#Bc he’s talking about how it’s nice to like actually get more scenes with him in comparison to s1

[chirpsythismorning]

Whenever I see milkvans insist Will isn’t important to the story, I recall this mysterious interview with Finn saying exactly the opposite. Mysterious because I have no idea where this audio originally comes from (heard it used in an edit, but the editor didn’t respond to anyone asking about its source in the comments), but it is clearly Finn speaking and you can even hear Caleb in the background agreeing with him, confirming it is very much real… does anyone know where it’s from??? A podcast? An interview? Behind the scenes?

[wonwoonlight]

chocolate rum cookies | jeon wonwoo

➝ Wonwoo x Reader

➝ nonidol!au // friends with benefits to ?? // fluff // ...slice of life? // angst if u squint

➝ word count: 3.5k~

➝warning: no smut scenes but there are mentions of sex and implications of it so minor dni!! mentions of alcohol, food, curses. very self indulgent bc i write this for my birthday hehe. this wonwoo made an appearance <3

➝A/N: hi. so this wasn't exactly... planned. i was just randomly sitting down with my google doc open and suddenly i finished writing... this in one day. gotta say that, when you do write for yourself, it is much easier to write and it's been quite some time since i'm actually happy with what i put out. but also just to put it out there, this fic is actually finished somewhere before february ended but i decided to post it for my birthday because i did start writing it with the thoughts 'i miss wonwoo' and 'i kinda wanna post smth on my bday' so. enjoy. i'm happy to say i'm content with how this one turns to be. here's to turning 25 lol

[✾✾✾]

You hear the door open, signalling Wonwoo’s arrival, and when you feel his presence nearby, you don’t even look up from your phone when you say, “No.”

Wonwoo smiles in amusement, irking an eyebrow as he settles next to you. “I haven’t said anything though?”

“You’re gonna ask me out again.” You roll your eyes, already used to his antics. You don’t even pretend to care about his mock heartache anymore when he clutches his chest.

You’re not sure what Jeon Wonwoo has in his mind, but he’s been asking you out on dates everytime he sees you since last month. Problem is, you see him a lot. A little hard not to with the friends with benefits situation that has been going on between you and him for the last six months.

Even right now, you’re in his place. You’ve been here since almost half an hour ago, entertaining yourself as you wait for Wonwoo to get home because he’s out when you called, and when he said you’re allowed to use the access he’s given you some time ago, you decided to barge into his place like it’s your own.

You’re practically here more often than in your own dorm, anyway.

It almost feels like a second home to you.

But you don’t want to think too much about it. Not about the fact that you have access to Wonwoo’s place. Not about the fact that you’re basically exclusive. Not about the fact that you talk to him practically everyday.

Nope.

“You don’t even pretend to consider it anymore.” He sighs, and you hate that you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. You’ve been telling him to cut it out, but it surely doesn’t look like he has any plans of listening to you. “Here, I got this for you.”

Now that catches your attention, and you actually jump a little on the sofa before you take the small package, take Wonwoo’s face in your arms, and kiss him square in the lips as a thank you.

“You won’t go on a date with me but will kiss me over some cookies. Nice,” he grumbles, though the grin blooming into his face when you pull away betrays him.

Clutching the cookie into your chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world, you regard him with stars in your eyes. “Where did you even find this? I’ve been looking for this forever and I couldn’t find it! I don’t even know the name of the shop that sells this?”

“I’m just capable like that.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, telling you he was out with a friend and the packaging looked familiar so he got it just in case. You’ve been telling him about that craving of yours, a chocolate rum cookie that some random classmate offered some time ago–one that is so good but you don’t know the brand, only remember the flavour and the packaging.

And you can’t even ask that classmate again because she was an exchange student that you’ve only spoken for a total of two times in your life, and she has returned to her country.

You don't even know her name.

“You have to tell me where you got this.” The packaging just has to be so empty; a very simple but elegant design that doesn’t state the shop’s name whatsoever.

“Mmm. Perhaps if you say yes I’ll bring you there.”

“No.”

“Hard pass then.” He chuckles and messes your hair. “Eat. I’ll buy you some more if you’re a good girl.”

The innuendo is not purposeful on his part, and it’s two seconds later that he realizes what he’s just said and he cringes so hard that you laugh, because as much as it’s physical between the two of you, Wonwoo absolutely abhors that particular… moniker. It’s always been an on-going joke between you two, and you laugh some more when his frown deepens, launching yourself into his lap and peppering kisses on his jaw.

“You want me to be one?”

“Shut up.” He grunts, though his arms wrap around your waist anyway and he bends his neck to give you more access.

“I can be if you want to, you know?” You whisper against his ear, not missing the way his hold tightens around you. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact that the only thing separating you and him is the clothes you’re wearing.

“Shut up.” He repeats and kisses you some more. When it gets almost hard to breath, he doesn’t forget to get the cookie out of your grasp and carefully places it on the coffee table before hauling you up and carrying you into his room, your squeal and laughter echoes throughout his empty apartment.

You don’t get to eat your chocolate rum cookie until later that evening, already showered and dressed in Wonwoo’s oversized hoodie as you cuddle into his chest with a movie playing in front of you.

[✾✾✾]

You don’t know what’s taking Wonwoo so long, but he’s already fifteen minutes late without any text messages so you decide you’ll just get some drink first and let loose. He’s probably going to be pissed because he’s never liked it when you go to a bar by yourself (something about men looking at what’s his, whatever that means) but whatever, it’s his fault for being late and you’re currently not relaxed enough to wait for him by yourself in a place full of people. 

The whiskey burns your throat in a pleasant way, though now that you think about it, you shouldn’t have drunk everything in one go when you still have moments to spare as you wait for Wonwoo. But, then again, you can always just order more.

You’ve never been to this bar before, but after hearing how good the vibe is from a friend, you decided to go to check it out. Clubs have never really been your style–people are way too drunk and the music is too loud.

Your friend is absolutely correct when she said you would fit right with this particular bar; there are just enough people for it to be crowded but not really crowded that you get dizzy. Plus, the music is up to your taste and you find yourself nodding to whatever’s playing in the background as you scan through the sea of people while you lean on the wooden bar.

You were just about to order again when someone joins you by the bar, a tall, handsome man that doesn’t look sleazy at first glance. And he’s offering to buy you a drink. You subtly try to check him out; this guy is definitely taller and bigger than Wonwoo, though he doesn’t look harmful and he doesn’t look like he’s hunting for prey. His smile when he offers to pay for your drink looks… honest, if anything. The guy doesn’t even look flirty. Perhaps he thinks you’re interesting and are in need of some company.

The side of your lips lift in an amused smile, Wonwoo will be pissed as fuck if he finds out, but do you care? No you don’t. You’re not going to turn down free drinks from a handsome stranger that doesn’t look dangerous.

“So how come you’re by yourself?” He bends to your height, not too close that it makes you uncomfortable, and just enough for you to hear him over the music. “I’m Mingyu, by the way.”

Hmm. Handsome and with manners.

“Why do you want to know?” You answer with a teasing smile, sipping on your cocktail. Mingyu laughs when you say you’re not telling him his name, if only because he hasn’t earned it yet, and you’re pleasantly surprised when he says it’s understandable and he’s glad you know how to play your cards. “What about you, why are you by yourself?”

“Eh. I just feel like drinking tonight and you seem to be someone who doesn’t mind talking to strangers.”

“Ouch. Is that how I look like? Easy?” You pretend to be offended, and it’s almost cute how Mingyu laughs yet again and rephrases his words. If this was you six months ago, you’d definitely flirt with him and eat up everything that comes out of his mouth, perhaps you’d even end up going back with him. The guy is handsome and you can actually hold conversations with him, which is already a very big difference compared to a lot of guys that have tried talking you up in places like this.

But alas. Your eyes twinkle as you catch the figure of the man who’s the exact reason why you’re not flirting with Mingyu making his way towards you, why you don’t feel the excitement that used to rush through your blood at times like this, and why ‘handsome’ is the only thing you think of Mingyu even though he seems much more than that.

You don’t care enough to think about Mingyu in different aspects.

The way Wonwoo immediately grabs your waist is almost funny, and you have to actually bite your lip and clutch the cocktail glass between your fingers to stop yourself from grinning. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Your boyfriend?” Mingyu asks goodnaturedly–almost concerned, even–making sure he’s not some random guy who’s grabbing you without consent. 

“Yes.” Wonwoo almost growls, and you have to plant your palm on his chest to calm him down, telling him Mingyu is harmless even though your ears are heating up from his word. You’d need to get back to that boyfriend thing later.

Mingyu sends you a look, and you’re absolutely, thoroughly would’ve swooned if you’re… uh… single (you are) and you’re not seeing… anyone (huh?). But you send him a smile, an actual smile this time, and you nod before you tell him it’s nice meeting him.

Wonwoo refuses to look at the interaction, but you can tell that he’s more relaxed than he was seconds ago and his grip on your waist is now replaced with his thumb caressing you through the material of your dress.

Would it hurt to push his button one more time?

“Hey.” You call to Mingyu once again when he’s about to leave, making both guys turn to you in confusion–Wonwoo more so in betrayal–and when you tell him you’d love to see him again someday and finally tell him your name with a wink, Mingyu gets exactly what you’re playing at. Another laugh bubbles out of his throat and he returns the gesture with a ‘have fun!’ before making his way out of your sight.

“What the fuck was that?”

It’s not often that Wonwoo curses, and you know you’ve pushed just enough of his buttons for him to react this way. If anything, though, adoration fills your chest and you have to physically hold yourself back from squeezing his cheeks.

“What? You were late and he accompanied me. Nice guy, right?” You try to play innocent, placing your glass on the bar and turning in his arm to face him. He looks especially nice today, with his hair styled a little and a denim jacket that you haven’t seen him worn before. You can feel your heartbeat picking up the longer you stare at him, and you don’t register what’s coming out of his mouth because you’re lost in your head.

Your eyes fall to his lips, and it’s when he clicks his tongue that you finally look back at him, eyes meeting his in mock innocence.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?”

You shake your head to confirm his suspicion. The guy can't even get mad at you even if he wants to.

“So.” Wonwoo raises his eyebrow in question, urging you to continue. “Boyfriend, huh?”

Wonwoo opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t give him room to talk more because you already dive into his lips, your palms on his shoulders and his arms wrap around you once again–probably muscle memory at this point. There’s no rush in this kiss though, you really just feel like kissing him and you do exactly that. Wonwoo doesn’t seem to mind either, because his lips chase yours when you’re about to pull away.

“Won I–”

“Hmm?”

“I need to–”

“Mmm.”

“Need to–”

“To what?” He finally pulls away, annoyed that you keep on trying to pull away. Even in the dim lighting of the bar, you can tell that he’s a little flushed too and there’s something about it that makes your heartbeat speed up once again. Were you two just… kissing in a public space for no reason at all?

“Need to breathe, baby.” You finish your sentence, suddenly shy now that you’re looking at each other. You dive into his neck before he catches your embarrassment though, and he simply chuckles before he takes a sip of your drink, whatever annoyance in his chest from looking at you and Mingyu, whoever that guy is, disappears just like that.

God, it’s not funny how whipped he is for you.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing.”

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Not a chance.” You beam, though you reject him with a kiss on his cheek and you tell him to finish your drink because you don’t feel like being here anymore. You won’t let him ponder too long on your rejection though, your fingers caressing his neck and your lips finding his ear. “Actually, let’s go back to your place. I don’t have anything to do tomorrow.”

Wonwoo shudders a little at that, still not used to the way you’d get vocal about what you want when you’re tipsy. That’s your code of saying you want to have rough sex all night–or however he would have you, really.

So Wonwoo finishes your drink in one go and grabs your hand to pull you out of the bar, missing the way you exchange grins with Mingyu as you accidentally catch his eyes before you exit the place.

[✾✾✾]

“You know you’ll spend less money if you just tell me where to buy these cookies?” You pout, still trying to get it out of him.

He doesn’t relent though, simply shrugs and places your hot chocolate on the table. “I don’t mind buying you things.”

“But whyyyy.” You whine, crossing your legs to face him on the sofa.

“I told you I’d bring you there if you go on a date with me.”

You stare at him, mind wandering to how easy it is for him to say this over and over again. You still don’t know why he’s suddenly so adamant about that, and while you actually do feel butterflies in your whole body everytime he does it, sometimes you wonder if he’s just messing with you.

Does he really mean it?

But if he does, wouldn’t he eventually be done with you because you keep on rejecting him?

But if you say yes and he’s actually just joking–what does that make you?

What if you try it out and it… messes things up?

You’re happy with whatever you have with him now, and you trust each other enough to know you are exclusive. Is there really any need to put a label between you two?

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, snapping you out of your daze.

“Huh. Yeah, sorry. You were saying?”

You see the way Wonwoo presses his lips together and you can tell the gears are turning in his head. But he beats you to it before you can ask, and your heart breaks a little at how soft he sounds.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“What? No!” You sit straight, taken aback from the sudden turn of the conversation. “What makes you say that?”

Wonwoo sighs and repeats his words. But he faces you this time and, for the first time since he asked you the question he’s been asking you the past few months, it’s obvious how unsure he is, as if he’s suddenly questioning himself on what he’s been doing.

“Am I making you uncomfortable by asking you out on a date?”

“Oh… Wonwoo…” You take his hand, your desire to comfort him bigger than anything. You don’t like seeing him like this, and as much as your own thoughts have been haunting you, you suppose you do need to talk about it one way or another. “No, you’re not. But… Can I ask you something?”

He doesn’t answer, but you take the way he squeezes your hand as a ‘yes’.

“Why?”

He doesn’t seem to get your question, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean why?”

“Why do you suddenly want to date me?”

It’s almost comical the way he blinks slowly, then repeatedly, like he doesn’t get why you’d ask that. He thinks carefully before he says his next words though, and he mentally winces at what he’s about to say but there’s really no other way to say it.

“We’ve been… sleeping together for, like, six months.” He starts, and his face contorts like the words personally offend him. But the more you listen to him talk about all the things you’ve been doing the past few months, how you’re basically a couple without the title, the more you feel both warm and afraid about however this talk is going to end.

You don’t realize you’ve been holding his hand tighter, but he doesn’t say anything and you realize how protective you actually feel of Wonwoo because it doesn’t sit well with you that he seems to consider himself so small.

“It’s not… sudden. I’ve just finally gathered enough courage to ask you.”

“I’m afraid.” You throw it out there the moment you open your mouth, not sure how to tell him except to just go straight to the point.

“Of what?”

“Falling in love.” You cast your eyes down to where your hand and his are joined. “Of being attached to you.”

For a moment, the air around you seems to tense ten-fold that you’re sure you can cut through it with a knife. But when Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, you brace yourself for more honesty and continue.

“I’m… already attached to you more than I thought I could be with anyone. And it scares me sometimes. What if you leave me? I think I’d be able to cope better if you decide to end things with our current… relationship than an actual one. It scares me.”

You feel his hand letting go of yours, and you panic that he’s finally had enough, but he cups your face in his palms to calm you down, and as much as you’re anxious, you can feel yourself calming under his gaze.

“If you want me to be honest, I think I already like you more than whatever you probably feel for me.” He smiles so softly you almost cry. And when you’re about to refute his words, he gently places his finger on your lips to keep you silent. “And no, that’s not something I want to debate with you. I’m fine with liking you more. I want to like you more than you like me. Will you let me do that?”

You open your mouth to say something–anything, but nothing comes out except for your tears so you simply nod and fall into his embrace. Your tears dry up almost immediately after that, but you sniffle a little as his words echo in your mind. Wonwoo probably doesn’t know what he’s talking about, because you’ve liked him for as long as you can remember. Probably not long after you started your deal with him.

He doesn’t know how you melt every time he takes care of you. How you’d try to stay awake longer after he falls asleep after another night of passionate sex, his arm over your body and your back against his chest, just so you can pretend it’s real between you two. How you’d remind yourself that it’s not real when you wake up in his place even though you’d still drag yourself out to make breakfast for him, willing your heart to calm down when he wakes up moments later, hugging you from behind even though you tell him to move away.

You probably already love him more than he can imagine.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” You ask once you’ve calmed down, getting out of his embrace to look into his eyes.

“Nothing. Why?” He tilts his head, a little confused at the sudden change of topic.

“Let’s go on a date?” You ask shyly, though your eyes immediately cast downwards again once you realized you can’t handle looking him in the eye as you ask him this. But that’s why you missed the way his face blooms into a grin, missed the way his eyes suddenly twinkle brighter than every single star in the universe combined. “I think you promised to tell me where you buy those cookies if I go on a date with you.”

He laughs at that and throws his arms around you, so tight that it hurts a little. But you don’t say anything, happy that you’re here in his arms and a little giddy now that everything’s out of your chest.

Wonwoo pulls away and cups your face once again, then searches for something in your face before he closes his eyes and gives you the softest kiss you’ve ever experienced in your life. A promise. One that says he’s not going to leave and he’s going to try his best to remove every single doubt you have in your mind.

[✾✾✾]

©wonwoonlight – all rights reserved. I don't allow any translations or reposting of my works.

A/N 2: and for my birthday wish, hopefully i'll get to see you even once in this lifetime.

[atlabeth]

wake up, sunshine

knight!luke masterlist

based on this ask

pairing: knight!luke castellan x princess!reader

summary: you and luke repair some things at your kingdom's annual flower festival.

a/n: have some fluff after i destroyed their relationship in the last fic! also this is based off of the scene from rapunzel because how could it not be <3 title from the all time low song bc it is soooo them "somebody loves you for yourself" <3 they're everything

wc: 2.5k

warning(s): once again luke is kinda angsty but this is much fluffier than usual! princess is nice again, they have a couple sweet moments <3

we’ve been focusing on a lot of rough times between luke and the princess but things aren’t all bad for them!! even though she’s trying to ignore him and being forced to court a prince she isn’t interested in at all and war is imminent, war has not struck YET 

which means that things are still pretty great lol. and things are going to get a little better 

Aurelda’s flower festival always happens at the peak of spring, when all of the flowers (especially the ones only found in your kingdom) bloom, and it is full of revelry and merriment 

You’ve gone every year since you were old enough to walk, and though things have been a bit bleak for you, you’re actually excited about it! that boring prince has gone back home so you don’t have to spend the entire festival entertaining him. 

For the first time in a while, you actually get to focus on yourself and having fun. and you plan to do just that 

Of course, things are still weird between you and Luke — you know it’s your own fault, and you know that’s how it has to be, but you still hate it — but you can’t stop thinking about his words from that night as your lady’s maid helps you get ready for the festival. 

You may not care about what you want, but I do. And my loyalty is to you, princess. Not to your parents. And certainly no prince. 

Your heart twists painfully but you hide any emotion. The last thing you need is your maids spreading rumors. They already gossip about how close you and Luke are. You don’t need any star-crossed lovers narratives going on when your friendship is being put through the wringer of your own accord. 

You’re wearing a more casual outfit than usual—though your parents usually want you adorned in gowns and over the top dresses, you insisted on a simpler dress that cut off around your ankles for the ease of movement. It has plenty of embroidered flowers, of course. 

You planned to participate in every festival activity, no matter what your parents said. You deserved to have some fun after being so serious for the past month. 

You’re stuck in meetings the entire day before the festival, so you’re brimming with unspent energy the second you step out of the palace. Your leg bounces up and down the entire carriage ride, and you talk at (not to) your parents the whole time. 

You’re excited, okay? And you deserve to be. things have been rough lately, and with the prince’s presence, woefully boring. You can’t wait to get back in the middle of your kingdom and see your people. You love your subjects, and you always love when you get to meet and talk to them in person. 

Luke, on the other hand, is slightly stressed. 

As this is his inaugural year as your knight, it is a season of firsts for him, and every first comes with unhealthy amounts of stress. 

His first ball with you, his first time in another kingdom with you, his first festival with you, his first time being at odds with you. 

Luke honestly doesn’t know how you feel about him right now. You’ve put an impressive amount of distance between you and him, and you rarely talk to him outside of necessity, but he sees your lingering glances in his direction. He notices when you don’t rebuke his attempts at friendly conversation.

Luke meant every word that he said. He knows you, and he knows you don’t want this—you at least don’t want to leave him in the dark like this. So he isn’t going to let you go that easily. 

Your avoidance of him may be a good thing, though, because at least it means you don’t see his reaction when you leave your room wearing your festival dress. 

Luke has always thought of you as the most beautiful girl he knows, and that hasn’t changed with time. 

You always stun in your ballgowns and any Aureldan finery, but there’s just something about you wearing such a simplistic dress, heightened by embroidered flowers, that makes him weak in the knees. 

Maybe it’s because Luke has imagined a life away from all of this so many times. You’re not a princess, and he’s not a knight, but you’re devoted to each other the same—you just don’t have any royal strings attached. 

Apart from being a knight, Luke has never really cared where his future took him, as long as it was with you. He knows he would give up all of this and more if it meant he could share a simple life with you. 

Thankfully, he’s composed himself by the time you look at him, though he can’t push away all the lingering thoughts. 

“Are you attending the festival today, Sir Castellan?” you ask.

He hates it when you call him that, but he nods. “Of course. You’re going out into the kingdom—you need security.”

“It is a festival,” you drawl. “Nothing will happen.”

“It is still necessary,” he says. “You can think of me as your knightly escort.”

That actually gets a bit of a laugh out of you, and he suppresses a smile. “My escort. How improper of you.”

“Today is meant to be a day of festivities,” Luke says. “Impropriety may be allowed just this once.” 

Your smile remains as you start to walk together, and Luke knows he could live off of its warmth alone. 

And when you finally reach your destination, your smile gets even bigger.

It’s been far too long since you’ve gotten to be in the midst of your kingdom, surrounded by all your people. This is the part of your position that you love—you just wish your parents trusted you with it more. 

Your parents are busy with their image—they’re speaking later today, you’re sure, and right now they’re discussing things with some kind of village leader—which gives you the perfect opportunity to slip away. 

Luke is right behind you, of course, but it’s always been hard to keep up with you. You’ve grown very skilled at weaving your way through crowds, but thankfully Luke has grown very skilled at keeping an eye on you. 

By the time he catches up to you, though, it’s too late. 

“Princess—” Luke calls in protest, but you’re already off to greet a group of children calling your name. 

You know exactly how to stress him out, running off like that without him immediately behind you, but he can’t find any anger inside of him.

Luke hasn’t forgotten your words. He doesn’t know how he could. 

But in this moment, it’s so easy to see why he can’t just do his duty and let you go. 

The way you crouch down to be on their level, how you listen so intently to everything they say, your dazzling smile. 

Yes, one could say it’s your duty to be kind to your people, but for many royals, that’s not true. You’ve always cared about the people of Aurelda, ever since you were young—that may have been one of the few things that hasn’t changed as you’ve grown. Luke has always admired that about you. 

In this moment, you’re not the crown princess. You’re just you. And it’s hard for anyone not to love you. 

…It’s hard for him not to love you. 

yeah. 

this is the moment that luke realizes he loves you. like loves you loves you. 

And it doesn’t come as much of a shock to him. Luke has always loved you, one way or another. He’s just now understanding the kind of love he holds for you now. 

wants to spend the rest of his life with you, would throw himself onto a sword for you, would do absolutely anything for you type loves you. 

If anything, it brings some form of relief. 

He loves you. You don’t love him, and you’re going to marry a prince someday. Maybe within the year. 

It’s as simple as that. 

except it isn’t, obviously 

because you love him too!! you just don’t know it yet!! and you don’t really want to marry the prince your parents are pushing at you, you just don’t see any other way. 

But it’s not like Luke knows that. he may be the youngest person to ever become part of the kingsguard but he is ~ insecure ~ and he cannot imagine anyone liking him like that, especially you!!! 

Luke comes back into himself when you bound back over to him, and he notices the flower crown balancing precariously on your head. 

You have the biggest grin on your face, and though the gowns you wear at balls and fancier events are great, you’re nothing less than stunning in your simple dress. You’re slightly out of breath and your skin is luminescent with the glow of exertion. He can’t help but smile.  

Have you always been this beautiful? He’s pretty sure you have, but he doesn’t know how he didn’t realize it sooner. 

Luke has loved you for a while, he thinks. Maybe he always has—maybe that’s what the warm feeling he gets in his chest when he looks at you is. Maybe that’s what made his heart clench every time a prince danced with you at that ball. 

Maybe his love for you has always been what’s pushed him forward. 

“Luke,” you said, and once again, you snapped him out of his thoughts. You were absolutely beaming at him, and you wore a flower crown on your head. “Are you there?” 

Luke, he realized. Not Sir Castellan, for what felt like the first time in weeks. 

“I’m always here,” he said. “I’ve got superior training, princess.” 

“Of course,” you said with mock austerity, nodding sagely. “I could never forget.” 

You held up another flower crown, one similar to yours, and your smile grew. “The kids made another one, too. They said it was for my grumpy looking knight.” 

Luke scoffed, but there was no edge to it. “I’m not grumpy. Merely cautious.” 

“Oh, yes,” you said dryly. “I’m sure those kids had devious plans, Luke.” 

That got the slightest of smiles out of him, and it spurned warmth in your chest. “It’s my—” 

“It’s your job to watch me,” you finished. “I know. Just teasing you.” 

“And I welcome it,” he said. “It’s nice to see you like this, princess.” 

“Talking to my people and actually making a difference?” you guessed. 

“Happy,” he corrected. 

“Yes, well…” you trailed off, glancing away for a moment as you shrugged. “I’ve been busy.” 

“And for once, you don’t look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.” Luke’s eyes drifted to the flower crown sitting on your head, and his smile grew. “It suits you.” 

“Carelessness or flower crowns?” you asked wryly. 

“Flower crowns.” Luke crossed his arms. “You’re far from careless, princess.”

You rolled your eyes 

“You’ve got to stop talking down on yourself like that,” he said. “Like nothing you say or do matters. Because it does. It may not feel like it, but you’re doing valuable work.” 

“Oh, yes,” you said breezily. “I’m sure sitting in meetings that don’t matter and looking pretty as I stand in the background during my father’s speeches is valuable work.” 

“That’s not what I mean.” Luke gestured at the crowd of people around, specifically pointing at the group of kids that you’d entertained. “You fight for them every day, even if you don’t realize it. You care about these people, princess, which is already more than half of the people in that castle do for them. Why else would they adore you?” 

You bit your lip and glanced away. It was hard to take Luke’s words to heart when you truly felt like you were doing nothing—when it felt like the only thing you could possibly be good for was a marriage. 

But you did argue with your parents near every chance you got on matters of support and aid for your people. It was the least you could do, especially when you knew you would never really have to deal with consequences. 

(There was a reason most of your father’s advisors had to suppress groans every time you would sit in on a meeting. You took pride in your ability to annoy.) 

“Let’s call a truce, okay?”

You frowned. Now it was Luke bringing you out of your thoughts. “A truce?”

“I don’t want you to keep avoiding me, and I don’t think you’re really enjoying it either.” Luke met your gaze. “We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember, princess. Don’t let boring princes come between that.”

You glanced away. “Luke…” 

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “I know your duty, and I know mine. But seeing you today, so carefree and happy—it’s worth more than a million gold pieces to me.” 

You’d been dancing around this topic since the night you pushed him away. It just hurt too much to talk about, and you felt like you didn’t have a right to be hurt—not when you were the one that did it. 

You loved Luke—he’d been your best friend for as long as you could remember. But you would be lying if you said you didn’t hate the time you’ve been spending apart. 

“We’re both getting older, I know. And we both have responsibilities we’re going to take on. God, someday, you’re going to be queen.” Luke huffed a laugh, though his eyes never wavered from you. “But that doesn’t mean that we can’t get through it together. Just like we’ve gotten through everything else together.” 

Luke held out his hand. “So? Truce?” 

You stared at his hand for a moment, unable to meet his eyes. You knew exactly what you wanted to say but you felt like you couldn’t. 

Because dammit, your days felt so dull. You always wanted to talk about your day and how boring your lessons were or the bullshit your father’s advisors have been discussing in meetings, and Luke was always the person you wanted to talk to about it all. He always has been. 

And you pushed him away. 

Before you could doubt yourself, you ignored his hand entirely and pulled him into a tight hug. Luke wrapped his arms around you immediately, holding you close. 

“I’m sorry for avoiding you,” you whispered. God, how you’d missed his embrace—you never felt safer than when you were in his arms. “And I’m sorry for being so stupid.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, princess,” he murmured. “And you’re certainly not stupid. Don’t even think that way.” 

You let out a breathy laugh as you pulled away, smiling softly at Luke. “I’m stupid to ever think I could really stay away from you.” 

and for the rest of the festival, you and luke are practically inseparable<3 not just because he’s your guard but because you’re best friends. 

You’re not going to let anything change that going forward. any prince that wants to marry you is just going to have to deal with that. 

(you even get him to wear that flower crown.)

(and though he tries to hide it, he kind of loves it.) 

(mostly because he loves you<3) 

[preeningpisces]

Sukuna NSFW Headcanons

Lemme know if you want me to elaborate or write something about any of these ♥️

18+ content below, mdni, implied chubby f!reader, dark content

TW: implied non-con, mentions of death, Sukuna is not nice!!!

♛ Boy oh boy. Mr. Monsterfucker wet dream himself

♛ For starters, make no mistake: Sukuna gives absolutely zero fucks about your pleasure. You’re there solely to please him, and it makes no difference whether you enjoy it or not

♛ Knows where the clit is, he just doesn’t give a fuck lmfao

♛ I think one thing that would make him actually intelltionally please you--which is very rare, but happens on occasion when he's in a good mood---is sounds. If you make sounds of pleasure he likes, he’ll try to get more out of you. Again, not for your benefit. It's purely because it brings him some satisfaction. It’s the same with sounds of pain tho, oof

♛ Not very noisy, but doesn’t stifle any sounds either. Definitely a grunter. Talkativeness depends on his mood

♛ I definitely agree with the notion that he’d have concubines. As we know him now, I can’t imagine him falling for anyone or being loyal

♛ With that in mind, Sukuna doesn’t really have a type. His concubines all look very different. Yuki asks Sukuna what his type is and he just says pussy

♛ One thing he appreciates about you is how your soft body fills his hands. With him being humongous, having someone larger just feels more comfortable. Sometimes he just wants that vava-voom if you know what I mean. Also enjoys how your thighs feel when you're riding him--their softness rippling against his muscles

♛ That’s not to say Sukuna doesn’t have preferences, I just don’t think they’d be consistent, or that he’d care enough to pick up on a pattern. He just sees someone & knows ‘I’d stick my dick in them’ or ‘Uraume feed me this ugly hoe’

♛ OF COURSE he has a double-decker dick!! The one on the bottom is more sensitive. He likes having one of his concubines riding the top one, and another sucking his cock and balls

♛ His cum shoots--it gets airtime. Think that scene in Devilman Crybaby

♛ Without a doubt a sadist, in every way. Making you cry, making you bleed, & hurting you all get him going. Big on dacryphilia, and degratation

♛ Absolutely nooooot going to be submissive. Nope no way, especially not to some lowly human or sorcerer such as yourself. He’d have to see you as an equal, and even then, I’m not sure he would

♛ Not submissive but lowkey a pillow princess LMFAO you gotta do all the work. He just lazes while you suck him off or ride him

♛ When he’s in the mood he treats you like a fleshlight. If he legitimately railed you, it would do permanent damage. Mfer is 8ft tall—if he were to actually pound you with vigor you’d DIE. In fact, he probably does that when he doesn’t care to keep someone….yikes let’s not think about that

♛ Honestly I don’t imagine he’s that freaky or kinky. Really just wants to blow his load in (or on) someone pretty & that’s about it

♛ The freakiest thing he does is use his tummy tongue—largely because it frightens you & his other concubines bc, yknow, he could legit eat you. Also, he just wants to eat some pussy every now & then, and there’s no way he would lower his head or kneel for anyone

♛ He eats pussy for his own pleasure, not yours, but that tongue is so big and slippery you usually cum anyway. Doesn’t stop until he’s had his fill

[misfithive]

One of my favorite things is how Simon responds to Wille openly sharing his feelings with him. I just feel like a lot of people don't know how to respond to vulnerability, it makes them uncomfortable, they get defensive, or they make a joke about it etc but Simon responds so compassionately or is open back and i just love that about their dynamic. In the reverse the few times Simon is open and shares what he needs, Wille gives him the space to share and tries to support him (more so in the second half of the season lol *growth*) but it's just really nice. And also think an important representation for people to see yeah it's scary to open up and say how u feel but there will be people who don't judge you or shame you for feeling things. Esp for young men but for everyone i feel its really nice to have this both to show opening up but also to show how you could respond if someone opens up to you.

I feel like given the situation Simon could have said something defensive back or continued to be mad. And some people say this is "too forgiving" but I think he recognizes that Wille is putting himself out there by saying this and i feel like Simon really values that. and from that we get one of the most honest tender moments. Wille showed how he felt with words and simon with action (moving towards him instead of away).

And of courseee:

This is one of my all time favorite scenes and hugs bc it feels like they are actually communicating and supporting each other and have their guards down fr. I also think it is a big thing to admit you are scared and we don't talk about that enough!!! But anyway i just wanna say yeah they do fight (all couples do) but when they actually open up to eachother instead of like accusing eachother etc it's really really beautiful and I can't wait for more of that S3.

[babybluebex]

imagine being in a movie with dom, and you have to film a *special* scene… like the aftermath???? the chemistry???? dying 😩😩😩

oh ok. walk with me for a second here. (the good stuff's under the cut, so if you don't care ab my little schpiel about how these scenes are filmed, just go straight to under the cut)

so here's a Film Industry Tidbit: before love/sex/whatever-you-wanna-call-it-scenes, there's a rehearsal process that involves an intimacy coordinator, and like their WHOLE JOB is choreographing and rehearsing and blocking scenes like this, it's becoming more and more prevalent on film sets to ensure all parties in these sorts of scenes are being treated fairly and with consent and there's also certain garments that are required of actors to wear in filming these scenes, little like strapless thongs and pouches and shit, like NEVER on a film set will you just be expected to be completely naked and left to your own devices to simulate sex

anyway. off my soapbox. you and dom have to film one of those scenes, and you know this before you sign onto the movie, and you two meet at the table read and he's warm and friendly, you instantly feel like great friends

and you rehearse for the movie and everything, costume fittings and screen tests and things, and even though you're smiling and laughing with dom, The Scene is starting to weigh on your mind bc like, aw hell you're starting to actually like him a lot and you don't know if you can be normal about this scene

and it comes time to specifically rehearse The Scene, and the intimacy coordinator is very nice, understanding that you're both young actors who haven't filmed something like this before and don't know what to expect, and she starts with some "easy" icebreaker questions "what are your boundaries during sex?" and dom is a little red in the face but takes it serious "i guess i don't love when a girl pulls my hair... not my favorite" and then it comes time for you to answer and you're like crap and sigh "i, um, i've never had sex, so i don't really know..." and you feel dom's eyes on you but you can't dare to look at him

the scene is supposed to be very passionate and gentle and romantic, but you don't have a CLUE what that looks like, but dom sure seems like he does, because he's figuring out where to hold you and how to naturally do the scene, and you're doing what you can with what you know, touching his face and cupping the back of his neck, and dom throws out a suggestion "maybe you can, like, drag your nails down my back? would that look good on camera?" and you're Confused "why would i do that?" and he's not cocky, it's a very genuine answer, but his words still make you run hot all the same: "because it's gonna feel good"

you leave the rehearsal and dom's his usual self "wanna grab a drink? there's a little bar close to here i've heard about" and you have to be like "i, um, have— my-my call time is really early tomorrow, i gotta—"

"nah, i got you, don't sweat it, it's fine" he chuckles "maybe we can grab that drink friday night... i'll probably fuckin' need it"

"what's on friday?" and you immediately regret asking because you already know the answer, you remember the schedule

"we film the sex scene on friday" dom tells you and you're like right, right, but pretty quickly flee the scene and go home

and then friday rolls around. it's a closed set, as you requested, and your director was more than happy to work that out for you, and you're in the makeup trailer, kinda halfheartedly chatting with your makeup girl as she gets you ready, a very naturally pretty no-makeup look for what's supposed to be an early-morning-just-woke-up sorta sex scene, and you're about to divulge to her how nervous you are to film, and then the door opens and in he strolls wearing a robe, biting into a peach as he settles into his chair

and you don't really talk to each other, both obviously nervous as hell, and he finally mumbles "this fucking thing..." and shifts in his seat and you're like "you good?" and he goes pink and chuckles "yeah, they've got me strapped in here and it doesn't hurt but it's not comfy" and you're like ??? strapped in?? and he's uncharacteristically bashful "they've got me wearing a pouch... it covers everything... i feel so exposed and yet totally covered at the same time" "yeah, like when you're naked with only socks on, suddenly you feel way more naked than if you just weren't wearing socks" you tell him and he nods enthusiastically "exactly! nobody's gonna see my dick, but it feels like everyone's gonna be looking, and that's somehow worse than if my dick was actually out" and you laugh and like whew ice broken thank god

you get on set and take off the robe and quickly slip into the bed, and you hope he can't see your heartbeat through your chest as he does the same, and your mouth goes a little dry at his body, pale freckled skin, tattoo on his belly, bony hips and bandy chest (and that god-awful flesh-colored sack around his dick) but fuck his arms feel so strong as he hugs you into his body to start the scene, and you know that you won't survive if you have to do it multiple times so you resolve to nail every line and movement so that it's a one and done sorta thing

your director calls action, and you and dom "sleep" for a few moments before you start, shifting your legs under the sheets as you "wake up", and you hear him make a soft noise from behind you as he too wakes up, and his strong arm tightens around your waist, and when he speaks, his voice is low and scratchy, the sexiest morning voice you've ever heard "you awake, honey?"

"mhm" you hum, and your skin prickles as he starts to set kisses on your back and shoulder

"good" he says, and all of your rehearsal for the scene has prepared you for this, but doing it on camera, for real this time, is no match for being fully clothed and sorta miming through it, and when he moves you onto your back and smooths his rough hands up your thighs, it's suddenly so hard to breathe, especially when he hits his blocking and starts to kiss down your body and looks up at you with those dark eyes through his eyelashes, and you manage to get out your line "baby? will you make love to me?" and he laughs "anything you want, honey"

a camera shift for a different angle, an awkward few moments of waiting, and then the part you're SERIOUSLY nervous for comes, and your director calls action, and dom doesn't waste a second to kiss you like his life depends on it and to start moving his body between your thighs, acting his little heart out, and you're doing what you rehearsed, the wrinkled eyebrows and stuttered breathing, and pulling your nails down his shoulderblade, and then he deviates??? like motherfucker this is NOT part of the plan!!! when he whines a little "harder" and you're like "huh??" "nails, in my skin, harder... mark me up, make me yours, baby" and you instantly roll with the punches "you're already mine"

and you swear you see god as you film that scene, it's the most sensual thing you've ever experienced in your life, best sex ever and it wasn't even real sex, and you finish filming earlier than scheduled ("what can i say, i'm a pro" dom jokes) and you start to go to your trailer after getting out of costume because what the fuck just happened to you, and dom's like "hey! you promised me a drink tonight" "i promised no such thing" "well, indulge me?" and it's those SAME doe eyes from earlier and you sigh "one drink, dom, then i'm going home"

three rounds of shots and half a jack and coke later, and you're divulging to him what was going through your head during his little improvisation that day, "no, because you saying to do it harder? i was like 'what the fuck is he doing'??" and he laughs and rolls his eyes, but leans into you all the same "eh, whatever, that's how i like it" "you like getting hurt? that doesn't sound sexy at all" "not 'getting hurt' exactly" and he's tracing his pinkie on your knee as he thinks "but like... being marked, showing people that you're owned by someone... not in like a weird way, but... i don't know how to explain it..." and maybe it's the jack in your drink plus the three green tea shots you had, or maybe you're just sick and tired of being nervous, because you say "show me" and now it's HIS turn to be confused and go "huh?" "show me what you mean. you don't have to use words if you can't find them" and he breathlessly laughs "honey, please" and he's never called you that off camera before "you can't just say that to me" "well why not?" "we're both drunk" he starts and hits you with those eyes again "and if anyone on set knew that we came out to a bar, and then spotted us going into the same trailer together... people'll talk" "oh c'mon, i know you don't give a shit about if people talk" you said "what's the real problem?" and his pinkie goes under your skirt and sorta curls in the hem for a moment, and he bites his lip and slowly releases it "well... for one... i'd like for you to be able to walk normally tomorrow, because if i get you in my bed... honey, you got me so worked up earlier, it's a miracle i didn't get hard, and i don't think i could stop myself from doing some very bad things to you tonight" "oh?" and you're trying to be cool and calm but youre FREAKING OUT inside "like what?" "jesus christ" dom whispers "i also don't want your first time to be like this, a drunken mistake with a coworker, you deserve better than m-that" and you hear what he stopped himself from saying, you deserve better than me, and you put down your drink and cup his jaw and make him look up from your lap "it won't be a mistake" you tell him and he swallows hard and his eyes are locked on your lips, silently begging for you "dominic..." and that gets him to look you in the eyes "i think you should take me home"

and he gets you in his trailer, and the bed's not huge but it's good enough for the two of you, and suddenly his kisses and touches feel more natural than if you had rehearsed it a thousand times, the way he kisses your tits and travels down and helps undress you, down to your socks, and you start to go for them but he's like "no, no... keep em on" and once again you're confused by him but he's like "you said you feel more naked like this than if you're actually naked... i want you to be exposed for me, vulnerable... spread out... begging for it..." and he's steady kissing your inner thigh, waiting for your okay to go further and you think you just might burst into flames, and your legs open for him and he doesn't waste a second to put his mouth on you

the night lasts until it's nearly dawn, laying together, talking in hushed tones, fucking, unable to keep your hands off each other, and he looks like a god, his skin all golden and supple with sweat, messy hair, red puffy lips, and his gaze is so soft and gentle at you, holding you and playing with your fingers, and he says "do you regret this?" "no" and you get a little scared "do you?" "no" he tells you "i was just worried that... i don't know, i somehow failed you or something, being the one to..." "you didn't fail me, dommy," you tell him, and his cheeks twitch with a smile "i couldn't have asked for better" "i just feel like—" dom starts but you kiss him to shut him up, and his hands go to your face, holding you close as his tongue claims your mouth for the millionth time that night "dom" you break the kiss "did i cum?" "did you—" and he furrows his eyebrows "yeah. a few times. i mean, right? you did, right?" "i did" you tell him "you made me cum, a couple of times, on our first night together, and i don't know a lot about sex, but that seems indicative of a pretty good night together, right?" "i just feel like i could've done more to show you how i feel about you" dom mumbles, and you shake your head "i don't need all that" you say "big romantic gestures or whatever, that's not me... i'm telling you, this was perfect" "ok" dom whispers and you can tell he's not exactly satisfied, but whatever "as long as you let me make it up to you someday" "how would you do that?" you ask, and he leans in and kisses your neck, slowly moving between your thighs again "i'd get you a nice outfit" he whispers "something that really makes you look just gorgeous, something that makes every guy in the room look at you and wish you were theirs... take you to dinner, wherever you want... fly you to paris if you'd like..." "oh yeah?" and you wanna be playful and flirty, but god you're so turned on you can't think straight, and it takes very little maneuvering for him to slip inside you again, and he sorta trails off his thoughts as he fucks you, touching his forehead to yours, and you do what he asked of you and dig your nails into the skin of his back and make long claw marks down his back "dommy?" and he grunts in response as he works "i think i wanna be your girl" "god, please" he whispers "i wanna be your guy so fucking bad"

and when a PA comes to dom's trailer for his wake up call once the sun's up, you have to untangle yourself from him, and you bid him goodbye with a big kiss, and he says "don't think we're done here, okay? more's coming tonight. remember those bad things i said i wanna do to you? still want that" and he winks and god yeah you're a lucky gal <3

[longtallglasses]

some miwi headcanons just bc ! older ones

i see young mike as kind of loud and not realizing how loud (and annoying) his yelling near people is (ie karen yelling in s1 “mike let’s go!” “COMING!!!”) however he quickly learns not to yell around will, adopting his softer voice for him BUT

in school he’s constantly calling over to will “will come here” “will sit next to me” “will! over here! look at this!” trying to get his attention “will, will, hey will…” other kids are like dude shut up… so many kids know will’s name who’ve never seen him, and mike’s thought of as that kid who’s always calling out for his friend.

i’m an avid rock collector!mike enjoyer. on the playground, in the forest, at the park, at the lake. he’s picking up all the cool ones, storing them away for very important scientific reasons like “this one’s shiny in A Different way!” he sets aside his favorites to show and give to will, very much in the style of a cat bringing a dead rodent to their owner, like “got something special just for you :) a Very Cool Rock :)” will loves how much mike enjoys it and is very excited to receive them, feeling quite special.

will loves stuffed animals (i mean we been knew) when he was younger they all had names and backstories, interpersonal drama and storylines he played out. two stuffed cats he definitely thought of as him and mike subconsciously, as they were best friends. he would act out little dramatic scenes of them running away from some oppressive kingdom, going on an adventure and meeting new friends along the way. … and he may have made them kiss a few times …

obviously small will loved drawing, but i don’t think he was always confident in his skill. after people tell him he’s good he gets caught up in trying to be really good, and gets frustrated when he can’t do something the way he wants. hence crumpled up attempts in the trash mike fishes out. there’s a spell of time where he gives up for a bit and jonathan asks why he hasn’t seen him drawing lately, and will says he doesn’t think he can get any better, it’s too hard. jonathan tells him it doesn’t matter if it’s perfect, he should just draw to make himself happy “draw for the campaigns, your friends think it’s so cool” so will keeps at it focusing on drawing what he thinks him and his friends will appreciate

while watching scary movies in the basement mike and will always held hands under blankets. it started when they were younger and they first got permission to watch a scary movie, they didn’t want to admit they might be getting too scared. during a big jump their hands reached out on instinct and too caught up in the movie they didn’t let go. when it was over they didn’t talk about it, but then it just kept happening every time they got scared. which led to holding hands when upset outside of watching movies. they never really discussed it, it just felt like their little secret thing.

all the boys were nice to holly but will was the only friend who actually liked seeking her out to play w them. (fascinated by a little sister unlike lucas and only-child dustin) mike and will would play games with her sometimes, will thinking she was really cute, and mike thinking it was cute will really liked her. cue karen thinking will is the best influence on her son

i have such a strong image of kindergarten miwi right after they become friends making mud pies together every recess. their teacher scolds them the first few times having to scrub their hands when they come back in. it gets so bad when the recess monitor sees them heading for the dirt they’re yelling “Michael! William! don’t even think about it!” they think it’s so funny to rile them up, they start spreading mud on each others arms “will you need more than that!” they only try to eat it a few times, it does taste really gross. after they’re banned from the dirt, they move to the sand box, it’s only a bit cleaner.

[kingdumkum]

WHERE THE RIVER MEETS THE SEA

this has been a long, long time coming. hopefully it’ll live up to the obscenely high expectations i’ve set. agree or disagree, please reblog/comment/send an anon with your thoughts--but make sure you read the RULES of interaction first.

summary: your date stood you up… again. Don’t worry, though, Baji will be there to pick up the pieces, like he always is. The only question… what will you do when you find out his secret? wc: 15k (we don't talk about it)

cw: virgin fem afab!reader x virgin!Baji, a lil itty bitty baby bit of blood, somewhat public (initially), bc why not, marking, creampie, Confessions galore, somewhat gendered pet names (princess, babe, sweetheart), actually gendered pet names (one handful of "good girl," "pretty girl," and "my girl"), subtle yandere themes but not to the extent a DC label is needed—correct me if I’m wrong though—be nice if I missed something, this is my first time :) way too many words but c’est la vie such is the way.

dedication: Storm, my friend, your support and advice has made me a better writer. Without you, this would probably still be sitting in my drafts, collecting dust and every hateful thought I’ve ever had about my writing. Thank you for being you and all of your aid in getting this to where it is. 💛

Your coffee’s cold when you give up. Well—second coffee, to be precise; the first you’d ordered after Tadashi said he was a few minutes away. That one had grown cold too, but the barista, taking pity, had given you a piping hot refill—for free.

It feels like an insult when she offers you a third.

An hour and a half has passed since Tadashi said he’d be there, and… well, you were still kinda hoping he might show up. But when the manager approaches with a tight-lipped smile, not-so-kindly pointing at their hours plastered ever so neatly on the glass door and indicating they’re just a few minutes to closing, your hope ebbs entirely.

The heat in your cheeks could’ve rewarmed your cup—but not one to cause a scene, you offer a tight-lip smile of your own and apologize. You don’t explain that you were waiting for someone; the pitying look in the barista’s eye as she mouths sorry and slides the unwanted third cup your way says they know.

You slip into the bathroom, wondering how in the world you could be so stupid— again. This was your third first date in three months… and the third time in three months that you’ve been stood up. 

It hurts more when you check your phone. Two new messages from Emma, asking how it’s going and if you want to grab dinner to dish; one from Draken, asking if you can bring back a vanilla frappe and a triple dark roast espresso with two pumps of caramel; one from Baji, saying he might be late to pick you up, but he’d be there, and could you get him an order of whatever you’re having?

Nothing from Tadashi.

You don’t respond, instead letting your phone rest against the mirror while you stare at your reflection and try, desperately, to convince yourself it isn’t your fault.

Everything had been going great—you thought. You thought he really liked you, that he was excited to get to know you, and that this one, this one for sure would show up. You made jokes that he found funny, you were just the right amount of flirty, and you knew—thought—hoped—the picture you’d sent of your outfit (a simple sundress that accentuated your best features and wedges that made your legs seem endless) was enticing enough that he’d want to see it in person.

But here you are. Crying in the bathroom of a cafe you’ll never be able to return to, wondering how you’re going to explain to your friends that you got stood up.

Again.

Your phone starts to buzz. With a deep breath, you wipe off your dripping mascara. You force yourself to smile at the hollow reflection staring back at you, then answer with an overly-cheerful, “what’s up?”

“Kenny’s worried.” Baji’s familiar drawl echos, making the space seem even smaller. “I said he was being too overprotective, but—well, you know how he is. Said it’s his duty or some shit to make sure you’re okay. He tried to come down here himself, wanted to meet the guy trying to woo you—can you believe that? He actually said woo—“

“What do you want?” you interrupt. Too harsh, you realize when Baji doesn’t answer. “It’s just—I’m kinda in the middle of something, you know?” 

Baji takes a moment, then forces a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, the little princess’s got a date, we know. God, they wouldn’t let it go. You should be thanking me, ya know, I’m the only reason they’re not all crashing—”

“Baji.”

The line falls quiet. Then, softly, “where are you, y/n?”

You frown and start searching for your mascara. “At the coffee shop. Why, where are you?”

Another pause. This one heavier. With the phone tucked to one ear, you slowly swipe the wand over your lashes. It’s clumpier than you usually like, but it’s better than nothing—

“I’m outside.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoes. You mouth another fuck, heart plummeting, then start reapplying your mascara. More carefully, now that you’re out of time. “I, uh—I’ve been here. A while.”

“Oh… yeah?” you question, teeth starting to grind. “How long’s a while?”

Baji clears his throat. “Long enough. You gonna come out, or are ya gonna make me come in?”

Mascara gets tossed in your purse, gloss comes out. “You’re not exactly welcome in the ladies room, Baji.”

You can picture the dangerous curl in his smile when he replies, “not without an invitation, babe—why, you asking?”

Your laugh isn’t completely real, but not unnatural, either. You hover the gloss over your lips, and for a moment, you imagine what it’d be like. To sneak someone into the bathroom, kissing until your lips start to bruise, his hands playing with the hem of your dress, his lips marking your skin, his voice whispering your name…

You shake the thought away. There’s no point in getting your heart broken twice in one day.

“Three’s a bit of a crowd for a single stall,” you deflect. “Be out in a minute.”

Baji hums. Your gloss feels too thick, but you don’t take it off. You fluff your hair again, placing it the way you like, turning your necklace so the clasp faces the right way, lips smacking together once, twice, three times—

By the time you run out of things to do, you think you’re ready. You pick up your purse and give yourself a final once-over. Pretty, you think. Doesn’t look like you spent the last seven minutes sobbing in a public restroom.

When you exit, Baji’s still on the line, but he doesn’t hang up. You know, because the teasing, “well shit, babe, if I had known you’d worn that, I would’ve come two hours ago,” echoes; once from your phone, and the other from the man himself, standing right in front of you.

You laugh, and this one isn’t forced at all.

Baji’s smile gleams in the evening sun. A low wolf-whistle causes your face to warm pleasantly—the way it should have, when you met Tadashi. You take Baji’s extended hand, not flinching when his callouses rub against your soft palms. 

You’re used to their roughness. Much like the others, Baji’s always been a hands-on friend (and fighter), so over the years, you’ve gotten used to the various bumps, cuts, and jagged edges, to the extent that the only hands that’ve ever felt comfortable have been those rough ones, soft only for you. 

Baji spins you, over-exaggerating the way he checks you out. “Sweetheart, you’re going to stop traffic looking like that.”

“Oh, please,” you deny, but your smile hasn’t been this genuine all day. “Laying it on a little thick, Baj.”

“Only the realest truth for the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” is his sly reply, accompanied by a slyer wink. It’s his usual charm, but you’re oblivious to his sincerity, the way you always are. Baji pulls you into a tight hug and closes his eyes, and for a moment, he allows himself to pretend this was your intention all along; to wind up in his arms, with his compliments, by his side—the way it always seems to go after every failed date.

But you never say as much, and you always seem so genuinely excited for the next one that he’s never going to ask. Instead, he’ll take these moments. The ones where you turn to him for comfort, where he gets to hold you, your knight-in-shining-armor, and do all that he can to make everything better.

He’s so close that you almost miss his muffled whisper of, “fucking—stupid bastard. Doesn’t know what he’s missed.”

Your smile slips. Your thumb rubs against the back of his knuckles, familiarly cracked with scabs that never seem to heal. These are fresh, though; you can tell by how his hand darts to the back of his neck, preventing you from looking too closely. 

“Been up to no good?” you question with a raised brow.

“‘Course I have,” he responds easily, “you’ve been busy.”

Baji won’t meet your gaze. ‘If only you knew,’ he thinks—but he’ll never say it. Not that. Not to you. He shrugs off his black leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, fingertips lingering as he straightens the collar. His dark eyes flick to yours, a coy smirk almost hiding his guilt as he hopes beyond all hope you don’t see through him.

You almost do.

Not enough to call him out on it, though, so instead, you roll your eyes—but you can’t deny how this—him—is making everything better. He picks up the helmet he only brings when he’s driving you and puts it on for you, visor up so he can brush the hair out of your eyes. Baji offers a comforting smile, then juts his chin to his bike. “Wanna ride?”

The answer, of course, is yes; for him, it will always be yes.

Silently, you climb on and wrap your hands around him, chin tucking into his shoulder as if you were made to be there. He revs and pulls off, seamlessly weaving in and out of traffic. Your eyes close. The wind whips in your hair, and the familiar scent of nicotine, mint, and Baji’s crisp aftershave envelopes you. For a moment, you feel like everything’ll be okay. Your heart might hurt now, but after an evening with him, it’ll all be okay.

That’s the power of Keisuke Baji, though; the sense of embarking on your greatest adventure but feeling like being home, all at once.

It’s nearly sunset when he stops. Pulls up to the river, kicks the bike stand, then grabs your waist to lift you off the seat.

“I can do that,” you say, even as you let him lift you.

“More fun when I do,” he replies with an easy grin. Your feet hit the ground, but Baji keeps one hand around your waist. He takes off the helmet with the other and laughs when your hair flops out. Hurriedly you go to smooth it, but Baji catches your wrist after setting the helmet down. “You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

He cages you between the bike and his hips with just a few inches of space—and suddenly, your heart starts to race. When did he get this close? How hadn’t you noticed the way his leg slid between yours? Why isn’t he taking his hand away? Why can’t you breathe?

Baji’s dark eyes dart between yours, then down to your lips, and for a second, for a split second, you think he’s about to kiss you—

“Not like anything can make it better now,” he smirks, and if it weren’t for how his fingers were locked in yours, you would’ve slapped him.

“Asshole.” 

Baji laughs, and you swear the moon shines a little brighter. You’re grateful that he turns to check out the area before he can see just how much of an impact his laugh has on you—though you don’t doubt that he knows. He’s Baji, after all, and you’re not blind (or deaf). He’s handsome, witty, flirty with anything that moves—and that laugh of his could bring even the tides to a standstill.

“Coast’s clear,” he says, looking back at you, a lazy smirk curling his features. It shouldn’t be a surprise, hardly any ever comes this far south of the city—but a few weeks ago, you’d accidentally stumbled upon a couple who were… not expecting company, to put it delicately, and ever since, Baji had been extra cautious to make sure it was just the two of you before getting settled.

He takes a few steps backwards, leading you to your spot; a grassy knoll that overlooks the river as it feeds into the darkened sea. The moon slowly rises over rolling waves while the sun, more a memory, sets over the river’s bend. It’s a secret, sacred place for the two of you, where heartache and daydreams don’t exist; only the moon, the tides, and each other.

Your stomach flips but you can’t tell why; this is exactly what happens every time you come here, from the way he helps you off the bike to how he stops you from picking at your appearance. The only difference is the way his hand is still wrapped in yours. 

You wonder if Tadashi’s would have been this warm. 

But Tadashi isn’t here—Baji is, and it’s Baji’s warm hands that always make things better. So you let him keep his hand in yours, even though you’re not sure you should, and you let him gently tug you along when you don’t move fast enough. Let him take his time in taking his jacket back, in spreading it on the grass before waiting for you to sit. You even let him settle next to you, instinctively leaning into the familiar comfort of his body and for a minute, you wonder how you ever could’ve wanted your day to end different.

Then Baji meets your gaze, smiles that sweet, genuinely kind half smile that he only shares with you, and you remember: Baji is your friend—and no matter how many heartaches he heals, that’s all he’ll ever be.

You can’t remember when things got so complicated.

When it was just you and Kenny, you’d sneak up to the roof of the brothel and watch the sun dip behind the buildings and talk about how one day, you’d get a house that was that color pink, and it’d be on the far side of Japan where you could watch the sunset from your porch and life would be good. The sunset was the only dream you’d ever need, and it would be good.

Then Mikey started coming. More often than not he’d fall asleep before the sun did, and on the days he didn’t—the roof felt too… small. The dreams, too… little. They evolved, from a porch where you could watch the sunset to a skyline that never sleeps.

Dreams change, and that’s okay… but a part of you aches for the time when the sunset felt like enough—when the family you had, the brothers you’d found and the friends you’d made—was enough. You still had the sunset, but rarely. More often than not, you were by yourself up there, or stuck to Kenny’s side somewhere out there, or brushing against Baji’s shoulder down here.

So these days, you prefer to watch the moon rise. There’s more comfort in a light to guide you through the night, rather than watching your dreams disappear with the day.

And you do, the way you do every time you’re stood up or don’t feel—enough. You sit beside Baji with the full moon crawling towards you, staring at the conjunction of the river and the sea, and focus on how you’re going to get through this.

Baji cut his hair since the last date—the last time you’d been stood up, you correct. Still long, but now only to the edge of his jaw, not mid-back like you were used to. The light is bright behind him, bringing out the warm undertones in his onyx hair. You can make out the scab on his cheek from a bar fight a few weeks ago; the scar on his nose from when Mikey split it the first time they fought; the tender bruise along his jaw that looks too new to have told you the story yet.

Instinctively, you reach for it… then chicken out, instead teasing the edge of his hair. You’re left wondering if an angel’s wings would be as soft.

Baji glances at you from the corner of his eye. “You don’t like it?”

“What? I didn’t say that.” Your hand falls back to your lap, eyes quick to follow. The light behind him is too bright—too blinding. Too much like a halo. It’s impossible to hide the truth from an angel, and you know you don’t have the right words to convey just how beautiful you find him. “Just… gonna take some getting used to. I don’t think you’ve ever had it this short.”

He scoffs. “Maybe at birth.”

The idea of baby Baji flashes through your mind; sweet, chubby cheeks, little fists flailing at the world. A tuft of hair, dark as his and long already, but when he opens his eyes, they’re yours—

“Why’d you cut it?” your voice is steadier than you expect. It does nothing to change your thoughts, especially when Baji’s slender fingers start pulling at grass, just the way a baby grasps what's in front of him.

He stares straight ahead, letting one hand splay by your lower back as he watches the green blades dance in the wind. “Figured it was time for a change.”

You hmm in acknowledgement, brain too traitorous to come up with anything other than, ‘I bet you were a cute baby’ or ‘you look handsome either way’ or, worst of all, ‘why would you ever want to change?’

He probably meant nothing by it. Baji’s as flexible as they come; sets his own hours at the shop, varies what time he wakes or goes to bed, never eats the same thing too many times in a row… there’s not much permanency in his life as it is, so it sticks with you that he still wants something different.

If he thinks you’re being weird, he doesn’t say so. He waits for you to speak, like always, and like always, you find yourself loving him a little more for it. Baji’s so—quick; to judge, to speak, to fight… but in these moments, when it’s the two of you and the moon and no one else, he’s not. He’s slow; slow to speak, slow to touch, slow to pull away…

Slow to make you wonder why you keep wasting time with boys who don’t deserve it when he might be enough.

The silence becomes too much; too easy to drown in. Too tempting to fill with all the wrong things.

“What happened to your jaw?” is the best you come up with.

It’s no surprise when he answers, “got into a fight,” but how he says it… how he immediately ducks his head and covers the darkening bruise with a broad palm, as if he’d forgotten all about it and wished you would, too… that makes you pause.

One tenet of your relationship is that you don’t lie to each other. There are often times you wish he would, like when Chifuyu teases him about the pretty girl at the pet shop who came back and asked for the number of the flirty hunk who sold her a dog collar and Baji admits she was pretty cute and he’ll take her to drinks tomorrow night, or when Kazutora reminds Baji that he promised to go on a double date with the twins they met clubbing so no, he can’t take a look at that leaky pipe in your bathroom—but you’d never say that. Not when he could, so easily, call you out for keeping your own.

So when he goes out of his way to not have to tell you the truth, you know better than to push.

“Did it hurt?”

Baji looks to you with a cocky smile. “You should see the other guy.” You snort. Baji knocks his shoulder into yours. “I’m good, really. Just… had some business, s’all.”

It’s supposed to be comforting, but it’s not. It only flares your curiosity… and honestly? Your annoyance. “I hadn’t realized a pet shop needed such security.”

Baji barks out a laugh. “I mean, you’ve seen how crazy some people get about their pets, ‘specially when they think Dr. Google is a better resource than Chifuyu’s degree… but nah, this was… off the books.” He catches your inquisitive gaze and offers a smile, but it’s more like a grimace in the lowlight. His hand creeps closer, fingers pressing into your back, and for a moment, you’re willing to let it go. He gently grazes the middle of your spine. “It’s done, alright? Finished. Won’t happen again.”

You know he’s lying because he holds you close, the way he only does when he thinks you’re about to leave.

But you don’t leave; you never leave. You just give him a withering glare you know he can’t see, then turn back to the ocean.

You hate this feeling. The one where the world becomes unsteady, and everything you’d been trying to keep buried since you were thirteen sneaks up on you. That horrid, awful, destructive fascination and jealousy and yearning that’s plagued you since Baji first bragged about stealing a kiss from the pretty girl that lived three floors above him and only gets worse every time he mentions someone new.

Going on dates was supposed to squash this. Meeting a nice guy, having a good time, and getting a kiss or two of your own was supposed to end this. This—obsession—you’ve had since the first time Baji said he hopes that one day, you meet the right guy and you accidentally thought, ‘maybe it’s you.’ Because at the end of the day, he’s the one who’s there. Not Tadashi, who couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Not Draken, who recently started putting Emma above all else (even you). It’s been Baji, your Baji, whose mere existence makes everything better, that’s been the last one standing.

You can’t ruin that. You can’t risk pushing away the only companion who still puts you first for something you’re positive you can find somewhere else.

At least, that’s what you have to tell yourself, as yet another date fails and Baji is here, again, picking up the pieces and making you feel more whole than when the day started.

The sky is nearly dark when you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind since the barista gave you that pity cup—the one that’s probably still sitting in the bathroom, the last witness to your heartbreak. Just as alone and unwanted as you. 

“What’s… wrong with me?”

Baji’s sharp. He alway has been, from the stern angle of his nose to the feral way his teeth carve like a predator’s. He watches everything—the road, the fighters, you—with a scrutiny that’s often clouded behind cheshire grins and snide quips.

But there’s nothing sharp about him tonight; only soft. Soft hands that gently grab your chin and force you to look at him. Soft breathes as he pulls you close. Soft words as he makes sure you hear him whisper, “nothing.” 

Baji’s eyes, dark and teeming with something you can’t place, move from one eye to the other; to the fingers on your cheek; to your tongue, wetting your lips. He leans in, forehead resting against yours as his hand slides back, gripping your hair like you're his lifeline and not the other way around, and you’re back to thinking okay, this is it, he’s going to kiss me, he’s finally going to kiss me—

But all he does is repeat, “absolutely—fuckin’ nothing, alright? And—‘n fuck whoever makes you feel otherwise,” before resuming his seat like nothing happened.

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It’s stale and hot and full of fury, your fury, and suddenly, you can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck you, Keisuke.”

“What?” Baji scrambles for your arm as you abruptly stand, too furious to even look at him. You rip away but don’t stop, trying to will the stupidness of—whatever this is—to go away, to release you so you can go back to feeling better and right and whole. “Wait—come on, I didn’t—what did I say? Did I do something? Where the hell are you going?”

“Forget it!” you snap. His every question—the fact he wants to make it right even though he’s the reason it hurts—just makes it worse. “Just—leave it alone, alright? It obviously doesn’t matter—” 

This time when he grabs your arm, he doesn’t let you leave. He pulls you in to him, nearly crashing you into his chest as he holds you in place.

“Damnit, y/n, what the hell? What did—why are you being like this?” For the first time tonight, he meets your eyes without falter. He tucks a hand under your chin, all but pries your eyes open himself to search for what you're hiding. You try shrugging out of his iron grip, but he’s too strong. “What did I do?”

“Nothing—” You’re horrified at the way your voice cracks. “Fucking—nothing, Baji, you did nothing—“

“Then why’re you so fucking mad, hunh? Why’re you acting like I’m the bad guy here?” His fingers tighten. It would’ve hurt, if you weren’t so angry. “I’m not the asshole who stood ya up—I’m not the one who’s been dickin’ everyone around, pretending like everything’s fine when I know, Draken knows—even fuckin’—Pah-chin—can tell that something’s wrong—“

“You’re calling me an asshole?” you gasp incredulously. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“Yes!” he retorts hotly—then, upon realizing how horribly angry you’re growing, quickly backtracks, “I mean—no! Actually, no, you know what, I did mean yeah, because guess what, princess? You are acting like an ass! You’ve got—all these people who wanna be here for you, I want to be here for you, and all you’re doing is getting mad at me for it—”

“What do you want me to say, Baji?” It’s useless, trying to get free, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. “That I’m—heartbroken—at being stood up—again? That I’m done with dating, that I’m giving up, that everyone fucking sucks but I must suck worse—”

“They don’t deserve you���”

“Like hell!” Your tone is scalding. It must burn him just as bad, because a single lapse in his grip lets you rip your arm away. “That’s the whole goddamn point of dating, jackass, to figure out who’s worth what—and all this has shown is that I’m not worth it, to anyone.” You slam your hands against his chest, tears stinging your lash line. If you weren’t so angry, you might not have missed how his face falters when you push him away. “And you just—sitting there, and—and holding me like that, and—and telling me that I’m not the problem when I’m the only common denominator—you’re such a fucking liar—”

“You think it’s any easier for me?” he’s quick to yell, frustration making him bare his teeth like fangs. Anyone else would’ve cowered—but you stand your ground. Place two hands on his chest and shove, hard, forcing him back as he continues, “you think it’s any easier to see you gettin’ your hopes up, to freak out over what to text, what to wear, what to do—all for those fuckin’ dickweeds? Hunh? Guys who can’t even—spell your name right, or remember what your favorite flower is, or fucking—show up? You think it’s any fucking easier seeing you so goddamn upset over someone who doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone spend time with you–be with you? Because it’s not, sweetheart!”

The sweet pet name that usually makes your heart skip a beat only aggravates you further. Your hands go from shoving to slamming, open palms against the hard muscle of his chest—but he doesn’t even flinch. Just catches your wrists before you can do it again and stares, like you’ve started speaking in tongues. “Oh, poor Baji, must be hard, hunh, thinking no one’s good enough, thinking everyone’s so lucky as to have people throwing themselves at them left and right—but newsflash, Keisuke, not all of us are like you! Not all of us have the ability to pick whoever we want, some of us actually have to work at it—“

“Stop working on the wrong guys then!”

“You’ve never even met them, how would you know—“

“Because they let me stand in the way!”

The world stills. 

You can’t place why; why this feels like a sucker punch, why your heart is suddenly skipping beats–why you can’t tell if this hurts. Not until Baji’s grip tightens, then his eyes widen, and you have a sneaking suspicion you know where this is going—but still, you ask, “what?”

He doesn’t respond. He can’t.

He lets go of you, though every fiber in his being begs him to stay. He takes a step back, though his heart pleads for him to wrap you in his arms and hold you close and tell you the truth, about what he did, why he did it, why he can’t bring himself to regret it…

He has to turn his back to you, to stare at the waves crashing along the sand as he tries to process just how badly he’s fucked this up and if there’s any possibility for redemption. It’s too late to lie. Too late to try and salvage this.

He’s made his bed; it’s time to lie in it.

Baji sighs–or something close. Something choked, not quite a laugh but also not quite a sob. Something is stuck in him, and even with the ice in your veins, you piece it together. Somehow, this—the failed dates, the heartache, the loneliness—it's all his fault.

Still, you have to ask. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You try making the venom in your voice match that in your blood, but you can’t. Not when he looks so—defeated. He runs his hands through his hair, doing a miserable job of either pretending he can’t hear you or attempting to buy enough time to come up with a plausible lie—though you don’t need him to. Not when his actions say enough.

It’s your turn to reach for him. Your turn to grab his arm, to keep him in place. You want to hold on to your anger, but the way his hands are shaking makes it impossible.

You draw him close, voice gentle as you say his name. You reach for his cheek, keeping his hands still with one of yours, and you tilt his head; he lets you tilt his head so that he has no choice but to look at you. 

When your gazes meet, you wait.

“I had to,” he eventually says. His voice is steady, but his hands aren’t. His fingers wrap around your wrists tightly, as if he’s afraid you might try leaving—but your grip on him is equally tight. “They weren’t good for you. They were jerks, and they were only going to break your heart, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not to you. I had to—I had to.”

“Had to… what?” He doesn’t answer, not until you prompt, “had to what, Baji?”

“Don’t—” he breathes. “Don’t… call me that.” His eyes close, and he leans into the palm on his cheek. For a moment, you pretend that he’s memorizing the feel of you, as if he’s scared to lose you—but that can’t be it. Keisuke Baji isn’t afraid of anything.

You’re not sure what’s more painful: the knots in your stomach or the hope in your heart. “Tell me what you did,” you muster up. “Keisuke, tell me what you did.”

When his eyes finally open, all of his anger is gone. In its place is something you’ve rarely seen, and even rarer directed at you: desperation.

“I stopped them.”

For a moment, all you hear is your own heart… then the waves of truth come crashing down.

“I—I found them, and I swear on my life, on your life—I only meant to talk to them, to figure out if—if they had good intentions, if they were gonna treat you right—but they all sucked, y/n, they were awful—going on and on about how they were—how they wanted to—to fuck you, just to say they could—or they weren’t—serious about how they felt and I couldn’t—I couldn’t let them do that, I couldn’t let them hurt you like that, so I… I hurt them first. Not—not much, just enough so they’d—get the idea. Leave you alone. Stay away from my girl—”

He cuts himself off, and for a moment, you’re frozen. You don’t know what to do, what to think—is this real? Is he saying what you think he’s saying? Does he really mean it?

Baji’s voice cracks when he says your name.

“Y/n, listen—listen to me,” he pleads. His forehead presses against yours. Your cheeks grow wet, though you can’t tell if that’s because of you or him. “You are—the most amazing person in this whole freaking world. You get that? You’re—smart, and pretty, and so fucking funny and—and anyone who can’t see that is an idiot. And it fucking—kills me—that you’ve got it in your head that what these—stupid pricks think is the only thing that matters, because it’s not. It’s never mattered. The only thing—the only thing that has ever mattered… is you. Okay? You.”

Your throat closes. Your hands reach for his, catching only wrists as he cradles your face, trying to ground yourself in this moment. In all the things he says and all the things he doesn’t; in the silent, desperate dream that refused—refuses—to die, taking over you once more.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” His lips are so close, they brush your nose. “I’d say I regret it, but I don’t, because— you deserve better. You deserve the world, if you want, or—or the moon and all the stars, and—and unless they’d get it for you, they don’t deserve you. Okay? None of them deserved you.”

You’re just a hair away from kissing him, from caving to the impulses you thought were dead and gone and hopeless all these years, and the worst possible sentence sinks out: “you’re an idiot, Kei.”

Then you lean forward and kiss him.

In an instant—you feel whole. You feel right, in a way you haven’t since you decided you never had a chance with him; in a way you’ve been searching for in the words of all the others who’d let you down, who’d broken your heart and always, always, always led you back to moonrise with Baji, back home—

Baji jolts. He pulls away and stares at you with a wild mixture of shock and confusion. His fingers ghost his lips, only to draw back as he stares at them, then at you, then back at them, like he can’t quite comprehend this hand is attached to his body—like you were. Like you want to be, like you thought he wanted to be, like you thought he was asking you to be—

Your heart plummets as he just—stands, no witty quip or teasing remark at the ready. No lines to read between; no phrasing to draw false confessions from; nothing other than the stillness of the night, and the pounding of your heart.

“Wait—” you shrink as you realize just how hoarse a single stolen kiss has left you. “I thought—please, Kei—”

A flicker of… something dances in his eyes, and then—he watches you. Studies you, with the same scrutiny he holds before a fight or when picking apart a bike to see what parts are broke and what can be saved.

“Say it again.”

It’s your turn to blink; your turn to have wide eyes and parted lips, to study him like you’re not sure how to fix it. “I don’t—“

“My name,” he says, and your heart starts to leap. “Say my name, sweetheart.”

“I say your name all the time, Keisuke.” You’re barely above a whisper. Barely above the fear that this time, he’ll break your heart and there’ll be no one to pick up the pieces because—you ruined this.

“Not like that,” he breathes. You forget how to. “Say it like it means something. Like—you don’t hate me. Like—”

“Kei,” you interrupt, hands coming to cradle his cheeks as you read between the lines, “I forgive y—”

He doesn’t even let the final word form before his lips are on yours. Hard, aggressively melding like he’s worried you might change your mind and wants to milk every second out of this as he can—but you reciprocate just as desperately. Keisuke’s hands wrap around you, one gripping the base of your neck and the other resting on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly close, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His mouth opens, teasing your lips apart as you trade air, fingers digging into your soft skin like it’s the last thing he’ll ever touch.

You pull away first, and that’s only because your lungs are aching—not that you mind. The pain helps make this feel real. 

For once, Keisuke’s grin doesn’t seem mocking. He moves a hand to cradle your face, thumb rubbing against your cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that, sweetheart.”

“Not as long as I have,” you admit with a breathy laugh. Your hands lock around his neck, fingers playing with his hair, and you realize you’re smiling.

You kissed. Keisuke kissed you, you kissed him—everything makes sense. Everything is right, and with the moon and tides as your witness, everything is good again.

“Can I…” Keisuke starts, eyes flicking to your lips in an unspoken question. You finish his sentence with a kiss.

“You can always kiss me, Kei,” you say. “You don’t even have to ask.”

There’s the grin you recognize; the scheming, teasing grin that always makes your stomach flip in a way you thought meant he’s up to no good, but now realize as a sign you’d fallen for him long ago. 

“Oh, yeah?” he questions, brushing his lips against yours. “Only here? Or can I kiss… here?” He moves to the corner of your lips, then to the hollow of your cheek as he continues, “and… here? And maybe…”

He trails off, and he trails down, letting his lips drag against your cheek while his hand keeps you firmly in place, lips going done to your chin, down the column of your throat and back up. Your breathy yes would be pathetic—if it ever made it out. All that escapes is a breathy groan of displeasure when he stops, teasing lips hovering just above your own. “What’s that, babe? Want me t’stop?”

“You’re such an asshole.”

Your hands tangle in his hair, lips melding as your make-out turns heated. He slides his tongue along the seam of your lips, silently asking you to open—and you do. His hands curl around you, bringing you closer until there’s no space left between you.

Something digs into your leg. Something hard and unmistakable, and it leaves you grinning deeper than Kei.

You break away, laughing at his whine of protest and briefly glance down. Keisuke follows your eyes and is quick to splutter a nervous chuckle, hands dropping as he tries to step away with a short apology—though the way you catch his belt loops stops him. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t—I just—it’s your fault, y’know—“

“Shut up,” you giggle and drag him back. Now, you kiss him; once, twice, then a third before trailing your lips along the sharp ridge of his cheekbone, along his temple, to his ear. “How about you take me home, Kei?”

Keisuke’s whiplash nearly hurts you. His eyes, big and brown and wide, stare like you’ve grown an extra head. His hands shakily splay against your back, as if he wants to keep you close but he’s not sure he’s allowed to. His voice wavers slightly when he asks, “but I thought… aren’t… I mean, isn’t this… what you wanted?”

Slowly, you nod. Even slower, you pointedly look at the space between you, bridged only by the tent of his black pants. You smile at the sweet way a blush covers his cheeks, and risk slowly trailing your hand along his belt until your fingertips are hovering over that stupid, shiny, obnoxiously big belt buckle you always tease him for.

“I want you, Keisuke, and I want you to take me home.”

He doesn’t need more encouragement. 

Keisuke’s kisses grow fiercer. He devours you, never once breaking contact as his hands slide to find firm purchase on the back of your thighs. With ease, he lifts you atop his bike, setting you in front of him and stepping between your spread legs. The hem of your dress slides up with his calloused palms, collecting in a bunch then pooling down to protect your modesty as he finds two handfuls of ass. He gives a squeeze, eliciting a delighted gasp from you, then pulls back with a toothy smile.

“Then have me, sweetheart. Always been yours, anyways.” 

Your stomach twists, the way it always does when he looks at you like that, and you like it. It makes sense, it feels right—and you don’t have to pretend to justify why it makes your panties wet.

“Gotta—gotta get home—“ you try saying, but Keisuke’s hands have a mind of their own. They’re the only reason you’re still upright as he starts kissing along your neck, carefully grazing his sharp teeth but never once digging in. Your arms lop around him, digging into his scalp and shoulders as he finds this one spot that makes you moan, and you almost curse him for what that smile has done to you.

“Fuckin’—insane—if you think I'ma make it,” he mumbles into your skin, and you think you finally understand how some people can climax from someone’s voice alone.

You laugh and intend to push him away and demand that he do, that you have to, that you need to, because this—isn’t like you, you’re not one to get hot and heavy like this, certainly not in public—

But you can’t think straight. Not when Keisuke’s hands are kneading your ass, pinching and releasing like he can’t decide if he wants to hold on forever or explore somewhere new. Not when his teeth nibble your neck, and you shudder at the unbelievably primal sensation running through you.

Not when the unmistakable hardness of Keisuke’s boner finds home between your thighs, and he starts bucking his hips. It’s subtle, and he doesn’t tease you for the pathetic way you start whimpering. He focuses on continuing to explore the expanse of your otherwise untouched skin, while all you can do is revel in the way your high starts building.

You’ve been kissed before, on the lips and neck and once a little lower, but no one’s ever done this to you; pressed against your collarbone. Moved your neckline aside to suck on the fat of your breast. Left a mark that’ll last longer than a minute. For a moment, you wonder if you should tell him he’s the first, but when the zipper of his pants starts catching your clit, the only thing you’re able to do is moan his name.

Loudly.

Breathy and passionate and different than before, and he pauses. Lifts his head from your collarbone, a thin tendril of salvia keeping his lips still attached to the sensitive skin you know will bruise. He lets one hand trail up your side and cup your face, staring like this might be the last time he ever sees you, all while his hips continue to rut against you.

“Say it again,” he breathes, thumb catching your bottom lip. “Just—just like that.”

“Kei,” you repeat, giggling at the way he brightens and starts kissing you, “we need to go home—now.” For good measure, you boldly let your fingers slide to the edge of his belt buckle, in case he needs some more convincing. His free hand darts to yours, but he doesn’t stop you. He laces his fingers in yours and guides you, letting you palm at his thick hard-on. He lets out a low groan and drops his head from your lips to rest at your chest, just above the collar of your dress. You card one hand through his hair, the other applying light pressure to the (you assume) very painful ache between his legs—and not at all because you know, if he kept bucking into your core the way he just was, the way he keeps doing against your palm—you wouldn’t be able to make it home, either. “Take—take me home, Kei—”

“Not—” he huffs. His grip on your ass tightens, but you can barely feel it. Not when Keisuke whines, low and needy, teeth coming out to nip at your breast, and all you can focus on is the ache between your own legs, getting even worse as his hips start moving faster, forcing the back of your hand against your cunt as you continue to palm him. His hips don’t stop; they push against you so fiercely, so desperately, that you cave, taking away your hand so there’s nothing between you but your clothes. 

You’re on the precipice in minutes; hands digging into his shoulders as you choke on a sob, pleading with him to go faster, to not stop, to keep making you feel good—and it’s made all the worse when he does, pressing his throbbing erection even harder against your soaked panties, all the while pleading into your skin, “can’t—can’t—fuck, baby, I can’t—y/n—“

You gasp when his teeth break skin.

Keisuke’s hips still. Warm air saturates your chest as he groans into it, and for a moment you’re frozen. Your whole body aches, and you want to scream at the cruel way your orgasm was stolen—but you’re too in shock that he got you there that fast, that easily. Something warm trickles down your cheeks, between your breasts—blood? saliva? tears?—he doesn’t move. You don’t move. You’re not even sure he’s breathing, until his shoulders heave and your skin is warmed once more. A slight burn starts to spread across your chest, and when you open your mouth to ask him why the hell he stopped—all that comes out is his name.

You say it softly, then a little louder, but it’s not until you grab his face and force him to look up that he speaks—but his eyes are fixed firmly on the reddening bite mark forming atop your breast.

“M’sorry…”

A mean part of you wants to tell him he owes you a lot more than sorry, but the way his lower lip disappears as he nervously chews on it has you choosing otherwise. “It’s okay,” you comfort instead, “it didn’t hurt that bad.”

Keisuke grimaces. “No, I—” 

He sighs, head dropping back to your chest. Both arms wrap around your waist, and he presses a light kiss to the place he’d just bitten; the only way he probably figures he can keep close without meeting your gaze. He mumbles something, but you only know because you feel his lips moving.

“Can’t hear you…” you try prompting, but it only makes him snuggle deeper. He sighs again, loud and warm and in a way you’re familiar with—the way that really means, I can’t believe I have to do this… “C’mon, Kei, don’t you want to take me home?”

“Ididntmakeit.”

You have never, ever, in your life ever seen Keisuke embarrassed. Not when he told you about needing Chifuyu to tutor him post-juvie; not when he failed his college entry exams; not even when you accidentally walked in on him showering (in hindsight, he was probably a little too comfortable with how long it might’ve taken you to leave).

This was the man who went skinny dipping for fun. He’ll order fruity drinks for his friends who are too embarrassed to do it themselves. His approach to a lost fight is to get a rematch, not pretend it didn’t exist, and even in mundane moments that have you at a loss for words, like mistaking someone’s name or forgetting a face, Kei’s always quick for a retort or defense or a smile that makes everything better.

Keisuke Baji doesn’t get embarrassed—but that’s the only word that fits. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen, his breathing faster than his pulse. His eyes refuse to meet yours, and his fingers knead into clumsy, nervous patterns along the side of your thighs.

Then he takes a deep breath, and with one shaking hand, he slowly brings your palm to the crotch of his pants… that are now sticky.

Your eyes widen, and you’re almost too late to choke down a gasp. Kei’s eyes close, and he ducks his head in shame. “I didn’t—I mean, I haven’t—you're just—I’m so sorry—”

“Why?” It sounds curt, and you don’t intend it to. Better than laughing, you reason—although you will absolutely get him for this later… when it stops feeling like the most humiliating thing in the world.

Keisuke swallows. “I haven’t ever… you know.”

“What, cum early?” It’s cruel to tease, you know that, but you can’t stop the slight satisfaction that you—you—are able to bring a man like Keisuke Baji to his knees.

“No! I mean—no, I…” Kei looks out to the ocean, fingers still anxiously kneading into your thighs. The temperature drops, though you’re not sure if it actually does or you’re just feeling like it as you try to understand what’s happened, what’s happening—what you’re to do next. His jaw clenches and he tries to pull away from you, but you don’t let him. You wrap your legs around the backs of his thighs, keeping him in place.

“Kei…” you say softly. You don’t force him to look at you. Instead, you let your fingers trail up his abs, curling around his neck so you can rest your forehead against his temple and kiss his cheek. “I don’t care. Just means you gotta make it up to me—”

“I’ve never had sex before.”

You’re grateful he doesn’t look at you, because you’re not able to control the utter shock coloring your face. How is that possible? You’ve heard the whispers when you go out; you’ve seen the looks. At parties or bars or clubs, he’d find a pretty thing and disappear, and you assumed you knew what happened behind those closed doors—because why, why, why would you want to ask about that? 

The others didn’t dispel it, either; in fact, they’d constantly rip on him for his… gift, and Keisuke never fought back. He’d just smirk and wink and say, “it’s never disappointed,” and by the time you’d turned red, thinking about when you caught him in the shower and knew what they were saying was true, they’d moved on to taunting someone else.

So how the hell is it possible that Keisuke’s a virgin—and, more importantly, how didn’t you know?

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover. If he were to ask, you’d say you were just waiting for him—because when you do speak, it’s only when Keisuke turns to you with narrowed eyes, an apprehensive blush clear on his face. 

“Wanna know a secret?” you ask, forcing a teasing lilt to your voice—though your stomach twists. This isn’t exactly the way you wanted to tell him, and for a flash, you think of how disappointed he might be to learn the truth. 

But when he meets your gaze, eyes wide and focused entirely on you, somewhere between hopeful and nervous, you know it’s for the best. Your smile is sweet, but not as sweet as your lips when you kiss the crinkle between his eyes. He immediately relaxes, hands stilling as he leans into you. “Neither have I.”

He straightens and pulls far enough away so he can examine you. For a minute, your confession hangs between the two of you, then Kei starts floundering, “but I thought… you said… but he… what about your ex?”

You shrug, your own cheeks starting to flush. “It never felt right.”

Keisuke blinks. His mouth parts, eyes darting between yours like he’s waiting for the gotcha!, but all he receives is the embarrassed way you can’t meet his gaze, feeling as if you’ve somehow let him down. You squirm, his warm hands still atop your thighs sending butterflies to your stomach, and shrug again. “I dunno, I just—didn’t think it was fair. Doing that with someone, when all I could think about…” you swallow, lips twisting as you debate whether or not to tell him the truth. 

He catches your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Think about what, sweetheart?”

The way he asks tells you he already knows; but like earlier, when you knew and had to hear it anyway, he needs you to say it, too.

So you take a steadying breath. You gently trail a finger down the side of his jaw, and you make yourself smile as you say, “you, Kei. It didn’t seem right if it wasn’t you.”

This time when he kisses you, it’s slow. He takes his time in tasting you, in savoring the moment. He lets you guide where his lips go, how his hands wander, and he waits for you to pull back before he suggests, “how about I take you home now?”

Your stomach flutters. Fingers knot at the base of his skull, and slowly, a smile spreads on your face. 

“I’d like that.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple. You can feel the joy in it, one that doesn’t fade for either of you as he unhooks your legs so you can properly straddle the bike, then tucks the helmet on you and pops on himself.

“Hold on,” he calls as he revs the engine, “might be goin’ a bit faster than usual.”

“Don’t worry,” you laugh, and even though you know he probably can’t hear you, you add, “I’m never letting go.”

You make it to Keisuke’s apartment in seven minutes flat—which, normally, would leave you terrified, given his place is twenty minutes from your spot, but you doubt that’s what’s got your heart racing. He barely gives you enough time to take the helmet off before his hands are back on you, easily scooping you up and carrying you up the stairs. You bump into a few walls, and the way you’ve got a loose grasp on his helmet sends it craning into his back just as often, but neither of you care. Between fits of giggles and cautious glances to make sure he’s not about to walk you through a glass door (or down a stairwell), you kiss like it’ll be the last time you ever get the chance to.

“Anyone home?” you mumble into his lips. He slams you against the front door of his shared three-bedroom apartment, using his hips to keep you up while he tries to find the lock by memory.

“Nope,” he replies, lips busy with your skin, fingers fumbling uselessly behind you. “Stupid—fucking lock—told Tora to leave it—never fuckin’ listens—”

“Relax,” you laugh, although that’s rich coming from you. Your legs tighten around him as you break free from his kiss, instead sucking along the column of his throat. Freeing his face is supposed to give him enough room to actually look for the lock, so the two of you can stop dry-humping in the hall and finally get the privacy you need—but like always, Keisuke does the unexpected.

He throws his head back and moans, giving you more access to leave a matching hickey—and you’re not strong enough to resist the temptation. A whine starts in his throat, from where you’re sucking on his pale skin. The keys clatter to the ground.

“Keisuke,” you scold—but before you can tease him for being in a rush, his lips are back on yours.

“Never gonna make it,” is his only defense.

“Gonna—gonna have to,” you reply, but every time you try pulling away or reach for the keys yourself, he grabs you. Wraps your wrists in his rough hands, pins them to the door beside your head, and leans so far forward that, even with your limp legs, he’s able to keep you up himself. “Kei—“

“So help me sweetheart,” he warns, hips rolling against yours with a sense of urgency only outmatched by his kiss, “if you keep saying my name like that, I swear to the gods I’m gonna fuck you right here.”

“So help me, sweetheart,” you shoot back, breathy and hot as you try to avoid the way his lips chase yours, “if you don’t get me inside right now, I might let you.”

He freezes. Pulls away from the delightful bruise he’d just been leaving below your ear and stares at you with a mixture of awe and utter delight. “Really?”

You swat the back of his head. “No, dumbass, open the fucking door.”

Keisuke’s lips, pink and bruising slightly, twist in a pretend pout as he squats. He keeps one thick palm under your thigh, keeping your leg wrapped around him as he snags his keys. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“Says the guy who does—that,” you try scoffing, but you’re cut off with a moan when Kei stands and bounces you against his hips. His boner is back and harder than before, pressing into your core, the messy, wet mix of your drenched panties and his earlier cum making a lewd sound in the otherwise silent hallway. 

“Does… what, babe?” he teases. “C’mon, finish that sentence.” 

You don’t know how he finds the focus to actually find the lock this time, but you thank every deity in the world that he does—because it takes just a second, a single, solitary second for him to jimmy it in, slam the door open, and you’re finally alone.

The door frame rattles. Something falls, but you can’t tell if it’s the mirror you insisted he hang above the entry table you insisted he get or if it’s the rickety old coat rack Chifuyu said would ‘class up the joint’; all you know is that as soon as the key is in, Baji’s hands are back to cradling your thighs for support as he crosses the threshold. 

You reach for the door, but he catches it with his ankle and slams it shut, quickly spinning to pin you against it.

“Really—” you pant, “really got the place—to ourselves?”

“Mhm,” Keisuke confirms. He leans into you, palms rubbing along your thighs until they get to your knees, silently asking you to wrap tighter around him. You do, and the moment he feels your ankles cross at the small of his back, his hands move to your waist. “Told ‘em—needed space.”

“Oh?” you question, your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt and tug, tug, tugging—“And when’d you do that?”

He reaches behind his head and yanks his tee off, tossing it carelessly into the darkness of the apartment. You hadn’t even paused to turn on the lights.

“After I saw Tadashi.” You can tell he’s grinning, especially as you drag your nails along the chiseled plane of his abs. His hands slide up your torso, thumb rubbing your stomach through the thin cotton of your dress, grazing the underwire of your bra. “Told Tora this one wasn’t gonna work, either, ’n he said I should just tell ya the truth, 'cause he couldn’t watch me mope around all night again—”

“Mope?” you tease. Kei’s fingers dig in. “Kazutora accused you of moping?”

“Well—shut up!” he whines. “You try watching the person you’re in love with go out with guys who don’t deserve them and tell me you wouldn’t start moping either—y/n? Why… are you looking at me like that?”

Your eyes are wide. Your hands go limp, the helmet falling to the floor with a loud clatter. Your lips part to say… something, but you’re not sure what.

Keisuke’s told you he’s loves you a thousand times; the brief ‘kay love ya! before he hangs up; the gentle love you, see ya tomorrow whenever he’d bring you home; the drawn out gods I love you after you’ve surprised him with his favorite meal—but none like this.

None so… blatant. So unmistakable.

Kei stares at you curiously, as if he isn’t even aware of what he’s just said. He repeats your name, hands leaving your waist to catch your chin.

“You’re… in love with me?” 

Keisuke blinks.

For a moment, you think you must’ve misheard, he must’ve misspoke, you must have misunderstood—but a brilliant smile breaks his face, and he nuzzles his nose against yours. “‘Course I’m in love with you, sweetheart. I’ve been in love with you, and I ain’t ever gonna stop loving you—”

You kiss him.

The gentlest one yet. The way you always dreamed your first one would be; soft, sweet, lips pressing together while your hands held him close. Heartbeats synching. The world falling away as it’s just the two of you, in this moment, endless and forever.

There’s only one thing to say when you pause: “I love you too, Keisuke.”

Your teeth knock together as Keisuke can’t contain his smile, either. Hands move, one around the small of your back and the other under a single thigh. Your lips never part as he carries you to his room.

He sets you at the foot of his bed and stands above you. His chest heaves, bare and flushed with need. Your hands slip from his neck to his bed to keep yourself propped up, legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. Keisuke’s hands travel to your knees, and he just—stares.

He loves you. How could he not, with the way that pretty dress puddles on his mattress, exposing nearly all of your leg but hiding what he’s been waiting for his whole adult life? How could he not, with the way his spit makes your collar glistens in the moonlight, filtering in from behind those sheer curtains you insisted he get? How could he not love the way you say his name, reaching towards him, fingers catching on his belt buckle as you ask him if he’s ready?

“Not yet,” he whispers. The hoarseness of his voice, the way it’s dropped several octaves from merely seeing you on his bed, sends a jolt of electricity through you. You’re about to ask why, but the reverence in how he’s looking at you makes you not want to break this spell.

He trails his fingers along your calves. Gently, he unhooks your legs from his waist. His fingers shake as he struggles with the straps of your heels, but when you go to help, he catches your wrist. 

“No,” he repeats, “not yet.”

You keep quiet and merely watch as your best friend, the man of your dreams, takes his time in undressing you. One wedge, then the other, falling off your feet with a dull clank! on the carpet. Keisuke kisses your ankles, then starts kissing up your calves, then your knees, then your thighs—

The anticipation has you dripping. Your thighs instinctively clench when he gets to your hem, hands curling into fists by your sides. Your panties are uncomfortably glued to your cunt, sticky in a way you’ve never been before, and he’s not even lifted your dress to see yet.

Keisuke rests his chin atop your thigh. “Please,” he pleads—pleads—“Let me—baby, let me. I wanna taste you.”

Today is not the day you learn to refuse him.

Your muscles shake from anticipation as you slowly spread your legs, but that’s not enough for him. “Baby, no, I—I wanna hear you say it.” His voice is soft, shaky. A little hesitant, as if he’s not sure if this’ll ruin the moment but he knows he has to be sure—he has to hear you say it… if only to revel in the desperate way you say his name. 

“Keisuke, please… whatever you want, have it. Just—touch me, Kei, please, I need you—“

“Need you too, sweetheart,” he praises, running his lips along your thigh. “Gonna—gonna have you now, okay?”

His fingers still shake when he lifts your dress, exposing the black lace of your panties to him. At first glance, he can’t tell that they’re absolutely soaked—but that doesn’t stop the way you start to squirm in embarrassment as he just… stares. His thumbs dig into the fat of your hips, broad palms keeping your thighs spread and pinned to the bed.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s not breathing.

“Kei?”

He doesn’t look up. 

His grip gets tighter. His eyes narrow. Before you get the chance to ask him what’s wrong, he growls, “you wore these for him?”

You blink. That is not what you were expecting, but before you can defend with they’re my lucky pair, or I wanted to feel sexy, or it doesn’t matter, I’m here with you—Keisuke’s ripped them off.

You yelp when the fabric bites your skin, failing to wriggling away as Keisuke strips them off your ankle. “What the fuck—“

“I’ll get you a new pair,” he mutters. “Shit—I’ll get you a hundred pairs, but you get rid of every single set someone else has seen. Got it?”

Your lips purse. He’s being unreasonable, you think, and totally ridiculous… but no matter how much your brain tries to reason he’s out of line, your fluttering pussy doesn’t get the message. Your slick is evident now, exposed and iridescent in the moonlight, dripping down your hole and slowly saturating the sheets.

Usually, Keisuke wouldn’t let it go. Usually, he’d keep picking at it until you cave, or at least recognize you heard him—but usually, he’s not staring at your cunt. 

Right now, he can’t focus on anything but how desperate he is to be inside you.

“Yeah, think ya got it… fuck, babe… seems like you like it when I say shit like that, hunh?” 

You whimper slightly, having to bite your lip to keep it together. Slowly, he drags the tip of his finger from the sheet beneath you up along your wet folds. He barely touches you, but when he pulls his finger away, it’s covered in a layer of you. 

He brings it to his face with a cocky grin, watching how the pad shines in the moonlight. “You always this wet, or am I special?”

“Shut up,” you shoot back, preparing to bring up how special he found you earlier—only to immediately throw your head back and moan as Keisuke buries his face between your legs.

There is no preamble. There are no more teasing quips or pauses; Keisuke dives in like a man starved, and the only thing that can sate his appetite is you.

He starts with broad strokes, gathering as much of your slick as he can. He’s messy, messier than you, and soon there’s more of his spit than your wetness between your legs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned and spread on his shoulders as he continues to feast, thumbs spreading your lips open so he can truly devour you.

When Keisuke starts suckling on your clit, your fingers knot in his hair. You moan, loud and whiney and plead for him to keep going as your orgasm starts to boil—faster than before, more powerful too, with greater ease than you’ve ever managed to pull from yourself.

Keisuke brings a hand to your clit, quickly swiping the puffy bud with the pad of his thumb as he focuses his tongue on your fluttering hole. In and out, up and down, the warm muscle drives you insane. Your grip on his hair must hurt, but he says nothing; he focuses on making you feel as good as humanly possible, never once letting up, not even when you start to choke, “Kei—I’m—I’m gonna—“

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commands. “C’mon, pretty girl, make a mess on my face, wanna feel how you clench, wanna make ya cry—”

It sends you over the edge.

With a scream of his name, your back arches. Your thighs try closing around him but still, he doesn’t let up. He keeps pace, tongue-fucking you, lapping up all the juice that spills out as his thumb continues caressing your clit until you do start crying and you do have to plead, “no—no more, Kei, can’t—“

“Can,” he corrects—but he stops. His hand stills, moving so that the warmth of his palm covers that sensitive bundle of nerves, and only then does he stop lapping at your hole. He presses a gentle kiss to your sex, then to your inner thigh. “But I’ll be nice tonight, sweetheart. Only ‘cause I love you, though.”

You stare at the ceiling as you catch your breath. The paint is peeling in the corner. The glow-in-the-dark stars you helped him put up when he first moved in are dim. The walls are covered in motorcycle posters. A calendar set to the wrong month hangs above a salvaged desk, covered with various veterinary textbooks, barely legible notebooks, a handful of empty beer cans, and a handful of DVD cases, one of which you know is Dyslexia; How to Read When Even Your Brain Doesn’t Want You To. A neon sign advertising Margaritaville is unlit beside his closet. A pile of clothes that didn’t make it to the hamper rests beneath it.

 The room is so—Keisuke , you feel at peace, even as your limbs turn to jelly.

Your heart is racing faster than if you’d just run a marathon. “Thought—thought you said you hadn’t—“ you try panting, but it’s too much effort, too soon. You end up collapsing back on the bed, head swimming with euphoria.

“Said I hadn’t had sex,” Keisuke corrects as he stands, your limp thighs falling to the either side of his waist, “not that I’ve never eaten pussy.” He scoffs, as if that should’ve been obvious. “I’m not an idiot, babe. I respect women enough to know where the clit is.”

A little laugh escapes you. The fan motor is the only other sound. It’s cool, your nipples perk beneath your bra, but you’re still hot. Still hyper aware that Keisuke is just a few inches away, watching your bare cunt flutter and beg him for more.

Keisuke does love you. You know he does, because he gives you time to catch your breathe before he starts up again, only pressing soft kisses to the inside of your legs and quiet offerings of, “so fuckin’ pretty” and “can’t believe you’re here” and, your favorite, the only one you respond to: “so in love with you.” 

“I love you too, Kei.”

He runs his hands along your sides, slowly taking more and more of your dress up with it until the entire thing is resting by your neck. He makes quick work of your bra, not even needing you to sit up as he unhooks it and lifts the cups away.

He says nothing; just stares at your naked body with the same adoration and awe he held when taking off your shoes.

“You’re—so beautiful,” he whispers. “Y’know that? So—so fuckin’ beautiful.”

He bends down and takes a pert nipple in his mouth. You whine, hate yourself for doing so, then whine again as his free hand starts tweaking your other nipple. He runs his tongue over every inch of your chest, making sure you’re covered with his spit and hands, traversing as much of you as he can.

When he gets to your face, he smiles. “You’re mine, yeah? All mine?”

Your fingers run over his jaw, over the bruise that’s barely discernible in the moonlight. No one’s touched you like him; no one’s even kissed you like him, either, and you’re not sure if it’s the “Keisuke” of it all making you feel like this, or if this is how it’s supposed to have felt all along. 

The answer comes easily.

“Yeah,” you agree with a smile of your own, “yeah, m’all yours, Keisuke. Pretty sure I always have been.”

“Always, hunh?” He holds you gently now; a stark contrast to the hungry way he’d just devoured you. “That mean you’ve always loved me, too?”

Your breathy yes is lost in a gasp when his hand slides between your legs. Gently, he prods a single thick finger into your virgin hole, shallowly dipping in and out. “Never had someone else in here, hunh? M’gonna be your first?”

“Y-yes,” you repeat, voice cracking. Your eyes flutter close as he keeps fingering you. You’d had fingers in there before, but none like this. Your own couldn’t compare, two of yours barely able to stretch the way one of his does… and he’s not even going all the way. Not even knuckle deep as he explores only the shallows, letting you adjust.

Your face scrunches when he adds a second.

“This okay?” he asks. You look at him, hand wrapping around his neck as you bring his forehead down to meet yours.

You nod, then remember what he said earlier, how you could feel his cock jumping when you were sweet and needy for him. “Yeah, Keisuke. Yes—yes, I want this. I want you.”

He cups your face and trails soft kisses from corner to corner, breaking apart only to lift your dress and bra over your head. They’re carelessly thrown to the floor, you have half a mind to scold him that it’ll wrinkle—but when he goes back to your cunt, two fingers halfway in, all you’re able to say is the harsh inhale of his name.

They’re shallow, never pushing in deep enough to hurt, slowly stretching your rim to its max. He goes a little deeper, then starts scissoring them, and it becomes nearly impossible to believe he hasn’t done this before.

“No—no way you’re a virgin,” you hiss when Keisuke’s lips travel to your breast. He alternates between sucking hickeys and kneading them while staring at the way your cunt sucks him in, never stopping his ministrations.

Keisuke lets out a short scoff and shifts. “You literally made me cum my pants like a teenager.”

“Then how—“

“I told ya, babe, I respect women,” is his only reply. The only one he’s willing to give, at least, because he starts paying more attention to your tits than what questions are spilling his way.

You feel like you’ve got to be ready when he adds a third, and you say as much—only for Keisuke to meet your gaze with a cocky grin. “Trust me, sweetheart. You’re gonna thank me for this.” 

It can’t be much longer until he deems you ready, but it feels like forever, even if he keeps you distracted from the slight burn between your legs by playing with your breasts, sucking on your throat, praising you.

“Taking m’fingers so well, pretty thing. You’re such a good girl f’me, can’t believe you made me wait this long…”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you scold. He curls his fingers mid-way through your sentence, rubbing against a sensitive spot you’ve never been able to find on your own. You keen his name, hand snapping down to catch his forearm. He pauses.

“Too much?”

Slowly, you shake your head, eyes watering. “Please, Kei, I—I want you to fuck me.”

Keisuke presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Never could say no to you, sweetheart.”

If you could think clearly, you’d start listing all the times he has denied you, starting with just a few seconds ago—but him withdrawing his fingers leaves you feeling too empty to do much but pout.

When he pulls away, you chase after him, only for him to shake his head with a fond grin. “How am I supposed to fuck you if you won’t let me take my pants off?”

With hot cheeks, your lips twist. “You were the one who wanted to fuck on your bike, and then in the hall—what, were you planning on stripping naked then, too?”

You’re rewarded with a very rare, very endearing blush. He sits back on his knees and rubs his neck, eyes dropping from yours—then his lip curls in a smirk. “With how wet you got, seems like you wanted me to. What—you like the idea of that? Getting fucked in public? Don’t worry, sweetheart, maybe we’ll try that one day…” He laughs at the way you squirm, but he’s not wrong; your cunt clenches at the thought.

“You’re such a dick.” Your hands reach for his belt, fumbling slightly as you try to undo it. Keisuke’s hands take over, getting rid of the black leather in seconds.

“Your dick,” he corrects, hands back on you, gently laying you back against his pillows, trailing over your now completely naked body, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You roll your eyes but say nothing, heart in your throat, pussy pulsing in anticipation.

He straightens, taking in the display in front of him. Taking in you.

You sit up slightly, chewing your lower lip. He’s beautiful, but even more so in the moonlight. It illuminates his pale skin, almost making him glow in the darkness of the rest of his room. Obsidian hair falls in a straight sheet around his flushed cheeks, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Violet and red marks adorn his neck and chest. His abs flex when he watches the way your eyes trail down; down the inlet between them, down the stern jut of his prominent v-line, over the faint trail of dark hair that disappears into the band of his jeans.

His fingers—the ones just inside you—hover on the button. They’re covered in your slick, resting just above a bulge that looks absolutely delicious, one that you know he can’t wait to bury inside you—but still, he hesitates.

“I love you, Keisuke,” you say. He smiles. It’s the only further confirmation he needs before he’s pushing off the bed and pulling down his jeans and underwear in one go.

The others have lied about a lot—like Baji’s lack of virginity—but the size of Keisuke is not one of them.

Your jaw drops as you push to your knees, staring at Keisuke’s cock like it’s the first you’ve ever seen. It’s not, and technically speaking, it’s not even the first time you’ve seen his—but that time in the shower, when it was hanging heavily between his legs and you only caught a glimpse… apparently, that was him soft.

Keisuke hard is more impressive than any porn you’ve seen. So heavy that it can barely support its own weight, even with all the blood rushing through it, and so wide around even Keisuke, with his broad palms and lanky fingers, doesn’t dwarf it. 

A thick bead of pre slips out the tip, trailing along the bulging vein that disappears under Keisuke’s hand as he starts to stroke it.

“This… is where the others tapped out,” he says slowly, taking in the way you watch. “I mean—not that I’m thinking about them—but I just—“

“You’re big.”

Keisuke chokes on a laugh. “So I’ve heard. Pretty virgin like you wouldn’t know any better though, would you?”

You give him a withering glare. “I’ve sucked dick before, asshole. You’re big.”

Keisuke’s jaw clenches. “Yeah? Go on, then. Show me how you’ve sucked dick.”

Later, you’ll tease him for how jealous he got, and later, you’ll revel in the possessive way he determines to erase every other touch from your memory—but now, you obediently crawl towards him, one of your smaller hands overlapping his, and you take control.

You press a soft kiss to his flushed tip. It’s larger than your lips, his pre a salty gloss as you kiss again and again—Keisuke grips your hair. “Suck.”

It’s as much a plea as it is a command, one you can’t ignore. You take him,—just the tip—in your mouth, tongue swirling over his warm head as your hand replaces his on the rest of his dick. Your fingers barely touch, and no matter how you adjust, how you lay your palm or spread your fingers… there’s still at least an inch of him exposed.

He hisses, nearly drowning out the lewd, wet sound your pussy makes as it clenches around nothing.

“This—turning you on?” he says, as if his cock isn’t twitching obscenely against your tongue. “Fuckin—sucking on a big cock making you wet?”

You let go with a wet pop! and bat your eyelashes at him. You know exactly what you’re doing when you say, “No, Kei. I’m this wet ‘cause of you.”

With a groan, Keisuke pulls your head back to his dick and thrusts in, sliding as far as you’ll let him before you start to gag. “That’s—that’s it, sweetheart, get it nice and wet.”

He holds you there for a moment, waiting until you tap on his thigh before sliding out. Your eyes are teary, saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth. Deftly, you twist your wrist while catching your breath. His fingers go from knotting in your hair to petting the back of your head.

“You keep doing that, I’m gonna bust,” he warns, but his fond smile gives him away.

You merely smile. “Telling me you’ve never had your cock sucked, Kei?” 

His lip curls in a snarl, which disappears with a groan when you take him in your throat once more. Slowly, lips pursing around him, tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cockhead as you try going as far as you can. Your jaw is already starting to ache, but you’re determined to prove yourself.

“Not—like this,” he moans, pushing your head a little further down. Your lips split in a smile, and you raise your hand to start fondling his balls—a trick that’s always gotten you success before—but before you make contact, Keisuke is sliding out and grabbing your jaw. He’s breathing heavily, pupils blown out with lust. He stares at your lips then leans forward, not flinching at the taste of himself on you.

“Wanna fuck you now,” he mumbles. You wrap your arms around his neck and start to lean back, nodding.

“Want you to fuck me too,” you agree. One of Keisuke’s muscular thighs slides between your legs, easing them apart. He keeps kissing you, letting you fall softly against his pillows while he keeps stroking his member, slick with your spit.

He taps the tip of his cock against your clit. You hiss in surprise, eyes closing shut at the sudden sensation of pleasure that rushes through you. “Let me know if it hurts,” he says quietly. He grips his cock right beneath the head, guiding it through your slick folds, getting as much of your fluids on him as he can. 

He’s torn between needing to see the way you suck him in, and the need to squeeze his eyes shut. The sight of you alone, legs spread on either side, pussy gushing because of him, covering in marks because of him, mewling his name as you beg him to fuck you—it’s almost enough for him to cum on the spot. 

Faintly, honks echo from the street below. It’s amazing that in this instant, as your world is about to change forever and for the better, everyone else is going about their business like nothing’s happening. They’re catching a late-dinner with their partner; walking home from a late-night meeting that could’ve been an email; swinging by the grocer’s to pick up snacks and drinks to share with their friends… The whole world is continuing on, just beyond that window, but for you and Keisuke… it’s as if time’s stopped. 

The world is only real for the two of you.

He bends down to kiss you, making sure to pour every ounce of love and care he has into this one. You respond just as sweetly, reveling in the power of this moment, this one decision that will irrevocably tie you together forever, the way you were always meant to be.

He loves you, you love him, and there’s nothing else that matters.

“Ready?” he asks. You nod, then echo, “ready,” and he puts it in; just the tip, spearing past your tight hole. The two of you let out a synchronous gasp.

It’s even more than three of his fingers; warm, too, and thick, softer but also harder and full—you’re so, so, so full as he slowly edges in. It hurts—it feels good—it burns—you need more—

“Baby,” Keisuke pants. He’s let go of his cock, letting just the first inch or so rest comfortably within your walls. You feel him twitch, feel how tight his fingers dig into the sheets on either side of you so he doesn’t add more bruises to your ever-growing collection. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me—are you—are you okay?”

You whimper slightly when he sinks a little further. Eyes scrunching, your fingers digging into his thighs as you try to even your breath. “It—it’s so—“ you try saying, but it’s like you can feel him in your stomach, the pressure tightening all the way up your throat and cutting you off.

“So—good,” Keisuke gasps. He does the best he can, really, but you—you’re so—warm, and wet, and inviting—the place you’re joined might be the best thing he’s ever felt–ever seen. He slides a little further, presses a kiss to wherever he can reach as he waits until your chest stops heaving as horribly. He tries telling you he loves you, he really tries telling you how amazing you are, how perfect you are, how good you feel—but all that comes out are choked, half-sentences that fade into groans.

Tears prick at your lash line by the time he’s securely sheathed in you. Your fingers dig into his back, trying to pull him flush to your chest and bury his head in your neck so he can’t see. You know how he’ll feel; he’ll pull out and say he’s sorry, that he never meant to hurt you and it’s not worth it and he won’t try again–and that’s not what you want. You just need some time to adjust, that’s all. 

You never realized how empty you were.

Keisuke lifts up from the crook of your neck when the first tear slides against his cheek. “M’sorry,” he breathes, kissing one eye, then the other, licking the tear tracks and kissing you again. “M’sorry, I don’t wanna hurt—“ His arms shake on either side of you. The urge to start shifting his hips is sinful, but he doesn’t. He can’t, not until you're okay, not until you tell him it’s okay.

“It’s—okay,” you breathe. Your face says otherwise, but really… it’s okay. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck, offering him a little smile as you shift your hips ever-so-slightly against his. “I’m—I’m okay, baby, really. Just—just go slow.”

Keisuke kisses you. Slowly, deeply, spreading your lips with his as he gently pulls out and slides back in, heeding your directive to go slow. It hurts, it still hurts, is it supposed to hurt like this—but right when you’re about to give up, right when you’re about to tell him it's too much and maybe you should stop… it starts to feel good.

Not just full, but satisfying, bumping against the back of your messy cunt with every stroke. The ridge of his cockhead catches your insides in a way that makes your toes curl, and before long, your legs are wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Gods—fuck, Kei, fuck—“ you hiss, burying your head in his shoulder, biting his collarbone to keep yourself from screaming. “Just—there, like that, don’t—fuck—“

“Thought you said you were a virgin,” he hisses. Your broken pleas of, I am, I am, I am—go unrecognized as he slowly picks up speed. “Virgin pussy—heh—always feel this—fuckin’ good?”

You moan, loud and unreserved, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. Your stomach burns. Your pussy clenches, but for the first time, there’s finally something to hold on to, finally something to fill you up—you’ve never been so full, never felt so good. The coil tightens in your stomach, made all the more tense by the fact there’s something inside— “Gonna— gonna cum, Kei, don’t—don’t stop, please—“

“Yeah, sweetheart? You gonna—gonna cum for me? Go on, cum f’me. Cum on my cock, baby, show me what we’ve been—been waitin’ for—“

You cry when your orgasm finally washes over you.

You’ve never climaxed this powerfully before, to the point that you’ve felt like—this. The world is empty besides the two of you. Bells ring in your ear as you struggle to keep your eyes open, your whole body floating. You feel everything and nothing; like you’re weightless but have never been so heavy in your life.

You gasp for air, fingers digging into Keisuke’s shoulders as his hips stutter a few more times then still. His moans into your ear as his own orgasms consumes him, painting your insides white, shooting so much it drips out of your spent pussy and starts to puddle between you.

He stays there for a moment. Lets his lips trace lazy patterns beneath your ear, still half-hard inside you, one hand gripping the back of your neck and the other holding your breast. Even though you’re spent, your hands delicately trail up and down his spine. Your breathing is heavy and your smile bright and you think you could stay right here forever.

The plastic stars one his ceiling smile down at you, and you imagine the ones outside are doing the same. ‘About time!’ they seem to say. After all these years, about time. There’s a shrill whistle of bus brakes, screeching to a halt; a muffled shout from one pedestrian to another. The fan creaks slightly, the cool air washing over you and helping calm the raging fire on your skin. The clock on Keisuke’s lopsided nightstand, made even with a stack of textbooks he never got to put to use, beeps at midnight: the end of one day, the start of forever.

Kei takes a deep breath and slides off, hissing as his sensitive cock is exposed to the cool air of his bedroom. He lays on his back, taking a hand and placing it over his eyes as he tries to calm his racing heart.

Your legs are sticky. They’re already getting sore. Your hips ache, your spine stretches, your chest burns—but you relish it. Kei’s breathing evens beside you. 

Glancing, you check if he’s asleep—but with the way his forearm covers his eyes, you can’t tell. He looks even more like an angel now. Light, from a city just waking up, creeps past the curtains, illuminating slivers of his pale and flushed skin. He looks–relaxed. Content, even with the blush still coloring his high cheeks bones. His lips are parted, shallow gasps of air being sucked through them, but the longer you look, the more it looks like they’re curling in a smile.

His chest rises and falls steadily, and just when you start to think he might actually be asleep, the hand beneath your neck starts playing with your hair.

“Think it’s—always this good?” he asks breathlessly, pulling you in a little closer.

You pretend to think. He tilts his head, cracking an eye to look down at you curiously. You smile. “I don’t know. Think we better try again—y’know, just to be sure.”

Kei barks out a laugh and pulls you to his chest, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And right now, with the gentle light filtering through his open window, sweaty and smiling and with his cum dripping from between your legs to make a mess of his thigh, you are.

You play with the edges of his hair, sprawled lazily across his sweaty forehead. With a soft smile, he reaches for your fingers and pulls them to his lips. “Do you actually like it? My haircut, I mean. Pretty sure you liked the other stuff.”

You answer with a laugh, pressing a kiss to where the edges fall. “I love it.”

He grins and rolls over, pinning you to the mattress. The short locks make a curtain, hiding the two of you from anything but each other. “Good. Did it f’you.”

“For me?”

He hums and buries his face in your neck, delicately kissing the bruising skin. “Noticed your type. None of them had long hair, ’n I thought…”

With a pealing laugh, you grab his cheeks and bring his face to yours, smothering him with kisses. “Keisuke, you are such an idiot.”

He pretends to frown, but kisses you all the same. “Weren’t calling me that when I was making you scream earlier.”

“Kei,” you say, forcing him back so you can really meet his eyes, “short hair, long hair. No hair. The only kind of guy I’ve ever truly wanted has been you.”

Keisuke blinks. Short, thick lashes bat against those endlessly high cheekbones of his, and then he smiles. He lowers his lips to yours once more and gifts you a kiss; deep, slow. A kiss that’s been years in the making, that says all that your words have and then some.

“I love you,” he says, and you barely have time to say the same before he’s kissing you, hardening cock easily gliding back through your sticky folds, and you go for round two.

So... happy adventuring :) thank you for reading! if you made it this far… pls reblog, drop a comment, or leave an ask if you enjoyed!! I worked really, really hard on this, and it would mean the absolute world to me that, if y’all enjoyed it, you told me why. if you hated it, tell me why. if i made you cry or scream or fall in love or fierce fiercely full of disappointed rage, tell me why!! i won’t bite (unless you ask)!

hopefully the next adventure gets even better. thanks for reading!

[celaenaeiln]

What's the deal with fanon Tim bc I read some comics with Tim and I've seen him in cartoons but all I see people talk about is "haha coffee addicted nerd who doesn't sleep!" and that just seems weird and wrong. Like my view of Tim has always been "he's a nice and extremely smart guy who sometimes pushes things a bit too far and maybe a bit set in his own ways/Batman's ways" but now I'm not even sure of that because I really haven't read THAT much (mostly seen him in other series) lol

No you're right!! Anon you're so right!!!

What the heck is up with fanon Tim Drake??

The thing about him not sleeping is actually true though

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #937

Batman: Contagion Issue #11

(I agree with Catwoman, Tim is so cute)

So I understand where the coffee addiction in fanon comes from but Tim's not actually addicted to coffee in the comics. I actually don't recall him mentioning coffee at all. At some point he might have but if he did, then those instances are so little in the grand scheme of things it might as well be called negligible if it's trying to be called an addiction.

But more importantly, Tim is so much more than that!! My favorite Tim Drake aspect of him is how sassy and sarcastic he is, it makes him so endearing!!

UGH NO ONE APPRECIATES HOW MUCH OF A LITTLE SHIT HE IS!!

Robin (1993) Issue #58

CMON CMON CMON LETS TALK MORE ABOUT THIS!!

Tim, you little shit, you know exactly what they say - cause you did it!!

HIS SELF-SATISFIED SMILE!!!

In all honesty I find Tim the funniest of the entire batfamily to read because he's so-he's so wholesomely quirky in a mean way. That's such as awkward way to describe it but reading his comics, you just can't get enough of them because he's just too funny!

At one point he has a massive fever and stuck underground with a bunch of weird kids and one of the girls is just like "please get better, please get some rest!" as she's wiping away his sweat and Tim has like no breath or energy at this point. But with the last remains of will power, he uses his breath to push one last question between lips.

Robin (1993) Issue #70

And as the audience waits in baited anticipation we get this-

Robin (1993) Issue #70

It's actually a very valid question and shows his detective thinking and yada yada yada but THE COMEDIC GOLD OF HIS TIMING!!

Like his situation and his question there's a massive gap that's almost incomprehensible about it all which is why it's so fantastic!!

The way he sasses batman is top 5 fav moments with him.

Azrael: Agent of the Bat Issue #91

Thanks @paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 for finding it again <33

But Tim overall is just like a normal kid. He's what authors tried to do with Stephanie but failed. They were able to make him relatable to the audience because the way he acts, it's so quirky but funny. Yes, he's a boy detective genius but he likes messing with people, he likes solving crime, he likes hanging out with his big brother, he asks for relationship advice, he can get insecure, he can get upset without acting cold, he gets tired, he gets anxious, he's determined, and he's super dorky.

Robin (1993) Issue #25

Like really dorky.

But what I think really defines him is this panel

Robin (1993) Issue #48

This scene is probably what explains him best. Tim is someone who ponders a lot. He thinks constantly all the time whether it's about cases or his personal life, he just goes over the choices he makes constantly because he's just soul-searching alot.

He always means well even if he's awkward about it and he's just a diverse personality overall. The fanon interpretation of his character doesn't really do him any justice because it doesn't address how funny he is or confused or just a likeable, real person in general.

[fariesoiree]

Lately I've been thinking alot about lovestruck Hobie with an oblivious reader. I'm talking like, man's completely WHIPPED. Doing backflips on his eyelashes to get reader's attention and they just brush it off as 'he's probably like this with everyone'. Bro's furious, desperate even. If you're still in the getting to know each other stage, he acts like a complete idiot. I don't see him as a person to blush or stutter around their crush, but probably do his best to make you laugh or smile, even at the expense of his own dignity. To me, in the movie Hobie seemed like a very physical touch kind of guy. I assume it would be the same with reader, his arms always looking for excuses to end up around theirs waist or shoulders. You best believe he's always got you in the back of his mind (you make him question his beliefs around relationships at least once a week).

Pls give me your thoughts on the matter 🙏 obsessed with the idea.

~☄️ comet anon

ahhhh my first emoji non! this is so exciting 2 me c: okok so i haveeee a fic kinda like this — not really ( he kinda stalks reader to keep her out of harms way )— where hobie is OBSESSED but i like your take on it too

to me, hobie is the textbook definition of a lover boy and it takes him a while to make it look cool bc he’s inexperienced in the actual real world relationship stuff. like, he’s had flings, he’s had short-term relationships, if you can even call it that, in the past. he’s had crushes bc he’s human. he’s not locked down emotionally. if anything, he’s wayyy more open than your standard run of the mill person would be.

i think he wouldn’t be confused when he first saw you and got that little drop in his stomach bc he’s not an actual dumbass. he knows what having crushes is. he’s confused bc he can’t get his shit together and can’t seem to leave you alone. he’s liked plenty of other people before but he’s stuck on you and your pretty smile and your shiny curls, as if handcrafted by a higher power.

and everyone else is like “hobie wtf” when he does shit so blatantly out of character but you think it’s normal bc you just became friends with him. like he’s laughing at every little thing you say even if no one else is and you grin pridefully bc the positive reinforcement is nice. it’s encouragement and you feel like you’re being accepted by a very kind guy but in actuality, he’s dying to get you to look at him.

like he’ll get so desperate he’ll start googling stupid shit. “how to get a girl to like you back” “law of attraction for your crush” and he knows he looks so stupid rn but any opening he can get, he’s gonna take it. he, himself, is thinking “hobie wtf” when he’s walking down the street and swears he gets a whiff of your perfume. and when you’re standing close enough, he’ll wrap an arm around your shoulder in what you think is platonic, and use it an an excuse to inhale the scent of your hair products.

this man is completely and totally star struck and it’s not like him. i’m convinced he loves so hard. he has too w the way he acts canonically. and it’s not like he doesn’t believe in love, he just doesn’t fw the way society tries to force it down everyone’s throats. he sometimes catches himself imagining what it would look like if you two were actually together and if it’s something he’s willing to do, to actually work towards. ofc he is, btw. without a shadow of a doubt.

my hobie, the way i view him, is so unconventionally chivalrous. he’s not laying over a puddle so you don’t have to step around it but he is working behind the scenes, doing subtle things he knows you’d appreciate without asking and could possibly be overlooked. there’s not a single hobie variant that isnt absolutely star stuck all of the time around you. alllllll of the time.

[kitorin]

boyfriend headcanons ! itoshi rin

contents. how you met, how you got to know each other, when he realized he liked you, how you started dating, dates, all fluff

warning. rin backstory spoilers, i can't write kiss scenes either, written with all lowercase intended, it's word vomit bc school has screwed me up mentally and i can't think properly atp lmao

a/n. reo, rensuke and yoichi ver coming soon, was supposed to be all four of them but tumblr didn't save some stuff so i lost motivation and i probably wrote too much for rin anyways

how you met

you were invited to hang out with a group of friends, but ended up hating it since you were basically invisible, since everyone else were talking about a common interest you didn't have

you ended up walking away, finding somewhere actually interesting, and found a muji store (minimalist retailer that sells a lot of household items and more), and had your own fun, looking through stationary, skin care, nice clothes, and more.

you were having a great time until you heard someone from the hangout looking for you and calling

rin who notices your panic right next to him, questions what's wrong (not necessarily out of concern, honestly probably because he may have found it slightly irritating)

after you explain your situation briefly, he nods and finds you somewhere to hide, and goes to deal with your friend

he's got perfect control over his facial expressions, he'd easily lie and even if your friend was persistent, he'd still scare him away

"haven't seen them in here, they left a while ago and you better stop yelling,"

"are you sure-?"

"yes. now piss off and stop disturbing everyone here,"

once he's sure your friend's gone, he goes back to where he instructed you to hide, giving you the clear

"i hope that lukewarm asshole wasn't your ex."

you're slightly amused at the word 'lukewarm' it wasn't a typical description you'd hear often. "nope, i'd never date him. thank you so much though. i really appreciate it, please let me do a favor for you"

before he can object, you grab a sample pen, scrawling your number on his hand, "send me a text and i'll do my best to help you with anything okay?" you send him a smile as his eyes widen in shock, "bye kind stranger, have a great day," and before he could respond, you were gone, rushing out the store out of embarrassment for not being able to slip away from your friend uncaught.

how he got to know you

[unknown number] : i really don't need a favor you know?

i hated that idiot anyways, loud and annoying

[you] : don't careeee, i want to make it up to you somehow, please?

i'm y/n, you?

[unknown number] : rin, itoshi rin

after he gave in to your offer, you ended up tutoring him, he didn't care about grades but his high school had a rule of requiring a certain standard of grades to compete in tournaments

turns out he wasn't even a bad student, he's diligent and consistent, he only needed a little bit of guidance and advice, with math being the exception

in between sessions, during breaks and outside of your tuition you'd talk a lot, considering how rin has no friends ("neither do you, your toxic ass friends shouldn't count" he replies when you realize it) and you're patient enough to deal with his personality

even after he has his grades up you still hangout with each other, watching horror movies, playing horror games, reading horror novels / comics (you introduced him to junji ito), and he'd even teach you some soccer when you visit his training. he also tries out all your hobbies and favourite things to do and eat

you two spend so much time together, simply because one has no other friends and the other has no healthy friendships

how he knew he liked you

BRO WAS IN DENIAL. FOR. SO. FUCKING. LONG.

he thought he had a health problem or fever when he felt his face getting hot, or that odd sensation in his stomach, or his heart relentlessly pounding against his chest

he tries to research it, doesn't believe it when he sees all those love related posts, so he literally goes to a doctor

his doctor probably almost instantly realized, and had to deal with rin's denial

"you experience these 'symptoms' with a certain someone, don't you?" the doctor doesn't even bother with noting down anything, he's 100% sure and knows it's perfectly in character for rin to do something like this

"that's not possible- that doesn't make se-," he pauses, and recalls that he only felt that way when it came to you, "... yes," he's sort of bashful, slightly embarrassed but quickly composes himself again. 'i apologise for doubting you, please continue,"

"no worries," with a grin, his doctor prepared leave and meet his next patient, "i diagnose you with love sickness,"

when i tell you, this man fucking asked him what meds to take and what to do as self treatment

his poor doctor mentally face palmed himself, sat himself back down and had a (long) talk with this emotionally repressed boy

rin still insists it's something medically wrong, but he's soon shoo-ed out of the office, while hastily being told to make sure he's honest with his feelings, otherwise it never goes right

back at home, he's lying in bed, revising what his doctor said

"rin you need to learn how to acknowledge your emotions. i understand they're confusing and i'm not a therapist, but you can't keep denying it. it's just as unhealthy to neglect your emotions as it is to ignore an injury,"

...

denial huh?

he thinks of you and his heart once again can't calm down, his face burns and his stomach is doing somersaults. he buries his face in his palm, groaning. he hated anything unfamiliar, anything that he couldn't navigate with confidence, or fully comprehend.

"do you really despise it? or do you refuse to acknowledge your feelings because you've never experienced something like this,"

his doctor's advice comes back to him, and he thinks.

if he truly loathed how you made him feel, why is he still hanging out with you, why is he still investing his time into you, why do you make him so damn happy?

he passed out eventually completely lost in thought

how you ended up dating

some time passes and you finally have the courage to confess to him only to receive a cold "i don't feel the same way," a complete lie

accepting his emotions was one thing, accepting a relationship is another. he could immediately feel regret clawing at his stomach, he wanted to tell you. badly, how much he likes you, your patience, intelligence, your kindness, literally everything

yet nothing comes out. only his stoic and stupid facade's character

you walk away after mumbling out an apology for making things awkward, and rin's left there standing, finger nails digging crescents of frustration into his palm

he's overwhelmed with his thoughts, some insisting for him to give up and accept that he fucked up, others demanding him to move and fix things

what would be worse than losing you, anyways?

and that last thought was the final push, he's basically sprinting towards you, soon his arms are wrapped around you, releasing a gasp of surprise from you.

"ri-?"

"i lied," rin blurts, internally screaming at himself to just say it, "i lied, i know i shouldn't have and i'm sorry. but i like you too much, i can't express or understand my feelings, i don't know anything about relationships or love either, and i wanted to hide how i felt so i wouldn't get hurt,"

"rin-," he doesn't let you finish, ignoring your whisper.

"but i don't care, i like you so much that i'm willing to risk hurting myself, anything's worth it if i can be with you, spend time with you, and love you. if it's for you i'd overcome all my fears of love. i can't afford love, but if it's for you i don't care anymore,"

"you're perfect, you always have been," he concludes his speech, almost breathless from how rushed it was. scarlet was dusted all over his face, teal eyes wide open.

that fact rin, someone who's never been good at communication, went this far to express how he feels for you, warms your heart even more.

"rin?"

"yes?"

"may i kiss you?"

somehow, he blushes even more, and as he nods your lips press together.

dates + other headcanons

MOVIE NIGHTS !! not at cinemas though since he prefers the comfort and privacy of his room, and doesn't like how loud or dirty cinemas can get

doesn't want to force you into anything too scary, but he secretly enjoys it when you end up clinging onto him

since he struggles with articulating his emotions, he likes using playlists and songs to (die for you - weeknd, shinunoga iiwa - fujii kaze, love, maybe - melomance, sweet - cigarettes after sex, COME INSIDE OF MY HEART - IV SPADES SUITS HIM SO WELL)

he's not a fan of pda, yet he wants to show you off to everyone he knows

if you genuinely like soccer and have an interest in it (obviously doesn't want to force you to watch 90 minutes of a sport you don't like) he'd watch his favourite games with you, even books tickets for the both of you if there are any good teams competing nearby

also takes great interest in your sports !! reads a lot about them so he can discuss them with you, and if you also compete in sports he puts together a training routine for you and asks to go to the gym together (say yes dumbass)

SURFINGGGG !! since he grew up in kamakura, he loves the beach and went to swim and surf a lot as a kid and would love to do it again with you, even if he hasn't done it in ten years (same rin, same). same with hiking too (kamakura's also famous for it as well)

visits the store with you where he always bought ice blocks with sae, the same lady who worked there when sae and rin still got around is still there, congratulates him for getting a partner, is proud of him

he's a great listener too, he prefers it over speaking a lot and you can talk to him about anything, whether you're talking shit about someone (he'd join in and start swearing) and or you're hyperfixating on your interests

whenever he gets a question related to his love life he takes a moment to blush when he thinks of you, pauses to compose himself (keeps you a secret for your privacy from the media), then says with a straight face that soccer is a priority, but everyone knows he's lying

©kouyun : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[starboyjun]

batboys as brothers in a isekai manhwa

my first post, please be nice lol.

i have given a lot of thought into bruce and the robins and what type of brother they would be in a isekai family manhwa.

you are the youngest daughter in the family and recently have trasmigrated into the body of the youngest princess of wayne. you had a reputation of being a "wicked" and "brat" in the family. you decided to make sure your family loves you to avoid being killed and having a cushion if something goes wrong in the future.

so... you change and here is how i think the bruce and the robins would treat you.

included in this post: bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, timothy drake, and damian wayne.

ft. a short snippet of alfred pennyworth, cassandra cain, & stephanie brown

bruce wayne - the overprotective father similar to: regis adri floyen (father i don't want to get married)

i think bruce would be suspicious of you at first. like all horrible manhwa dads, he neglected you a lot but he has his reasons. personally, i dont think he's one to hate you if you "killed" your mother during childbirth. i think he would just distance himself. he would give you money and all the support but never be there for you. which is why you think he hates you. there is a lot of misunderstandings, but after seeing that you're making an effort to change he'll be a tsundere and be very clingy and overprotective of you. especially when it comes to potential suitors.

richard "dick" grayson - the one who always supported you similar to: raymond millainare (the tyrant wants to be good)

dick has always been a kind brother, in both lives. though when he actually found proof of you being a horrible person he sort of distanced himself from you. he wants to think you're a good person but you find ways to prove him wrong. he tries to talk to you but you hated him. so when you changed, he had a optimistic view and tried to see if you really changed. you showed how you changed and now he's back to being the brother you once had. he's overall very supportive over you and loves to spend time with you. he's not as protective as some brothers but, he has that brotherly protection. he's the person that knows you best, even knows you more than you do.

jason todd - the one who hates you the most similar to: reynold eckhart (villains are destined to die)

jason hated you, he hates everyone in the family but thats besides the point. jason is known to hate you but he actually doesn't. he secretly just hates his father for how he treated you. he knows how it feels for bruce to treat his children like mere guests at the estate. up to a point, jason never truly hated you. he just wanted to make you into a better person but you proved him wrong. he was the last to believe that you are a brat until a incident happened. then jason just ignored you. he couldn't believe it, his little sister was a brat. when you changed, jason was suspicious, he didn't know what to believe. you showed him time after time that you weren't the person you were, this took jason a long time to believe. he would probably be the last one. jason now loves you dearly and is probably the most protective over you, nobody touches his sister. jason likes to teach you self defense (against bruce's will) to make sure you know how to "kick those evil suitors ass" and protect yourself from his enemies.

timothy "tim" drake - the one who didn't know you existed similar to: cassis pedelian (a way to protect the female lead's older brother)

tim is undoubtedly the most loyal to bruce (imo) so much so that he forgot you existed (he can't forget damian bc he actively causes trouble). you don't make a big scene other than inside the castle, i feel like he helps bruce so much that he forgets about what happens outside of the office. if he's not in the office, alfred is forcing him to eat, sleep, and bath so he has no time to think of you. once you changed, he caught a wind of it from the chattering of the servants and so he decided (be honored he went outside his office for you) to investigate. he watched you in secret and even joined mealtimes to see you and observe you. tim found that he enjoys your presence and often asks for you to hangout in the office (to bruces excitement) just for your company. tim is very loyal to you too now, and would do anything to keep you safe. that includes secretly burning marriage proposals.

damian wayne - the problem child who also thinks youre a problem similar to: ixion (lord baby runs a romance fantasy with cash)

damian views everyone (with the slight exeption of bruce) as a peasant. he has a hard exterior with a inside of just wanting to prove his worth in the family. when you were born damian pretended he didnt care for you but secretly escaped his room (he was under room arrest for his last incident) to go see you while you were sleeping. as you grew up, he noticed how similar you were to him (though he grew up with his mom for most of his life) he wanted to protect you and shield you but he was afraid his "dirty" hands would taint your innocence. so he watched you from afar, watched you grow into a person too much like him, too arrogant, too reckless, too much like a brat. damian was the only person to not hate you. he just pretended to hate you. so when you changed overnight, he was suspicious, who was this person? how did my sister change overnight? so he tested you, test after test. you passed all of them with flying colors. he wanted to know more about you, instead of just staying in your shadows (plus he was jealous of his other brothers spoiling you) so "insists that you go play with him" or "insists that you hug him." he's also a very overprotective one, he's the one that dick has to tie down when you get a marriage proposal. he steals the flowers and gifts you receive and burns them (or sells them to selina for a hefty price) bonus: alfred, cass, and steph

when cass and steph visited for the weekend, they were surprised about the change in the atmosphere, no maid was sobbing or bruised up. they knew of your reputation in the castle. so they decided to not avoid you but hangout since they heard of your change by alfred. alfred sung of your praises and that you stopped damian from cutting down the bushes in the garden. once they hung out with you (besides the annoying visits of the brothers) they decided to stay for the weekend to get to know you more. after all, you're a unique child, one who will be known for generations. part two: batfam as types of isekai romance tropes

[likedovesinthewindd]

hii love may i request hcs for a big brother figure hobie with a sweet innocent reader, how would he protect them and show his love etc <3

of course, this is so cute!

★ ok so I'm imagining you're also a spider-person and a part of the society. you're a bit younger, and one of the newer recruits.

★ and you'll admit you were quite intimidated by hobie at first, but after talking to him you realized how nice he actually his. you were suprised at what a light personality he had, despite his very strong beliefs and views. he definitely wasn't afraid to be himself— unapologetically so—and you respected him for that, looked up to him.

★ you've come to learn that he's an extremely tactile person as well; he'd always greet you with a fist bump or even a hug when the two of you haven't seen each other in a while.

★ you weren't someone who enjoyed confrontation or disputes, so whenever someone did something you didn't particularly like, you'd bite your tongue to avoid any fighting. hobie didn't take with that though. if the two of you were together and he saw someone messing w you or being mean, he'd definitely be giving them shit for it.

★ he didn't really enjoy working with other people, but he enjoyed joining you on missions and vice-versa. he'd always say he just wanted to keep you company, but he also wanted to look out for you. he knew you were more than capable of looking after yourself, but it didn't hurt to have backup, right?

★ he's def your biggest hypeman too! you could've completed the smallest job, but best believe hobie's gonna be hyping you up like no other (i mean c'mon yall saw how he was hyping up miles in the mumbattan scene)

★ now if you're just a civilian and not a spider-person:

★ I'm imagining you end up in a somewhat similar situation as gwen, needing somewhere to stay for a while, and hobie's willing to help.

★ and of course he'd help you, that's just who he is, that's what he believes in. and remember, my guy didn't grow up the most comfortable so he knows what it's like.

★ maybe you get back on your feet and find a place of your own, but he still visits you frequently. checks up on you to see if you're still alright and when he's free, the two of you would go out and do whatever, or throw some of your scraps together and whip up a dinner at whoever's house.

★ when he's on patrol he'll makes sure to go and check in on you.

★ even if you don't necessarily end up in a rough patch—the two of you just somehow ending up friends—he's still looking out for you.

★ in terms of how he shows his love, i def think it's w quality time and acts of service. whenever he's free he'd always hang out with you and catch up on how you're doing. he enjoys helping you out whenever he can too bc he knows you'd do the same, no questions asked. you'd help patch him up after a rough night, or go over to his to cook for him, and he lets you know how much he appreciates it with his time and company.

★ he'd also tell you in words, small bits you'd catch here and there. 'ave to look out for each other, yeah? casually thrown into conversation.

★ it doesn't matter if you're not related by blood, he sees you as his family, and he always looks out for his family because that's what being punk is about.

[comradekatara]

okay i just finished reading the yangchen novels and i need someone to talk to me about yangchen/kavik 🙏 does it count as a rarepair because nobody has read the yangchen novels 😭

ikr there are like 5 yangvik fanfics on ao3 which is crazy you guys should be going insane over them. like it should NOT count as a rarepair it’s literally the central romance of these books and it’s hetero (hetroooo jessica that’s her name) how is it so unpopular. i mean kyoshi/rangi being popular is good tho bc i do love to see dykes winning but yangvik fucking rules i am sorry to say. like i think they might be more compelling than the lesbos i can’t believe i am saying that but.

they’re both so insane and in really similar ways (extreme younger sibling complex) and sooo smart and manipulative and scary it’s awesome. i love that yangchen is always making kavik her bitch and she refuses to admit that it’s because his skills are useful to her and she likes having him around so she’s always just like “im doing this to make you suffer >:D” and he fully believes her. and then once he’s finally fulfilled his contract (by literally getting stabbed for her) he’s like “ok well i think i am going to move back home and become a healer now” and she’s like “omggggg NOOOO you CANT go I NEED YOUUUU” like she simply did not consider the being nice and honest approach until she could no longer extort him to get him to work for/with her she’s so fucking funny for that. also I love the line where she’s like “well. he has nice teeth.” what a strangely horny thing to think about someone, like okay you dentally-minded freak.

meanwhile kavik is constantly oscillating between “she is the all-powerful avatar” and “she’s just a sopping wet poor little meow meow. why won’t anyone help her????” and that scene where he tries her tea and it has like. amphetamines in it is so fucking funny. he’s just like damn bitch you live like this???? also that scene where they’re playing sparrowkeets and yangchen is like “oh my god kavik is actually so bad at this game he totally oversold his abilities he’s literally a fucking fool and i was a fool to trust him” meanwhile kavik is sitting there like “wow this is so obvious and i am in complete control of the situation. i love how we are both on the same page about how i am totally fucking playing this guy rn :)” when he spins her around in the air and the rest of their team gets so fucking mad that he’s treating her like a girl and a friend instead of the supreme leader of the universe and they’re just like “um. what. we’re literally buddies. and yes we are also extorting each other. what about it.”

they’re so fucking crazy. and the fact that they never even so much as kiss is even crazier. kyoshi and rangi are like so much more confident with each other and yangchen and kavik (literal heteros) who are constantly dancing around their latent feelings and sublimated desires and for what. they’re both young and attractive the world is literally their oyster. what’s with all the fucking secrecy. oh right. they got that spy grindset. can’t even admit you have feelings because that’s a card that can be played against you. gotta act like you don’t even care about your best friend in the world because they’re a really good liar so what if they’re just faking their affection as part of a long con. never act on your feelings because that’s a weakness that can be exploited. they’re like the gay people of m/f ships but also what they’ve going on goes far deeper than that like they’re literally certifiably insane. both of them.

[chaotic-mystery]

Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: your waitressing job has been going good so far and Joel’s finally warming up to you. Halloween being celebrated at White Pony has to you excited for all the customers you can serve…but what does Joel do when one doesn’t treat you how you should be treated?

Content Warnings: eventual smut bc enemies to lovers okay we’re getting there! 18+ mdni!, mean!joel, drinking, no outbreak!au,reader smokes, Joel smokes, Joel’s bitch ass girlfriend, slut shaming (we don’t like Michelle) groaping, fighting, mentions of wounds and blood, reader has daddy issuessss, Joel finally being NICE (will update as we progress)

Word Count: 4.3K

A/N: This shit is starting to warm up and I am biting my fingers for the barbecue scene okay!!! Will they kith? Maybe. If you can spot all my silly references in here, kiss kiss to you pookie.

Within the last two weeks of training at White Pony to be a waitress and being with Michelle almost every night, you had to see more and more of Joel. The first few days he refused to come in the bar like he always did before you got the job. It was his- as he put it, “place to be away from you.” Nice. 

Michelle was still just as scary as the day you met her. She kept Joel close in her eyesight when you first came to training but as the days passed and she watched you two hardly say any words to each other, she loosened the leash on him again. Since your blow up with him, things were still kind of weird in the way that all you said to each other was, “You done with that?” and “Another round.” 

Tonight you were celebrating Halloween down at the bar and Michelle told you all to come dressed as something, no shift unless you actually try with your outfit. It should’ve been no surprise to her that you'd show up as a blood sucking vampire and not just a regular old boring vampire. The black corset dress with the stockings and glitter everywhere had Michelle’s mouth dropping with shock. “Darlin’ when I said dress up I didn’t mean that dressed up.” Her fake witch nose was kind of crooked with the way she glued it to her face but it suited her. The passive aggressiveness she gave you was really starting to work your nerves but the tips were good here, you could easily talk shit about her attitude later while counting all your bills. 

You smooth down your dress and give a twirl, showing off your boots that you just got in the mail. You’ve already heard from Joel how many packages get delivered daily and that “the mail truck parks too long in front of his driveway” yada yada yada. He whined the same spiel every time you almost had it down word for word. 

Joel’s eyes meet yours as he leans back in the stool and he begins turning slowly while his eyes scan your outfit briefly. A sly smirk forms on his lips, “So just how much garlic should I put around me to keep you away?” His glass meets his mouth, taking a small sip of his whiskey. Your plastic tray falls at your side as your shoulders drop, your eyes low with annoyance. 

“Yeah? You feel proud of that one old man?” you mock, leaning against the bar until all your drinks are done being made. The glasses start to pile up, ready to be taken to the corner of girlfriends celebrating the night all dressed up as different colored crayons.

Your fingers delicately place each glass on the plastic tray and Joel gives a breathy laugh. “I’m proud of that, yeah.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy. You're not my type to even sink my teeth into.” The firm tone takes him by surprise and his eyes flicker over your body once more before scoffing. 

“I’m everyone’s type, thank you very much. I’ll take another whiskey too, ma’am.” The devilish grin appears once more which only makes your eyes roll. 

“You aren’t even in my section Joel. Fuck off, get your lady to do it.” You shoot back, the annoyance not shying away from your face at all. Joel nods slowly and turns away from you, finally laying off just long enough to let you get back to your job. Michelle watches you closely as she overhears you telling Joel to fuck off, her stern look burning imaginary holes into you. 

When she busted you for talking like that to Joel, it was just best not to even look at her, this not being the first time she’s caught you with your sailors mouth in full effect.

With the night flying by from a packed bar, the tips were coming in well. Everyone was dressed up as something, leave it to Joel to dress up as…himself. 

“Let me know if you need anything else!” You shout over the music to your newest table and give everyone a smile before retreating to the bar. With Joel and Michelle in the corner canoodling at the end of the counter, you couldn’t help but throw up in your mouth a little. Her costume wasn’t going to last much longer, the evidence of a missing nose so apparent. Her costume was falling off her shoulders constantly, it was a bulky old witch dress and it looked ancient. 

Your hands run along the bar and pat it eagerly like an impatient puppy just ready for another table and more money. 

Suddenly a group of men walk in and the bar gets a tad quieter. The dress shirts they have on are so tight you can see the tank top underneath the fabric. Something about them just stuck out like a sore thumb in the best way possible and you wanted to be the one to serve them.

“Nell, how do I look? I’m gonna take that table and get the best tips for us all tonight.” You giggle and fix your hair while the bartender tells you how good you look. Joel must’ve sensed someone having fun because the next thing you know, an arm was grabbing you and walking you towards the back of the bar away from all the bustle and crowd. 

“Ow Joel, get off me. What are you doing?” You shout, grabbing your arm from his grasp and groan while rubbing the tender skin. 

“No, you aren’t taking them. They’re out of town assholes that sometimes stop in and it’s nothin’ but issues every time. Let Danny take ‘em.” He almost sounded concerned but the look in his eyes didn’t last long before he looked away. 

You stomped your foot softly and groaned, folding your arms across your chest. “Danny doesn’t even pool his tips at the end of the night like he’s supposed to! I can handle it Joel, I’ll call you if I need you to reenact Road house, okay?” You snicker at your reference and walk away before he could argue more, your tray innocently behind you as you walk up to the full table of intimidating men. 

Joel was seething in the corner, his tongue running over his teeth against his closed lips while he watched one already get handsy and try to cop a feel under your dress. Joel Miller was not jealous. He was worried for your safety and you were known to get yourself into some crazy things due to miscalculation on your part of common sense. He was almost too aware of how chaotic you could be at times but at this moment it wasn’t a joke to him. He sat back in his chair and turned it so you were in his view the entire conversation. The glasses of whiskey turned to glasses of water so he could be clear minded if things got sticky. You walked back over and he pretended not to overhear your conversation with Nell about the men fawning over you.  

Joel rolls his eyes and drinks his water, the annoyance you even entertained those assholes after he told you not to, just sitting deep inside his chest. Your small tray was packed with beers and shots of your top shelf vodka and his eyes widened, already knowing how tonight was going to play out. He sighed, smacking his hand on the bar before getting up to change the song on the jukebox. Searching for what felt like forever, he finally landed on one of his old favorites.

Porn star Dancing by My Darkest Days & Zakk Wylde. 

You stupidly sit on one of their laps and try to engage in the conversation but it always turns back to you. Hours go by of the conversation being about you and not in the best way. They’re asking what time you get off, where you got your sexy little outfit, what color were your panties, shit you shouldn’t be asking your waitress. A hand reaches to your neck and squeezes, making your skin crawl inside. They all smell of menthol and nicotine mixed with gray goose, too much liquid courage. 

Joel grabs Michelle and starts dancing with her in the corner, her back to you at the table the entire time. He keeps his eyes locked onto you, very very closely. Even when you extend an arm to grab an empty bottle out of the way his eyes are following.  They kept tugging you to sit back down, making his blood boil and his teeth clenched tightly. Somehow you managed to slip away for just a moment and make your way to the bathroom, darting around the corner into the pitch black hallway that was sheltered from noise. Joel lets go of Michelle and follows you without any sound, trying not to startle you. 

He stands against the wall and listens to your sobs muffled behind the bathroom door. The tears were pure fear and regret. Maybe, just maybe, Joel had a point. Even if you wanted to close their tab and stop serving them it would just make things so much worse for everyone. You got yourself into this mess, now it was up to you to get yourself out of it. You grab a small piece of toilet paper and blot away your tears, the post cry makeup making you look even better than before. Such a silly way of looking at the situation but you couldn’t deny a good cry moment.

A chill ran down your spine as you faced Joel outside of the bathroom, his head hanging to hear better. When the door squeaks open, his head snaps up and his eyes are on yours. With his strong gaze not leaving yours, you clear your throat and shrug like you know nothing. 

“W-why are you outside the ladies bathroom?” You knew why he was out here, he probably saw you run in here and wanted to report back to Michelle, or even worse, tell you, “I told you so..” blah blah. 

“Are you okay?” His hand rubs his neck as he stands up straight, moving closer to you. He reaches out and grumbles as he wipes away a tear. “Can jus’ ask Danny to finish out the table, s’okay if you change your mind.” Your glossy eyes look up at him and you smile, shaking your head no. 

“Can’t. I got this Joel, I just need to get through it and I’m done for the night.” Your hands wrap around your arms, shivering under the A/C vent. Joel’s shoulders drop in frustration and he sighs loudly. 

“Darlin’...” he starts, “don’t do this. Look I’ll tip you whatever they were even thinking about and more jus’ don’t do this to yourself.” His soft words were actually making you reconsider but then again, what did he care? You snap out of it and sniffle, shaking off the sadness. 

“I’ve got it Joel, promise.” A fake smile passes from your lips and he doesn’t take the bait at all. You both walk down the hall to find the table empty of bodies and three dollars squashed under a shot glass with vodka dripping down the side. Three. Dollars. You embarrassingly grab the money and look around confused as to what you could’ve done to deserve a three dollar tip. “God damnit..” you mutter under your breath. The glass clanks together as you begin to clean off the table, not wanting anyone to see this mortifying crime scene any more than they have to. 

Joel’s frame catches in the corner of your eye, his mouth covered by his hand. When you stop cleaning to look at him, he stares right into you and for a split second it doesn’t look like Joel at all. He gets up, snatching the three dollars from your hand and you knew something bad was going to happen. Joel shoves the exit door wide open and smacks the siding of the building. As he marches outside, he sees the fancy car still sitting in the parking lot, the men outside around it cracking jokes and being rowdy. 

“Joel…” You call out and immediately run after him, small struts because of your boots. “Joel sto-”

“S’cuse me fellas. Three dollar tip, really?” Joel chuckles and puts a hand on his hip, the look on his face hard as stone. Here we fucking go, you thought to yourself. Everyone from inside gathers outside and you slowly make your way to Joel, his hand flying in your direction motioning you to stop in your tracks.

“What’d you say, dickhead?” One of the men called out, his words semi slurred. His friends laugh and Joel sarcastically laughs before standing up straight. 

“See, I don’t know where y’all are from but around here we tip our waitresses real nice. Three dollars? Cmon man.” He was maybe thinking they “forgot” to put down a ten dollar bill or something, no way they meant three dollars. 

“Man she was worth three dollars but she can come home with me if she wants for the rest of the tip, know what I mean?” The assholes behind him hoot and holler, clapping their hands together and praising the man for the disgusting comeback.

“Joel stop cmon just drop it it’s fine let’s just go back inside.” You firmly shout, voice cracking from humiliation. Joel turns to look at you and pushes his hand down telling you to calm down. As his boots drag against the gravel making his way to the group of skeezy men, he tuts loudly at them. 

“Do I have to teach you a thing or two about manners, asshole? She’s not a fuckin’ fast food burger that you get for three dollars. She’s worth way more than that. You basically groaped her all night, askin’ what color her panties are, when she’s leavin’, how badly does she want your money, but I don’t have to tell you any of that. You know exactly what you’ve been sayin’ to her all while she’s jus’ doin’ her job. So let me ask you this, you do plan on tipping her correctly, yes?” Joel stopped just as he was toe to toe with the man, not a smirk to be found anywhere except on Joel. 

“Ye-yeah man um, let me get my wallet.” He hastily reaches into his pocket while he stutters apology after apology to Joel. Just as he’s pulling his hand out, he balls it into a fist all wound back to hit Joel. Never once did it connect with his cheek, never. 

Joel grabs the skeeze’s wrist and twists it roughly before throwing him on the ground, his buddies getting up contemplating if they really wanted to do this or not. Joel gets on top of him, throwing punches left and right, grunting with every connection his fist has with skin. Blood trickles down his hand between his fingers and he doesn’t stop until the guy is begging for mercy. 

Wiping his nose and breathing in deeply, Joel gets up and grabs the wallet that was supposed to be taken out before all this started. His bloody fingers split it open and find a bunch of cash, flicking through all the bills. 

“How much was their bill, darlin’?” 

Everyone's eyes were on you and the chattering started to fill your ears. 

You clear your throat roughly and walk closer to Joel by just a few steps, not wanting to get too close. 

“Uh…I don’t remember. It was around 213 dollars I believe…lots of gray goose shots.” Your eyes went wide when he pulled out two 100 dollar bills and folded them, passing it to you between his index and middle finger. You take it apprehensively, staring at the grunting man rolling around on the ground. Joel nods at you a little and asks if you’re okay. Just as your lips part to tell him thank you, someone is running up on him. 

“Joel watch out!” You shout and he pushes you back so much you fall on the ground. A fist hitting him right in the face, “You fuckin’ prick! Wanna piece of me old man?!” The other guy shouts at Joel and hits him, starting to wrestle him on the ground. They roll around causing the gravel dust to stir up and you think quickly on your feet. Going behind the guy trying to wrestle Joel to be on top, you kick him right in the balls with your boots. “Get off of him!” You shriek and grab his hair, tossing him backwards. The audible winces and groans from the crowd echo off the buildings, Joel sits up and looks at you like you were some angel or something. 

Reaching out your hand for a lift, you take deep breaths and help him up off his ass. 

“How was that for your reenactment? You okay?” He asks as he begins to brush the gravel off his palms. The men were on the ground rolling in pain still, such a funny thing to watch. 

Chuckling softly, you turn back to Joel,”Yeah I’m okay. You okay?” You nudge his arm and see his knuckles still dripping blood. A small nod comes from him and you grab his hand slowly to observe the wounds. 

“Should get some ice on that Mr.Miller.” The glimmer in his eye takes you and draws you in, standing there holding onto his hand for far too long. Everyone behind you cleared out and went inside, leaving Michelle there alone. She clears her throat and you snap back to earth and drop Joel's hand rather fast. 

“Take her home Joel. She’s done.”

“What?!” You shout in complete surprise.

“Mich come on baby I don’t think that’s very fa-” Joel’s reasoning is cut off by a groan from Michelle. 

“No! I can’t have a floozy willing to do whatever for tips work here and expect my boyfriend to protect her! You’re done!” She was expressive with her hands just like your mother used to be, which was exactly how you were feeling. A little girl once more and your mom was beyond done with you. 

Your tongue pushes against your cheek and you go inside to get your coat and purse. Nell was the only bartender who didn’t treat you like a monster and she started to get pissed off when you told her the news. Joel and Michelle were outside arguing and you stood by the door eavesdropping, careful they couldn’t see you.

“You’ve never once defended me from a creep like that!”

“Oh Michelle, is that what this is about? Really?”

“No, of course not Joel! You know damn well she knew what she was doing dressed like that coming to work and getting on their laps the way she did! What else did she expect from them?!” Her hands were flying up in the air as Joel’s head dropped, shaking side to side. 

“Michelle she’s just barely started her life, what did you want me to do, hm? Watch them take advantage of her?!” His arms reached out, searching for something that wasn’t there. 

“No but what do you think is gonna happen when she walks around here acting like a slut?!”

As your fast breaths started to fog the glass awaiting Joel’s response or even some sliver of defense, nothing. He said nothing. 

Joel knew that wasn’t true. He watched your driveway like a hawk regardless how many times he said he didn't. Tommy was the first and last person you’ve been with since you moved back but that was none of Michelle's business even if you wanted to get with everybody.The door flew open and you walked to your car, getting in the passenger side. All you wanted to do was cry yourself to sleep, Joel could drive. More muffled sentences rang outside the car, something about Joel calling her tomorrow. You felt pretty buzzed after that encounter until overhearing that fuck ass conversation. That was probably the first time anyone has cared so much about your safety, your well-being, you in general. No one has ever willingly stuck up for you like that and beat someone the way Joel did. Not even your own dad has done that or would ever. You must’ve been replaying in your head the images of Joel beating that man so much because all at once you came back to the now, his fingers snapping in front of your face.

“Cmon, we’re home. You’ve got a cut on your knee sweetheart. Let’s go clean it.” He fumbles with your house keys and unlocks the front door, making his way into your house. 

“Jus’ sit, I’ll be back. Where’s the bathroom?” Shutting the front door, you point to the left and sit slowly to observe the cut. 

It was definitely something. The nylon stocking was tattered and covered with dry blood caked onto the broken skin. Joel arrives with the rubbing alcohol sloshing in the bottle along with a washcloth. 

“I didn’t mean to push you down so hard, m’sorry.” Joel kneels down in front of you and rests your foot against his thigh so he can examine how bad it was. Those beautiful brown eyes were getting you again. It didn’t seem so far-fetched to forget everything, even the conversation you overheard, until he pressed the alcohol to your skin. Sucking in a sharp breath, you grab the armrest of the couch and whimper quietly at the contact. 

“Ow..Joel that-ah-ooh-that hurts.” You suck in sharply again, his eyes going back to your cut. 

“I know baby, I know..I’m sorry, jus’ hold on f’me.” He whispers as he rips the material of your tights until a large hole is created around the scrape. His rough hands covered in blood were so gentle on your leg, his fingers wrapping around the back of your boot covered calf. 

“You should really let me bandage up your hand, can at least do that much for you.” The room went silent and all that was heard was Joel’s deep breaths and the washcloth pressing against you. He sighs and grabs a bandaid from where he set it down on the couch cushion, opening it to cover the wound. 

With a firm press on the edges, his thumbs smooth over the entire bandaid and he glances up at you hoping you weren’t wincing in pain. 

After a long pause he mutters, “I’ll be fine, just need some ice is all. Also um…darlin’..” he started and continues to ever so slightly rub the bandaid. 

“I know you overheard ‘Chelle and I talkin and I just wanted to apologize on her behalf. She doesn’t think those things about you and neither do I, okay?” He didn’t sound too sure that he even believed the words coming from his mouth. 

You were too emotional to argue with him so a small nod was all you responded with.

It was a bullshit apology and it didn’t even need to come from him but there was too much in your head right now, an apology was the last thing you were concerned about. 

Without a word you get up slowly and step onto the front porch with a new pack of cigarettes in your palm. Joel hesitated following but he wasn’t done with you just yet. The front door squeaks open softly and before even turning around you had the cigarette held out for him to take a few drags from. 

“Are you uh..are you goin’ to your dad’s barbecue this weekend?” The smoke rolled out of his mouth and he ashes over the railing.

“I’ve thought about it..” You take a puff and pause. “What would I even say? ‘Hey dad uh I know I just got my job here but I got fired because I was dressed like a slut.’ Mmm, I don’t know, Joel.” All the smoke exited your lungs by the time you were finished talking and the glowing orange light was lifted again as your cheeks hollowed taking another hit.

Joel turns to you slightly, holding out his hand with his fingers spread and ready to take your cigarette. 

“Jus’ don’t tell him anything. He couldn’t even wish you luck or congratulate you for gettin’ the damn job anyway. Asshole.” His face disappears behind a cloud of smoke and it was probably for the best due to the shit eating grin on your face while his words echoed in your head. 

“So you’re finally getting it I see, Mr. Miller.” The cigarette slowly dwindles and he lets you have the last drag. 

“I can’t see why he’d ever treat you like that, I wouldn’t dream of treating you that badly and you really know how to work my fuckin’ nerves sometimes, little girl.”

The pair of you laugh and Joel flicks the cigarette butt on the driveway, shoving his non fucked up hand in his pocket. The dim porchlight hardly illuminated his face but the moon on the other side made up for what you couldn’t see. 

“Get some sleep, you’ve got job hunting to do tomorrow.” His boots clunked against the wooden floorboards of the steps, gravel crunching as he got further across the way to his sidewalk. 

“Oh, one more thing sweetheart!” He shouts from his porch.

“I’ll back you up no matter what. He doesn’t know you anymore, not like I do.” 

Your face was hot to the touch from his words. Joel Miller finally finding his heart? Who knew he had one? Each of your front doors closed and you went to sleep that night just imagining how the barbeque is going to go. Joel fell asleep that night with a bag of frozen peas on his knuckles and a small grin on his face.

[scekrex]

Hurt/comfort anyone? 😌

We all know Adam's "big and tough" act, how he gloats before anyone that he's the absolute best since he's the og dick and he's the reason the rest of the mankind was created, but what about Adam just being Adam like anytime else, especially the scene in court and Sera just talking his ear off about him acting irresponsibly and just revealing the exterminations to everyone in the worst way possible, just giving him a good ol' talk, but not in a nice way, nope. She crushes his ego in a way before leaving him alone in the room, saying she has stuff to attend and he's just standing there, all deflated and his mask glitching from how many conflicted feelings fly over his face, he's resignated, he's even sad a bit, but also angry. At Sera, at Heaven, God even, but mostly at himself since he knows he fucked up another thing in his life that he was trusted with.

He goes back home to unsuspecting of anything reader and just passes by him, not saying a word, even tho reader tried to greet him and hug him, but was unable to since Adam just brushed past him quickly. There was a heavy air surrounding reader's husband and he grew concerned, so he went to check up on him, seeing Adam just curled up on the bed, wrapped up in his own wings, shielding himself away from the world, not a sound coming out of him, but reader knew something shitty happened and just gets behind him, hugging him tightly and gently petting his wings, not saying a word to let Adam calm down and speak when he's comfortable enough to do so. Adam just smashing himself into reader and asking quietly if he was actually so bad at everything that he didn't deserve anything good in his life, if that was why everyone he cared about before left him and even now no body cares in the slightest bit about his existence. Basically just Adam having an existential crisis and reader being his anchor, trying to tell and show him how it actually is and not what his mind is telling him.

This sad, wet cat bitch needs validation and love like no one before 😞🤘

Muah ❤️

Adam might be an insecure piece of shit underneath all that narcissistic bullshit act of his but he's my insecure piece of shit and I love him.

If I'm so wonderful then why am I so misunderstood

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, hurt (with comfort)

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

“Adam,” the older seraphim raised her voice against the first man loudly, it echoed through her office with much more power than the first man had expected it to, he flinched a little at her tone, his wings dropping to their lowest. “Sera, I-” Adam wanted to explain, wanted to turn it into the stupid joke it had been, but the older seraphim had enough of it. She had enough of Adam, she had enough of his behavior and she was about to let him know. “You’re behavior is no longer accepted by us,” she started what would turn into a monologue, Adam made himself appear a little smaller at her words. “You walk on heaven's holy ground, eat the food our Father provides and whenever someone does not show you respect, your first argument is that you're the first human,” all of the things Sera had listed were true, well they had been the most obvious ones but that didn't make them less true. “And yet you behave like one of them sinners,” that however caught Adam's attention. He was what? How dare she insult him like that, he was very much not acting like a sinner. Or was he?

“You walk heaven's streets with curses on your lips, you dirtied your own purity by sleeping with so many women and men, you behave like a total child and don't know when to stop and where to draw the line and I personally am under the impression that we let your behavior slide for way too long,” she stared Adam in the eyes, giving the first man the most serious look he had ever gotten from the seraphim. The brunette lowered his head in defeat, Sera had often given him shit for being too loud, too much of this, too much of that, she had told him he wasn't behaving like the pure first human should - but it wasn't Adam's fault, not really, because how was he supposed to behave ‘normal’ when God had given him two wives just to take them from him again when he was alive? How was he supposed to fit in and act like everyone else when all that would bring him would be pain?

“Maybe divine judgment failed you. Maybe you should have ended up in hell amongst the other sinners. Father certainly wouldn't have liked it, not after Lucifer's fall, but it would have been the correct decision.” And that made Adam crumble into pieces - at least mentally. Because deep down inside he knew she was right, that no angel other than him dared to stain the name of the Father above, no other angel dared to behave as reckless and merciless as he and his exorcists did. And yes, no other angel than him had slept with so many women and men - a thing he used to be proud of. Before he had met you, before you had become his lover, before he had committed himself to you and only you. Before you, he had been different.

She smoothened out her hair, straightened her back and looked down at Adam, “I have to attend an important meeting. You shall leave and overthink your actions, Adam.” And with that she left him there, leaving him as she had shattered not only his ego but the last piece of confidence he had held inside of him. It took the brunette a while to realize that Sera was not coming back to comfort him, to tell him that she had been too harsh, why should she? She was right after all, Adam was a horrible person, he knew that, had known it ever since.

-

When the door to your shared apartment opened and Adam walked through it, you were quick to get up and greet him with a warm hug, expecting your boyfriend to be just as excited to see you as you were to see him. But he wasn't, in fact he didn't even look at you as he crossed the living room in order to get to the bedroom, no ‘sup babes’, no ‘Fuck I've missed ya stupid ass' no fucking nothing. The tips of his feathers were dragging on the floor as he walked, a sign that something wasn't right - Adam always made sure that not a single inch of his beloved wings was touching the dirty ground, even in your apartment. The brunette clearly wasn't in the mood to talk, yet you went after him to let him know that he wasn't alone, that you were there no matter what was wrong.

You opened the bedroom door quietly and what you saw shattered your heart. Adam was laying on the bed, his body looked like a ball made out of feathers, he had curled in on himself, his wings shielded him from all of reality, from whatever was hurting him right now. Yet you saw how his body shook, the first man was crying.

Wordlessly you closed the door behind you, trying to do so as quietly as possible. Then you walked over to the bed and cuddled up behind him, one of your hand gently found its way into his hair, petting it just the way you knew he liked it whenever he was feeling upset about something, the other hand of yours smoothened out the feathers covering his wings, gently rubbed the little gap between where the wings grew out of his back - you were very aware how sensitive that area of the angelic body was given that you yourself had experienced it before.

For you it was ridiculously hard to keep quiet, you wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask what was upsetting him so much, why he was crying, what there was for you to do to make it better, but you didn't. You remained quiet, Adam had made it clear that he preferred not talking about it at the moment - or maybe he simply found himself unable to do so, you weren't quite sure which was the case but either way you respected it.

A small smile appeared on your face as the brunette leaned into your touch, he tilted his head backwards, sad, puffy and reddened eyes watched you as you continued to pet his hair without a single comment, if Adam wanted to talk, you would listen. If Adam wanted to stay quiet and enjoy your presence in silence you were fine with that as well. For you it simply was important that the first man knew he wasn't alone. You were there to provide comfort and a safe space he desperately seemed to need.

“Am I as fucking terrible as people tell me I am?” there it was again, his unnecessary cursing, fuck Sera had been right. He rolled himself over, buried his face in your neck and pressed his body against your own. Your body warmth calmed his nerves, made his mind quiet down for even just the tiniest moment, but it did cause it to quiet down. “Is that why I only have Lute and you left? Because I'm fucking terrible? Because I don't deserve damn good things to happen to me?” his voice was really just a whisper yet you understood every word perfectly fine, even if it was mumbled against your skin. Your hands remained on the gap between his wings and in his hair, giving Adam the stability he craved. He needed someone to cling onto, he was too unstable to hold himself together so you did that for him. “No,” your voice was soft and warm, yet serious, it caused Adam to blink in confusion. “I don't deserve you,” was the next thing he said, and that was where you drew the line, you gently tilted his head upwards, then placed a soft, loving kiss onto his lips, “Bullshit Adam, you're wonderful and I love you.” “But I’m not. I curse a-fucking-lot, I can't keep shit together, for fucks sake I can't even do the simple things like telling you I fucking love you every day.” And yes, that was true, but that didn't cause you to love him any less, if anything it was things you loved about him especially. “I don't care about all of that, I still love you.” “Will you leave me too? Like Eve? Like Lilith? Once you finally fucking find someone better?” You shook your head lightly, placed another kiss onto his forehead, your lips kept resting against his skin as you spoke, “No, dummy. To me there's no one better than you are. You're the best for me and you'll always be.” Adam didn't answer you.

He clung onto you even tighter, wrapped his wings around you and held you close. He didn't believe you, simply couldn't, not after what Sera had said. But at the same time the first man trusted you with his existence, so why would you lie to him? His inner conflict was silenced as you pulled him into another gentle kiss. You couldn't help but hum a soothing melody, “You’ve already changed so much, so many things you've done,” you felt as Adam's eyes fell shut and as his body relaxed underneath your touch. “So many songs you've sung, and in the end, they will still hold their grudge,” you felt him nuzzle against your skin, felt how his breath evened out. “There’s something I've been dying to say, more than anything,” you smiled as you sang the last part, feeling Adam's fingers digging in your skin as he tried to pull you even closer - not that it was nearly enough though. “More than anything, need you to know I love you more than anything.” The first man pressed a sloppy, lazy kiss against your jaw before he fell asleep, from his lips fell a quiet, “More than anything.”