strong, unbearable. A burst of burning that intensified every second. You made a point of washing away the bright blood with the water and grimaced at the new coolness and stinging sensation of the cut.

But even the pain didn't lessen the fact that you were thinking about him. And that infuriated you. The gazes that lasted longer than usual, the gestures you avoided and those imperceptible moments charged with something much more substantial. What did you want to do with all of that? Nothing. You couldn't do anything. Spencer was in a completely foreign league to you and you had to respect that.

You didn't even want to imagine what would happen if people at the college found out. People talk, and they don't measure the magnitude of their words and all that a simple hallway rumor could trigger. Like teens. No one should be interested in what two professors were doing outside the institution. And besides, he wasn't even working full time. He was an agent. Even more reason why this growing, heated thing between you two was a flat out no way it was going to happen. It was undermining all your senses. All your good judgment diminishing it to nothing. No, it couldn't happen. The tension was limiting your core beliefs. And as you tried to maintain a control you knew you didn't have, the restlessness in your chest only grew.

As you did everything in you to heal the cut quickly, you heard the faint creak of the door. You raised your head and, in the reflection of the mirror you saw Spencer's figure bursting into the glare of the bathroom lights. You failed to keep calm. Because you had nothing left. Spencer briefly held the handle, his eyes sliding a quick glance between the mess in your hand and the confusion evident on your face, your cheeks flushed, your breathing still uncontrolled. And, without a word, he locked the door.

The sound of the lock clicking echoed in the air, amplifying the tension already vibrating in the space. His scent enveloped you, the warmth of his presence washed over you so tightly that the sting in your cut receded into the background. But for him it seemed otherwise. He stood in front of you so close you could feel his breath, a faint sigh that seemed to touch your skin, make the air thick, dense. He looked at you briefly, straight into your eyes and that's when you understood why you were avoiding him so much. It was him. His gaze. His warmth. Everything about him sucked you in, pulled you in and was all too evident. His intensity was like a force of gravity that drew you in hopelessly. No matter how much you dodged it, no matter how hard you tried to shield yourself from that connection, it was as if the very nature of the situation had determined that the distances between the two of you were simply not viable.

He looked at you as if asking for permission to heal your hand, and though he didn't say it out loud, he didn't need to. The question was in the solid silence between the two of you, in the way he watched you, so close that you could almost feel his thoughts without a single word needing to be uttered. That look, that little action.

You couldn't hide from him.

You, who had always maintained control, felt how he crumbled at the softness of his gesture, at the implicit trust he offered. At how his hands, veiny and warm, took yours with an unspoken hush. You were trapped in his closeness and in his palpable presence. And worst of all, you wanted to stay there, caught in the nervousness of his look, in the subtle touch of his fingers.

You decided to speak. Or else you couldn't stand it any longer. “I should put in a beef about the dangers of champagne glasses.” You said trying to sound normal, calm. But the tension in your voice was so intense that you ignored it, "It was broken, hmm, I guess it's no big deal. It's probably not even deep."

“You're bleeding out here,” he chuckles, and the sound of his laughter, light but kind of warm, sneaks through the cracks in your conscience. You feel his thumb caress the palm of your hand, and the derision in his tone makes you laugh too. He clears his throat, before scanning his gaze around the bathroom for an aid kit. "You need to clean that. Or it'll get infected.”

“No, no. You don't need to ” you whisper, but you let his hand continue to hold you. “I'm fine, really...”

Spencer stopped in front of you, bent down slightly to look at your hand in more detail. “It does need to,” he replied in a slight murmur. "Superficial wounds can be much more dangerous than they appear. In fact, small cuts are more susceptible to infection than larger ones, because they may go unnoticed, but they leave a perfect entrance for bacterias. In this case, if you don't clean and disinfect it, Staphylococcus aureus bacteria are quite common, and that could lead to a serious infection."

You felt a little stunned. The amount of information he dumped on you so quickly left you somewhat entranced. However, the concern on his face was genuine. And it touched you.

Why did he have to look like that?

“Uh, I can't say I knew that.”

“Does it hurt?”

 “Just a bit.” You replied. It was true. But it hurt more that as he looked at you he kept stroking your hand with his thumb and each caress drove you crazy. “Any diagnostic, doctor?”

He laughed, and your heart skipped a beat. God. His smile was even more charming holding you that close. A pair of dimples growing in his cheeks and he effortlessly aroused sensations in you too primal to admit out loud.

“I'm not that kind of doctor,” he whispers, the hint of his smile still visible. “But I need to clean that up for you... It's... It's okay if I do?”

You nodded, not knowing what to answer. Her gaze slid across the bathroom coming across a small white box resting on the counter. He turned away from you for brief seconds and, though it was a flicker in time, you felt the emptiness he left. You missed his touch and felt pathetic. So simple. So insignificant. And yet he still managed to unsettle you

Why did his closeness make you feel exposed, vulnerable? You knew something between the two of you was changing, but was it something you really wanted? Or rather, something you could afford to want?

It didn't give you time to think as he stepped in front of you again and wiped a cotton ball with antiseptic. Taking your hand again, the cool sensation of the antiseptic with the warmth of his fingers pressing against you making a twisted contrast of what it was. It was soft. It was gentle. As if he feared to break you with the simplicity of his caress. He was exalted, you could tell by the way he was breathing through his nose and his chest was rising and falling in a continuous back and forth. You couldn't help but think how, for a second, it seemed like the rest of the world disappeared, and all that was left was him. Just him.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured, breaking the silence. “I don't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

It was strange to hear him say that. Because how could he not know that discomfort was, in fact, what made you feel so alive? The vulnerability, the not knowing what was going on between you and the uncertainty you felt in his every gesture. It was all there, hovering between the two of you, and you weren't saying anything about it. You just held each other in this delicate balance that you longed to break.

“You don't.” you said quickly, "It's dumb. I probably wouldn't have done it. I'm not good at this stuff, the last time my cat scratched my whole arm and I'm pretty sure I made the scratches even worse."

Spencer looked up, and for a moment, his expression softened. “I just don't want you to think I'm invading your space,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice was like a soft punch to the chest.

Spencer curved his lips, barely a smile. He continued his slow, meticulous movements cleaning your wound with a precision that was hard to ignore. Every time his finger brushed your skin it was like lighting a thousand matches inside you.

 “This isn't so bad,” he murmured, as he carefully cleaned the area around the cut. “It could have been so much worse.”

“Well, hopefully I'm not bleeding to death,” you replied with a small touch of humor. The slight stinging in the wound when the antiseptic touched your skin was somewhat tolerable now, and his presence somehow made you feel calmer.

And, of course, you decided not to pay attention to the closeness of his face and that incipient beard that adorned it perfectly. All over his jaw, you had the urge to touch it and put the fingers of your free hand on the fabric of your dress as if it contained all those growing desires.

“Hopefully not” Spencer laughed, not looking away from your hand. "It's not that dramatic, but you know, some people faint over something as simple as this. The body's reaction to minimal pain can be interesting."

“Really? How?”

You knew the answer. But hearing him speak for you was a necessity now and you decided to take advantage of every second.

"The fear of pain and the physiological reaction is more prevalent than it seems, that's all kind of like a mind game. That it thinks you have something, when the damage is likely to be minimal.”

“And I assume that if there was anyone here passed out, it would be me.” you said, shaking your head and looking at the wound with mock concern. "Yeah, I should have guessed. I cannot tolerate pain.”

Spencer let out a genuine laugh, a laugh that made the air around the two of you feel less tense.

“Definitely,” he said with a laugh. “But don't worry, I'll keep an eye on you.”

“Good to know.”

He continued cleaning and gently placed a children's band-aid (from some cartoon you couldn't recognize) over your cut, now clean and out of harm's way. Were his eyes always this bright or was it the glare of the white lights? And his lips, his lips. Slightly splendorous from whatever he was drinking before he came in. You swallowed saliva, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks as he seemed to have scanned across your face and the bathroom was flooded by a couple of giggles that pretended to say a lot, but was nothing. It wasn't awkward, but that kind of silence that hovered over you and enveloped you in a still atmosphere that you countered with the rowdiness outside. You sat on the countertop, the coldness of the ceramic hitting your thighs hoping he wouldn't leave. You lay your head back in the mirror, and Spencer's head shorted out.

He didn't know how much more he was capable of taking, if he was fit to drown everything that came into his head when he saw through the mirror's reflection that curve of your back, smooth, perfect. The red dress tight to every curve fitting in the right places and that lipstick, lightly smeared across your lower lip. He put his hands in his pockets and swallowed thickly. Your eyes traveled down his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with nervousness and notoriety.

“You didn't seem to be enjoying yourself over there" you say amused, your voice tired. "I don't blame you. Teachers' humors are crap."

Spencer nods, standing in front of you. Your knee brushing against the fabric of his dress pants. "I usually enjoy theoretical physics jokes but there's a point where it gets repetitive and boring. If I'm honest, I was looking forward to getting out of there.”

The laugh you let out was soft, almost intimate, as if only he was meant to hear it. Spencer drank it in as if it were something sacred. His fingers, still warm from touching you, flexed in his pants pockets, trying to contain the absurd need to brush against you again. 

“Spencer Reid?” you repeated with an arched eyebrow, watching him with a vague smile as you leaned your head back against the mirror a little more. "You must have the highest tolerance for repetitive. You analyze it, dissect it. You find patterns in it, revel in it. I thought you were used to it.”

Spencer tilted his head slightly, tickled by your remark. His eyes roamed over your face with a scrutiny that made you hold your breath. He didn't seem to be looking at you out of mere habit anymore, it seemed he couldn't even help himself. You cleared your throat, but his closeness was brutal. He smelled like aftershave, so strong that the scent drugged you completely.

"Maybe you're right, but there are exceptions. There are always exceptions to the rule, no matter how much I'd rather abide by them." he said, this time turning to you and you swore your heart was going to jump out of your rib cage.

His hands slowly came out of his pockets, and he leaned lightly on the countertop to the side of you. His arm almost brushed your thigh and for an instant you thought he would do it on purpose, that he would trace the fabric of your dress with his fingertips. That he would dare. And you thought how good it would feel to be on his hands, long fingers and protruding veins, holding you like a longing.

“And is tonight one of those exceptions?” you asked, tilting your face toward him, watching him closely. 

His throat worked in a strained swallow. "I'm sure it is.”

A shiver ran down your spine. Your breathing got slower, deeper. Your inhibitions out of you. His knuckles, distracted, barely grazed your knee in a touch so light it might have gone unnoticed if it weren't for all your skin igniting in response. Spencer froze at his own boldness, but didn't immediately pull his hand away. Instead, he exhaled slowly through his nose, and his eyelashes lowered slightly as he looked back up at you. All content, his eyes dancing all over your face.

He didn't move. 

He didn't leave. 

The air in the bathroom seemed to thicken as Spencer leaned forward gently, closing the distance with torturous slowness as if to give your body time to react, to reject him. But you didn't. And you had no plans to either. Your back brushed against the mirror, the coolness of the glass seeping through the thin dress as Spencer's warmth enveloped you from the front. His hands continuing to rest on the countertop on either side of your legs, locking you in with devastating ease.

He was tense. You could see it in his jaw. The line of his throat working as he swallowed saliva with visible effort. Almost instinctively, you tilted your head, and mentally beat yourself up as you thought you could ignore or simply disregard everything that revolved around him because it was impossible. You hesitated on whether to do that thing that was killing you so much, to touch his face, to caress his cheek. Let him do something. His gaze made you breathless. Dark, intense. Fixed on you and only you. His dark, chocolate irises, a hazel hue that you could finally detail up close.

He had the most beautiful eyes you'd ever seen.

“Why do you keep avoiding me so much?” his voice was a whisper, but you felt it throughout your body. His breath was warm with a minty undertone, it brushed your mouth. "Did I...did I do something to bother you? I didn't say anything bad about you, if you were wondering. I have eidetic memory, I would remember if I was rude to you at any time.”

You found yourself caught between need and uncertainty. Your hands rested on your thighs, and you wanted him to push them away. Spencer saw it. He saw it in the way your eyelashes quivered in a flutter that sent shocks through his body, in how your gaze dropped fleetingly to his mouth before returning to his eyes, in the way your chest rose and fell too fast, too erratically. 

His knuckles brushed the fabric of your dress with calculated carelessness, a light touch on your right thigh that made everything in you tense with an internal jolt. There was no urgency in his movement. Only a torturous patience, an unspoken question in the way his skin tested yours. As if testing the ground.

A restrained sigh escaped your throat, almost inaudible, but he heard it. 

“You didn't do or say anything bad about me, Spencer.” you murmur, your voice sharp. "It was my thing. I make movies all the time in my head. I think I was just jealous.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. His knuckles still moving in a steady rhythm over the fabric of your dress, “Jealous? Why would you be jealous?”

Your tongue fleetingly moistened your upper lip. His gaze followed the movement with unsettling thoroughness, his fingers twitching subtly on the countertop. You were unconsciously tasting him. And it delighted you to watch his jaw clench.

“I guess you're too good to be real.” you let out an irony-laden laugh, "It's lame. Don't mind me. I actually thought you didn't like me."

“Why would you think that?” he sounded almost offended, incredulous at what you just said as he let his fingers trail southward away from the red fabric. It was silk, fine silk that hugged your thighs beautifully. His fingers were just as warm on your skin and you shivered as his caresses went up and down. Paulatine, subtle, but it made your hair stand on end. And the way he whispered your name... Almost like a longing held on his tongue, like a heavenly prayer. "I've done nothing but silently wanted you. If you only knew... How long I've been saving this. Keeping you. As if just looking at you was enough.”

Your lips parted, but the words stuck in your throat. As if every particle had stopped in time, leaving them suspended in that instant where nothing else existed except the way he touched you. His hand slid, slow, barely perceptible, but enough to set your skin on fire. His fingers traced invisible lines over your thigh with a devotion that left you gasping for breath, memorizing the texture of your skin, the way you reacted under his touch.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured, it was the only thing that could come out of your mouth. Your voice cracked, feeling the pressure building in your chest, in your belly, in every nerve ending in your body. 

A sound escaped from his throat. Low. Grave. As if the confession had managed to shake something inside him. 

His hands moved, with deliberate leisure, barely moving up the curve of your thigh before clinginging to the flesh. His torso was so close you could feel the heat radiating from him, the racing beat of his heart pounding in sync with yours.

"No, don't be sorry" his voice was a whisper, his lips against your temple. They were so close you could feel them, a temptation suspended in the air. The edge of his nose brushed yours, a touch so thin, so intimate, that a shiver danced down your back. "I guess it's my fault for not talking to you in the first place. But if you'll let me... I promise not to ask for more than you're willing to give. Because having you anyway is already more than I ever thought I deserved."

God. 

You couldn't think, not when he was there, so tangible, so immensely real, tearing down every barrier you'd ever built between the both of you. 

His fingers came up again, this time with less hesitation, brushing the inside of your thigh in a barely perceptible movement, but one that sent an electric whiplash up and down your spine. If you moved a little, just a little, he would brush the fabric of your panties.

"Spencer..." his name was a breath caught in your mouth, a plea, a surrender.

He took it. He took your exhalation and made it his own. He kissed you with the kind of awe with where someone touches something sacred for the first time. His mouth rested on yours in a brush that contained months of longing compressed into a single instant. So violently that your body tensed. His lips moved gracefully over yours and his hands squeezed the flesh of your thighs as if he was holding back from touching you further. At first it was slow, painfully slow, waiting for you to refuse. But you had no intention of it. You sensed how his tongue brushed your lower lip in an invitation to thrust inside you, and the sweet gasp that came from your mouth in delight entranced him. He sensed it in the way your fingers reached up to grasp at the lapels of his suit, clinging to him as if you were about to collapse.

Kissing Spencer was just how you imagined it would be. Addictive. Teeth and tongues in a rough dance, he was stunned by how you responded to his caresses. By how your hands stopped trembling and rested on the back of his neck, in his hair, pulling him closer to you till you melted into a lingering kiss. Spencer moaned against your mouth, a harsh, restrained sound that reverberated between the both of you, becoming a vibration that traveled down your backbone and spread in torrid heat throughout your body. His fingers, which until now had traced a contained path over superficial parts of your body, twitched over the skin of your thigh, sinking just barely into the soft flesh, as if he needed to hold on to something in particular to keep from twisting his grip. He was losing it completely.

The kiss became hungrier, more impatient. His tongue slid against yours in a fiery, deep caress as his other hand moved up the curve of your back, pressing you against him as if trying to memorize every inch of your body. You shivered from just feeling his touch on your back and how that slit in your dress gave him the opportunity to move down a little.

Every scrape of his lips against yours was a silent confession, every halting gasp a secret that slipped out without the need for words. 

Spencer wasn't doing anything by halves, and kissing you was the ultimate proof of that. He was feeling you with every fiber of his being. He was drinking you in with the devotion of a thirsty man finally finding water in the middle of a forsaken desert.

With every particle of his autonomy, with every heaving breath that escaped his throat and the way his body pressed against yours, drawing closer and closer until the air between you ceased to exist. His hand, the one that had traveled up the curve of your back, slid with exasperating slowness to the base of your nape, tangling in your hair. Wrapping itself around the strands of your locks.

As if afraid you might fade away.

His other hand went up another inch, and when his fingertips brushed the thin fabric of your panties, a fierce thrill ran through you, arching your back involuntarily at his touch. Wanting more. That he would turn his attentions upon you. He sensed it in the way your nails scratched his hairline, in how your thighs trembled under his caresses and the sudden gasp that escaped from your mouth, imprisoned in his. 

He pulled away just a few millimeters, just enough to be able to look at you. To see the slight tremble of your lips swollen by his kisses, the febrile shine in your eyes. His breath collided against your skin, warm and ragged, and in the thick silence of the bathroom, his breath seemed an echo of yours. 

The Adam's apple in his throat rose and fell in an effort to swallow saliva. 

"I can't believe we missed this just because we had misconceptions about each other." he whispered, as if he found it hard to speak, as if the words scraped his throat as they came out, "You don't know all you do to me."

"I think I have an idea." you said, stunned. With a slow smile curving your mouth as your hands went back up to his cheeks, his beard stinging your fingers, "But I think I'm starting to like it when you show me."

A low growl escaped his chest before he took your mouth again, and no fantasy could match how good it felt to be in his arms. His kisses were intoxicating, tongue everywhere, low moans sending shocks straight to the recent growing bulge in his pants. He held your jaw and claimed you. And you loved it. You melted into him. Your hands took advantage of traveling to his neck, his cheeks, his shoulders. You could spend hours like that. There was a latent tension in his muscles, in the visible struggle between his control and his desire, in the way his dark gaze devoured every detail of you. His hands were so big, gripping your face as you moved closer until you wrapped your legs around him, your thighs at his sides.

Spencer pulled away, he was a mess. His brown hair tousled and his lips glossy and swollen from you. His thumb traced a sweet line over your lower lip. "You're beautiful," he exhales briefly. "So beautiful.”

You pull him by the neck and kiss him again. Hopeless. Hungry. You were sure the denim of your lingerie was wet and that he could feel it. You move your hips moaning against his mouth from the friction of your center against his pants. Spencer noticed your need, and his knee began to rub you. Slowly, feeling you contract from the pleasure. Your dress rode up over your thighs and he pulled them almost all the way up, to the level of your hips, allowing himself to revel in the matching lace of your wet panties. Soaked. For him. His right hand slid to your chest and groped your dress, seeking to pull it down. You nodded in agreement still with your lips on his, letting him know you needed him. That he would touch you. It was a slight effort, but with blind skill he lowered the top of your dress.

"I'm surprised at how skillfully you did that," you whispered between kisses. You hear his laugh, hoarse and throaty, as his knee continued to rub your center, and you cried out. A low cry that you silenced by biting your tongue.

"If it makes you feel any better, I thought as soon as I saw you come in." he said resting his forehead with yours. Widening his hands below your knees, and when he stretched a little, the breath caught in his throat.

You looked like a gorgeous wreck. Your lipstick was running, your barely visible red lace bra made your hardened nipples noticeable and the feel of the cold made them hard as rocks. Spencer kissed you. Quick, fleeting, placing his thumb and forefinger against your right nipple and pressing it, making you turn your eyes. His touch sent tingles all over your body, no matter how small or large, the mere fact that he was touching you was driving you crazy.

His kisses descend to your neck, leaving soft bites in an everlasting path. He nibbles that spot on your pulse and you tremble. Your hand touching his curls as you gasped uncontrollably.

"You're..." he began, but the word was lost in your neck. He kissed the curve of your collarbone, the racing pulse in your throat. " You're devastating.”

He scattered sporadic kisses across your neck and suddenly you felt like you were out of orbit when his fingers found your panties. Stroking you over the fabric. You wiggled your hips in search of more friction and melted into his arms. He teased both of your nipples. He kissed you with such vehemence and eagerness. It was simply too much. Your eyes traveled to the bulge in his sweatpants, and you had that urge to touch him again. It was big, you deduced immediately by how the fabric of the pants fit painfully around the outline of his cock. Your hand barely grazed it as he pushed you away and returned his kisses to your lips. Tugging at them. Biting, sucking with impetus.

"Is that good or bad?" you asked curving your back.

Spencer looked up from his spot, his eyes burning with an intensity so pure it took your breath away. "It's all I want.”

He bent down with only one knee digging into the floor, and your brain lit up. You were aware of what he was about to do and you pressed your thighs together, almost reluctantly. In response, he put his hands on your knees and looked at you over his long eyelashes and his eyes sparkling from all the excitement that was only growing more and more. No, he had no right to look at you like that. To have you at his mercy with just a kiss. To look so needy for you. 

"Don't get shy now." he said, his fingers squeezing the hypersensitive flesh of your thighs to open them for him again. "I want to touch you, please, angel. Let me show you how much I've needed you. How much I've longed to touch you, please, can I?"

His plea turned you to plasticine. It was a desperation rooted from deep in your chest and the mere thought that he had imagined this precise scene in the past turned you on. That maybe he had it all planned out and now he was kneeling before you basically begging to touch you. Your hand reached out to his curls, stroking his brown, unruly hair and you nodded as your lips curved into a smile that Spencer was quick to retort.

"Of course, I wasn't going to let you leave me like that and then leave." you whisper in amusement, holding his face "You owe me.”

Spencer smiled at you, sweet, almost too sweet for the kind of look he gave you. Filled with desire, with something far, vastly stronger than you. His fingers groping the edges of your panties. Swiftly pulling them down to your ankles. You shuddered at the change in sensations, the gusts of wind setting your nipples on edge and his gaze fixed on your cunt enveloped you in a cloud too intense for your brain to function properly. He looked at you with dilated pupils, licked his lips slowly as if tasting you on it.

"I owe you, huh?" he said, pressing a kiss on your inner thigh. Then on the other. "I guess I should make it up to you, right? Is that what you want?"

You nodded frantically, but he bit down on a thin layer of skin and you gasped.

"Use your words, angel."

"I..." you doubted that your head could work correctly, his touch sent tingles through parts of your body unthinkable. "Fuck, Spencer. Just do it.”

"So desperate." he whispered, his tongue beginning to lick the wetness of your thigh. You swayed in response to the sensation, your back arching as your hands involuntarily moved up to your nipple, pinching and stimulating. You needed to feel him everywhere. It was disarming you. "Have you thought about this, do you think I don't notice when you look at me, when you sneak into my classes?”

He grabbed you by the knees and pulled you into his mouth with such speed that you didn't even have time to get used to the thrill. Fuck. His mouth was desperate, he licked your folds and his curls hide between your legs. You'd let him sleep right at dawn right there. You moaned his name so loud that you were thankful the music outside was so loud no one could hear, 'cause you needed that. You needed to scream how much you enjoyed it and when Spencer gasped in delight, your whole body jerked. A rough hand gripped your thigh, his thumbs pressing into your skin, holding you open just for him. To keep you from shivering. His tongue was relentless. He swirled with precision, sucked you with intensity and reserved kisses for your clit. You rolled your eyes and your hips followed in a back and forth motion over his mouth, surrendering yourself completely to the pleasure.

There was a heat swirling over your belly, over your bloated, hypersensitive center. You shuddered and Spencer hummed above you as you tightened his head making him bury himself in your pussy. You were drunk, it was vertiginous, too much to bear.

He pulled away slightly, his breathing ragged. You couldn't see him because he was still hiding between your legs but the image was projected in your head instantly. His lips glossy from your wetness, yearning for more. The fibers of his hair messy from your pulls "How did I not notice before that you are this beautiful?" he kissed one of your folds and your back flexed again. "That you taste so good…”

Your whole body jerked in pleasure as he sealed his lips on your clit. Sucking. Drinking. Opening his mouth wide and devouring every nerve of you like a starving man. As if you were his last entrée that he would hesitate to ravish for how exquisite it was. One hand came up and took away yours that was caressing your boobs, his now cold fingers closing on them. His hand was large. It went all the way around you and pressed your hard, overstimulated nipple between the middle of his fingers.

"Spencer," you moaned, your thighs trembling and his mouth devouring your cunt with vigor, "It's too much. Sensitive."

His mouth closed on you again, your hips still twitching at him. Pleasure engulfed you, your stomach contracted and you swore you saw nebulae and tiny stars the moment his tongue sucked slowly at your slit. It curved, it teased you, driving you to your limit.

"No, not yet" he groaned against your skin, but his fingers didn't falter for a single second. The bundle of stimulation cut your lungs out. "Just one, yes? Can you give it to me, angel?"

You barely nodded as he returned to devouring you. He wanted to take you to the last of your strength. Heat coiled in your stomach and your heart was about to burst out of your chest. Irregular beats that succumbed you in instant pleasure. His tongue licked in one last long line in your pussy that tore out a scream that you stifled by biting your lip. The release of your orgasm taking you elsewhere. You were trapped in ecstasy. Your limbs ached and you needed him more and more. His breath was warm as he pulled away and kissed your mons pubis, testing, seeing how much more you could take. It made your hair stood on edge.

"You had this well planned, hmm?" you whimpered in a murmur, feeling the sequels of your first orgasm shaking your body, "I bet you've thought about it too. About how good it would feel to have me in your hands, is that it? Did you want me so bad you couldn't do anything but imagine it?”

He growled in reply, and the sound made your blood rise. Time slowed down around you and for a moment you forgot there was a whole party going on outside. But all you could think about was that you had Spencer on his knees for you, his erection probably being too painful for him and yet he continued to kiss you and tasted all of your senses. The pressure of his lips was deep worship, in restrained cravings that would sooner or later explode into frenzy. Your head fell against the mirrored glass as now his fingers curved lightly to touch your cunt in search of more. He added a finger, then another, patiently opening you up. Your hips throbbed again from the overstimulation, your brow furrowing as he rose and began to spread kisses all over your face.

"You have no idea, I asked myself that every night I pretended I didn't care about you more than I should have." he murmured, his palm pressed against your clit and his bulge in his pants pressed against your thigh, in pursuit of a delicious friction you both needed. You were at his mercy completely. You lowered your head and rested your forehead on his shoulder, feeling his fingers move nimbly inside you. "And each time, the answer was yes. I wanted you so much that it hurts. Do you think you can give me one more, sweetheart?"

You nodded again and that sweet moan that came out of your mouth when he added a third finger made you see stars. Your eyes closed, you impaled yourself on his hand until you felt Spencer silencing as best he could his moans by stifling them with his own lips, still glistening from your arousal.

He continued touching you. Kissing you with ardor. And you questioned if you would have done this if you were both talking to each other instead of immediately deducing that you disliked each other. You were an idiot. Because from now on you didn't want to be in the hands of any man but Spencer. You didn't want to see another face. Neither did you want to go back to the normal course of your life when he had brought you to a point of no return that you never reached with anyone else.

"Just like that," he whispered, kissing that dangerous spot in the area of your racing pulse. Provocatively. "Fucking my hand. Gasping for me. You're so good. So beautiful. I can't get enough of you."

He bit back a slim layer of skin, and you moaned.

"Spencer..." you hissed, leaning your hips into him, "Fuck.”

You glimpsed his frown trying to concentrate on your own pleasure, but his hips bucked and he rubbed at your inner thighs, you could almost see some pre seminal liquid pouring out of his pants and the sight made you rush at his touch. His fingers curled, you grabbed him by the cheeks and kissed him as you bucked unconsciously and the surges of your second orgasm filled you up to your ears. Spencer gasped as you came in his hand, and he was precious. Beautiful, dark eyes, rosy cheeks and fully swollen, glowing lips. Your breaths hitched in unison as he pulled his hand away from you and you brushed back the strands of hair that clung to his sweaty forehead.

You give him a smile, tired, and his head does nothing but spin. At the need, at how good it felt to finally touch you and feel you collapse into him. At how masterful you perceived better than all the times he imagined what it would be like. A giggle escapes from his lips, pressing a kiss to your temple, his warm breath spreading over your skin, and his hand, almost by instinct, moved up your abdomen in a lazy rubbing tracing distracted circles. Now yours played with the hairs at the nape of his neck and you let yourself drift in the sweet silence surrounding you.

"Hmm," he whispered. "It took us longer to heal your wound."

You opened your mouth in an offended gesture, hitting him gently but you didn't have the strength for much. His body vibrated from his laughter, and you loved it. "I want to see you say that later. We'll see who gets the last laugh and it will definitely be me.”

Spencer looked at you with those deer-eyed eyes full of tenderness that your knees felt weaker. He left another soft kiss on your cheek and you hummed in delight at the gesture. Slipping your arms around his shoulders, hugging him. Melting into him.

"Whatever you say, angel." he said with his eyes closed. "We still have time."

It was as if the entire universe had shrunk to that instant. The feel of your skin against his effortlessly banishing everything you felt for him before. Of knowing he craved you as much as you craved him. His breath attached to yours, coupled in a quiet, slightly agitated rhythm, just enough to fill the bathroom with him.

You leaned your forehead against his shoulder, feeling the slow waves of his breathing, and for a moment you felt light. As if in that minuscule piece where nothing bad could reach you. As if he was the refuge you had always wanted to return to without knowing it.

"Do we have it?" you repeated softly, shyly, almost as a question to yourself.

Spencer nodded, his nose brushing against your temple."We have all the time in the world if you're with me.”

Your lips pursued his just because the words got stuck in your mouth, this time in a more chaste kiss. One that tasted of rest, of complicity. And your heart was beating so fast you could hear its beat rewinding in your ears.

"I like you so much," you murmured against his mouth, barely a whisper. "I reiterate that I'm concerned about all the effects you have on me.”

His hands traced slow figures on your back, the whisper of his voice lulling you low:

"Then let's be scared together. It's much safer for both of us, isn't it?"

And you did. You closed your eyes, sank into him... And, for the first time in a while, you didn't care what came next.

[seat-safety-switch]

People freak out about check-engine lights, but they've never bothered me too much. They're just there to let you know that something mild has gone wrong, and that maybe you should pay your mechanic too much money to take a look at it in the immediate future. Me, I don't worry about what it has to say.

Most of its complaints are not critical. An engine, even equipped with modern electronics, is not capable of figuring out its internal state to this level. Let's consider a normal, everyday situation: I'm halfway down what is likely to be a 12-second quarter-mile pass, the nitrous is flowing, and I've missed my shift.

Despite the imminent danger to manifold, I will not get a check engine light for bouncing the valves off of the top of the pistons, degrading them into the modern-art form of scrap metal. At best, I'll get a little "oopsy woopsy, misfired!" warning as the block saws itself into three million razor-sharp pieces, and ejects the crankshaft into the stands. However, I will get one on the way to the racetrack, because my gas cap is loose.

With this known, the enlightened mind realizes that you can ignore whatever the check engine light has to say. If it really found out something important, then it will be obvious to you pretty soon anyway, and there's not much you can do about it until then. Better to just floor it.

Of course, there is one exception. Sometimes, the check engine light keeps you from flooring it. The car, in its boundless and triumphant wisdom, knows that you are going to hurt it if you actually try to use all the revs you paid for. In this case, the average shitbox owner will attempt to fix the check-engine light. This is the wrong impulse, and will only teach the car to be more pessimistic in the future. The correct thing to do is to grab a different car from your hoard, and ignore the first one until you have absolutely no choice but to fix it. That'll teach it to complain.

[huntingcupid]

FROM THE START — M.S

that when I talk to you, oh, cupid walks right through and shoots an arrow through my heart and I sound like a loon, but don't you feel it too? confess I loved you from the start

⌗ MEGAN — fem!reader, fluff, girl next door, swearing, flirting, reader gets injured, pining, somehow slowburn, megan is a down BAD, reader is very close to her parents, etc...

⌗ SYPNOSIS — when you move into an entirely new city by yourself — you wondered what it may bring you, what you didn't expect was to fall in love with your neighbor

⌗ CUPID — hi! first try at slowburn so please don't mind if its sorta badly written, anyways requested by my lovely moot @kkoga love u babes

saying goodbye to your old city, the very same city you've lived in for almost your whole childhood — the city that contained everything you knew, was scary it scared you that you might never find another place like it

yet when an bigger opportunity calls in a whole new place you knew you had to take it, it's not like you can get a scholarship and a free place to stay at anywhere now

your hands got clammy and shaky as you start packing your clothes and stuff, you knew that somehow you're overpacking, yet all these things held a sentimental value to you, a little piece of what you consider home

“darling isn't that too much” your mother chuckles seeing 4 boxes of things you will be bringing, you huff clearly puzzled, “i don't want to feel alone there mom” you replied which your mother sighs to

she sat next to you as you continue shoving all your things into boxes, “you're not gonna be alone, y/n you're a wonderful person, it's not gonna take long for you to find your own people there” your mom says brushing your hair which managed to calm you down

you didn't wanna think at that moment and just shrink and hug your mom, just like always — “you are such a smart girl y/n, and maybe moving to that city will help expand your knowledge” your mom whispers kissing the top of your head, you close your eyes basking in the moment, “i know mom, but I'm still scared” you replied — “there's nothing too big to conquer y/n, trust yourself” your mother replies, making you smile

you always adored how strong and inspiring your mom is, she is the main reason you even considered accepting the offer, you thought about the future you can give her, and it felt so wonderful that you can do it, “i will mom” you replied

you two sat there in silence just letting the moment stretch for as long you needed to, you stare blankly at the boxes labeled in your name some still unsealed — if this was your fate you knew it was for good, that with this move you will progress in life immediately, “i can do this” you mutter determined to make it work, not only for yourself but for your mother, “that's my baby” your mother cheers silently which you giggle to

later that night your mother made your favorite, sinigang — the sour and warm broth easing the tension inside you, “how will I cook mom?” you ask suddenly, remembering your inability to cook and how inexperienced you are, “i'll send you recipes you can follow” your mother replies laughing at your distress, “what if i burn the place down, mom!?” you stutter already dreading cooking, “trust me, you can't do that, your cooking is amazing sweetie” your mom replies reassuring you, “i hope so” you mutter your mind reeling with scenarios of you cooking and potentially burning the place

after dinner, you lie in bed, feeling rather empty — you stare at the wall thinking of the changes the new life will give you, as you drift to sleep, dreams of a bright future keep you warm and somehow excited

you wake up to the smell of freshly made waffles — the aroma of the brewed coffee wafting throughout the home, you sit up and stretch as the rays of sunlight filter through your window casting an ethereal glow on your skin — “good morning mom!” you greet walking down to the kitchen greeted with your moms cooking and her proudly smiling, “come on eat!” your mom urges you to sit and eat

after eating you showered and picked out a comfortable outfit to wear for the long drive you will take, your dad helped bring the boxes into the trunk of your car, “so.., see you guys soon?” you say to your parents as they both stood there watching you, “bye baby, please take care of yourself” your mother rambled on and on about how you can always come back here, your dad only said goodbye and hugged you tightly

you sat in your car starting the engine after waving goodbye to your parents, you played some soft music in your car as you drove, beabadoobee and laufey tunes filling the vehicle — after a few hours of driving you stop in front of a cozy looking apartment, you took a mental note of how close it is to a café you wanted to visit after unpacking

you unloaded your car sighing and rethinking why you had to pack this many things — now your having difficulties bringing it inside, barely able to lift it off the ground, you grunt frustrated “oh come on”

you look up when you hear soft rustling, that's when you saw her, she looked beautiful her raven hair framing her face and her eyes they seemed so innocent and pure, “can i help you?” she says offering a hand, “megan by the way” she introduces, it fit her so perfectly you stare for a bit making her giggle, “so?” she trails, “oh! uh yeah sure, that would be lovely, I'm y/n” you replied shaking her hands, she nods and carries one of the boxes into your apartment, “why did you move?” she asks as she finally brings in the last box — “oh it's for college, i got a pretty good offer and i took it” you replied, she hums nodding her head,

“you must be smart then” she jokes which you laugh to shaking your head, “not really, just focused in class” you reply, “how about you, you're very strong do you do any activities that you got because of that strength?” you ask now very curious about the girl, “i teach dance lessons, and go to college too” she says, “you'll have to teach me, i swear i am stiff” you joke she laughs which you smile to, her voice seemed so comforting and soft which made you feel things, “i doubt that, anyways i'll see you soon?” she replies, already walking to the door, you felt a tinge of disappointment wanting her to stay longer but you kept silent about it, “yeah, you live next door right?” you ask and she nods waving before shutting the door leaving you with your thoughts

you unpack and organize your things for an hour straight making your limbs so tired you felt like it would fall off any minute — you took a quick cold shower washing away your sweat and worries, you get dressed in some sweatpants and a random hoodie you got

you wanted to check out said café earlier, yes it was late but who doesn't like iced coffee after working so hard, you walk along the city lights illuminating the road ahead — it was fairly cold but the soft breeze felt amazing, you see the café just a few more meters away, after a few more minutes you made it

the café wasn't filled but it was fairly seated, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted you making you smile, you line up and looked at the menu seeing a few matcha selections, finally your time to order you look up and low and behold, megan her hair tied up in a loose ponytail “y/n! hi, didn't take you as a matcha person” she says happily putting in your order, “i also didn't take you as someone who would work in a café” you replied smiling softly paying for your order before finding a comfy seat, just near the windows

you mindlessly scroll on your phone, feeling butterflies in your stomach, seeing her again. she looked so beautiful like a painting — “order for y/n?” you walk up to the counter, getting your matcha before sitting back down, sipping on the beverage and sending updates to your parents

after a while you finished your drink, and got up to walk back home — megan eyes follow your form as you leave, unknowingly starting to develop something, something she hadn't felt in a while

the first few days of you living in this new city felt like a fever dream, some days you would feel weird and somehow foreign to some things they did here, but most you would feel just at home — especially with the help of megan, she would often visit you keeping you company and filling the apartment with her infectious laugh

“let's go to the park?” megan asks rather out of the blue as you two sat in your living room, you nod happy wherever she might take you, “i'll bring snacks” you replied standing up and getting your tote bag, picking some fruits and a large enough water bottle for you two, megan waited a bit before she stood up and intertwined her hands with yours, “let's go?” she asks which you nod to unable to form words, her hands were so soft and warm and it fit your hand into hers snugly — you two walked for 10 minutes while megan occasionally joked about something stupid but funny enough for you two to look a little crazy laughing, “here” she points to a empty spot in the park, you sat on the grass looking at the sun just at the horizon, she unpacks the food and took a quick picture, as megan was busy eating and staring at the numerous squirrels that ran around the park

you took your time sketching her, smiling as you add silly doodles on the side of her portrait, she giggles looking at you confused, “what you drawing?” she asks, you hid the drawing at first but with enough persuasion the girl got you to show it to her, her eyes lit up and a smile met her lips making you smile and blush, “y/n this is gorgeous! you captured me so well” she muses tracing her fingers over the pencil lines, “just messing around” you mutter back, something about seeing megan so joyful made you feel satisfied and complete somehow, “can i keep it?” she asks which you obviously nod to she takes the drawing and folds it in half putting it in her pocket

you two sat there in comfortable silence something you two did a lot, megan was first to break it though, “it's getting late, we should walk back” she says watching as the sun started to set — you noticed how the clouds started getting darker indicating a rain approaching, “it looks like it'll rain too” you said, megan frowns and starts packing up, you two hurriedly walkback

4 minutes later it started pouring, drenching you both, “shit!” megan exclaims her hair sticking to her forehead due to the rain, you laugh at the girl which she took as a challenge she kicked some water your way which made you gasp, you two fought with water all the way back to your apartment, “count your days seriously” you said the the girl which she only smugly grinned to, “i should get home, I'm soaked” megan says, you shake your head, “i have extra clothes just shower here, I'm cooking some soup i want you to have some” the girls eyes filled with hearts she nods, you hand her a large tshirt you had and some shorts, as the girl showered you changed into some warmer clothes drying your hair after

you open your fridge shortly after preparing the ingredients — slicing up some veggies and beef, boiling it all together making a warm and delicious broth — “smells amazing y/n, what other talents do you have?” she teases, “a lot i guess” you replied getting some bowls, and filling it with soup, “here” you said handing megan the bowl across the table, she smiles taking a deep inhale, she looked adorable in your clothes, it didn't help that you two stole glances at each other at every moment, “this is so good, you'll have to give me more” the girl says finishing her bowl, you giggle clearly flattered that she liked your cooking, “thank you, maybe in return you can teach me some dance moves?” you trail shrugging, “obviously” she nods

later that night you two were in your living room, megan teaching you the basics, her hands on your waist and her face dangerously close to yours, “like this” she says adjusting your hip, you two lock eyes and for a moment megan's eyes flicker to your lips, you nod following her direction, “your a fast learner” she compliments

you check the clock, it was already 10 pm, “hey it's late megan, you should get home” you say afraid of wasting the girls time, “yeah, see you tomorrow?” she asks and you respond “like usual” she giggles before walking to her apartment

that night you laid in bed reflecting on your feelings for the girl, you knew she knew what you felt, the way you two seemed in sync all the time, and the stolen glances, hugs, and hours upon hours of talking meant something. you groan out of frustration

frustration that you can't seem to get her out of your mind, she plagued your thoughts, her laughter seems to fill your ears at every moment, you smile at how stupid this was, how stupid you were for her

megan journaled about her feelings pouring out compliment after praise about you, her growing feelings being too big to ignore

a few days later you went to the college to formally pass your paperwork, since it was starting in a few weeks

after passing it you were crossing the road to walk back home when a car hit you, you fell on the road the pain hitting you like tons of bricks — “fuck” you mutter gripping your leg, it felt so numb but you saw how much you bled which made you panic, shortly after paramedics came to pick you up,

megan rushed through the place running to you worry evident on her features, “y/n?!, are you okay?” she asks her hands on your arms you could only laugh earning you a hit on the arm from the girl, “yes, I'm okay, i just have to get a cast for my left leg now” megan looks and bit her lip seeing the damage, “i'll stay here till you get the cast on” she says, and she stayed, hours upon hours it was almost midnight when you and her left the hospital, she almost carried you but you insisted you can walk

megan helped you change into some pajamas, and laid you on your bed, her worried expression soon fading seeing you lay in bed finally getting your much needed rest, just as she was leaving you frowned

“stay, please?” you plead in a tired and small voice which instantly melted the girl, she lays beside you hugging you, giving a warm feeling inside you — you put your head beneath hers humming softly as you finally fell asleep, comfortable in her hands

you woke up to some breakfast in bed, megan's hair tied messily as she brings in the waffles and a matcha latte, “here” she says giving it to you, you smiled, truly happy that she even thought about this, you took a bite and savored the flavor melting in your mouth, “thank you megan, this is so amazing” you mutter which she replies to “anything for you”, your heart beated a bit faster at her words, suddenly the wall was so interesting as you tried to hide your blushing face

days passed and megan refused to leave your side, always assisting you even in stupid situations when you didn't exactly need it, you can see how dedicated she was to making you feel comfortable, megan never complained nor talk about being tired, she just wanted to take care of you — every passing moment you kept falling deeper for her, for her smile, for her genuine care, and just for her as a person

tonight was different, megan seemed to have something in mind, her eyes darted around the room avoiding your gaze, and she was silent, strangely so, you got worried maybe she's burnt out from taking care of you?, maybe she was tired — you thought to yourself — you were puzzled why she suddenly was silent, you thought about the last few days, thinking maybe you did something stupid, or maybe megan just doesn't like you like that,

“y/n? can I tell you something?” megan breaks the silence finally looking into your eyes, “anything meg” you replied softly, you furrow your brows a bit scared of what she'll say, “i don't know how to explain this, y/n i like you — no i love you” she mutters so quickly you barely even understood it

the moment stopped and it felt so surreal, megan was nervous, clearly you were too — silence stretched for way too long before you spoke, “i love you too” you whisper almost like a forbidden spell, her eyes lit up before rushing to your side hugging you so tightly it felt like you were gonna pop, “wait really?!” megan excitedly exclaimed which you nod to, “i loved you the moment i met you megan, from the start, i don't know how you didn't notice” you explain only making the girl smile wider

megan held your face in between her hands cupping your cheeks, her eyes and your both trail to each others lips like a silent agreement megan closed the distance, she felt like heaven, you smile into the kiss pulling away a minute or two later

you two were both too embarrassed to say anything so instead you two sat there staring at each other, blushing like highschool lovers — “you're not lying right?” she asks, “god you're such a loser” you giggle hugging megan yet again you wince a bit when you hit your leg

megan quickly checked and asked if you were okay, and you kept nodding, “are you sure?” she asks yet again, “yes ms.skiendiel” you laugh

that evening you two lay in your bed watching some netflix while wearing “matching pjs”, well it's just two stupid minecraft t shirts you both bought off at the children's section — megan's arms wrapped around your waist as she watches the show intently

for a moment you two were just there, existing in each others presence enjoying the love that was now no longer hidden, well that's until megan asked something a bit foolish “y/n would you still love me if I was a worm” you chuckle clearly caught off guard, “no seriously!” she reasons which you smile at, “I'll love you any way you are” megan smiles and giggles a bit

it felt like yesterday that you had just met her, met megan — it was crazy to you that now your laying in bed, hugging her and being comfortable to say the most outrageous things — you can say one thing though, you've definitely love her from the start

wc: 3.2k words

[valeriele3]

Rewind Venti x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Meeting a young bard may have sealed your fate to a never-ending journey through Teyvat. Forever wandering and rewinding time. Fluff/Angst(?) Words: 700

"Hey, how many times have we looped time now?"

"Hmm... This is the 10,039th loop…"

"That much, huh…?"

"Yes."

"How much more do you think we'll need?"

"Possibly a few thousand more, but hopefully this is the last."

"No, this has to be the last."

"Barbatos, if this attempt fails yet again, please take care of things for me."

"Alright. You can rest now. I'll take care of things."

"Ah! Y/N! We meet again"

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Ah—I—I mean, it's fair if you don't"

"After all, the last time we met was way back when we were kids, remember?" He sheepishly says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Ah, I see…Oh! Could you perhaps be...Lar...Larka...? Yeah, Larka.." you pretended to remember. If you were being honest, you couldn't remember this man or anyone from your past.

All your memories from when you were aged 12 and below were eerily blank.

You wondered if you'd suffer from a head injury, but apparently you hadn't. It felt weird at first.

Like you just woke up from a long slumber. But...ah, how rude.

You've accidentally been staring at the lad while lost in your thoughts.

You look away, embarrassed. "S-Sorry…"

"It's alright, you can stare longer if you want." He playfully winks, making your already red face turn redder.

'Geez, we just met, and I already embarrassed myself.'

'But...strangely, I don't mind it much.'

That was how you "first" met the young lad named "Venti."

He had beautiful turquoise eyes that seemed to hold the winds within, beautiful double-braided hair positioned on each side of his head, a voice that sounded as if it could grasp your heart warmly, and a touch that brought a sense of warmth, comfort, and familiarity.

He was an anomaly to you.

Suddenly appearing in your otherwise bleak life, brightening your world, and filling it with the brightest and most pleasant colors.

Time seemed to pass by slowly, like a glacier. Seemingly frozen in time but moving.

And like glaciers, your life changes, albeit sometimes imperceptibly.

You don't know when it began, but you now often find yourself recollecting memories and experiences that you' swear you've never experienced before.

You felt like you were delusional. Crazy even.

But, if there was one thing you've noticed with these new memories resurfacing, it's that they always seem to predict the future. Like a prophetic dream.

So you've labeled it as that. A power to predict the future. A Prophecy.

Things had been going well. So well, even. And maybe that's why you're in a terrible situation right now. As a payment for all your fortune.

You were trapped in a cave with monsters pouring out endlessly from a hidden domain inside the cave.

How long have you been fighting?

You couldn't count the hours anymore. It felt like hundreds of years had passed already.

Picking up your sword once more, you ready yourself, clinging onto a sliver of hope that maybe, maybe someone would come to your rescue soon.

You just need to hold out for a bit more.

Seeing a mitachurl begin to swing its giant axe at you, you try to dodge, but alas, your tired body had reached its limit.

You couldn't move anymore. Even just holding your sword was draining the last of the energy you had.

'I guess this is it for me…' Closing your eyes, you await the feeling of an axe coming down to slice you in half, but it never comes.

Instead, you felt a calm, gentle breeze.

Opening your eyes, you see what seemed to be the gentle breeze brutally slicing the monsters to pieces. Like a gale.

'Someone..Someone found me..'

'I did it…I survived…' The thought of being saved after long, brutal hours of nonstop fighting hit your body with a wave of exhaustion. Unable to keep yourself up any longer, you collapse on the ground

'Where am I...? '

"Barbatos…! Catch it, it's escaping!"

'Huh? Barbatos...? The Anemo Archon? '

Just then a headache struck you. Like a needle pushing itself further inside you.

'Agh…My head…It hurts…'

"Flowers? For me? Aww, thank you!"

"Barbatos, look! Look! I made you a flower crown and...a matching flower ring just for the two of us."

"Barbatos, what is that?"

"What did you do?!"

"｢⟄ v⟃⟔⟔⋖"

"I'm sorry... Please... Let me turn back the time once more."

"I'll do better the next time!"

"Ah...Ah...No...Not again…I don't want this ending."

Whirr

Click-click

Zzzziiip

"This time, I will save this world from destruction."

"B̷̌̈a̸̓̄ŕ̴̅b̸̑̕a̵̦͛t̷̿̾ó̵̀s̵̎̂will you join me in my perpetual journey?"

Whirr

"Hey, how many times have we looped time now?"

"Hmm... This is the 10,0....."

[keeksandgigz]

more 18+ smutty thots (minors dni)

I don't know what came over me I was supposed to write an essay and this came out. disgustingly fluffy smut under the cut.

ok so while the idea of being fingered with rings on is really hot, I personally think it's really painful, you just get repeatedly punched in the pussy by like chunky metal. not very hot.

so picture this, Eddie always fingers you with his right hand because it's easier to take off one ring than three, big, chunky ones. He usually puts it down somewhere, maybe on his dresser or his desk, just so he knows he won't lose it.

And he's kneeling on the floor between your legs, getting ready to give you the biggest and sloppiest and the best head of your life. His hair is tied up and his other hand is keeping your thighs spread- now, the bite of those rings on your thigh you don't mind. They're cold and your flesh gets stuck in the gap between the ring and his finger, giving your inner thigh a delicious pinch.

But he's shirtless and he's famished and you notice that he still has that ring on. And he's circling your entrance with his ring and middle finger and as much as you'd love for him to keep going, because he's making you feel so good you have to stop him.

He emerges from in between your thighs, alarmed.

"What's wrong sweetheart? Need to stop?" his eyebrows are curled in a concerned manner, he's worried you weren't enjoying it. Ever the people pleaser.

"No no no, not at all" you huff, there is not enough oxygen in your brain for you to think right now. You stare at the ceiling, hoping that miraculously the words will come to you.

"What is it then?" he urges, giving your thigh a soft squeeze.

"Your um- your ring" you whisper softly, tilting your head towards his slick soaked fingers. He takes a moment to register, looking at his right hand, seeing the small little silver ring on his ring finger.

"Oh shit, sorry sweetheart" he goes to clean his fingers on the duvet of his bed, which makes you wince a bit. He probably won't was those sheets anytime soon.

He takes his ring off, but a malicious grin adorns his face as he plays with it a little, looking at you, still spread open and naked on the bed for him.

"Why don't you hold on to it for me?" he asks, as he reaches for your left hand, placing the slightly loose ring on your fourth finger. Your ring finger.

The thought makes you gasp as he wastes no time diving back into eating you out. His thick fingers spreading you open for him, as the gesture, though small, makes a wave of arousal mixed with utter love and devotion wash over you.

Your moans get louder with the possessive nature of the gesture, he wanted you to be his.

"Yeah? Y'wanna be my little wife?" he says in between licks and sucks at your core as his fingers make quick work of brushing that soft spot that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. His words only top the whole thing off.

"Oh- sh-yes, Eddie!" and you're not even sure what you're saying yes to. Everything feels too good, from the way his ringed hand is gripping your thigh, to the way his too- big ring burns its way into your skin. His. His little wife.

Your right hand digs at his hair, grabbing and pawing at the soft curls, urging him to fulfill you, a carnal need for more of him. A need for him to have you in any way he can.

His fingers picked up the pace, compensating for your mouth separating from you, chin and nose covered in slick.

"Who would've guessed a ring was all you needed. I put this little piece of tin on your finger and you go insane? Trust me baby, I'll give you the real thing. I'll give you everything you want" he mumbles against the skin of your tummy, mouthing soft praises.

"So good for me, aren't you. Gonna be mine so soon" and the promises of such a certain future make your head reel. His fingers curling inside of you as you cry out, the feeling of him being everywhere on you. Inside and out.

His hair fanning on your tummy as he continues his trail of hisses to the hinge of your knee, your calf, your ankle. The arch of your foot.

Then his hand is on you, brushing stray hair out of your face, cupping your cheek as your moans become lighter, airier.

"You close, baby? My little wife wants to cum for me?" he asks, his mouth against the seam of your thigh, licking and sucking bruises in his wake.

And you can't really speak aside from soft hn! noises and the occasional cry of his name, a prayer above as your walls begin to tighten around him.

"'mclose" you deliver curtly and he smiles, watching the way your cheeks flush, your eyes can't stop rolling to the back of your head.

"C'mon, baby, cum for me" he says, and like a spell has been cast on you, you follow his order, tightening around his fingers that don't seem to be stopping as you ride out your orgasm.

You have to push his hand away, an overwhelmed whine coming out of your mouth as you lay there.

"No more, no more" you chant, laying back as he sits on his bed, laying your head on his lap, caressing your matted and sweaty hear, brushing them away from your forehead as you catch your breath, playing with the new addition to your finger to steady yourself.

"You can keep that if you want. Gonna get you a chain, wear it around your neck" he says, smiling down at you.

"But it's yours, Ed" you squeak out, tired in a post orgasmic glow.

"Consider this an advance. For when I get to put a ring on that pretty finger" he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

And you feel safe, secure. Happy.

[alllgator-blood]

Your asks are back on! I wanted to say how much I love your content, I've almost cried over it before tbqh. Im also a huge Shamura apologist they're so special to me. I also ADORE how you write Kallamar, since hes my second favorite! Youre so amazing with your interpretations and the struggles he has to go through being the second oldest keeping things together after Shamura's TBI. Keep up the good work! (Also hope to see a spare crumb of goat content sometime in the future)

Thank you!!! I never know what to say when people say they almost cried/DID cry over something I make, cause on one hand I'm like NO THAT'S TERRIBLE, and on the other hand that's the best possible response to angst content? I've cried maybe like three times over a piece of media in my entire life and frankly I feel left out cause sometimes I want to suffer horribly but in like a good way.

Kallamar is a curious case to me, because when I started this blog I had it OUT FOR HIM. I HATED THAT SQUID I was so mad about that scene where he tells you to kill shamura instead of him. And then I started writing for him more, and NOW it's at the point where he gets more screen time in my comics than shamura, my big fave?? He'll be starring in the next few comics I put up so I'm glad to hear you like how I write him!

As for goat content...I actually have made several goat pictures that never went up, in a bit I'll post an alignment chart they're featured in but for now here's the sketch for their ref sheet:

(it's gonna take a while for me to finalize how my goat works so idk when I'll finish this. Don't mind the censored middle finger, I forgot I draw them with two fingers so I had to improvise...)

[jinwoosbabyboo]

"The Sunset is Beautiful Isn't It?" pt. 2

The saying above is a beautiful way to bid someone farewell without having to say goodbye and I think it perfectly fits saying goodbye to our LaD Men because we can't keep hurting them. Someone has to end it. In first person p.o.v because it's you.

Goodbye Xavier

Your POV

Queen of Philos. I've glimpsed into a past that is yet to happen. My future is Xavier's past. No wonder he's had so many identities while here on earth. Lumiere, Evol policeman it's all adding up.

She's so tired .... or I'm so tired .... I don't know .... I'm so confused. I can feel her sorrow waiting for him. Wishing her 'Star' would come home. The weight of a sorrow I have yet to experience and my own sorrow of knowing Xavier's planet is dying because he's here trying to change my future.

I'm so stupid, but part of me couldn't believe that he'd be a time traveler. The idea was ridiculous yet here I am looking at my own future in another life. Nothing is impossible.

Except this pipeline dream Xavier has of trying to save me. That's ridiculous. I've disappeared on Philos, but I can feel her sorrow still wherever she is....wherever I am? Whatever.

I stare down at a freshly napped Xavier snuggled in my lap. Those eyes gaze at me with pure happiness & love. Then he smiles; that smile is what kills a piece of my soul every time it graces his lips. I can't protect that smile. It hurts to look at him now. I love him so much and I don't regret falling in love with him, but falling in love is just that....

Falling.

We're bound to break. This isn't a movie we don't get that happily ever after.

It was a valiant effort, but wasted energy. There's no rewriting the stars. I can't have him and he can't have me. "What are you thinking about?" Xavier's soft voice pulls me from my internal dilemma.

I shake my head and let a small smile pull at my lips as I lean down and place a soft kiss on his lips. "Nothing" I whisper before diving back in wanting to stay like this, but knowing we can't.

"Oh look at that" He directs his gaze in the same direction that I'm looking right out the living room window. "The sunset is beautiful isn't it?" He simply nods before pulling me back into a passionate kiss. I'll enjoy him one last time because after tonight. We can never meet again.

Xavier's POV

She was gone. I woke up alone in her bed with just her hunter watch in my hand. Panic immediately set in as I scrambled out of bed searching her apartment for her. The only thing missing was a few clothes and her favorite duffle.

"I have to find her" I told myself as I searched day and night for her. I contacted every single one of her coworkers, but none of them had heard from her.

That was almost a year ago and this is my last spring on earth. How does one simply disappear in such a way? I wish I could see her one last time, but wherever she's gone she doesn't want to be found. My little star has left me this time.

Goodbye Sylus

"Where are you going?" His deep timbre voice sends shivers down my spine. My hand froze on the front door handle. I didn't think catch me leaving while in the middle of his usual sleep schedule. I spin around mustering up a tight smile "What are you doing up?" I asked trying to steer the conversation is a different direction.

His red eyes narrowed as he studies me "Where. Are. You. Going?" He added emphasis on each word as he approached me, crowding my space. He pressed his hands against the door trapping me between him and my only exit. My mouth was suddenly dry as he stared down at me.

"I need to go back to my place for a few things"

"Since when do you pack up your clothes here for a quick trip to Linkon?" He tilted his chin towards the duffle in my hand. My mind went blank as I saw his eye begin to glow.

"Okay okay! Sylus I love you .... I do, but I keep having these flashbacks or maybe it's the future I don't know, but every time it ends with me stabbing you in the chest" He eyes me before dropping his gaze to our feet exhaling sharply. "Right in your heart" A single tear slips from my eye as my voice cracks.

"Is that why you have this scar on your chest?" I asked pressing my hand to his chest. "Is that why you're so sensitive here?" He turns his head away as he releases a shaky breath. "I told you it's not a big deal"

"It is a big deal and whatever we're doing here is going to end in tragedy and I can't live with the constant reminder that I'm going to hurt you" His head snaps back up so fast I flinch and my blood runs cold with the intense stare he's giving me. "What are you saying?"

He stands tall and crosses his arms over his chest finally giving me space to breathe. I take a deep breath before responding "I'm leaving"

"Like hell you are"

"This isn't up for discussion" I turn my back to him and yank the door open desperate for fresh air. Before closing it behind me I spare him a glance over my shoulder "Don't look for me .... please"

Sylus' POV

If this kitten thinks she can hide from me. She's sadly mistaken. The chase is just getting started. I'll find you no matter where you go. Our red string of fate that ties us together can't be severed that easily. We're endgame sweetie.

Zayne & Rafayel here....

[baby-tini]

Can we PLEASE talk about fucked up foreplay? All I can think about is PM Dazai curbstomping some poor dude who betrayed the mafia (it's standard protocol after all, jaw breaking+three shots to the chest) and it's for your enjoyment, just because you asked if you could watch because you're both equally fucked up and it's like, a whole thing, he drags the torture out, humiliating the man ,spits on him, asks you to spit on him as well, makes him kiss his boot or the gun he's gonna shoot him with, just—fuuuuuuccckk

TW- Murder, Detailed Torture, Violence, Blood, Gore

YES WE ABSOLUTELY CAN!!! I NEED MORE THIRST LIKE THIS IN MY INBOX IMMEDIATELY!!! Thxs!!! (I may have went overboard...)

The both of you were at Lupin when Dazai was made aware of the situation, stepping away too take the call as you tipsily conversed with the bartender, the little giggles bubbling from your throat as you spewed whatever came to your mind. He wasn't gone for long though, only a couple minutes before you felt him leaning over your shoulder from behind, his lips inches from your ear as he told you that the both of you had too go. He was quiet as he led you out of the bar, leading you by the waist into a sleek black car, giving the man upfront directions as he closed the door. He was unbothered as you messily climbed into his lap, your head foggy from the liquor as his hands moved to your waist too help you coordinate better before you sloppily made out with him, you always found Dazai too be extraordinarily attractive, but even more so when he was pissed, plus mixing the smell of his cologne into it, it just gave you a whole new experience of a high. There wasn't much reciprocation on his end as his hands sit on your hips, he just allowed you too do as you pleased. The drive felt quicker then you originally thought, as the car stopped and Dazai reached for the door handle as Dazai told the driver, "watch her." You had tugged on his coat when he said that, crawling closer to him as you whined, pleading to him with a, "wanna watch 'samu..."

He stared for a moment before his hand reached out and grabbed your arm and pulled you out, stumbling into his chest as he shut the door behind him. It was a dark alley that he led you down into, a man bloody and bruised laid on the floor, he was covered in dirt and soot, his once white shirt now soaked through with crimson and mud as his face bled, ruby droplets leaking down his chin as they fall to the floor in a constant flow. His uncovered eye was empty as he stepped closer to the man, slow and calculated, like a predator as his men that were guarding the traitor stepped away as Dazai shooed them away, you following close behind him. Dazai stood in front of the cowered man, his whole body shaking as Dazai stared down at him, before he dragged the man to the stairs a few feet away, the man began pleading for his life, making promises he knew he'd betray in the future as he was thrown face-first into the hard concreate of the stair case, his nose busting on impact as his mouth fell open and he let out a muffled cry.

"Because you couldn't keep your fucking mouth shut, I had too be called away too come deal with you." Dazai snarled as his foot harshly came down on the back of the mans head, the sound of the mans teeth shattering made a loud cracking echo as the mans mouth instantly started too leak blood and the chipped pieces of his teeth fell out of his mouth. The man was left panting and before he could move, Dazai kicked him in his stomach, causing him too groan and roll onto his back. He gestured you over, letting his hand settle on the arch of your back as he scowled at the man. "Apologize to her, and maybe I'll think about ending you quickly." The apologies that spewed from the mans bloody mouth were instantaneous as he looked up and pleaded to you, only too have Dazais foot come down, crushing his femur in the process. It was a loud ugly wail that left that mans lips, so loud that you thought his vocal cords would bleed. The man quickly shut up when Dazai pulled out a Colt M1911A1, pointing it at the mans chest, you saw the deep fear in that manns eyes before he quickly squeezed them shut and tried too quiet his sobs. Dazai felt a pawing at his chest before he looked over at you, your pupils blown as you tugged at his belt, he hummed at you before leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss before he slipped his tongue in your mouth, only pulling away when he felt the man moving under his foot, that was still dug into the man femur.

"You're so fucked up sweetheart... getting wet from watching me break a mans jaw, hm?" Before you could even attempt too deny his claims, you felt one of his hands slip into your panties, rubbing you through them as you quietly gasped, clinging to him. He looked over at the man, his fingers now rubbing your clit as he took in the sight of the mans wide-eyed expression. His hand, that was still gripping the gun, playfully moved around, taunting the man as he waved the gun in his face. The moment he pulled his hand out of your panties, you tugged at his hand, trying too drag it back. Placing a quick slap on your ass, he walked over to the man, placing his foot on his chest. "Thank me." Dazai stated, the man immediately spewed his praise, thanking Dazai for his mercy and that he was sorry that Dazai even had too come out, his voice coming out gargled as Dazais foot pushed harder into his chest. Until, Dazai backed off, letting the man take a couple deep, much needed, breaths. The man didn't even have time too blink before the sound of three distinct gunshots echoed through the alley and he felt a burning pain before everything went black as he felt a warm red liquid pool on his chest.

[kozachenko]

Here's a digital sketch dump of some pose/anatomy practices and some 2hu doodles, I think from now on if I don't have any big final piece to post, I'll just post sketches I liked that I did digitally (might also reblog some drawings of mine that I want more people to see, maybe idk).

Artist's Notes:

Ok so after the recent Hifuu fanart I did, I've been hoping to experiment more with how I draw faces, how I render, as well as how I stylize things. In some of the earlier sketches I did, I had an idea for a pose that I wanted to try drawing, so I took a ref pic of myself doing said pose (the leaning one btw) and then did a sketch over top of it just to get an idea for the shapes, negative space, and silhouette. After that, I wanted to do some simpler breakdowns of the shapes so I can get better at simplifying the body (these ended up being the bottom right sketches in the post). I also did some experimenting with how to push certain parts of said sketches to create a different body type (via liquify and then a more refined version based on that sketch), as well as figuring out what makes a pose feel natural and not stiff. This was also a bit of a foreshortening practice just so I can get more confident with it, and I ended up using the arms from the liquified version for the coloured Zanmu sketch I did since I liked them so much (dw I'll get to that).

The next thing I wanted to try and draw was Hisami, mainly because.... I am very bad at drawing her in my style. Last time I drew her I made her look really creepy and spindly, and it is my headcanon now that she can switch between a more human, and more creepy look whenever she wants. I'm liking where the face is going a lot, might have to refine a few things about it in the future, but it's cute (I also made the blush purple which I think is what I'm gonna do with her face from now on). I also like how her hair in the sketch turned out a lot, but the outfit..... not as much... Ever since I started changing my style to something less cartoony, I've had a hard time drawing her outfit in my style. Especially the flower veil thing she has on, which, I did try to find a way to draw, but I ended up deleting that sketch because I didn't like it. I'm also not a fan of using the colour purple, like, pure purple, magentas are fine, indigos are fine, but not strict purple. I also have a hard time with drawing all the little pattern details on her dress. I also need to find a way to draw the flower veil in a way that looks good because everytime I try it ends up just looking off (very similar to whenever I try to draw Zanmu's blue spears). I think the only solution to this problem is to do what I normally do and make my own version of the outfit, but with adjustments to suit my style while still trying to keep core elements from the original design intact (like I do with Zanmu and Keiki, and yes I am going to get to that Zanmu drawing just gimme a minute).

Ok next up is Keiki, my favourite Touhou character who I haven't drawn since the beginning of the year. Since my style has changed a lot, I wanted to just do a face sketch of her to get a hang of drawing her again, and I..... really really like how it turned out! When I drew her eyes, I realized that a good way of keeping faces too same facey can be via varying the sizes of their pupils, so that's an idea I'm gonna keep in mind from now on. I had a lot of fun with her hair, I initially was gonna do it like how it is in the official art, but I ended up not liking it, so now I'm gonna draw Keiki with wavy heir like this because it's fun and it looks nice. I also included my base sketch for Keiki's face since I was initially struggling with drawing her bandanna, and in the coloured sketch I added some more detail into her hair.

Now to finally talk about the sketches for Zanmu. Good lord was I having a tough time with her face. I also did this sketch before I figured out how I wanted to draw hair, so that's why the rendering on her hair is different (I did this soon after the Hisami sketch actually). Since I changed my art style a lot, I had to find a way to translate her face from my more cartoony style to my more detailed style, so while the face shape, nose shape and mouth was fine, I was really struggling with the eyes. I did get somewhere eventually though, and I am super happy with how it turned out. I wanted to lean more towards the androgynous side of the gender presentation spectrum, mainly because I think that makes sense for her character. Also made sure to include the silver hairs and some wrinkles just to bring some signs of her aging into her face because those are just staple features of how I draw Zanmu at this point lol. You will also notice that I gave her some scars on the right side of her face, and that's because I am a Zanmu-with-scars truther, I fucking love it whenever I see someone give Zanmu visible scars like that it just adds so much omg (I also tried to put a wolf bite mark on her arm in the full body drawing but idk if it reads well). While you can argue that her not having scars sells the idea of her being this "powerful, untouchable mastermind who is impossible to defeat," I'd say that instead of those scars representing times she got injured, they represent everyone who has failed to defeat her.

As I was drawing Zanmu's face, I referenced my sketch of to help with contrasting their features since I made Keiki's face more traditionally feminine. I also didn't mention this in my commentary on Keiki's face because I wanted to save it for here, but giving Zanmu scars also plays into the fact that she used to be human, wheras Keiki doesn't have any scars because she's a god who doesn't follow the rules of normal human biology. Plus I'm thinking about the two of them interacting again (return of Zan/Keik??? (I'm a multishipper btw) maybe???) so drawing their faces together will definitely help me in the future if I wanna draw them together (again, maybe as a ship? I've kinda been ironing out the kinks in their potential interactions (romantic and non-romantic) for a while now so idk maybe expect that in the future lol).

And now for the full body drawing, when I was doing the face sketch I did this little snippet of an outfit, had a vision, and the made it into a reality. I'll admit, part of me was worried that it would end up looking too much like Yuugi's outfits in the spinoffs and mangas, but I feel like I made enough changes to differentiate them. I tried to keep a few of the major details in Zanmu's design (i.e. the red tassles and yellow lining on her shirt) while putting a new spin on it. I also dialed up the scars to 11 since without them the whole thing kinda looked incomplete. Also, while I could say that the leaves on her kimono are "a nod to the fact that technically she should be a tengu because back then people belived that corrupt monks would turn into tengu but no Zanmu is an oni and they're maple leaves because...tengu...ahahahaha" what really ended up happening was that I looked up clothing patterns from Sengoku era Japan, liked the leaves the most because the red picked up on the red from the rest of her design and just ran with it. I also always had the idea to put Zanmu in men's clothing from Sengoku era Japan and while the accurate thing to do would be to put her in a Buddhist's clothes from that era.... from a character standpoint, I don't think Zanmu is pious enough to strictly wear the proper monk uniform, and also since she's basically the king of Hell, she would probably dress herself like royalty from that era. TBH, I probably could've been a bit more historically accurate, but again, this was mainly for conceptual purposes because I had a vision and I needed to see it through.

If I were to draw her in this sort of outfit again, I should probably try and use more references, although now that I look at it, if she were to wear it properly this would maybe, probably look a bit closer to a Kyūtai sugata (a very huge stretch, but it just kinda reminds me of that) just without the layers under and over the main piece of clothing (In the website that I searched up to try and compare the outfit in my sketch to, they name the outfit pieces but don't label them on the image, so I don't know 100% what everything is called) so I will definitely have to use that style of clothing as a reference going forward.

Also, I was kind of inspired by the ToTK design for Ganondorf since I have finished the game a while ago and I absolutely love what they did with his design (it's just so fucking cool omg) and I thought that sort of look would look good on Zanmu, so yeah got some inspo from that.

And those were all the notes for each of the sketches, I'm motivated to draw rn but kinda art blocked, so doing these little coloured sketches helps a lot.

[mxdarling]

["did you miss me? because i really missed you" / "no! i'm not going anywhere and neither are you! we're stuck together now, i'll make sure of it"]

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

ೃ⁀➷: summary: the greatest detective, will never leave your side and neither will you leave his.

ೃ⁀➷: word count: 1.8k

ೃ⁀➷: reference/inspiration: n/a

ೃ⁀➷: event: [200 followers event]

[author's note:] my first bsd work LOLL god when I say I was writing this with trembling hands I wouldn't be lying, I was so scared to write for him even though he's one of my favs fufuu I just hate mischaracterization and i don't wanna fuck this up, anyways thank you anon for requesting ranpo with #30 and #22! it has been my pleasure to write for him LOLL enjoy!!

[warnings:] lowercase, yandere behavior, they/them prns, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, ranpo sits on reader's lap, mentions of stalking, implied reader being blackmailed by ranpo, reader is taller than ranpo, non consensual kissing (cheeks & lips), ranpo licks reader's fingers, eavesdropping.

[note:] If there is anything else triggering here that I didn’t list in the warnings section, please tell me. I don’t condone this type of behavior, this is merely just for entertaining purposes and some sort of coping mechanism for me. If you continue to read beyond this point, ignoring my warnings, I am not responsible for your actions from here on out.

[GN reader]

RANPO EDOGAWA, the greatest detective in the world, one who could solve a case in under 3 seconds, your annoying and childlike coworker, the one who has no ability, is currently following you around like a lost child. this has been going on for—at least, 4 minutes max—just him trailing a few centimeters behind as you continue to walk to your destination. in all fairness, when he found out you were going to the grocery store, he immediately jumped into the conversation and decided by himself that he's going to join you during your trip.

"areee weeeee there yet? i don't remember the journey to the store being this long!" a loud whine comes out of ranpo's mouth, worsening your mood as you hear his whiny voice, the kind you'd hear from a 6-year-old child who is simply too impatient to wait for their turn. from your peripheral vision, you could see several people looking at the two of you, ranging from confusion to judgmental stares. his shoulders are down, making him have a slouched body posture as he walks behind you in a more lazier manner than you, who is so close to speed stomping and leaving him behind.

"are we ther- hey! wait up!"

scratch that last thought, you're going to have a pleasant trip to the grocery store and you're going to leave him behind if that's what it takes to have peace of mind.

(fortunately for him, you didn't. your dislike for attention proves to be something he could use to his advantage, seeing how you crumbled under the feeling of many eyes turned towards you two when he whined and cried in the middle of the sidewalk, making a scene in broad daylight, taking his wrist in your grip, and dragging him along to your destination, making him match your speedy pace. he'll definitely keep this in mind for future use.)

the office was quiet, and you were alone in the room—switching between writing and reading a bunch of papers piled up near where you're sitting. despite having gone through just a few pieces of paper, the weight on your shoulders and back has gotten rather heavy, like you didn't stretch your limbs beforehand after waking up from your 5-hour rest. the silence was odd, to say the least, not that it wasn't unwelcome; it just made you curious about what your co-workers were up to, which made them not present in the office today. maybe yosano is out shopping, maybe kunikida and dazai were out chasing down criminals, and whatnot, maybe atsushi is helping out to solve a case with... him. the oh so great detective, fucking ranpo.

as much as he preached about how great he is and how everyone else in the detective agency respects and admires him, you were quite indifferent towards him in general. you aren't sure what everyone sees in him or what makes him so interesting that he's able to get this much attention—in other words, he's just plain boring in your eyes. actually, scratch that; he's more than boring; he's an absolute brat. he's whiny, always munching on his snacks so loudly, refusing to do work or cases sometimes, and acting like his super deduction is an ability. what's even worse is that he seems so determined to bother you constantly, every chance he gets. rarely are you left alone and left to breathe from the overwhelming detective—even if you are given a moment of peace, he'd come running back acting like an even bigger headache for you.

"(nameeeeeee)!" filling up the room with his shout, he pushed open the door with such force that it banged so loudly that the noise echoed to the other side. you could feel his attention on your back as silence once again filled the room. in the most coincidental (and worst) timing, the headache you were talking shit in your head comes into the office—a dreadful pit building up in your stomach as you mentally pray in your head for whatever ranpo is going to put you through this time. you could hear the skip in his footsteps. every step he takes, more sweat starts rolling down your cheeks as you close your eyes and imagine a life without ranpo, without the suffocation of love and attention he gives you, without the anxious thoughts of being followed on your way home (you have major suspicions that it's ranpo but have nothing solid to prove it's him), without him blackmailing you into compliance, without-

dragging you out of your inner thoughts, the headache makes impactful contact with your back. "did you miss me? because i really missed you!" he says in a cheerful tone, wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a tight grip and rubbing his cheeks against yours like someone would greet their lover when they miss them so much (he's doing it on purpose to make you uncomfortable, you think). to further prove your point, he smashes his lips against your cheek, not once, not twice, but multiple times in the same and adjacent areas of your cheek. if this had happened to you several months ago, the simple act of him trying to wrap his arms around your shoulders would make you go away from him as fast and as far as possible—even more so if he tried to kiss you, your water bills would skyrocket through the roof for how much time you would spend in the bathroom trying to scrub away the kiss on your cheek.

"no i didn't, actually" having gotten used to his (non-consensual) affection towards you, his actions do not faze you; on the outside, that is, there still remains that pit of disgust you used to have all those months ago. those urges to swat his body away from yours to give yourself some space are still there, yet you do nothing to act on any of them. you simply decide to indulge in whatever antics he has up his sleeves this time for the next few hours of your day—not that you had a choice, anyway.

(several times you've expressed discomfort at the physical touches he gives you during work hours, and several times he intentionally ignores it for his own benefit. the one time he went overboard was when he made himself comfortable on your lap, handed you several sweet snacks you assumed he got from his secret stash, and forced you to hand-feed him until he was satisfied. to say this stunt of his hindered your productivity would be an understatement. you were way behind your planned schedule by the time you finished hand-feeding him all the sweet snacks.

just as you were about to ask him to get off, he suddenly grabbed your wrist, saying something about "there's still some crumbs left!" which confused the fuck out of you until you felt the wet sensation of a tongue licking your fingers. the horrors expressed on your face seemed to further encourage the amused ranpo, as he started sucking on your fingers too! neither of you two brought up that incident again, though you're glad he hasn't done this again; you aren't sure how well you were going to handle the next one.)

"i guess you could say smart men are my type," you say rather subconsciously without any thought or care of your co-workers' reaction to your answer, instead putting all your focus on your computer screen and continuing to type away as you hear several gasps and 'no way's from your left side.

"(name), are you.. sure smart men are your type?" there was hesitation in their voice, disbelief even—like they didn't believe you the first time. "uhh.. yeah? i didn't really give much thought, but intelligence is hot, i guess," you said once again, answering in the same manner you did the first time. you weren't sure what they were trying to get out of this conversation, but if you had to guess, most likely they're attempting to set you up on a blind date. "..alright, if you say so.." they say, ultimately ending the conversation and switching topics to avoid making the awkwardness linger in the atmosphere.

(little did you and your co-workers know, the great detective was listening in on the whole conversation. hearing every word that came out of your mouth, to say he stumbled upon your little talk on accident would be a lie—he doesn't go to such lengths without a reason. to say he's surprised by your type of men like your co-workers were would be another lie, but he's quite puzzled. if smart men are your type, why do you always seem to give the expression that you're disgusted by him? no matter, as a detective, it's his job to uncover every bit of mystery and solve for all the missing pieces.)

stepping out of the building, bidding farewell to your co-workers, and parting ways as you walk to your house, taking extra caution by putting your keys between your fingers in case you were to be stalked by someone, especially a certain someone you've been trying to avoid all day long...

"(naaameeeee)!!" and speak of the devil; he shows up to come and ruin your day just when you're about to go home—how fun. you let out a tired sigh and turned around to see ranpo running towards you at full speed. the sight set off alarm bells in your head, so on impulse, you tried to get out of his way and hoped he ran too fast that he ended up hitting a light pole straight in the face. yet it seems this day of yours wouldn't be so lucky, because suddenly he grabs your shirt, pulls you a little lower to his height, and then kisses you on the lips.

your eyes widen in shock, momentarily stunned for a second, before you feel your instincts kick in and roughly push him away.

"ranpo, what the fuc-!?"

suddenly you feel an unexpected impact hitting your chest, emitting a surprising noise from your mouth, making you cut off mid-sentence. ranpo buries his face underneath your chin, rubbing against your skin with his cheek like it's a pillow—opening your mouth. you tried to protest once more against him, but nothing came out. the sudden feeling of a pair of arms wrap around your torso and your arms holding you in a tight grip, sending the message that he doesn't want to let you go. after what felt like eternity to you, he looks up and shows you the poutiest expression you've ever seen him make.

"no! i'm not going anywhere, and neither are you! we're stuck together now; i'll make sure of it!"

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

PLEASE DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO OTHER SITES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION + REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

[d3adbr3inc3lls]

Hi!! This one hits rather close to home and I wonder if you'd be willing to do Friede x reader after a particularly rough time when we weren't on the same page about relationship/lifestyle goals so we split for a few months but now trying to reconcile and get back together.

I understand if you prefer more light-hearted stuff. Just kind of hoping for a little pick-me-up if you could, thank you so very much. I rather like the way you write.

Friede x Reader | Different Lifestyles

When you were dating Friede, it was like a dream come true,

The two of you clicked like Legos- everything went smoothly.

But just like Legos, some pieces don't fit when you try to build with them, making you use cursed building techniques often frowned upon to make it work.

And just like some lego pieces, you wanted to settle down in one place whilst Friede wanted to continue his travels.

The two of you sat down to talk about it and what the future holds for the two of you.

But ultimately, the two of you agreed that it's to break best up. No matter what happens, one of you wouldn't be happy, so it was better to leave it on good terms rather than have a messy breakup.

In all honesty, you didn't think that you'd see eachother again, the two of you had really different paths.

So it suprised you to see him entering through the doors of your favourite cafes.

He ordered the same drink he always got when the two of you came. A regular coffee, no milk, no sugar.

As Friede pays for his drink he glances around, making sure that he won't get ambushed by an Explorer, an old habit that never seemed to fade, before his gaze settles on you sitting in your usual seat by the window.

Waving you down, Friede walks over with a slight bounce -if you can even call it that- in his step.

Cap is sitting on his shoulders with his signature -well- captain cap, before he jumps down to talk to your partner pokemon.

"Hey, it's been a while. How have you been?" Friede asks as he settles down in the seat opposite of you with a friendly smile.

You shrug looking down at your 'mons before replying, "I've been good," you decide to reply before glancing back up at him, "You?"

Friede nods as he takes a sip of his coffee, "I'm doing well myself. I finished my research not too long ago,"

You nod before the two of you fall into a comfortable silence with your 'mons chatting to eachother in the background.

"You still have my number, right?" Friede asks after a bit as you take a sip of your drink.

You never had the heart to delete his number.

Hesitantly nodding, Friede's gaze gains a new shine to it before he continues, "Great. There's a new bakery nearby and I was also wondering if you're free tomorrow afternoon. Maybe we could start over again, continue from where we left off at?"

Grabbing out your rotomphone, you check your calendar before replying with a simple, "I'm free," and he quickly messages you a time and place.

"Hopefully I'll see you there," he says followed by your name before getting up and patting his shoulder, indicating to Cap that they're leaving.

Before Friede leaves, he picks up his half-finished drink and slips the amount you paid for your drink before he walks over to the exit with a smile and wave.

--Alternate drabble

A/N: Loosely set after everything in HZ ends,, it didn't have the light-hearted mood, so I rewrote it to the fic above but I wanted to keep it

Friede's eyes scanned the room, a habit he had gained after Amethio had began to constantly attack him -another reason why you didn't want to stay.

It didn't take long for him to spot you next to the window where you always sat at, and it didn't help that his heart began to race, just like it would when he first met you.

"Mind if I sit here?" His voice cuts through your thoughts, making you look up at him from your drink.

Giving him a small nod, he sits down opposite of you before looking out the same window that the two of you would usually neglect on dates.

Meeting up with him felt bitter-sweet. What do you even say? Was there anything to say? Are the two of you ment to hate eachother now that you're no longer dating? That's what all people do.

"How have you been doing?"

"Good."

That sounded drier than you expected, so you decide to clear your throat before repeating yourself in a friendlier tone.

You could see the hopeful glint in his golden gaze, maybe. Maybe you could restore the relationship you once had.

"Look,-" Friede sighs, taking a small pause, "-I know that we broke up, but-" his fingers grip the paper cup "-I'm sorry."

Your eyes widen at the sudden apology and he looks away.

What was he even apologising for at this point,?

"I get it, you probably don't want anything to do with me anymore, but I'd love to give us another shot. I'm wiling to settle down for you."

Oh- OH.

--

A/N: I've never dated,,, but your situation sounds awful anon,,, I'm sorry to hear that happened,,,

[smytherines]

thinking about that six months Owen spent captured by the Russians again

I've always liked the headcanon that post-fall he was haunted by visions of Curt too. That could be explained by Owen gradually losing his mind from the amount of pain he would've been in, or from a head injury, but there are other possibilities to throw into the mix that are consistent both with real life cold war era espionage and with the spy genre

He is a British spy with operational knowledge of both UK and US intelligence, an extremely high value prisoner who just destroyed a multi million dollar Russian weapons facility. He almost certainly would've been kept in isolation in a KGB facility, and given the information he had it seems likely that he would've been (at the very least) repeatedly interrogated. This is the same organization that canonically turns a four year old girl (Tatiana) into an assassin, so I think it's reasonable to assume that Owen's time in a KGB facility was not a pleasant experience

The more familiar physical forms of torture probably weren't necessary on account of his injuries. But there are several types of "soft" torture that don't leave physical marks or injuries, and were widely used during the cold war era. The first is just isolation itself. Prolonged periods of isolation can lead to severe anxiety, hallucinations, psychosis, obsessive and intrusive thoughts, paranoia, problems with impulse control, increased risk of self harm, and delirium (and that's even in people with no preexisting physical or mental health conditions)

Other possibilities include sensory deprivation, sleep deprivation, transit torture (just constantly keeping prisoners moving so they can't rest), mock executions, etc. They all lead more or less to the same severe mental health effects, so I'll avoid going too in depth there because some of it is pretty disturbing

So I imagine Owen there, alone, injured, badly burned, having nothing but time to ruminate about what happened, his only company being hallucinations of his partner. Maybe for a little while he holds onto hope that Curt will rescue him, or maybe he thinks that Curt must've died in the explosion too and now he's being haunted by the ghost of the man he loves

And at first it's almost a comforting thing, imagining the person he felt safest with to help him survive. But the more his mental state devolves, the more the hallucination shifts. Taunting him, forcing him to relive it, confirming every paranoid thought-- that Curt never loved him, that Curt just wanted a convenient fuck and someone to do all the boring bits, that Curt would be disgusted at the state Owen's in now. That Owen was foolish and naive, that his love for Curt was a weakness that nearly destroyed him, and the only way to survive is to cut it out like a cancer

And Owen's in such bad shape that even after six months in Russian custody, the first thing Chimera has to do is nurse him back to health. They reset the bones that didn't heal properly, they do skin grafts for the burns, but there's no undoing that six months in isolation. So Owen sweeps up all those jagged pieces of himself, papers over them with a new identity. Not a person, just a weapon, a means to an end

From Owen's perspective, Curt destroyed everything that meant anything to Owen-- his identity, his career, his body, his mind, and perhaps most importantly, his relationship. So Owen dedicates himself to destroying the only thing Curt truly cares about-- being a spy

And on the staircase, Curt insists that it's not too late to fix this, that Owen can turn on the people who rescued him and get a pardon, that things can go back to how they used to be. But there is a bottomless pit between the man Owen used to be and the man he is now. There's a break that can't be healed, can't be fixed. The future is happening, and it isn't going to wait for them

something something the horror of staying alive

[groovyfrog420]

SV Redeemed AU

INTRODUCTION / DISCLAIMER

First things first, these designs for Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla are FAR into the future. Quite literally end game phase of the story, the “they grow old together and live happily ever after”. There's a long way to get there, and while I will write some of my thoughts about their journey, I'm a shitty writer. There's no single thought-out plot, it's just bits and pieces of my thoughts in one place. 

I don't think I'd be making a tag or naming this AU anything specific. I'm still calling it an AU because there is a bit of canon divergence, but I don’t have a start-to-finish story. (EDIT: wellp that lasted long. new name is #False-Truth AU because I like the oxymoron. I still don't think I'll do much - maybe a few short comics, which you'll be able to find under that tag on my profile)

Keep in mind that these are just my own interpretations, if you imagine these cookies acting differently, that's ok! This is just my own made-up alternate version

LONG POST UNDER THE CUT - don't say I didn't warn ya

I’ve tried to divide it into sections, so if you are looking for just smth specific / only care about one of the characters, you can skip right to it!

Prepare for the ramblings. 

PURE VANILLA'S DESIGN 

more relaxed now - doesn’t need to keep up perfect appearances and the image of a hero, so he can lay back a bit more. (messier, less perfectly styled hair - more like his younger years. comfier clothes.) 

focusing on herbology - with less power now (why explained below) and trying to not overwork himself, he’s taken to different healing methods, as well as taking on gardening as a hobby

slightly more open eyes - (heavily elaborated on bellow) 

different staff - due to being able to use his own eyes more now, as well as staying more on the low, he’d decided to retire the famous staff. Since it’s a flower, it was planted somewhere and allowed to blossom and grow freely - fitting symbolism for a new beginning, I think. The lantern light glowing blue makes it easier on his eyes.

PV STORY BITS 

In this AU Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla retire together. I think PV would still like to teach, but would focus more on the medical and practical side of things, like herbs and healing practices. (He’ll leave telling tales about the past  to Shadow Milk, though he might throw in his own comments from time to time…) He mostly offers advice and shares every-day methods for protection of different kinds with those who ask, but may take on an apprentice or few to fully pass down his healing knowledge to. He uses magic sparingly now. 

This way with not focusing on a variety of subjects and many, many students, he’s able to rest more and doesn’t have to split himself between multiple worries. He can focus properly and give his students more individual attention, to make sure his knowledge will be retained for the future. 

Eyes

(don't jump me pls read the footnote) 

I've decided to take the closed/covered eyes motif PV has in a bit more symbolic way *. I want to interpret it as PV being blind (=ignorant) to the world around him, choosing to see the world and his own actions in an idealized light, and to look away from anything that doesn't fit that idea. Light sensitivity would be very ironic yet fitting - since his own powers are very light-based, by using them to help others he’d be blindinding/hurting himself in the process... 

Over time, he realizes how futile it is. Even if he turns his eyes away from the wrongdoing in the world, from his own mistakes and imperfections, they will still continue to happen. He begins to understand that he has to accept that neither he nor the world is perfect, to stop wallowing over the past and start fixing the present. To keep moving forward and keep working on himself, not hide his imperfections under literal and figurative wraps. 

With the help of Shadow Milk, he begins to open his eyes more and more and accept the real truth, no matter how imperfect it is. 

*I’m not sure how confirmed it was in canon that he’s blind (from what I’ve seen it was mostly implied, but still). I'm not erasing that - for the sake of this AU, I'd like to say that he has partial issues with sight (including the mentioned light sensitivity), but now he learns to accommodate them rather than ignore them and hurt himself more for the sake of others. No, he doesn't magically gain full sight now, but he's more comfortable, healthier, and more honest about the world around him with all of its imperfections. 

Burnout

I believe SM and PV complete each other so perfectly because they can help each other grow in areas where the other is lacking/struggling. With PV, I’d like to focus on burnout, false ideas, and how the pressure he’s constantly under has affected him. He was very much just a normal guy before receiving his Soul Jam. Years beyond a normal cookie’s lifespan of hard work and trying to be the perfect leader, to always ensure the happiness of all his people (whether that be as king or otherwise) are bound to take a toll on anyone. Obviously he'd never admit that, always putting everyone else before his own needs, and he’d likely run himself into the grave. That's where I think Shadow Milk would be helpful - he’d make him realize how unsustainable what he’s doing really is. He wasn’t built for handling immense power for all of eternity, he’s just a single cookie and whether he likes it or not, he can’t save everyone or make every single one of his people happy... Being selfish isn’t entirely wrong, sometimes might even be necessary. 

Onto the idea of false truth - Pure Vanilla has a very idealized view of a lot of things and people. He’s trying to see everyone in the best light, but he also holds a high standard for himself - that he must be the ideal, shining and caring hero and a beacon of perfection . Shadow Milk is likely to pick that image apart - probably not in the kindest way, saying that in trying to be perfectly selfless, PV is putting himself on the pedestal above everyone else while still being just a single cookie with limited capabilities. He’d likely call this image egoistical, and while PV would argue that he’s doing it for the good of others (he is helping after all, right?), Shadow Milk wouldn’t be entirely wrong - this way of thinking, that he’s the one who must take care of everyone else, is harmful for both him and the ones he’s trying to protect. 

Shadow Milk would show him that truth is relative, that “pure truth” doesn’t exist, for anyone could interpret it differently. That PV isn’t (and doesn't have to be) the perfect blameless hero. That his people aren’t as good or pure as he’d like to give them credit for, but neither are they helpless. 

Shadow Milk metaphorically and literally helps him open his eyes - he slowly learns to lay back, to accept the reality and “truth”, whatever it may be, and is no longer blinding and burning himself out by trying to help everyone at once. With a new mindset and outlook of the world, he can allow himself to retire, and leave a calmer, out-of-the-spotlight life. 

Retirement

Ok, controversial idea, but I think the ancients will have to one day retire and pass down their SoulJams. Yes, I played Cookie Odyssey, I know how important it is to them, but hear me out. As I said above (which is shown in the game btw, but correct me if I'm wrong), they were just normal cookies before taking on the roles of the Ancient Heros. Cookies with high achievements, yes, but still. They aren’t The Beasts, baked specifically for the purpose of handling the Soul Jams, and even then, The Beasts weren’t perfect. I’m not saying they’re bound to get corrupted like their predecessors did, but I am saying that this role is bound to take a toll on them. Not even just from the perspective of power, even just handling so many responsibilities with running their kingdoms is going to be extremely draining mentally. (Physically likely too, even if they’re said to stay “always young” thanks to the Soul Jams - many stories teach that you can’t mess with nature and that nothing lasts forever...)

I don’t know who they’d pass the Soul Jams along too - whether that’d be Gingerbrave and his friends, or a new batch of heroes, that is to be decided. The point is, they have served their purpose, they have (from the perspective of this AU) defeated Dark Enchantress, and deserve to now leave the rest of  their lives in peace.

SHADOW MILK'S DESIGN 

“mellowed out” a bit - continues to be eccentric and dramatic, but less manic

still unsettling - most level-headed cookies upon meeting him immediately get a feeling that there's something.. off about him, even if they can't put their finger on it. (I purposefully left some of his corrupted design elements or callbacks to them, like the marking over his eye, for that reason) 

vibrant, colorful, very extra in both behavior and looks, everything he does he does with drama and flourish 

quiets down when out of the eyes of the public, or alone with Pure Vanilla 

peacock elements - fitting for someone with such a vibrant personality. also the eye connection is perfect - if you look closely at the feather he's wearing, you might even notice a familiar symbol in its “eye”

a playful bard - (elaborated heavily bellow) - an identity allows him to enjoy his favorite activities, while also being a slight callback to his academic past 

SM STORY BITS

The bard 

While spending more time with Pure Vanilla, PV encouraged him to pursue his creative interests. Partly to have smth to get SM’s mind off of causing chaos, and partly because they let him indulge and express himself without causing any serious damage. Now he’s joined PV in retirement, though still not fully stepping down from the stage.

Being a bard allows Shadow Milk to indulge in everything he likes most: being the center of attention, dramatics, theatrics, mischief, a tasteful dose of lies and half-truths, but also, in a way, calling back to his past self: for while a lot of his stories are made-up tales, he can also share the history of Earthbread that he’s witnessed. Yes, he may do so through over-dramatic performances or behind caricatural characters, but every tale holds a grain of truth, does it not? Whether his audience chooses to believe him or not is their choice to make.

Referencing the fact that a big part of human history survived through word of mouth, and how storytellers play an important role in preserving it, I think it’s only fitting to make him a bard.

About visual choices

I made his redeemed design less chaotic and asymmetrical, but still vibrant and based mostly on his current color palette, rather than the one from Blueberry Academy. That's because while he may be rediscovering his interests from the past, he’s not the person he was before corruption and never will be again. Instead, he too is learning to rediscover the world in a new light, with a new identity. 

Visually I’ve tried to keep some elements from his current design, if slightly toned down: a wide collar, puffy sleeves, a flowy cape. Elements of his corruption are also still there: different colored sclera (= his one eye being black), the sharp teeth. He may have settled down and calmed down slightly, but he remains as playful as ever :)) 

He still causes local chaos once in a while or resorts to pranking unsuspecting cookies nearby (the slight charring at the bottom of PV’s robe is a result of one of such pranks getting out of hand), and PV has accepted that he'll never be a calm, put-together cookie he once might have been. However, SM's learned to not be a danger to others for the sake of the one he cares about the most, and that's enough for the both of them. 

And that's all for now! If you've managed to get this far, thank you SO much for your patience, I hope you've enjoyed my thoughts and brainworms <3

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME BALDUR'S GATE 3 / PART ONE

i think you're past the point of saving.

together we might survive.

get me out of this damn thing.

we have no time for stragglers.

do you intend to die for a stranger?

i thought that damn thing was going to be my coffin.

you keep dangerous company.

we can watch each other's backs along the way.

enough of this chatter.

who put you in charge?

i'll trust my own judgement.

a miracle, given everything you've been through.

it'll all be for nothing if you don't find help soon.

you're alive. i'm alive. how is this possible?

seems like we're the lucky ones, judging by all the corpses strewn about.

anything's an improvement on where we just came from.

'we'? you want to stay together?

we need each other.

i can't think of better company.

i wanted to thank you again.

you should be furious, shouldn't you?

kill it yourself — you look capable enough.

i was hoping for a kind soul.

let's try to keep that lovely neck of yours in one piece.

no need for this to get messy.

i need her alive.

and to think i was ready to decorate the ground with your innards.

please, allow me to introduce myself.

of course it'll turn me into a monster.

you should travel with me.

our odds are better together.

i was ready to go this alone.

maybe sticking with the herd isn't such a bad idea.

you seem like a useful person to know.

let's hope any future acquaintances don't hold a blade to your throat by way of introduction.

no harm in a little mystery.

conversation shouldn't be made, it should be grown.

maybe i'd like to get to know you better.

i'm usually better at this.

couldn't have phrased it more repellently myself.

you don't happen to be a cleric, by any chance? a doctor, surgeon? uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?

it's not exactly a common affliction.

a parasite shared is a parasite halved.

you're both twice as tall as me but have half the bloody backbone.

no point getting killed.

second worm gets the cheese and all.

nobody's getting any damn cheese.

she obviously sees your kindness as weakness.

don't let her take advantage.

a simply 'thank you' wouldn't go amiss.

your friends abandoned you.

i've got plenty of friends who aren't soft.

let's just hope she reserves those impulses for any common foes.

what a curious way to awaken.

what is the worth of a single mortal's life?

something the matter?

you must have thoughts about our little stowaways.

thinking about it won't help.

i suppose we'd go our separate ways — not a slight on your company, of course.

no reason for us to not stay together if we get on well.

if we do survive, we'll have separate lives to return to.

let's just say it's a very person, very private acquaintance.

you're not the kind of company i'd keep willingly.

perhaps i'll return the favor at some point.

she's delightful, in a very 'look at me twice and i'll dismember you' kind of way.

i understand much beyond your comprehension.

you'd do well to observe more and question less.

and they didn't cut you from navel to neck?

i am still getting used to people like you.

that large, fleshy nose of yours looks like a mistake.

best to keep quiet, lest any drivel leak from your lips.

i do not intend to stay long in this place.

may your actions express the same mettle.

anomalies lead to surprises.

what hasn't happened may yet come to pass.

not a collaboration i'd have anticipated.

can't you tell me something real about you?

i have a great respect for privacy, especially my own.

i have a very disciplined mind.

those tricks won't work on me.

please don't try that again unless i invite you to.

we meet again, as predicted.

care to explain why you're helping me?

what kind of services can a skeleton offer?

a monster forms inside us, and you care to be idle?

i knew your kind to be fragile.

don't you know an exhausted warrior is an ineffective one?

it's a thickheaded notion in a complex circumstance.

what were you two talking about?

if that was any of your business, we'd have called you over.

your business is mine.

we're entwined.

if we're to survive, we need to trust each other.

you seem reliable.

we're overdue some good fortune.