#also wow I have been drawing a lot of profiles lately

[monobani]

Nero doodle!

[deadbiwrites]

a video of supergirl grabbing lena luthor's ass starts circulating and it's very embarrassing for sc but extremely funny to their friends

(I am SO sorry. Where do these hide? Why do I never see them? How long has this been here?!

Anyways, have some cute nonsense!)

The day starts like any other, honestly.

Like, sure, Kara’s never thrilled when she wakes up 20 minutes late and has to use superspeed to get through her morning routine and into the office on time, but it happens regularly enough that she’s just sort of used to it by now. Like, the sky is blue, the grass is green, she manages time poorly. Whatever.

But she does get to work on time, with just enough to spare that she can make a brief detour to Nia’s desk for the coffee her protege has already bought for her, thank her profusely (with perhaps minor promising of firstborn children), and slip into the morning meeting just as Snapper, James, and Lena start handing out assignments for the day.

“Well, well, good of you to join us, Ponytail. Let me guess, a family emergency kept you out all night again?”

‘I mean, that Abraxian wasn’t my family, technically, but someone’s family, so…’ “Something like that. Sorry.”

Lena catches her eye and quirks a brow in question, but Kara just shrugs easily and sips her coffee, pulling a silly face at her friend when Snapper’s attention moves away from her. When her eyes uncross, she can tell Lena is fighting not to laugh, eyes sparking with mirth as she bites her lip. Kara takes another sip of coffee, feeling a bit smug that she can get Lena to smile without even having to say anything to her. That’s real talent, right there.

Especially since Lena has to stand up at the front with James, who has been by turns cold, dejected, and surly toward her since their breakup (a big, real, final one) a few weeks prior. Lena had said that the whole thing was a mistake, that she should’ve never gone for it in the first place because she’d been right the first time- they’d had some chemistry, after all, but it certainly wasn’t compatible long-term. 

Which… Kara can certainly relate. Like, a lot.

Especially about the whole… James being kind of wounded about it part. That part had really sucked- when he’d done it with Kara, who he’d gone on like, a date with, it’d resulted in him deciding to become a vigilante. Rao only knows what he’ll do when it’s someone he dated on and off for over a year...

“Ponytail!”

Kara jumps, realizing too late that her wandering attention hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Yes, sir?”

Snapper rolls his eyes. “Great, now that you’ve stopped orbiting Saturn, you wanna go get that article started?”

Kara’s eyes widen slightly in a panic as she realizes that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Uh…” Behind his back, Lena catches her eye and nods subtly. Thank Rao. “Yes. I super do.”

Lena snorts, James sighs deeply, and the meeting is adjourned.

**

“So what exactly am I supposed to be doing today?” Kara asks Lena as they stroll out of the conference room together.

“Well unfortunately for you, you have to interview a big-time CEO. You have a meeting scheduled with her in three hours.”

“You?” Kara asks hopefully.

“You’re very sweet,” Lena chuckles. “No, Elena Watts. She’s a real estate developer, and she runs a nonprofit organization for homeless youth. It’s one of the articles we’re doing for next month’s spread. Contrary to popular belief, Cat and I weren’t the only women with high-profile jobs in this city. ”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool! Have you met her?”

“Not personally, no, but I have donated to her charity- it’s a very good cause, especially the outreach they do with queer youth.”

Kara elbows Lena gently. “You’re such a softie.”

“Mmm, maybe. But if you tell anyone, you’re fired.”

Kara clutches a hand to her chest, feigning horror. “Why Miss Luthor, what a blatant abuse of power!”

Lena shrugs. “I’m a Luthor, darling, I have to keep up appearances somehow.”

“Ouch,” Kara laughs. “See you at lunch?”

“Only if lunch includes a milkshake- I have a teleconference with both boards today. Unless you feel like joining me?”

“Wow, well as fun as that sounds, I’m gonna go do literally anything else.” Her comms crackle to life, alerting her of a hostage situation downtown, and Kara sighs. So much for a work day. “Alright, well, I’m, um, gonna go… see what I can find on Elena Watts. Maybe over another cup of coffee at Noonan’s.” She widens her eyes a bit, trying her best to convey that she’s going to be on Super-duty for a little while.

Thankfully, Lena picks up on it and grins. “You just want sticky buns.”

“Lena, I always want sticky buns. They’re like, my second favorite thing to eat.”

“Oh? What’s the first?” Lena asks, voice just a bit lower than usual. 

Kara opens her mouth and closes it, flushing slightly as she averts her gaze and adjusts the laptop bag on her shoulder. Stuff like that has been happening more and more, and she’s not 100% sure what to do about it. Because on the one hand, it makes her stomach do flips and tie up in knots and makes her brain do this… staticky thing where nothing filters in or out, just a pleasant buzz of how funny and smart Lena is and how much Kara likes hanging out with her and being flirted with (because that’s definitely what’s been happening, even if neither of them is really ready to address it) and just generally looking at Lena.... who is currently biting her lip and grinning up at Kara, and that buzz makes her kinda dumb, which is just really unhelpful. But on the other hand, it’s also kinda awesome and Kara really enjoys it, and-

“Kara?”

She spaced out again. Crap.

“Um. What time are you free for lunch?”

Lena sighs, seeming slightly disappointed that Kara isn’t flirting back at the moment (and thank Rao Lena can’t read minds), but she smiles back easily enough as they step off of the elevator. “I should be done by two.”

Feeling emboldened, Kara turns so she’s walking backwards in front of Lena and grins. “It’s a date,” she says with a grin, ducking forward to press a quick “friendly” kiss high on Lena’s cheek. She whirls and jogs out the double doors, leaving Lena smiling exasperatedly after her.

**

It is genuinely baffling to Kara that people still commit crimes in National City. It’s not even an ego thing, really, since Kara tries to keep herself humble (even when she manages to wrap up a hostage situation within twenty seconds of arriving on-scene without injuring any of the criminals or damaging the building too badly). Like, yeah, she gets that there’s a certain element of crazies who just sorta gravitate to places with a local hero, the big-bads who have their own suits and geek-toys and abilities. Them, Kara gets. Kinda sorta. But the regular ones, who are armed with like, pistols? Or knives? Just regular man made stuff without even the benefit of magic or kryptonite or something?

Why? 

She’s sure that if she asked, Lena would have some sort of statistical thing about large cities and poverty and all sorts of other factors that would end up making Kara feel like a jerk for being uncharitable to the criminal element of her city, but at the moment she’s mostly too annoyed by the fact that she has to spend her weekdays chasing them around instead of chasing stories.

Once all the hostages are freed and the cops secure the scene, Kara departs, flying into the alley behind Noonan’s and changing into her regular clothes before she heads inside to do a bit of research before her meeting with Elena Watts in a few hours (just because she’d used it as a cover doesn’t mean it was a bad idea…). She finds her favorite little two-person booth tucked into a quiet corner, plugs in her laptop, and gets to work, asking the waitress to please keep both the coffee and the sticky buns coming.

She gets a surprising amount done by the time she needs to leave for the interview, having a good foundation for what she wants to write and who Elena Watts is.

Ms. Watts turns out to be a pretty nice lady around Eliza’s age, if a bit busy and distracted by the steady flow of people in and out of her office. She answers all Kara’s questions with aplomb, happy to elaborate on most every point and eager to draw attention to the rising issue of homelessness among children and teens in the US.

“When I was young, my dad lost his job at the auto plant. It was supposed to be a temporary layoff, but the factory never reopened. We ended up losing the house, and we lived so far from our extended family that staying with them wasn’t much of an option. We lived in our SUV for six months, sleeping at shelters every now and again, if we could find one that allowed families to stay together. We showered at the local YMCA. Five people and a dog, living and sleeping in an old station wagon- even now, it sounds ridiculous. Eventually, we got back on our feet, but I never forgot that. It was just six months, but it was- and remains- the scariest, most uncertain time in my entire life, and it shaped me in a lot of ways I didn’t expect. And there are kids and families who do that for years. I just want to help them the way I wish that someone had been able to help us.”

At the end of the interview, Kara thanks her profusely for her time and for sharing her story before hurrying off to CatCo to type up a draft for Snapper (“What’s wrong with you, Ponytail, why is everything you bring me sappy and sentimental?”), which she finishes an outline of just in time to send it off before running to Big Belly and L-Corp for lunch with Lena.

She greets the newest in a series of secretaries (Anna? Amy? Ava? Lena’s really missing Jess, these days, but from what she’s told Kara, Jess is kicking butt in her new role as VP of Operations and will probably take over for the COO when he retires in a few years), and the girl waves her in distractedly.

And that’s when Kara’s day goes from normal to not, because inside the office are two masked men holding a stone-faced Lena at gunpoint on her balcony and demanding… something, probably. Kara’s a bit distracted by the loaded gun aimed at Lena’s head.

“Hey!” she yells, attracting both their attention. They whirl on her and Lena’s eyes widen in alarm, and Kara suddenly realizes three things- 1) she’s in her Kara Danvers clothes, not the supersuit, 2) she can’t speed into the suit now that they’re both looking at her, and 3) she has no plan.

Crap.

“Who the hell are you?!” one of them demands.

Kara… doesn’t have a good or snappy answer for that, and instead does the only thing she can think of- she throws the large milkshakes she’s carrying at them as hard as she can.

Which, in retrospect, is too hard, apparently because while yes, it is both funny and gratifying to see two grown men get absolutely leveled by a tasty dairy treat to the face, the one closest to Lena manages to elbow her in such a way that she falls backwards over the rail with an instinctual scream that makes Kara’s heart fly into her throat. She whips off her glasses, and by the time she’s out the window and speeding toward Lena’s flailing form, the suit is materialized. She gets under Lena, catching her carefully and dropping a bit further before slowing down (because she’s been made aware that when she doesn’t, the people she’s saving may as well be hitting the pavement), finally coasting to a stop about 20 feet from the ground.

Lena’s face is screwed up in a forced sort of focus, her hands clutching tightly at Kara’s shoulders and cape as she holds her breath.

“Are you okay?” Kara asks quietly.

Lena swallows thickly and nods, eyes still firmly closed. “I’m alright. Thank you- I’ll admit, I wasn’t quite sure how to get out of that one.”

“What was that? What did they want?”

Lena cracks an eye open. “Oh. you know, just my quarterly assassination attempt. I think my mother was starting to miss me, so she wanted to reach out.”

Kara snorts. “That really shouldn’t be funny.”

“Maybe not, but here we are.” Lena shifts a bit in Kara’s arms, cheeks a bit flushed from the adrenaline rush, and clears her throat. “Not to be rude, Supergirl, but do you think that perhaps we could continue this conversation… on the ground?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sorry. I forgot we were, uh, flying.”

Lena chuckles as they ascend slowly back up to her office. “You forgot you were flying?”

Kara shrugs with an easy smile. “I guess you have that effect on me.”

Lena huffs a laugh against Kara’s neck, eyes squeezed shut again. They alight on the balcony, finding the two men still unconscious, covered in Kara and Lena’s lunch. Lena sighs as Kara sets her down, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What a mess.”

“Yeah, sorry, I sorta… panicked.”  

“I was so looking forward to a milkshake too…” Lena laments playfully.

“Well, then I have good news and bad news,” Kara says. She reaches out and gently wipes a bit of her own chocolate shake from Lena’s cheek with the pad of her thumb, tucking it into her mouth on instinct to get a taste of it. “The good news is, you do, in fact, have some shake on you!”

“Whats the bad news?” 

“Also that you have some shake on you.” Kara laughs, gathering the two men in her arms and hefting them a bit so they’re easier to carry. “I’ll get you another one. Be right back.”

She drops the men at the police station with a brief explanation before flying back into the office. Lena hands over her discarded glasses with a wry grin.

“I figured you’d need these before the police arrive.” She’s putting on a brave front, but she’s clearly still more than a bit rattled, if her too-bright eyes and thundering heartbeat are anything to go by. Kara steps closer and opens her arms in invitation, and Lena doesn’t hesitate to step into them. “Thank you,” Lena says fervently, tucking her face into Kara’s shoulder and wrapping her arms tight around Kara’s waist. 

“Always,” Kara promises, daring to press a reassuring kiss to Lena’s temple (and getting a bit of Lena’s strawberry shake for her troubles) before wrapping her up even tighter in her arms. “Are you actually okay?”

“I mean, my fear of heights has been reaffirmed,” Lena jokes, “but aside from that, I’m not hurt.”

“Good. I don’t like, love people pointing guns at you. Just so you know.”

“I’m not a fan either, for the record,” Lena drawls, burrowing even closer. “Even though I know you’ll save me, it still puts a damper on my day.”

Kara huffs a laugh. “Same.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, until Lena’s calmed down enough to stop shaking and calls her assistant (Audra, apparently) in, telling her what’d happened and that the police would be arriving shortly to take her and Kara’s statements, and please advise the security team to let them up discreetly. After the cops arrive, it’s a blur of questions, and Kara has to concentrate on telling the story of how she’d panicked and thrown the milkshakes at the men, and one of them had knocked Lena over the balcony (all true), and Kara had yelled for Supergirl, who had knocked the men out on her way to Lena (also technically mostly true. Technically. Mostly.). The police are sure to tell Kara that next time, she shouldn’t throw things at people with guns, and also to tell them both how lucky they are that Supergirl had shown up when she did.

“She’s always there when I need her,” Lena agrees, throwing a sly wink over the officer’s shoulder at Kara.

Kara just shakes her head and smiles. Even almost dying isn’t enough to make Lena not flirt with her. The woman is truly a marvel.

Kara’s comms crackle again, accompanied by Alex’s custom ringtone on her cell, and after assuring the police that she has no issue with giving another statement if they need her to later, hurries over to the DEO (making a quick stop in the back alley to change into her suit).

**

When Kara arrives, she’s told that J’onn and Alex are waiting for her in the Directors’ offices. She makes her way there, waving to the agents and scientists she knows. But it’s very weird, because every time one of them sees her, they start giggling before quickly hurrying off in the opposite direction. Like, literally everyone is whispering and pointing and giggling, and it’s giving Kara such visceral flashbacks to high school that it’s all she can do to not check her cape for a taped on sign that says ‘Kick me’ or ‘Freak’.

(Kids are mean.)

By the time Kara gets to her destination, she’s fully paranoid, sure that someone’s playing a prank on her, somehow, and that everyone but her is in on the joke. She opens the door with more force than intended and catches it just before the handle puts a hole in the wall, throwing Alex and J’onn a sheepish smile. She closes the door extra gently and leans against it heavily. J’onn and Alex just stare at her, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Busy day, Supergirl?” Alex asks, and after half a lifetime of spending time with her, Kara recognizes that she, too, is trying not to laugh. 

Kara’s had enough. “Okay, do I have something on my face? Or on the suit? Is someone messing with me?”

J’onn’s brow furrows. “No.”

“Then what’s the deal? Why is the entire DEO like… laughing at me? Did someone accidentally vent the lab fumes out into the main hub again?”

“No.”

“Did someone see me crash into that billboard last week?”

J’onn’s frown deepens. “What?”

“No,” Alex answers.

“Then why is everyone laughing at me?!”

“I mean, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because of that,” Alex muses, nodding toward the big TV on the wall beside Kara.

She steps back to watch the news coverage of her dealing with the hostage situation this morning and frowns. “What, those guys? That was routine, what’s so funny about tha-”

“No, no, not that. That,” Alex clarifies, cranking up the volume.

“...reports are saying that the CEO of L-Corp, Lena Luthor, experienced an attempt on her life early this afternoon. Sources claim that she fell from a considerable height-”

“Hey, she was pushed,” Kara corrects.

“Shh!”

“...caught by Supergirl, who may have gotten a little… familiar with her.”

And there’s a video (clearly recorded on a cell phone but not the worst quality Kara’s ever seen) of Kara catching Lena and slowing to a stop above the sidewalk, of them talking quietly, of Kara’s hand definitely on Lena’s-

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Alex drawls, clicking the TV off with relish, a large, evil-big-sister grin spreading across her face. “Congratulations, Supergirl- the world just watched you grope Lena Luthor’s ass.”

“But I’m not- I wasn’t groping, I was catching! My hands weren’t… If it was groping, I’d be all up on her, and I wasn’t!”

“Camera begs to differ. It’s already trending on Twitter in National CIty.”

Kara puts her head in her hands and groans. “Why?! I was trying to save her!”

“You were definitely trying to save part of her,” Alex agrees. “Granted, it’s a very nice part...”

Kara’s head pops up, and she shoots Alex a look that’s between a pout and a glare. “You’re not helping.”

Alex feigns confusion. “Am I supposed to be helping?”

“Alright, enough,” J’onn cuts in before Kara can retort. “We just wanted you to be aware. I don’t think that this is going to be taken for anything more than it is- a humorous moment in the middle of a successful rescue. You shouldn’t worry about the press.”

And truth be told, Kara isn't worried about the press- she’s worried about the fact that she’s going to have to face Lena after this. Lena, who she knows for a fact has google alerts set for herself, Kara Danvers, and Supergirl, a gesture which is normally actually sweet and kind but is right now definitely gonna bite her in the-

“Okay! So, is that all?”

Alex blinks, looks over at J’onn, and shrugs. “I mean, yeah. Try not to make a habit of groping your crush when you’re in the suit.”

“I wasn’t groping her-”

Alex grins. “So you admit you have a crush? Interesting…”

“Alex!”

**

J’onn’s prediction is mostly right- no one seems to be taking the shots of her grabbi- saving Lena as anything other than a funny blip of a moment in their coverage of it.

He was wrong about the sheer scale. The clip had gone totally viral in a matter of hours, and seemingly every major network in the country has run the clip at least once as a bit of filler-fluff, and almost every major network anchor (including the ones at CatCo, the traitors) has made at least a passing joke about Supergirl being ‘Super-Handsy'.

Which means that Kara is very late getting back to Lena’s office with replacement food. But like, she’s been busy, okay? It’s not like she’s avoiding Lena, or something, because she’s embarrassed- which she isn’t, because she didn’t do anything bad or wrong and-

Anyways, it’s well past sunset by the time Kara gets to Lena’s office door again. She hesitates outside it for just a moment before shouldering the door open and knocking tentatively.

Lena’s attention jerks from whatever she’d been absorbed in to Kara, and a relieved smile blooms across her face. “Hey there.”

Kara finds herself equally relieved to not experience a repeat performance of earlier scary situations. “Hi,” Kara says, unable to resist smiling back. She raises the bags and cup carrier. “I bring grease and milkshakes. Again.”

“Oh thank god, I’m starving,” Lena says, rolling her chair away from her desk and rising into a deep and probably much-needed stretch. Kara very determinedly does not stare at the slight sliver of soft tummy that appears between her blouse and skirt at the motion. “I’ve been staring at this screen for several hours. And Sam called to yell at me- she says hello, by the way- she and Ruby are in town next weekend.”

“Good!” Kara crosses the room to the couch as Lena does, easily spreading out the veritable buffet of fast food she’d brought over the coffee table. “I mean, not good that she yelled at you, or that you’re still at work, Miss Luthor,” she says pointedly, receiving only an unapologetic shrug in response. “But good that, um-”

“I get it,” Lena chuckles, resting a hand lightly on Kara’s knee and boy, if that doesn’t make Kara’s brain go fuzzy and dumb again… “Thank you, for checking in.”

“Of course I was gonna check on you, Lena,” Kara huffs. “Plus, I know you probably didn’t get lunch, so…”

Lena hums around a mouthful of burger, chewing until she can politely speak again. “Well it’s delicious. Did you make it yourself?” she teases with a sly grin.

“Oh, yeah, totally. Slaved away over a hot stove for this- I just wrapped it in Big Belly wrappers so you wouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“Very clever.” Lena pops the lid off of her milkshake and drags a fry through it (an advanced culinary delicacy Kara had horrified her with initially but had eventually become a bit of a guilty pleasure). “Although I have to say, traditionally you’d have to buy me dinner before you grabbed my ass.”

Kara chokes on a pickle. “Oh no,” she groans, dropping the burger onto the wrapper on the table and dropping her very red face into her hands as Lena laughs beside her. She peers out from between her fingers. “I am so sorry, I was just worried about you hitting the pavement and like, catching you in the least jarring way and I wasn’t paying attention to where my hands were and I didn’t even notice until I got back to the DEO and-”

“Well I have so say, I feel a bit offended that you didn’t even realize you were copping a feel...” When the only response is another groan and a deep flush spreading from Kara’s neck to the tips of her ears, Lena relents. “Kara, Kara, it’s fine!” she laughs, pulling Kara’s hands away from her face and giving them a grounding squeeze. “Nia’s been sending me memes about it all day, which has improved my mood significantly. On the grand scale of fallout from assassination attempts, this one was at least funny.”

“I know that’s supposed to be comforting, but all it makes me wanna do is wrap you in bubble wrap forever,” Kara informs her.

“Pass on that. But seriously, don’t worry about it- I know it wasn’t on purpose- unfortunately for me, you’re too noble to do something like that,” Lena laments playfully.

And whether it’s the knowledge that Lena is not, in fact, upset, the overall weirdness that has been this day, or this delicious burger fueling it, Kara feels a bit emboldened. “Hey Lena…”

“Yes?”

“What if I wanted to grab your butt? Just, y’know, as a hypothetical. For future reference.”

Lena quirks a brow at her, fighting a smile as she contemplates this. “Hmm. Strictly hypothetically?”

Kara scoots a bit closer on the couch. “Sure.”

 “Well, you’ve already bought me dinner…”

“And lunch, technically. Even if I gave it to the bad guys.”

“True. Plus you saved my life, so that gets you some points, probably.”

Kara pauses in her sly scooching. “Oh, hey, wait, no, that’s not-” 

“Kidding, Kara. I know you’d never use that to your advantage. I, however, have determined that strong moral fibre and nobility do, in fact, earn you more points, which is my choice on the matter and you get absolutely no say in it.”

“Oh. Um, alright, I think.”

Lena stares off into the middle distance, tapping her forefinger thoughtfully against her chin. Finally she shrugs. “Yes, I think you’re fulfilled the prerequisites for a bit of grab-ass today.”

Kara snorts, Lena laughs, and soon enough Kara takes her up on the offer.

**

“Hey Kara, remember that time you grabbed Lena’s ass and it made international news?” Nia asks around a mouthful of mushu pork.

“You mean last week? Yes, I remember,” Kara drawls. Beside her/halfway sitting on her lap, Lena snorts.

“That was the best.”

Alex glares. “Um, excuse you, no. No it was not. I had to sift through so much thirsting over my sister on like, every social media platform. It was the worst day of my life.”

Brainy’s brow furrows. “Surely that cannot be correct, Alex. Statistically speaking-”

Alex holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Trauma can’t be measured, Brainy.”

Kelly chuckles and presses a consoling kiss to Alex’s cheek, and it makes the tough agent melt into a doe-eyed puddle of mush that Kara snorts. And she says they’re gross... Kara sneaks a glance at Lena from the corner of her eye, and she catches Lena looking at her. She leans close and jostles her gently as she drops her head onto Lena’ shoulder. “We’re never gonna live that down, are we?”

“Probably not.”

“We have the worst friends.” When this elicits nothing but a chuckle, Kara tips her head back to see Lena still looking at her, a soft smile playing at her mouth and shining in her eyes. And like, this whole thing they’re doing is new, with the kissing and the actual dates and the... everything else. But the thing where Kara catches Lena looking at her and she doesn’t look away? That freakin’ knocks her out, every single time. “Hey,” she manages.

Lena grins down at her. “Hi.”

So yeah. Maybe the initial circumstances weren’t ideal, and she doesn’t love the mockery that’s been heaped upon her by all of her friends and loved ones (including Winn, who’d sent a missive from the future that literally just said ‘LOL’). But the fact is, Kara muses as she surges up just enough to kiss the corner of Lena’s mouth, that she doesn’t regret a thing.

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 47 - Seven Devils

Title: Irreverent Pt. 47 - Seven Devils

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~11K

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You'd just arrived at the airport when you got the call from Clyde informing you that there was a terror alert across the EU and flights were being grounded. He'd coordinate agents on the ground but there wasn't much you could do from the States, so you were off the hook until things got figured out.

Great, now what? *------------* Aaron walked towards the plane with the rest of the team, with Reid already spouting facts around unsubs who preferred to shoot their victims from a distance rather than up close. He climbs up the steps and turning, is greeted by you, seated in your usual chair. "Hey, what're you doing here?" He walks up towards you, the rest of the team following close behind, equally surprised to see you. "EU terror alert," you explain while he stashes his luggage away, nodding hello to everyone else. "Clyde said I'm free for the time being and I was already at the airport. Garcia read me in." "Well, it'll be good to have you, kid." Rossi takes a seat in the aisle across from you guys. "Seems like an all hands on deck sort of situation." Everyone settles in and you can't help but notice the small smile that seems to linger on Aaron ever since he saw you. The two of you had only had the past three days together and throughout that, you'd had a soccer match for Jack, a birthday party for one of his friends, and you'd spent Saturday night with the girls; needless to say, it had been tough to get time together for just the two of you. "Was Jack okay?" you ask, turning to Aaron after everyone had finished talking through some of the case details and started to build a preliminary profile on the Unsub. Aaron nods, but your question catches JJ's attention, who looks to you with her eyebrows raised, the puzzled expression on her face imploring you to explain. You're unable to help the smirk that plays at your lips as you do. "We had a - um - staff meeting this morning that Jack wasn't invited to. He wasn't too happy that the door was locked," you explain, biting your lip and barely stifling your giggles. "A staff meeting?" Emily raises her eyebrows at you and you can just imagine the dirty thoughts running through her mind along with the Wow Y/N only soccer moms call getting railed a staff meeting. You meet Aaron's eye and you can see the soft blush to his cheeks that only you would notice. "I simultaneously regret and appreciate my choice of words there," you murmur to him as he shakes his head in amused disapproval. Derek barks out a laugh in reaction to Emily. "Uh huh. Was it a successful meeting?" he asks, wagging his eyebrows at you, toeing the line at ribbing Aaron as well. "I think both parties were pleased with the outcome. At least according to my notes." You turned to look at Aaron, mirth flitting into your gaze. "Would you concur?" He has a small smirk on his face mirroring yours, no doubt thinking back to the fifteen minutes the two of you had caught together before you had to get ready to leave for the airport - once against the aforementioned locked bedroom door and a second in the shower, before you begged him to relent, otherwise you'd be late. He'd been intent on a third. "Some good points were made. However, we might have to do a follow up to ensure we're still aligned," he drawls, getting far too much enjoyment out of the effect his words and low voice would have on you. You lose it at that, unable to keep a straight face. Follow up indeed. "Gross. I feel like I just watched my parents flirting." JJ groans, pushing up from her seat to go rummage around for snacks in the back. She was due anytime now and would be gone on maternity leave starting the following week. She was already mostly out of the field, staying in the precinct and managing the team from there. You knew, that as a result of that, Aaron was actually out in the field a lot more because he trusted JJ to handle the emotions and politics of local officials far better than anyone else. "Morgan, could you check if we're stocked on the M4 ammunition?" Aaron switches gears towards preparing for the landing, a quick brush of his hand to your thigh in promise that there would indeed be a follow up to this morning's activities. Derek nods and gets up, checking on the rifles stock that was brought along. With an Unsub like this, the team would need to be equally equipped to handle any situations that might arise, especially in a sprawling Texas city where guns were aplenty. "Guys," Spencer pipes up, "I don't think I'm actually allowed to use those." He glances around at the rest of the team apprehensively, as Derek and Aaron share a calculated look at his admission. "You're not," they both tell him almost simultaneously, drawing a snort from both you and Emily while Rossi merely smiles and shakes his head, turning his head back to his notes. Reid looks offended and turns on you at that. "Are you certified to shoot those?" His tone implied that he highly doubted you. "I've been shooting since I was six years old," you inform him, a superior look on your face. "I actually set the Academy record for most weapons certifications earned by a trainee." Aaron presses his lips together to keep from smiling while Emily shakes her head with a laugh at you goading Reid. "I didn't know six year olds were allowed to handle guns." "If you're rich in Connecticut, you can do pretty much anything. Just look at the Kennedys." "Touché."

Spencer grumbles to himself a bit more, slouching into his chair. It was his one weak point and he was getting better at it, really. On pretty much everything else, you're sure he'd have you beat.

You turn towards the research you'd been conducting on your own case with Clyde, in your downtime. Things were starting to fit together in an unexpected manner, and you'd had to bend a few rules to start putting all the different pieces in, but you were finally making some headway. It would definitely be faster and easier if you could enlist Garcia's help or bounce ideas off of Aaron, but your hands were unfortunately tied due to the high level of clearance you'd had to obtain to work this case in the first place.

Aaron watches as your head is bent in concentration, his own focus flickering away from the case ahead. You'd only been home for three days but you'd mentioned that your assignment at last had an end in sight. He's hopeful that that means things will be calming down - the two of you would be around one another more again. While Jack had so far done a good job of keeping the secret, he also gave his father a very telling, excited look anytime he saw you, and Aaron could often see Jack's eyes going to your hand where he hoped a ring would soon sit.

*------------*

All of the bodies thus far had been found at the grounds of various places of worship around the city - a few Churches, a Temple, and a Mosque. It would appear most of the actual killings had happened at a different location and the bodies were then moved and left to be found the next morning by unsuspecting worshippers, children, and groundskeepers. The Unsub was an equal opportunity killer - no discrimination in the religious leanings of his victims.

So far the victimology was all over the board - a college student, a local politician, a priest, a housewife, and a video game developer were the five victims so far. It read like the beginnings of a bad joke. A rabbi, a priest, and a horse walk into a bar…

The Unsub had left the bodies of each victim at their chosen place of worship. That, in itself, felt highly personal so there was a chance that the Unsub personally knew each of their victims. This was supported by the methodology - killing the victims from afar was easier on this particular Unsub's constitution.

The team had been spitballing; attempting to establish a connection between the victims. Reid and JJ were working on the geographic profile. Well, Spencer was at least. JJ kept having to leave to go to the restroom every five minutes. In that moment, you definitely did not envy pregnant women. Bearing children wrecked one's body.

The obvious religious themes were all in scope. The theory at the forefront was that each of the victims was being punished for a perceived sin, and Garcia was doing a deeper dive into their finances and online history while the rest of you got to know the families and the victims personally to wrangle out the truth. This was the most difficult part usually - even if someone was an awful person whilst alive, most people became reluctant to speak ill of the dead.

Trusting JJ to handle the centralized headquarters that the team had set up, Aaron left with you to do one set of the interviews. He wanted to speak to the parishioners of the church where the priest had been found, his body jutting out of the confessional booth. You both noted that it was on the opposite side from where the priests would typically sit, symbolically speaking to the fact that the Unsub considered the priest to be a sinner.

"I mean, he's a priest in a Catholic church," you said as the two of you walked up the pathway to the entrance. "The obvious definitely comes to mind."

Aaron agrees with a grimace. Father Patrick had led a youth group and had been doing so for the past decade. There was a high chance the Unsub could be a current or prior victim of sexual assault at his hands. He could also be someone whom a potential victim had confided in, so your suspect list was pretty wide open for the time being.

As suspected, every conversation you had - with church docents and members alike - was highly complimentary to Father Patrick. He was good with the children, kind to the female staff, had a fairly middle ground interpretation of the Bible; an all-around pillar of the community.

"Hopefully Morgan and Prentiss have better luck."

You nod, buckling in your seatbelt and commandeering the music, electing to actually play the White Album for once, drawing a smile from Aaron. He pulls out of the parking space and heads back towards the precinct. You smile to yourself as Aaron's deep voice croons along to Dear Prudence, his fingers tapping along to the beat against the steering wheel while you look out the window at the twilight Texas sky.

*------------*

"So, the girl, Rachel - total know-it-all, not unlike someone else we know…"

Reid glares at Emily as she trails off with a smirk. Her and Derek had gone to do another set of the interviews at the local university and had talked to classmates and professors to learn more about the first victim.

"We all have our suspicions about Father Patrick, but nothing conclusive there. The Councilwoman was taking bribes to block the legislation around the city's free internet policy per Garcia's research. That leaves Mrs. Abad and Ryan Cohen, the designer. We can't tell what their secret might've been, besides some high balances on a credit card for Mrs. Abad."

The team nods at Hotch, confirming his summary of the case so far.

"JJ and I have narrowed down the field to three epicenters across the city." You're surprised that Spencer gave JJ any credit at all for the work they'd done together. JJ had confided in you upon your return, that she'd told Spencer she was going to the bathroom and had instead taken a twenty minute power nap in a supply closet. Her maternity leave could not start soon enough, and you're glad that she's handling this pregnancy in a much more relaxed manner than the first, allowing herself the time off properly.

"Based on the current cadence, we could have another victim in the next couple of days." Rossi looks around the room grimly. You're all well aware that the window to catch the Unsub before another victim materializes is closing quickly. It also usually tends to speed up once the team arrives on the scene. Makes Unsubs nervous. Eager to finish the job faster.

"Would you say Councilwoman Crane was guilty of the sin of greed?" Derek's brow is furrowed, the beginnings of a concrete thought evident in his question.

You nod, encouraging him to continue.

"Pride for the first victim, Rachel."

You agree again, but this time the rest of them are also following along.

"Seven Deadly Sins," Spencer surmises from Derek's trail of crumbs.

"What are all of them?" Emily asks, looking between Derek and Spencer.

Derek shifts from one foot to the other. "Pride, Greed," he lists off, counting with his thumb and index finger.

"Lust, Envy," Aaron supplies, tacking on to the end of Derek's sentence and prompting him to continue the count.

"Gluttony, Wrath, and Sloth," Spencer finishes, turning to write them all down in order on the whiteboard.

The team was finally making some headway.

You stand towards the back of the room looking at the victim board, arms crossed across your chest, leaning against the back wall. "So, let's assume its Lust for Father Patrick. The excessive shopping could be indicative of Envy from Mrs. Abad. You guys did say she lived in a posh neighborhood. Keeping Up With the Joneses lifestyle."

"That leaves Gluttony for Cohen. Kid was pudgy." Rossi had been the one to visit the Medical Examiner, so you all trusted his assessment there.

"They're all in order. Could it be that simple?" Aaron questions, leaned forward in his chair, looking at the board with each of the victims' names listed next to one of the sins.

You contemplate his question as does everyone else. Could it be that simple? An Unsub working down the list of deadly sins, picking out victims that aligned with each one. It would stand to reason, given the working profile - you'd all decided that the Unsub must have an Orthodox religious upbringing, in a militant household.

"Occam's Razor," you answer finally, meeting his eyes, a grim set to your face. This meant there were at least two more victims planned. "The simplest explanation is usually the right one."

*------------*

In the past couple of days, the team had narrowed down the scope of the case, having realized that the Unsub had met all of the victims through various volunteer activities. The working theory was that the Unsub had deemed the victims to all be hypocrites - claiming to be doing charitable works while sinning on the side.

Garcia had cross-referenced volunteer activities between the various places of worship and had come up with charities that all of them supported throughout the city. From there she'd catalogued registered volunteers across all of them, against activities each of the victims attended, however hadn't been able to narrow it down enough.

So, here you were manning the precinct late at night with Aaron, Derek, and Emily. The team was taking it in shifts to see if any missing persons calls came in, with victims fitting into either of the final two remaining sins - Wrath and Sloth. Unfortunately, there were simply far too many options for you to be able to determine who might become the unwitting victim in this Unsub's crusade.

It was calm and quiet, only the whirring of the fan and ambient sounds of the printer filling the silence. The four of you had already eaten and were all nursing hot cups of coffee in order to stay awake in the otherwise empty station. Public statements had been made and hotlines set up in case anyone could provide even a hint as to who the Unsub might be.

Emily was slouched over at the table, her arms cradling her head as another yawn escaped her. Bleary eyed, she looks at you and you weren't much better off, only barely keeping your eyes open, tilting back in your own chair in order to simulate the feeling of tipping over; effectively scaring yourself into staying awake. Derek was seated in front of the laptop, with Garcia on video. The two of them had been playing some game, however it appeared that she'd tired of it, being nearly two hours of a time difference ahead of the rest of you. So now, Derek was just watching her snooze, head bent down to her desk.

You look at Aaron, reading the notes Reid had left behind in order to try and make some sense of everything - uncover something that had slipped through the cracks. His brow is furrowed, head bent in concentration. He'd shed the jacket a while ago and despite the time of year, the Texan climate had forced him to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing delicious swathes of forearm for your perusal. His hands - so large compared to your own, the veins prominent as he flips a page, muscle tensing and flexing as he does. You have to bite your lip to suppress a moan. It was the sleep deprivation. It was getting to you. Yeah, that's it. Not your big, strong boyfriend looking all serious and focused and handsome as he tries to hunt down a serial killer. Nope. Not at all…

You stand up suddenly as your chair tips forward, all four legs finally hitting the ground with a soft crash, cushioned by the carpeted flooring. Loud enough, however, to get Aaron's attention, as he turns to look up at you, the Are you alright? plain to read in his eyes.

"Need fresh air. Gonna go take a walk around the block or something," you explain, shaking your head of the cobwebs that had formed over the course of the past two hours, as the night had slipped into what could better be classified as early morning.

Aaron sets the papers down and turns to Morgan, indicating that he was going to join you. If you thought he was letting you go out alone, at this hour, with a killer on the loose, you were certifiable.

He watches as you slip on your blazer but he doesn't bother with his own. It would be quick and it wasn't too cold anymore. He follows you through the precinct and out the front doors, down the steps, matching your shorter pace easily - he's used to it by now.

"You sure you're alright?" he asks, once the two of you have reached the street. You merely hum tiredly and nod, so he grabs your hand in his, and walks in step with you, turning the corner past the precinct.

It is a little colder outside than it was inside, but his larger hand encompasses yours entirely, making you feel like a child swathed in his warm embrace. The cool air filters through your nostrils, reinvigorating your mind, giving it the jumpstart needed to function once more.

The two of you don't talk as you walk hand in hand down the sidewalk, him walking on the outside as he always does. Only the streetlamps are on, little pockets of light between stretches of darkness. Your mind is at peace. You aren't thinking about this case or your other one. You aren't thinking about any responsibilities and obligations. No worries. Just silent. It's so rare for your mind to be quiet that you relish in it. Allow yourself to bathe in the soundless symphony occupying the chasm in your brain.

As you approach the final turn that will lead you back to the entrance of the station, you find yourself watching Aaron again. He'd been so patient with the entire case with Interpol, despite it taking a toll on him. He'd been pulling double duty - doing all the things he does while also subbing in for everything you're unable to do at home. Him and Jack had sent you a cooking video of the two of them last time you'd been away, as Jack bossed Aaron around in the kitchen and helped him make your chocolate chip cookies for the bake sale at school. You'd sent Aaron detailed instructions, as he'd have to be the one to help Jack brown the butter and ensure he didn't burn himself. You knew he must have been frustrated with the extremely particular list of ingredients you'd sent him, down to the brand of salt flakes (the pièce de résistance of the entire experience)  that got sprinkled on top. Yet, he'd tackled it all with aplomb, not complaining to you even once. Jack had confided in you afterwards that Aaron had had to go to three different stores because the salt flakes were a rare item and not every branch of the nicer grocery store carried them. He'd done it though, and Jack had told you they'd turned out exactly like yours. Even Emily had texted you to validate this, asking if you'd come back without telling her when Aaron had brought a batch in for the team the following day.

Aaron feels a tug on his hand right before the turn. You'd stopped and his hand was still holding yours, forcing him to stop as well. You're stood in the shadows, right between two patches of light, your face immersed in darkness, and before he can say anything, he's lightly pushed against the brick wall exterior of the police station building. He lands with a soft oomph. You lean up against him, pressing yourself along the length of him and going up on your toes - utilizing the entirety of your ballet training - your lips meeting his in a heated kiss. He groans into your mouth, hands wrapping around your hips on instinct alone, tongue tracing your bottom lip before gently nipping at it, taking advantage of your resulting gasp to make his way into your mouth, licking every part of you available to him. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around him and turns to hold you against the wall instead, pressing into the inviting warm juncture of your thighs.

"What brought this on?" he hums, moving from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone.

You shiver at his efforts, a flip in your stomach as you feel the edge of his teeth, followed by the soft bite at the bend of your neck. Unable to answer him, lost in the feeling of his lips and teeth against your skin, your hands mussing through his hair, softly pulling and drawing vibrated groans from him.

At the absence of an answer, he pauses, looking up until he has your full attention, meeting your darkened eyes contrasting against your bashful expression. Your breath hitches when his eyes meet yours. "I love you," you muster with some concentration, soft and blissful, pulling his face back down to meet your sweetly puckered lips once more, drawing him into the cacophonous sea of feeling along with you.

By the time the two of you make it back to the conference room that Derek and Emily were sat in, Emily has stood up, leaning flat against the back wall. Derek has moved as well, taking residence in your old chair, leaning backwards much the same way you had.

"What about you guys?" he asks as you and Aaron enter.

You avoid Emily's knowing look. "What about us?"

"This whole thing - case - heaven and hell. You believe in it?"

"I went the agnostic route," Emily adds, stretching and arching her back like a cat. "If it exists, great. If not, no skin off my back."

Derek looks at the two of you expectantly.

Aaron nods quickly, returning to his old seat, feeling a lot lighter than before. He'd grown up Catholic - heaven and hell were ever-present concepts in his home.

You shrug, grabbing your lukewarm cup of coffee and dropping onto the couch. Your family had been more religious for the sake of appearances and connections rather than any true faith-inspired feelings.

Derek chuckles lightly. "Okay, so if they do exist," he says, turning back to Emily who had sunk down to the floor, seated with her legs stretched out in front of her. "Where you think you're headed?"

"Let me guess, you think you're going to heaven," Emily taunts, a mocking grin on her face.

"I do good, I am good," Derek replies assuredly. "Everything else is up to God. Right, Hotch?"

Aaron breathes out half a laugh along with a raise of his brows, which was about as much agreement Derek could hope for there.

"What about you Princess?"

You look at him, slight roll of your eyes to the ceiling. "Pretty sure patricide rules me out for a ticket to heaven," you respond, your words coated with sardonic dismissal.

Heaven. Hell. What did it even matter when you're dead?

It was a good thing that you hadn't looked at Aaron at that, because if you had, you would've noticed an entirely odd expression on his face at your words - he decides to pin his thoughts for a conversation at a later time. Once the case was wrapped up.

*------------*

"Anything you know could help us identify your husband's killer. Were you able to get a good look at him?"

JJ and Derek are running the interrogation on the latest victim's wife while the rest of the team watches from the other room. The body had been found at the edges of yet another church's grounds, marking it as the sixth victim. However, this time, a witness had emerged. The Unsub had taken Dylan Rogers from his front yard at gunpoint and Ashley Rogers, his wife, had seen it all happen from the living room before calling it in to the precinct.

"She seems tense - her shoulders have been hunched this entire time. Her facial expressions have varied from somber to haunted almost." Reid shifts closer as he profiles Mrs. Rogers, studying her body language.

"Morgan said it seemed like he might have hit her. He saw some bruising when she went to the house to pick her up," Prentiss adds, her voice grave.

Aaron acknowledges both Reid and Prentiss with a nod, his eyes fixed on the interaction taking place in the other room.

"Would fit into the umbrella of Wrath." Rossi mused from beside Aaron. All of you continue to watch while JJ brings in a sketch artist to help Mrs. Rogers construct a likeness of the Unsub.

"It must be killing her - if it's true. Having to help find his killer. Imagine the number of times she must've dreamt of hurting him in the same way he hurt her." All of you turn from Emily back to Mrs. Rogers, thinking on her statement.

"She could've left," Reid reasoned distractedly, his expression casually appraising Mrs. Rogers still for any signs that she might be concealing anything.

You find yourself bristling at that, and you've spoken out before you could stop yourself. "You know, it's funny how whenever we see cases like this. Cases where a man continuously beat up his partner, that's the question on everyone's lips. Why didn't she leave? Why did she stay?"

Reid turns to you, his mouth open and ready to contradict you or apologize, you're unsure, but you continue. "We never ask, why didn't he stop?"

Emily snorts from beside you, her lips pressed tightly together as you both watch Mrs. Rogers working with the sketch artist. She turns to Spencer after a look at you. "Because we accept men as monsters. That is their natural state. Those of them that didn't give in to it - we exalt them. We call them good men. Better men. Because they didn't beat us and hurt us and watch us bleed."

There's a tense silence but this is a sentiment that none of them are unfamiliar with. Reid should've known better.

You see Spencer shift uncomfortably, obviously apologetic for his earlier statement. You shake your head slightly and offer him a small smile, reassuring him that he's alright. This kind of stuff, just hits closer to home for some of you.

Your eyes meet Aaron's and he's looking at you with the question in his eyes that you'd expected as soon as you'd opened your mouth. You shake your head at him too, before turning your gaze back to the front.

Aaron watches you for a beat more, his eyes trained to the side of your face, your unwavering eyes set upon Ashley Rogers and your words swimming in his mind. His eyes had asked the question that he already knew the answer to unfortunately. Yet another reason for him to despise Matthew van Doren's entire existence.

"You know, there was a time I thought he was the love of my life." You all can hear Mrs. Rogers talking to JJ as the sketch artist wraps up. "We had that love - that wake up Sunday morning with pancakes and lose yourself in each other under white sheets kind of love. I don't know when it all went wrong."

*------------*

With the aid of Mrs. Rogers' description, Garcia was able to run a digitally enhanced version of the sketch against all known volunteers who had been at most of the events attended by each of the victims in the weeks prior to their deaths. After that, apprehending the Unsub was just a matter of tying together the identified man to each of the victims directly.

The team was able to prevent the final murder, and while that was of little solace to everyone, there was a tiny part of you that felt happy for Ashley Rogers in all of it. Sometimes the exit route we need arrives in the most unexpected of manners, and it is on us to recognize it and seize it for ourselves. You really hoped that Ashley would claim a new and better destiny for herself.

Since it was late, Aaron was unable to get the jet to fly back the same night, so the team was huddled into a corner of the hotel lounge with drinks in hand. While you're thrilled that you were able to prevent the final victim from being taken, this wasn't the best case the team had worked. You can see it in everyone's eyes, the way they hold their drinks, the hushed whispers contemplating if there was something that would've pointed to him sooner.

You feel bad that you aren't even really thinking about this case anymore. Your mind is preoccupied by the contents of the file you've left upstairs in the hotel room. You nod along to Emily and Derek's conversation, glass of wine held languidly in hand while you mentally collate the work you'd done so far. You know you're contributing nothing to the current conversation, and mercifully both of them have left you to your thoughts. Knowing there's not much chance of you being able to distract yourself tonight, you stand and bid good night to them before walking over to Aaron and Rossi, seated over a chessboard with Reid. They were playing two against one and Reid was still the favored choice to win.

"I'm going to head upstairs." You lean in and whisper softly to Aaron so as to not disrupt the game.

He turns his head to look up, brow furrowed ever so much. It wasn't like you to turn in early when there was a chance to socialize with the team. "I can come with." He grabs his drink as though to finish it, but you stop him with a hand to his shoulder.

"It's alright. Stay." You brush a kiss against his temple before nodding good night to the rest of them, intent on making some progress once you reached the room.

By the time Aaron gets upstairs, it is much later. Reid had won but Rossi had insisted on a rematch. Rossi just wanted to see Reid beat just once, however Aaron was wise to not bring attention to the fact that you've never played him. He knows that Reid has asked you, but you've made up excuses to not play. He'd always wondered about that, and having seen the chessboard in the New York apartment had made him realize that there was actually a good chance that you could beat Reid if you wanted to. Reid was a genius. That fact couldn't be denied. He knew everything about everything. You were different from that. Reid was driven by his pure drive for knowledge - that desire to understand the world around him better. You learned with more purpose, intention - with the need to add knowledge and skills to your toolkit, ready to whip out and be unleashed upon your opponents.

He enters the room just to see you exiting the bathroom, a robe wrapped around your body. He can't help but sigh internally at the sight. His soft, fluffy, perfect little personal teddy bear. He couldn't wait to just crawl into bed, already fearing that you'd be on another flight out the following day.

You acknowledge his presence with a smile, while toweling your hair dry.

"Who won?" There's a crooked smile on your face as you watch him take off his jacket and tie. As if you didn't already know who would win.

"Reid. Rossi wants another rematch on the plane." He shakes his head, walking further into the room. Closer to you.

You laugh softly as Aaron reaches you, looking exhausted from the long week and yet, he seems alright. All in all, this case hadn't been absolutely terrible. "Hasn't he learned his lesson by now?"

"He's a glutton for punishment." He steps forward, grabbing the towel from you and prompting you to turn around as he takes over drying your hair with soft tussles, allowing the cloth to absorb water all the way from root to end.

You hum at his actions, letting yourself to be lulled into the peaceful, floaty state that you always enter whenever he plays with your hair. It just felt too good.

"You should just give in and play him sometime." He knows he's pulling at that little thread there, curious as to how you'll react at him having deduced something you hadn't told him upfront.

You merely chuckle softly, seemingly unsurprised that he'd worked that out for himself. His profiling skills no longer surprise you much, especially when it comes to yourself. He could read you like none other. "We wouldn't want Spencer to cry, now would we?"

Aaron bites his lip, preventing a smile threatening to sneak out at that. It was nice knowing he'd been right about that. He'd have to make you play him at least. He needed to see how good you were for himself.

You turn around, halting his actions. You'd gotten a call from Clyde when you'd gotten upstairs and you were already set to fly out tomorrow on a red eye. You'd booked the ticket, making the necessary upgrades on your own dime.

"Tomorrow?" he guessed, noting the expression on your face when you looked up at him, drawing yourself up on your toes and wrapping your arms  around his neck, the towel slipping from his hands and onto the floor between your feet.

You nod with a sigh, before coaxing him down, and he's quick to meet your lips with his own, knowing the two of now only have tonight. Tomorrow would be spent on the plane and then you'd have to fly out before he'd get even another hour alone with you. His hands instinctively find your waist, drawing you in flush against him. He deepens the kiss when one of your hands moves from his neck to cup his cheeks, thumb brushing over the peaking stubble around his jaw. You hate leaving like this. You can't wait for it to be over. For there to be no more goodbyes layering his touch and yours.

Aaron hugs you closer, wrapping his arms around you fully, the plush robe giving him far more to grab on to. Your lips against his, moving softly, insistently. You break away, struggling to be on your toes for much longer, so he moves, pushing you up onto the desk and coming to stand between your legs as your lips find their place once more against his, this time hands working at the buttons to his shirt as well.

"Wanted to talk to you about something." He breaks away, allowing you to pepper kisses down his jaw and the column of his neck. If the two of you only had today, he didn't want to risk forgetting and having the issue go stale before bringing it up again. He can feel your mouth, sucking, teeth lightly grazing the skin at his collarbone, undoubtedly leaving marks for him to admire afterwards when you were gone. At your hum, he continues relying on your ability to multitask. "Did you mean it, when you said you aren't going to heaven?"

You pause, looking up at him curiously and being reminded of the question Derek had asked. You hadn't realized it had affected Aaron, and yet thinking back on it, of course it had. Your answer had been entirely flippant. He was so serious when it came to things like this. "Yes. I did." Your voice is measured as you answer him, eyeing him carefully to watch his reaction. Even still, his hands have managed past the tie on your robe and his hands are caressing the bare skin of your sides, drawing a soft sigh from your mouth at the sensation. "By any definition of heaven and God and the Bible, murder isn't exactly condoned."

Had this been a few months ago, Aaron knew that this would have been an entirely different conversation. He could appreciate how entirely blunt you're able to be about how you've framed this for yourself. He might not agree with it, but he can appreciate the honesty. "Bible also says an eye for an eye." He raises an eyebrow at you, indicating that he wasn't about to let this go. Not when it came to the matter of your immortal soul. This mattered to him.

A gasp escapes you as his hands travel up your sides more deliberately, causing shivers against your sensitive skin at the feel of his roughly calloused fingers skimming, exploring, claiming. That's what his touch always felt like. A claim.

You try to focus as you think of a response, hands resuming unbuttoning his shirt and undoing the buckle to his belt. You can see he's already hard and as your fingers ghost over the bulge, he exhales sharply, eyes focused on your hands.

Realizing he wasn't getting an answer from you immediately, he helps you out by undoing the button and lowering the zipper on his pants, taking them off as you watch. You're a little confused by the conversation taking place, but you also knew this going into a relationship with Aaron. Like it or not, he was religious. Your family simply hadn't been much. It wasn't the same religious orthodoxy that Aaron had grown up with, at the very least. He wasn't by any means stringent about it, but some beliefs were innate. Good people go to heaven. Bad people go to hell. As far as he was concerned, you were a good person.

"Heaven and hell - I didn't grow up with that. But that whole eye for an eye thing, I don't think that really applies when it comes to taking a life." You help him slip the shirt off of his shoulders as you speak, the material slipping and falling to the ground as well. Aaron actually undoes the tie to your robe this time, pushing the material off of you almost roughly, eager to expose skin that he couldn't wait to taste. His hands move up to cup your breasts, kneading the flesh - the air in the room and his attentions causing your nipples to pucker, teasing him. He's unable to resist bending down and taking one into his mouth, gently sucking as his fingers tweak the other into submission as well, drawing a keening sound from deep within you, distracting you from your train of thought as you're drenched in the warmth of his touch.

You're entirely bare before him as his mouth moves to the other nipple, hands traveling down, grazing over your stomach and down your thighs, causing them to tremble. He pushes your legs apart, letting go of the nipple, his mouth returning to yours with a renewed fervor. His fingers pick up the evidence of your arousal around them, and he caresses your folds, before entering you with two fingers, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing over it as his fingers scissor inside you, locating the spot that has you arching your back, moans escaping you into his mouth.

Aaron releases your mouth so that he can watch you. Your hands scramble for purchase, bunching into the robe beneath you that soaks up your juices as he continues to work you up. Higher and higher. Your breath panting, breasts thrust up as you can feel the orgasm threatening to overtake your body. It only takes another circular motion of his thumb and the ask to Let go by him, for you to go crashing under the waves, your walls pulsing around his fingers. He watches you fall apart, your arms going up to hug against your breasts as you arch and shake and moan for him, his name falling from your lips repeatedly as he continues his machinations against your sensitive bud, intent on drawing it out. He loves to just watch you like this. Begging him to keep going, your breathy voice urging him on, your gorgeous face, mouth falling open - all for him. His beautiful little princess, entirely at his mercy.

He kisses you again as you come down, your earlier conversation entirely wiped from your mind. But not his. Never his. Aaron could focus and keep track of things in amazing order. He hated that you thought you weren't destined for heaven. It shouldn't matter - such an abstract concept and who even knew, really. But in the off chance it did, he didn't want you to think you'd be excluded. You couldn't be.

Your jelly arms and legs wrap around him and he's already worked down his boxers, revealing his thick, hard cock, eager to be buried inside you. He gathers you up in his arms, pulling you to the edge of the desk, before lifting you up and moving the two of you to the bed, managing to drop you onto it sideways, before quickly climbing on top.

You move your hands to card through his hair, watching him, his lovely brown eyes looking down at you, causing a flurry of emotion in your stomach. He leans down and slots his lips against yours once more, allowing you to get lost in the feel of him. You release him with a gasp, finding it difficult to take in air, and he allows you to breathe as he moves and presses a kiss to your shoulder, entering you in one quick thrust. "Genesis 9:5 says, for your lifeblood, I will surely demand an accounting."

What? You couldn't believe him. He was quoting the fucking Bible while buried in you to the hilt.

"Aaron - "

You're cut off as he moves out, the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit, distractingly. Perfectly. Fuck.

He enters you again, harshly, his cock finding that spot inside you as he does. His voice deep and guttural, a groan falling from his mouth as he invades you fully once more. "From each man, I will demand an accounting for the life of his fellow man."

He was still doing it. How could he even remember to quote the Bible right then?! You couldn't even remember your own name.

You don't have the words as Aaron continues, pumping into you, his hand finding your clit to help you reach your peak faster. Neither one of you would last long. You're already a trembling, shuddering mess beneath him, back arched up, feet planted against the mattress for support, your hands traveling and touching any skin of his they could reach.

You can feel his breath hot against your ear, the weight of him on top of you as he ruts his hips against yours, and you can tell he's close. So very close. His hips stutter as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling softly, just enough. "Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed." He was intent on fucking the verse into you. You release a broken cry at the feel of him. At his words. The passionate, gravely quality of his voice. He finishes with a loud groan, spilling into you, his ministrations against your clit paying off, propelling you towards the precipice as well. Your walls squeeze his cock, pulsing, clenching at the feel of his release inside you. He groans again, dropping on top of you, his hand going down and wrapping your thigh around him, pushing himself further into you still.

He lays on you for a moment longer, the only sound in the room being your breath and thudding hearts, beating in sync.

You're entirely drowned in ecstasy, even as you try to grasp onto the threads of the conversation the two of you had been having. You run your fingers through his soft hair, brushing back the sweat from his forehead, not minding the weight of him on you. He was crushing you entirely and you wouldn't exchange that for anything. No death could be better. Sweeter.

He rolls off of you after a few more moments, dropping next to you on his back, his legs dangling off the side of the bed.

You breathe deeply, before flipping over to lay on your back. You can feel the evidence of both of your releases inside you, but you can't be too bothered to care right then. Your hazy mind has managed to remember the conversation, and you turn your head, tucking your arms underneath to support it as you watch Aaron. He's laid on his back, one arm under his head, eyes closed and chest rising and falling, slowly settling into a steady state.

"If I wasn't going to hell for the patricide already, I'm definitely going to hell now for finding that far too hot." Your voice comes out low and whiny, a near whisper being all you could manage.

Aaron releases a breath of a laugh before he turns to settle on his side, drawing his legs up, moving closer so he's right beside you. So you can feel his skin against yours.

You reach out, your hand cupping his face and he leans in all too willingly, kissing you softly, completely. As he pulls back, you can feel his eyes examining you - searching. Trying to figure out what exactly it is that had you so thoroughly convinced that you didn't belong in heaven. Because he knows you and while at the time killing your father had been awful, he knew that you believed it had been right. Otherwise you wouldn't have done it.

"Can we accept the premise that killing your father isn't a dealbreaker?" he asks cautiously, his hand reaches out, settling into the curve of your waist, fingers curling into the skin. "What is it really?"

You blink, moving into his embrace, hands fidgeting slightly. You're nervous and you're sure he can tell. However, you know you need to tell him. Tell someone. If anyone should know, it's him. You lick your lips and sigh, looking up into his darkened eyes. "You've met my father. If you had to profile him, how would you do it?" Your voice is quiet, timid, unsure.

Your question is met by some apprehension. Aaron isn't certain, however he hesitantly answers you. "Control freak. Narcissist with a God complex."

You nod at his blunt assessment. "Did you ever wonder why my father - why he let me get away with so much?"

He hadn't.

"I broke off an exceptionally advantageous engagement. He did nothing. I cashed out my trust fund and ran away - slutting it up - " He flinches. " - on the cover of every trashy editorial. Crickets. I joined the FBI and he tried to take me out for dinner. Does he seem like the kind of man that tolerates that kind of insubordination?"

Aaron realizes that he should've thought about these questions. He should've thought to protect you from this back then. It was a miss. Especially after finding out what he had about Julian's death. And yet, there had never been anything in your father's interactions with you to suggest that he would do anything to truly harm you. Despite your fear of him.

"Do you remember what you wrote - in my recommendation letter to McKinney?" you murmured, your face right against his. If he moved a millimeter closer you'd be able to feel your nose against his.

Aaron watches you, his brow furrowing, wondering where exactly this was headed. He nods. He remembers. Your skin under his hands is starting to develop goosebumps. Without a word, he grabs you, shifting and maneuvering so that the two of you are laid together, heads at the headboard finally. He pulls at the blankets, draping them over you both and draws you back against him.

You place a quick kiss to his chest in thanks, fingers brushing over the scars that have persisted. Over time, he's become a lot more comfortable having his shirt off around you. It's still not something he will do in public, but around you, he feels comfortable enough. After all, you'd seen them back when they had been much worse.

He nods at you to continue. He has a need to know now. He has to know.

"The night that Matthew proposed to me, Julian and I got into a huge fight," you confess, legs tangling with his as your fingers trace the mapping of lines down his chest and stomach. "He revealed to me that my father - that the proposal was orchestrated. That it was part of some deal between our fathers. That - ." Your voice breaks and Aaron is quick to run his hands soothingly down your back, whispering soft encouragement in your ears, his lips following your hairline. You sniffle and continue on. "He told me that our father gave me away. Without asking. Without talking to me about it. He sold me."

It's Aaron who is lost for words this time. Out of all things, this - this he could not possibly have prepared for. All things considered, you're holding up remarkably, while his mind reels, putting everything he knows about Matthew into context with this new piece of information. He's struck by a tornado of anger towards your father. How dare that man - that awful, cruel man, treat you like property? To be traded and sold at his whims as if you weren't a fully fledged human being of your own.

You find yourself rubbing your hands up and down Aaron's arms, knowing that he must be processing everything all at once. You've had nearly a decade to deal with it and it still feels overwhelming at times.

"I didn't want to believe it, but it made sense."

Aaron opens his mouth to speak - to say something helpful but no words come. You shake your head, reassuring him that it was alright. He needn't say anything.

"So, I woke him up. We talked. I told him I wasn't about to waste my life - being the perfect daughter and the perfect wife. I couldn't."

He nods. He expected nothing less. You weren't some trophy wife.

"Matthew didn't want me to work after we got married. But I wanted something to work towards. Something that would be mine.  It wasn't fair that just because Dominic was the eldest son - that he would get it all. Everything. The entire empire. It was the one thing Matthew could never deny me. He wouldn't have dared."

Aaron's eyes widen as the realization begins to sink in. He takes in your gaze - blazing with renewed fire and fury at the situation you'd been in. The fervor within to escape, be your own person within the confines of the life you were in.

"My father - he fought me on it. Because the thing is, sons inherit the earth. Sons and not daughters." You take a deep breath, watching Aaron who appears to have followed along marvelously, because you can tell that he knows exactly what you're trying to say now.

"I showed him, however -- " You nod your head shakily "-- how I had built connections with all the right people. How I was smarter, would work harder, be better than anyone else he could possibly hope for to fill his shoes."

"You'd take over." His voice is low and the words feel reluctant on his tongue. Resigned despite the truth of them.

You nod. There it was - it was finally out there. Your worst secret that no one else had ever known. This secret had gone to the grave with your father. You hadn't even told John, knowing how disappointed he would've been in you - especially so soon after Julian's passing.

Aaron looks at you, taking in the guilt behind your eyes, the fear at revealing this to him. He knows too, that you're right. That if you had applied yourself to that, even half as well as you did to your job, you would've done it brutally well.

"That's why you think you aren't going to heaven," he concludes, his hands still rubbing up and down your back. He can feel your heart beating rapidly against his chest. It wasn't killing your father. It was this. "Sweetheart, you didn't do it, though. You didn't."

"I would've," you argue. "If Uncle Robert hadn't told me, even with Julian dead, I would've. I signed up for all of it Aaron. He trained me. He groomed me. Those things that you wrote in your letter to McKinney - all about how I'm adept at reading people. Because I can manipulate anyone into doing anything I want. He taught me how to do that. That I have an aptitude for navigating politically nuanced situations - because he showed me how to get close to the people that really matter. That I am exceptional at tactical planning - because from that day onwards, he planned out my entire life. And I let him. I helped him. Everything I did, anyone I spoke to, was all part of it. Part of his plans. So when I left, he wasn't ready to let go. He wasn't ready to waste his investment in me." The words leave you like a storm - evidence in the case you'd been building against yourself, carved from marble and sitting heavy against your heart for the past decade. You hated how much of him you saw in yourself.

You're breathing really hard and there are tears clinging to your lashes as Aaron continues to hold you, pulling you in even closer, if that were possible. He couldn't even imagine how long you'd carried this with you. Nearly a decade of guilt and for what? For something you hadn't even carried through with.

"You didn't actually do it," he repeats himself, brushing his lips against your forehead, knowing that right then that's what you need. All the reassurance that he doesn't see you any differently. That he never could. Especially not for this.

"Aaron, I would've been someone the Bureau goes after. Someone you'd have gone after. But the difference is, I would've never been caught."

Again, he knows you're right. Aaron isn't even surprised really at your entire confession - it stood to reason that you'd want the keys to the kingdom. From what he knew of you and your siblings, you really would be the person who was most capable, despite the dubious nature of the job. He's not naïve enough to think you couldn't have done it if you wanted to. You would've been exceptional at it. But you didn't. Given the chance today, you wouldn't. For him, that's what mattered.

He brushes the hair out of your face tenderly, sweeping away all the wisps and baby hairs, holding your face in his hands. "You need to forgive yourself, Y/N. You need to realize that there is a difference between signing up for something and actually doing it. What you actually did, that's what matters. Regardless of the circumstances. That's what truly happened."

You're quiet, so he holds you. He can feel the tears trickling down your face, onto his chest as you bury your head into him once more.

It was an upheaval, telling him all of this. It's Aaron - and despite everything awful that you've revealed just then, he's being kind, compassionate, and understanding. You just told him that you'd essentially signed up to do every evil job known to mankind and he was comforting you. Making sure that you wouldn't beat yourself up. That you forgave yourself. He didn't even - it was as if it didn't even matter to him. How could it not, though? How could it not claw at him, being tangled up with someone he knows to be entrenched in evil?

"You are a good person, Y/N. A wonderful person. This - this one thing doesn't define you. Being good is a series of decisions and choices in that direction. One thing doesn't derail it entirely. That's what amends are for. What forgiveness is for. To show us that no matter what, we always have a chance." Aaron could only hope that you saw yourself the way he saw you. As someone who tried to be good. As someone who was good, through trying alone.

You want to believe him. You do. It sounds peaceful. But how do you know if you've made enough amends? How do you know if you've done enough?

He knows you're struggling to believe him. He wants to convince you, paint it into your skin, emblazon it onto your soul in a manner so unmistakable that you'd never question it again. You're a good person. He needs you to believe it. Desperately.

Aaron tilts your face up by your chin, his lips meeting yours intensely. "You are a wonderfully good person, Y/N" His whisper falls against your lips, forcing you to swallow in his words. Breathe them in. Taste them. Let them settle into your stomach.

He places another kiss to the turn of your neck, tongue peaking out to lick at mark he'd left earlier, soothing over it. "You're a hero. You save people." He will make you believe it.

You watch in awe as he shifts, placing another kiss to the swell of your breasts. "You take such good care of me and Jack." He will make you believe that you're the good he sees in life. Through all the horrors he sees day in and day out, he looks to you and he sees goodness and purity, laughter and joy.

You can feel the tears welling up again in your eyes, for an entirely different reason as you watch him. Watch this man, make his way down the length of your body, reminding you that you conquer monsters for a living. Remind you that you took down your father and in turn prevented him from doing more evil. Impress upon you the importance of everything you've accomplished since then - all the people you've saved, all the happiness you've brought, all the people you've loved.

You can't help but press yourself to him. Closer to him. Because his touch is the forgiveness you can never seem to give yourself. His touch is pure. His touch is good. It is divinity itself. Maybe if he touched you enough, it could make up for it all. Letting his essence cover up everything that came before.

Aaron draws up on his haunches, having just kissed your clit, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. You taste like what he imagines sunshine might taste like. He moves you up with him, into his lap and waits until you've met his mouth of your own volition, before pulling you down onto his cock, seating you fully against him.

You can taste yourself on his lips. You can feel him inside you so entirely, consumingly, fully. He clutches onto you, the drag of him inside you so powerful and potent, the bubbling euphoria encasing you. Your arms curl around his shoulders, fingers in his hair, as his wrap around your hips, helping you ride his cock exquisitely. Vastly, painstakingly slow.

Aaron watches you in his lap, taking him in - his. Mine. Mine. Mine. A chant on repeat in his brain as your wet, velvety walls grip him like a vice. Your beautiful pink lips parted ever so slightly, eyes half lidded. In his lap, against his body, taking his cock. This - this was goodness. You were the source of all pleasure, delight, and happiness that he feels. If that is not goodness, then what is? If the God he calls God didn't recognize you as such, then what kind of God was he? Because he would gladly worship at your altar instead, if need be.

His hands grip you excruciatingly tight against him, unwilling to leave even the semblance of room between the two of you. It was as though he began where you ended and you ended where he began. "I don't care if you believe you're going to heaven or not," he declares, watching you take him. "I'm going to believe it enough for the both of us."

Before you can say anything in response, he draws your attention downwards, forcing you to watch. Watch as he exits you, wet and shiny, drenched in your arousal. Watch as he brings you back down, entering you immeasurably slowly and causing you to clench and flutter around him. His.

You look back up, meeting his warm brown eyes, shining with love and compassion and the utmost respect. Everything that made you fall in love with this man. You watch as he pushes into you, moves you just so - so as to perfectly hit that spot inside you. You tilt your head back on a moan, your body shuddering and your back arching once more, pushing you closer and closer against him. When you return to face him, he looks at you. His eyes fixed on you. That look on his face, was nothing short of reverent.  

You come achingly fast, teeth sinking into his shoulder as you shudder around him, taking in his release. He continues through it, pushing his cum back into you in the process, keeping it there, mingling with both of your earlier release.

You're entirely weak as you sit in the cradle of his arms, balancing on his thighs. Your mind is far away and present at once. Present only in him - his touch, his feel, his lips, his words - surrounding you thoroughly.

You are both unhurried in your movements as you clean up together, no need or desire to speak further, content in the silence of one another.

Aaron cleans up the bed, making sure there are fresh sheets, as he watches your tired body put on the small slip you'd left out earlier. Your hair was wet again and he grabs a fresh towel, drying it once more as you lean against him, unable to stand on your own for much longer, your body still sore. He can see the marks he'd left behind blooming and he takes extra care as he urges you towards the freshly made bed. You slip in to your side as he lifts the duvet, quickly climbing in beside you and tucking the two of you into the covers - swaddling your body against his own. He places a gentle kiss to your lips, murmuring his love against them, the echo of his words reverberating against them. You fall asleep first, entirely spent, physically and emotionally. With any luck you'll enter a deep, dreamless sleep. He can hear your steady and even breaths paralleled with the slow rise and fall of your chest, persuading him to join you in slumber.

Even if you didn't go to heaven - if for some God forsaken reason you were denied entrance - he'd willingly, gladly, go to hell with you.

With that final thought, he gives in to the call of your warmth and the sound of your breaths, allowing himself to be drawn into sleep beside you.

[nameless-shrimp]

heyo shrimpy!! sorry for the late response,, i got busy with exams lolol first, how are you today? :D Is anything good happening to you? enjoy your vacation btw, i hope you have a lot of fun! ^^ second, hmm finding your artstyle? that sounds even more challenging than improving for me, ngl hh- I don't know why but reading your answer made me think of a chibi dazai eating a nice burger... sounds cute,, I'm sure your drawing turned out amazing :D it's always a bliss noticing your art getting better, makes me want to draw more ^^ somehow, you drawing in a cuter art style makes you more adorable,, lovely doodles filling the empty pages,,,,

imagine dazai catching you doodling him with cute little hearts around the page,, and as his lips curved upwards a mild shade of pink dusts his cheeks, admiring you a little bit more before walking towards you quietly, wrapping his arms around your neck from behind. your frame stilled against his loving embrace, the pencil in your hand dropping on the concrete desk, your lover's lips close to your ears... his warm breath hit the back of your ear, kissing it in the process.

"I didn't know you drew me so much, gioia mia~¹" his sweet, teasing voice gently made its way into your eardrum, with you shivering afterward. his soft, umber locks brushed against your tender skin, the warm temperature his body radiated comforting you. your cheeks were probably red by now, and you were certain he already noticed. after all, when does he not?

clearing your throat, you comfortably positioned yourself, closing your eyelids slowly before speaking.

"u-uh, yeah. I, uhm-"

"and they're so well done, my darling! I assumed you were an artist since you always brought a notebook and pencil with you, even in our workplace, but I didn't expect you to draw me... I am flattered, my belladonna~ your artstyle mirrors the way you are... cute!~" your brain couldn't take in his words, and yours were stuck in your throat. all that was left was a stuttering mess whilst you shakingly turned around, with your lover chuckling at your adorable reaction.

dazai could now definitely see how your cheeks gained color, the redness painting them well. noticing your alerted gaze and trembling, he raised his hand to hold your warm cheek, caressing it with his thumb. although your quivering didn't cease, he took a note of how your eyes widened for a second before calming again. his smile broadened as you leaned into his touch, your timid orbs avoiding his loving ones. unfortunately for you, he had other ideas in mind.

and so, he leaned closer.

your eyes snapped back at him, his nose almost touching yours. a small gasp escaped you as you attempted to form a sentence, but failed to do so. the man in front of you only beamed at your reaction, his heart melting at how adorable and lovely you were. he was truly fortunate to have a loving, caring, understanding partner such as you.

he really loved you and cherished you with all of his soul.

"osamu! y-you're-" and before you could say anything else, the brunette gave you one last loving look before closing his eyes...

and placed his lips against yours.

your eyes bulged out from your sockets as a small shriek left your throat, but was immediately muted by your beloved's kiss. your flustered state couldn't comprehend what was happening, but the warmth of your chest was so overwhelming, you couldn't help but hastily press your lips back against his, tightly closing your eyelids to enjoy the moment more...

smirking, dazai stopped for a brief moment while you whined in protest, but he quickly soothed you while shifting his hands to grip your chair, gently twisting it around. you opened your eyes again to understand what he was doing... and regretted it as soon as you saw his smug look, while he caged you between him and your chair. you glanced around stunned, the dulcet shade of rosé overlapping your already flustered profile. shakingly, you looked up and met his calmer and haughty orbs again, making you gulp as your heart rammed in your chest.

his smooth, defined face was all you could see, and if it wasn't for your panicking mind, you were sure you could observe him for hours. you felt so open under his narrow, shadowy, russet orbs as if you were an interesting book he was very invested in. that fierce, intense way he observed you with, only made you shyer, and you shrank on your chair... which wasn't the best move, you thought, since he cornered you more than before, and all you could do was watch him from below, too red to do or say anything.

his low chuckle reverberated through the room, and a small drop of sweat rushed down your embarrassed face as he towered over you, devouring all of your sweet, lovable expressions. his smirk widened as your pupils shrank, bending down to your level once more. he tremendously wanted to pick you up and place you on the king-sized bed, while you desperately clung onto him and whispered his name, trying to evade his all-seeing gaze... but held himself back to tease you more.

after all, you looked so delicious right now...

"o-osamu..." your needy, wobbly voice brought him back from his little daydream, shaking off any other thoughts he had in mind... all that mattered now was you. humming, he got closer to you, both of your faces millimeters away. if he was trying to kill you, he was doing a great job at it. the smile never left his mouth, and you could feel the confidence seeping through him... his breath hit your lips as he exhaled making you freeze on the spot.

"hmmm? what is it, my dear? do you perhaps need something?" he asked, already knowing what you wanted and needed. but hearing you spell it out for him... it was a bliss.

you nervously exhaled, feeling the warmth in your cheeks rise as if you weren't blushing enough. not brave at all to face him head-on, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, looking down as you did so. dazai screamed internally at the cuteness with all the courage you had, you shyly told him...

"p-please osamu, i-i need you..." and that was all he needed. chuckling, he stared at you with a wolfish grin, pleased to hear those words coming out of your lips.

"then... let me take care of you, amore mio~²"

your sketchbook was long forgotten that night, but dazai did make you "sing" some sweet songs for him...

¹ = means my joy in Italian, the ask from Sofi sparked something within me 😶 dazai giving you Italian pet names sounds perfect-

² = my love, once again, in Italian- hh

okay i got too carried away ���� ANYWAY THANKS FOR NOT READING THE ONE I SENT BEFORE HH SORRY AGAIN, PLEASE ENJOY YOUR DAY AND KEEP ON DRAWING UR ART CUTE AF

first of all, my vacation is going well! i enjoyed going out and riding some rides, plus took a nice shower and now i am relaxing in my bed, hehe.

second, it's truly a bliss to see my own artwork improve over time! it makes me extremely happy. also, i love the idea of dazai eating a burger, that's adorable. i have been wanting to doodle dazai a lot lately; probably cause he's just so adorable to me and he's absolutely breathtaking, hehe. it's nice to fill up the empty pages and just letting your mind flow as you draw.

third... OH MY GOD. READING ALL THAT WHEN I WAS IN LINE FOR MY RIDE MADE ME SO FLUSTERED UNDERNEATH MY MASK. AND REREADING IT ALL OVER AGAIN MAKES ME SO ASFJFSOXMSK 😳🥺💘 it was so, so sweet of you to write all that! please, dazai speaking pet names in another language truly sounds like him. not to mention, the fact that he was so flirty and he's such a tease from how you portrayed him, my heart is fluttering. and the very end though. oh my. 🥰🙈 goodness that really made me so blushy, hahaha.

thank you for taking your time to write that. it always warms my heart to read these and wow, omg, you just really wanted to fluster me today, did you? ASHFIAOZNA thank you so much for this. my heart... i have no words. it just made my day so much better too, haha. bless your kind soul, i loved reading it all 😭🤍

[snlhostharry]

to be determined / one

harry styles x reader friends with benefits au

soon after moving to new york, you meet harry styles at a party. you convince yourself that there’s nothing between the two of you until it becomes too intense to ignore. if you keep telling yourself that he doesn’t mean anything to you, does that make it true?

a/n: hi everyone! welcome to my first harry styles series. This originally started as a challenge for myself to try and write a harry fic inspired by taylor swift songs so that’s where the chapter titles come from, it’s kind of become something bigger than that but I figured I would keep the theme anyway 

chapter 1: welcome to new york

The story starts in New York City. 

A place written about in countless stories, about love, about heartbreak, about giving up, about standing tall, and about putting broken hearts into drawers and slamming them shut. It’s easy to say that writing another story about New York is beating a dead horse, throwing characters into the same tired old setting and letting them live out the writer's wildest daydream. But it’s never been about the city itself, it’s always been about the people. Something about the city always manages to be the perfect stomping ground for people, for characters to find each other in a  whirlwind of A list parties and harsh billboard lights. 

Speaking of which you are suddenly very sick of said harsh billboard lights in the middle of times square. As someone who has read (and written) countless articles describing times square as a flurry of activity but also with some kind of inherent magical appeal, the center of everything it’s own small utopia, you know that everyone who wrote that had to be aware of their own bullshit. It’s a nuanced way of tourist trapping, smart, albeit annoying on a variety of levels. A gimmick to get wide eyed little girls to stand in the middle of chaos and think that maybe they could carve out a place for themselves here. 

You’re not trying to carve out a place for yourself, you’re trying to get to a stupid party. That and manage to not get any mud or other stains on this very nice dress you’re wearing. After what seems like forever of looking around and then suddenly looking back down at your phone just in case anyone wanted to even try to make eye contact with you, familiar faces appear out of the sea of people. 

You greet them with a look of disappointment, “Two questions: why did you want to meet here-” a tourist elbows there way past you mid sentence, inadvertently proving your point, “-and why aren’t we just taking an uber?” 

Molly, a tall black woman with objectively perfect hair (which is somehow gorgeous at all times), smiles and pats your shoulder like a kindergarten teacher, “I thought you would want to see Times Square.”

“I’ve seen it,” You shoot back, squinting again at the bright light coming from directly behind her head, and adjusting your jacket over your shoulders. 

She squeezes your shoulder quickly, “And also to teach you that any time someone asks you to meet them in Times Square  they’re fucking with you.”

“I figured you were fucking with me,” You tell her, “But thank you, god forbid the midwestern girl gets lost in Times Square waiting for someone to meet her who is obviously not coming.” 

Molly laughs, and so do you. She looks down at her phone briefly, and then back at you, “To answer your question, why would anyone ever try to get an uber in the city at seven?” 

You shrug, “What kind of self respecting party starts at eight?” 

Fletcher, who’s name admittedly sounds like it should belong to anyone but him, finally stops staring at the large elmo mascot a few feet away and jumps into the conversation. “The kind with an age range, twenty somethings to late thirty somethings, who no longer have the energy to go from nine to six am.” 

You sigh, “So boring then or-?”

“It��s about networking,” Molly says, “And also drinking, but mostly networking.” 

“One of those unique business opportunities where you get free food, and possibly run into celebrities, singers mostly.” 

You roll your eyes, “Wow you had me at various singers.” 

“Says the woman who did an interview series with Tik Tok kids who all live in the same house,” Molly snips, half joking. 

You shiver, half from the memories of that objectively terrible experience and half from a sudden breeze. Needless to say a significant portion of the reason why you’d left LA, was because their entertainment section was suddenly drifting away from profiles on actors and towards compilations of one minute videos made by sun tanned twenty somethings that somehow made them millions a year. That and after you’d spent two weeks semi living with ten of said twenty somethings for a story that had gotten a lot of buzz you never wanted to see anyone connected to the app ever again. 

You give Molly your best ‘I’ll kill you’ smile, “You have to decide what you’re going to make fun of me for, is it the midwestern thing or is it the Tik Tok thing because one of those involves you admitting that I lived in Los Angeles for a year which means I’m perfectly capable of handling Times Square in all of it’s elmo public urinating glory.” 

Fletcher looks again at the mascot who is not in fact publicly urinating, but honestly if it did suddenly start none of you would be surprised. 

Molly looks at you for a second and says, “Both,” She looks at Fletcher. 

He looks at you then back and Molly and nods, “Yeah. Both.” 

You roll your eyes, “So can we get going now or-?” 

The ride to the location Molly had all but refused to tell you was filled with talks of the impending deadlines on Monday for pieces that were anywhere from fifty to seventy percent finished. (your’s is at the lower end of the spectrum because there is only so much one person can write about an art installation that you found less insightful and more literal in the sense that the sculpture was literally just large amounts of clay pressed together in something that shouldn’t even be considered a shape with no metaphor or meaning behind it). 

Soon enough you’re standing in what looks like mostly a residential neighborhood, with one precariously nice building in the middle of the block. You turn to Molly, “What the-?” 

“Don’t finish that, just be patient,“ She interrupts as a response. “You are very impatient, you know that?”

“I’m a journalist,” You say, “I need to know all of the facts, including what the-” You take a breath, “-heck we’re doing in the middle of a nice little neighborhood, I was expecting something more Gossip Girland Brooklyn Nine-Nine.” 

“You’re definition of journalist is a lot looser than mine,” Molly says.

“Have you ever watched Gossip Girl? And isn’t Brooklyn Nine-Nine set in a precinct?” Fletcher adds. 

“No, and Jake and Amy live in an apartment.” 

“Beyond the fact that you’re a TV writer who has never watched Gossip Girl-” Fletcher sighs, even though you know he hasn’t watched it either beyond random snippets for a hit piece he wrote on it a few months back (not received well by the way), “The top floor of that building-” He points to the precariously nice building, “isn’t apartments its a loft, the floor is huge and only one house.” 

You squint your eyes, “You’re kidding.”

“And the rest are offices?” 

“How did they get zoning for that?” 

They both shrug at the same time. 

“Guys I want to know that if the police bust up this party, speaking of loose terms, I’m going to say that you dragged me here against my will.” 

“I always knew you had good survival instincts.” 

Molly turns to you, “Look when you’re getting special press access to the inside of the met gala you will be saying thank you Molly for bringing me here to catapult my career.” 

“I have catapulted my own career thank you, the Tik Tok thing-” You shake your head, “Nevermind can we go in and stop loitering, then we’ll really get arrested.” 

Party is a loose term but you learn that's not necessarily a bad thing. It’s not a rager with strobe lights and pumping bass but there is music playing albeit classical. People mill around at tables talking to one another, both twenty somethings and thirty somethings, you recognize a few faces from the media mostly. Fletcher was right about the food, and Molly was right about the drinks. You talk to a few people just to introduce yourself, a couple of them have heard of you, if only because your sudden cross country move to newspapers that aren’t necessarily competitors but might have a bit of a rivalry was something that people talked about. You’d made a couple thirty under thirty lists (no not the Forbes one) while in LA, which meant nothing to you if you were being completely honest but apparently meant things to other people which is fine.

When you’re finally exhausted at putting on a smile and nodding like you’re actively engaged in conversation and not thinking about something completely you hang out by the bar, not even drinking, just watching the room and all of the people there. You never wanted to get a reputation for being the quiet girl in the corner who just watched and listened because those kinds of people are always seen as weird or doormats or both but if you’re being honest this is where you’re the most comfortable. Making small talk just to get some opportunity down the road has never quite been your style. 

You turn to go and find Molly when you suddenly come face to face with someone you recognise right away. 

In that moment you realize that Taylor Swift was in fact onto something when she said, “Didn’t you flash your green eyes at me?” As weird as it is, the first thing you think when you meet Harry Styles is how that song is definitely about him, because those green eyes are striking and they are staring right at you. 

“Hi,” He says, quick to the draw. 

You take a step back just because of how close you are and say, “Hello.” 

He looks at you like he’s thinking about something, and then holds out his hand, “Harry.” 

“y/n,” You shake his hand. You recover from your initial shock quickly, and plaster on that fake conversation smile again, ready for whatever it is he wants to say, if anything. You came here to ‘network’ and you’re not sure what kind of advantage talking to Harry Styles could possibly give you, but for some reason you want to talk to him. 

“What brings you here?” He asks you. 

“My co-workers,” You shrug, “I would much rather be at home watching Succession on HBO and listening to the Beatles on my record player, like true people of culture would.”

He looks at you for a second, as you try to keep a straight face. Then he laughs, “Seriously?”

“Fuck no,” You say, “That’s my impression of the girl who meets Harry Styles at a party and has to convince him that she is not like all the other girls, she is the one for him.” You smile, “Was that good? Or should I try again?” 

He thinks about it, “I think you should try again.” 

“Because you think it’s wrong or because you think I’m funny?”

“What do you think?”

“Well if you think I’m funny, then I’ve already won, I’ve tricked you into thinking that I’m not like all the other girls with reverse psychology .”

“Are you screwing with me?”

“Of course I’m screwing with you,” You take a sip of your drink. “If I were home right now I would be playing Lizzo on my record player, and drinking something with a medically unsafe level of caffeine.” You pause, “What brings you here?” 

“Honestly,” He looks out over the room, “I thought that this was going to be a much cooler party. Instead it’s just a bunch of reporters, and editors and media people.” 

“Who are inherent mood killers?” You ask. 

He narrows his eyes at you, “Am I allowed to say yes to that?” 

“You can do whatever you want,” You tease him, “You’re Harry Styles, who am I to tell you what to say?” 

“I feel like it was a trick question, which means that you are also a reporter.” 

You laugh again, “That was funny, I’m going to write that down for my story. ‘Harry is genuinely funny which he tries to use to make up for the lack of small talk abilities’.”

“You’re screwing with me again.” 

“Of course I am,” You say, “I work in the arts section of the Times, well not the actual art anymore but the movies and television.” 

“TV critic?” He says, “So you’re harsh.” 

“TV critics are just harsh for attention, I don’t need to be because no movie snob or well meaning director is going to go to the Times to see what we thought of any given movie. I write honestly, sometimes under the influence of caffeine and try to contain my excitement at narratively unnecessary plot twists.” You explain, “That and I get paid to watch TV, and usually private screenings of movies.” 

He leans against the bar a sign that he doesn’t plan on moving anytime soon. You’re not going to say that you’re so awestruck by a celebrity that you have no idea what to say, or that he’s intimidating you but your hand shakes just a little as you clutch your fingers around the glass because he’s objectively attractive. Objectively attractive in the way that if he were on a dating app you would swipe yes and then put a lot of pressure on yourself to be funny and relatable even though you know that you don’t need him. 

“What did you think of Dunkirk?” 

“Oh!” You forgot that he acted, “That was before my time. I was working at the LA Times doing the music section then I think.” You know what he’s going to say next, “And before you ask yes there is a piece still posted of me reviewing your debut album. I think I reached out to get an interview with you, but I was suspiciously declined.” He looks embarrassed, “I was like under five years out of college I would’ve declined me too. They only gave me the story because it was the time where people weren’t sure that ex boyband members could make objectively good albums that meant something.” 

He tilts his head to the side for a second, “And? Can they?”

“I’m in no place to make a generalization,” You say, “But I think you did. Admittedly that album was something, very intimate.” 

“I don’t know if I should be taking that as a compliment.”

“I don’t want to give you a compliment because some people have a hard time with them, and this will get very awkward very fast. No shame, personally I have no mechanism to take compliments on my writing.” 

He laughs, “I think I can take it.” 

“Hmm.. okay,” You take another step back, “Okay are you sure you're ready?” 

“Yes.” 

“I think the entire album was very good, very unexpectedly good or at least I didn’t expect it to be. It was very open in that way that songs are vulnerable but still leave enough mystery that your fans don’t think you're a shitty person and I really like meet me in the hallway,” You say quickly, “In fact I listened to it just yesterday when I was working.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and then fake sighs, “See I don’t think that counts because it was more of a backhanded compliment.” 

“What?”

“You said you didn’t expect it to be good, that’s not really a compliment then-”

“I was saying it pleasantly surprised me,” You say, throwing your hands in the air in mock annoyance. “You surprise me, Harry.” He doesn’t say anything, and for a minute neither do you, but you snap back to life just in time to say, “Is that compliment enough to embarrass you?” 

He shrugs, but you know he’s messing with you. “It’s something but I don’t know if it’s really doing it for me.” 

“You are impossible, just another out of touch celebrity, is nothing ever good enough for you people?” It’s by now that you realize that you inadvertently closed the gap between the two of you, and you’re standing very close. 

He seems to realize this at the same time as you, “I-”

“Are you going to ask me to have sex with you?” You deadpan. 

“What?” He looks offended for a second, “No.” 

“I had to ask,” You tell him, “It’s happened before.” 

“I was going to ask you for your number.”

“See usually when a guy asks me that they’re asking so-” 

“It’s not for that.” 

“Then what’s it for?” 

He looks at you with something in his eyes that you don’t know the meaning of, “In case you want to do an interview, so that they don’t reject you this time.” 

You know that’s not it, but you give it to him anyway because he’s Harry Styles (which yes is not a valid reason but this ‘party’ is very boring and this is the most interesting thing to happen to you in at least the past week). It takes you a minute to remember which one is your real number and which one is the fake number you give off if a guy is asking because he wants a booty call, but you eventually give it to him. Then you scurry off with a quick goodbye when you realize how late it is, and how you do have work to do. There’s a new episode of Big Little Lies out tomorrow and you don’t understand why but people are very into the show, and very into your episode recaps. 

You corner Molly away from some guy you think might have actually been able to get her press access to the Met Gala and remind her that she also has a deadline tomorrow. The two of you go off to look for Fletcher and find him very close to sealing the deal with an objectively pretty girl, but you politely remind him that he has work to do and is very busy. The girl looks sad but let’s him go without much whining. You would’ve understood if she tried to get him to stay with her, he’s a little bit shorter than Molly but to be fair Molly is above averagely tall, and is nice and fit and has brown curly hair which you know from personal experience is sometimes just kryptonite. (you’ve kissed Fletcher before, long story, and can also say he’s on your top list of good kissers as well right up there with a guy you hooked up with in LA only to realize later that he was Robert Pattinson). 

Somehow the three of you are only able to make it back to your apartment. So the night ends with Molly and Fletcher in the living room on the couch and in a sleeping bag respectively, and you are comfortably in your bed. Your phone sits on your nightstand, suspiciously silent. You’re not waiting for Harry Styles to call you, nope, definitely not. 

[tim-burton-bitch]

Tw: pre-romantic prinxiety, breakdowns, crying, semi-shitty writing, I think cursing this has been sitting in google for a while I wrote this back in like early November at 3 am let me know if there's any others oh and FWSA spoilers

This was written at like 3am and follows a headcanon of Roman having synesthesia in which he paints and describes sounds as imagery and an idea from a comic (unsure who wrote it) where Janus never actually told the dark sides his name this is hurt/comfort right after SvS Redux this also follows the fact Virgil is CENTER BRAIN FIGHT OR FLIGHT IS THE AMYGDALA GUYS CAN SOMEONE ELSE PLEASE DO CENTER BRAIN VIRGIL CONTENT I'M STARVED OF IT anyways and my headcanon that he is also in charge of things that either trigger anxiety or are triggered by anxiety such as depression and neuro-diversity my take on the purple eyeshadow and semi-soft side of Virgil my second oneshot takes place in this same timeline and can be found here

Word count: 2,485 words

Virgil was in his room listening to his music. He had his sketchbook across his lap, his art case was open beside him. Currently he was half way through Soft Shock. He wasn't particularly listening, it was more for background noise than anything. He was humming along absent mindedly drawing as his mind wandered.

Suddenly he snapped back to reality as he felt the bed beneath him sink down with sudden weight. He looked up startled instinctively covering his art, which he now realized was a profile of Roman. He looked to see said prince he had just been drawing in front of him. Roman was looking down at his hands. It was quiet for a moment, Virgil was just about to ask what the hell Roman was doing there when the Prince began to shake. Virgil was speechless as the small shakes quickly turned into jerky sobs. Virgil stared at Roman for a second before closing his sketchpad and reaching a hand towards to crying prince.

"Princey, hey Princey what's... what's wrong?" Virgil didn't understand. He had chosen to stay in his room and calm down instead of taking part in the video. The wedding hadn't gone well and Thomas wasn't the only one thoroughly upset about it. Virgil hadn't thought anything of his decision figuring Thomas could vent about it all on his own to the others. The anxious side needed some down time to calm both his and Thomas' nerves. Now. He was beginning to question the decision.

At first Roman gave no response. He just continued to shake letting tears slip out. Virgil's hand never moved from his shoulder. Being the side in charge of Thomas' amygdala meant he knew how sometimes you just needed to cry a moment with company. With no judgment, no constant pushing to know what's wrong. Just a shoulder to cry on as you gather your thoughts.

Roman looked up. His eyes met Virgil's and he took a shaky breath. "I-" He felt another wave of tears hit him. He paused trying not to cry anymore than he already had. He felt embarrassed. He had meant to come here and invite Virgil to another Disney marathon. Take his mind off of what had happened. Instead he broke down. An how was that fair on Virgil?

"Shhh it's ok take your time. There's no rush to tell me what happened. If you don't want to tell me that's fine too. Sometimes you just nee company, a shoulder to cry on. Believe me I understand. Tell me when you're ready and only if you want okay?" Virgil's voice was soft and understanding. And yet. He didn't sound condescending in the slightest. Roman had never heard Virgil use this tone of voice. It was calming. He felt.... safe and... listened to. He nodded his head realizing Virgil was still waiting for a response of some kind. Virgil gave him his small sweet smile that never failed to melt Roman's heart.

Roman took a deep breath before saying, "I-I do wanna tell you Virge... I do. I just..." He swallowed back another lump of emotion. He couldn't even explain the problem. What was WRONG with him? And yet, despite Roman never finding the words to explain... Virgil's eyes were understanding. Soft and warm, looking at Roman so invitingly. Roman hesitated before leaning in and clinging onto the anxious side in front of him and sobbing. Virgil was startled and Roman clung to his body. He was used to being the one breaking down and he wasn't sure how he could help much. Then again, he WAS the one to break down usually. What helped him? Or what did he wish people would do to help?

Virgil slowly wrapped his arms around Roman's head. Pulling him down into his lap. Letting the fanciful side bury his face into Virgil's shoulder. He softly began to run a hand through Roman's hair, hoping this didn't upset the prince more. He began quietly calming the man in his arms whispering into his ear that he was here. And he wasn't going anywhere, no matter what happened he was there as Roman needed him.

Roman pulled back swiping at his eyes sniffling quietly. He looked down at his lap sniffling once more before murmuring "I-I'm sorry." Despite having pulled back he was still directly in front of Virgil, who was still leaning against the headboard now giving him a questioning look. "For... for this. For... whatever THIS is...." Roman trailed off looking back down at his shaking hands. "It's- it's stupid... I don't know why I'm crying really, I-" he trailed off again.

Virgil leaned forward placing his hands over Roman's to calm him. "Roman it isn't stupid. Whatever this is about clearly bothered you a lot and your feelings are entirely valid no maatter-”

"NO! Virgil it isn't fair on you I'm just bothering you with my problems and you had nothing to do with any of what happened. It isn't fair on you for me to drag you into my problems!" Roman cut Virgil off tears beginning to well up in his eyes again. Virgil stared at him. He was stunned and the look on Roman's face hurt Virgil's heart more than anything ever had.

Virgil sat up properly, taking his hands back to do so. He brought one hand back forward to grab one of Roman's the other reaching out and cupping the prince's face. "Hey, shhh.... it's okay, I promise," Virgil's whisper was soft and comforting as he slowly wiped away a few more stray tears from Roman's face. His other hand rubbing circles comfortingly on the back of Roman's, "Roman whatever bothered you really is valid. And I'm not upset you came here. In fact it's the opposite. I'm glad you trust me enough to come to me with this." He paused, "Roman. You can come to me whenever you need to, whenever you feel like this. I'll listen when you need to vent and I'll be here when you break down. I am HAPPY to help you in anyway I can so please, PLEASE don't invalidate your feelings or think in anyway this inconveniences me. Or bothers me or anything, okay? Can you promise me that?"

Roman was quiet, he stared into VIrgil's dark warm welcoming orbs. Slowly he nodded. Virgil smiled, "So, did you want to tell me what happened or just sit and watch something or whatever?"

Roman laughed, his heart was still heavy and felt weighted down but he couldn't help it. The laughter was short lived though, he let out a sigh as he rubbed a hand down the side of his face. Taking a deep breath in he turned to Virgil and asked, "Do you think lying has it's place?"

Virgil looked at him questioningly as he shifted suddenly a tad uncomfortable. "Well..." he started. Thinking on his answer. He hummed thoughtfully, "Is this about lying as a concept or about Deciet?" he asked suddenly.

Roman looked down and sighed again, "Both I guess...." he turned towards Virgil, "Janus stopped by today during the video. And things got a little complicated, and now I'm confused and don't know what is right or wrong. Everything is upside down and Patton Logan and Thomas are agreeing with Janus and- a-a-and I feel... useless. And I don't know...." He sighed tears streaking down his face again, "I was meant to be Thomas' hero. But lately... I feel more and more like I'm steering him wrong. I-"

Virgil cut Roman off suddenly, "Okay great that we're making headway and all, but... I'm going to have to ask you to backtrack a second before we dive into the angst." Roman looked puzzlingly at Virgil who was quiet a second before asking, "Er... Who- who's Janus?"

Roman stared at VIrgil unsure if he was joking. But Virgil's face was purely confused, his head cocked to the side just slightly, eyebrows knit together one slightly raised his left eye the slightest bit closed and a small pout on his lips. Roman's heart stuttered as he continued to stare at Virgil in astonishment. "Has... has Deceit never told you his name is Janus?"

It was Virgil's turn to stare at Roman, "No???? He hasn't???"

Roman laughed, "I could HEAR the multiple question marks in your voice! Oh my God!" Virgil continued to stare before bursting into a fit of laughter himself.

Tears formed in Virgil's eyes as the shadows beneath his eyes became a brilliant purple. He brought his hand up to rub the mirth from his eyes. "Oh my God! I mean we ARE gay!" he laughed. His laughter cut short when he noticed Roman was staring at him.

Suddenly realizing he didn't have his usual foundation and concealer on with his black eyeshadow to cover those awful freakish markings beneath his eyes he quickly stopped laughing. Romans eyes were still on him and Virgil began to panic.

While Virgil had this realization Roman was having two entirely different realizations. One being that he never heard Virgil TRULY laugh before. He had yet to even fully redgistered the purple shadow that was suddenly black again, far to caught up in the sound of Virgil's laughter ringing in his ears. God, he could listen to that sound until he died and never grow annoyed of it.

"Virgil- You- your laugh! I've never heard it before! I mean I've heard you chuckle and snort sometimes but... WOW...." Virgil stared at the man in front of him. The tone used by the fanciful side before him describing his laugh made his heart skip a beat. He could feel the shadow beneath his eyes going purple and his face going pink.

"I- I guess... I don't know... it's not like it's anything special.... kinda... loud and annoyin really..."

"NONSENSE!! Virgil your laugh! I- I don't even know how to describe it! It's like... like the sound of waves crashing against the cliffside, with the wistling of wind as you walk along a cliff overlooking the sea, JUST before a storm, that breathtaking sound which breaks the ear clogging silence caused by the overhanging clouds. And yet, it IS the ear clogging silence that you enjoy with the sound of the crashing waves and wistling wind." As the words flew from Roman's mouth Virgil's blush deepend his shadow growing all the more purple. Until it was so vibrant there was no missing it even in the darkly lit room. "Virgil... your eyeshadow. Wasn't it black when I came in? Surely I would have noticed by now if it was such a wonderous purple as what lies beneath your eyes now," Roman's calling attention to the shadow caused Virgil to panic once again and the shadow to go a deep black, confusing Roman all the more. "Virgil what? How?"

"I- well- um..." Virgil's voice was small as his heart rate increased.

"Virgil it's okay, you can tell me whatever it is. I promise!"

Virgil took a deep breath turning away and hiding in his hoodie pulling up the hood. He glanced to Roman's awaiting confused face hands fidgeting with the hoodie's strings, "I-" he sighed, "The shadows under my eyes aren't eyeshadow... at least, not right now. They're a part of me, and tied to my emotions they go purple when I'm happy... the happier I am the more vibrant the purple.... When I'm anxious start panicking over overthinking something... they go black, the more panicked I get... the darker they are." Virgil nervously glanced up at Roman who looked shocked. "Normally... I but on foundation and concealer to hide them, and then some black eyeshadow so if I forget to put makeup on or can't be bothered or someone comes across me when I don't expect someone to... they won't question why I suddenly have 'eyeshadow' beneath my eyes. I don't worry about it going purple because honestly... I never expect to be happy. I know it's- it's weird and I'm a fre-"

"VIRGIL THAT'S AMAZING!"

"Wha-"

"I mean not the part that you don't expect to be happy because that's just.... NO! But the rest of it? It's amaing! I love it! Not only does it look cool (in both black and purple) but then I can tell when you're truly really happy! And when you need a good Disneython! I'm assuming that when you're more happy than paniced it's still purple and wheen you're more panicked than happy black?" Virgil nodded. "And what about other emotions? Is it black or purple then?"

Virgil smiled, he always thought they wer freakish that the shadows were just more reminders that he was a freak, but Roman... Roman LIKED them. Virgil couldn't understand why he did, they were weird, but the way Roman's eyes lit with excitment, so starkly different from the dampened ocean filled eyes he had arrived with. "They tend to then settle for whatever I feel closer to then."

"Well I don't see why you cover them up, I love them. I think you should go out without makeup more often," Roman smiled at Virgil before letting out a laugh. "I just remembered I was going to tell you what happened with the video! But I think it can wait till later I wanna try to keep that purple there as long as possible! How does a nice Disneython in my room sound?"

Virgil grinned back at Roman, "That sounds great. And maybe... maybe I will! Go out without makeup that is." Roman laughed, "Oh and... thank you, Roman. For... making me feel less alone, and less like a freak." Virgil gave Roman a small sweet smile before standing and heading to the door. "BET I CAN BEAT YOU TO YOUR RO-" Virgil paused his shouting as he flung open the door and almost ran into Patton.

"WOAH!" Patton cried out, "Slow down there kiddo! Have you seen Roman? He left the video upset and I've been looking for him since and it's been- oh... hey Roman! Are you..."

"Yeah I'm fine Patton," Roman said from behind Virgil with a small smile of his own, "Thanks to Virgil here!"

"Well I'm glad though I wouldn't mind talking to you and apologi-"

"Maybe later? Patton? Virgil and I were about to go have another Disney marathon in my room!"

"Alright kiddos you two have a PatTON of fun then! Would you like me to bring food up to you or will you two be down for dinner?"

"We'll see Popstar, text you the answer later?" Virgil asked grinning feeling the shadow which had gone black when Patton startled him slowly but surely fading to a purple.

"Alright kiddos as long as you two actually eat this time! And not just popcorn!"

"Alright Patton! See you later!" And Roman and Virgil walked away heading to the prince's Disney covered room laughing and teasing the whole way.

Tag list:

@on-fic-writing-spree

[labyrinthsofyou]

room for two

pairing: wong yukhei & female reader

genre: fluff & suggestive

words: 8, 091

summary: it feels right to ask yukhei to move in with you.

+

one of wong yukhei’s favorite thing to do is to make your worries disappear.

sometimes it’s the hugs that he gives. when he envelops you in his strong arms, warm and safe you are like nothing can hurt you. other times it’s his kisses that do the trick. he leaves them affectionately on your lips, on your cheeks, on your forehead and even on the tip of your nose. but not always can he hold you or kiss you to make those worries go away. so instead you will get his words, genuine and heartfelt just like everything about him.

when you feel like less than yourself, your confidence dipping a little, yukhei reminds you that you can do anything. 

“don't listen to what anyone else says. you are incredible. i trust you.”

when you can’t sleep, tossing and turning because your mind is spinning, yukhei whispers for you to breathe.

“don’t think about anything else, okay? just close your eyes and listen to your breaths. do you feel how your breaths go in and out? focus on that.”

and when you’re unsure, anxious in whatever predicament you find yourself in, yukhei tells you that timing is everything. he advises you to assess the situation, observe your surroundings, think carefully and feel with all your heart. everything will fall in place afterwards.

“babe, that’s a lot of steps to remember when i’m freaking out.” 

he laughs lightly, kissing your frown away before leaning into your ear.

“the first time i kissed you, did you know you were just so beautiful under the lights? your eyes, your smile, everything about you was glowing. you were talking about wanting to see the world and i just kept thinking how much i wanted to be there next to you when you did. i remember feeling so nervous, wondering what if someone saw, but i just had to. when i finally kissed you, it felt so… wow like fireworks. and look where we are now?”

so much more yukhei tells you and in the back of your mind, you keep his all words and remember them when you need them most. 

like for tonight.

for the first time in a few weeks, he has a free night. there aren’t any recordings, practices or flights on schedule. it will be just you and him. 

and when yukhei had told you so, embraced you and murmured he wanted to go out with you, you had stared at him before giving him a small peck to his lips. you had suggested instead a date night in of yours and his favorite take-out food and a movie of his choice. besides it had been raining and, in your mind, being indoors and dry in his arms as the raindrops hit against your windows hadn’t seemed like a terrible idea.

yukhei had sighed at the sweet look you gave him and shook his head before chuckling softly. “i get to take you out next time though, okay?” his plump lips had formed a pout. 

you had giggled, feeling your heart skipping a beat. “deal, babe,” you had promised with a kiss. 

so, on your couch you currently sit, snuggling into his side. your naked legs rest over his thighs and his hands set on your knees, his fingertips absentmindedly draws circles as he watches the movie playing. too excited he is to finally see this. your gaze dances along his profile, seeing the faint reflection of the moving pictures in the lenses of his glasses. he seems to be in awe of everything going on in the brightly lit screen. relaxed and comfortable he looks and you are certain this is one of your favorite shots of him.   

“did you see that?” yukhei quietly asks you, his eyes following the movements of the actors on screen. 

no, you didn’t. 

you also haven’t been processing much of the movie since he pressed play. and it isn’t because you don’t want to. this film has received nothing but positive reviews regarding the storyline and acting. just a little distracted you are. to be honest, since yukhei walked through that door, greeting you with his wide beam and light caresses to your lips, you have been. and adding to it, a lot anxious and worried you are as you feel the beats of your heart picking up. 

there is another reason you had wanted to stay in tonight. 

because as yukhei presently enjoys the action on the screen, thinking about what’s going to happen next in the plot, you’re thinking about what’s going to happen tonight. when the movie eventually ends, when he starts kissing you goodbye to return to the dorms and when you finally ask him to move in. 

with you.

in your mind and your heart, you have been questioning if you are truly ready. for a while you’ve been living on your own. your home has become your private safe haven when you are stressed and overwhelmed and simply just want to shut out the world. it would be strange to be living with someone else again. you’re nervous it’ll be too sudden for him. never any mentions of living together has yukhei ever uttered to you. you have pondered if it has ever even crossed his mind, that he is content with what he currently has going on with him leaving before the sun comes up to head back. and deep down too, it’ll be a lie to say you aren’t scared of how everything has the possibly of changing between you. the handful of times you have managed to go away together for a weekend doesn’t compare to living together, of sharing the same space daily. 

this is a step to something more. 

and each time these thoughts enter your mind, what always seem to gently echo behind them are his words.

assess the situation. observe your surroundings. think carefully. feel with all your heart. 

because timing is everything and all will fall into place. 

so, you had begun assessing the situation.

and a month ago, yukhei had bestowed a long parting kiss to your lips and left you with promises to let you know when he returned to the dorms safely. in your living room alone, you had stood. the quietness had felt foreign like it always did for a moment after he’d leave. the pillows and blanket on the couch you were certain still had his lingering scent. hours you had spent with him. yet you hadn’t been able to fight the feeling of missing him already. ridiculous you had felt because weeks you endured of seeing his face through a screen and waiting for his arms to be wrapped around you again. you had countries and oceans between you at times. but thirty minutes apart had suddenly felt almost overwhelming. 

you had laid in bed after midnight, reading his messages of good night wishes and sweet dreams and how he and his friends were toasting marshmallows in their oven. you had glanced at the empty space beside you while your fingertips grazed the cool sheets. how you wished yukhei could had been beside you until dawn yet fully knowing the time with his group you never wanted to take away from him. 

the thoughts in your mind you had pushed away. 

and you had done your best of trying not to think of them. but then yukhei had come over late in the evening after practice. all he had wanted was to see you, missing you too much even though you were in the same city. the drama you had been watching was soon forgotten as his body rocked against yours and yukhei loved you like only he could. then asleep in his arms on the couch you had stayed until the disappearing night sky gently woke him up.

“i have to go,” he had mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep and tiredness. 

back to the dorms yukhei had to return to for a shower and change of clothes before his schedule. even when you hadn’t wanted to watch, the same clothes he dressed in again. a dozen quick tender kisses to your mouth and one to the forehead telling you to go back to sleep he had pressed on you. then quietly yukhei had shut the door behind him, the sound of the lock clicking too loud in the early morning. 

you hadn’t been able to sleep though. 

instead the rest of that morning you had spent watching the sun slowly rise and allowed yourself to imagine how maybe it would be a little easier if he could get ready for his schedule here, if he had a change of clothes to wear after a shower here. 

you had walked around your apartment observing as if it had been your very first time in there. you had taken note of the area, the furniture placement and how much space it would be needed for you and him for more than visits and date night ins. you hadn’t been able to deny your place was tiny especially compared to the dorms. but you were certain it had the necessities you and him needed. a fairly decent kitchen to cook in, a table for meals for two (or more), a living room spacious for the blanket forts and a big enough bedroom that allowed a bedside table for you and him. the bathroom even had an updated shower with extra room to spare for his tall height and frame. 

and as days passed with the extra time on your side, gradually you had begun cleaning what you could and organized all you owned. you had told yourself you needed to tidy up anyway. but in the end, you had been left staring at the empty area on the left side of the closet and bare dresser drawers for too long. you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from picturing his neatly folded shirts, his warm hoodies and sweaters hanging, his pants tucked away and everything else he’d wish to fill up the space that would be just for him.

those images had brought a flip to your stomach and soon after you found yourself foolishly searching up articles of significant others moving in, reading on what others believed was the perfect timetable. some couples took six months while others took years. you read about joys that made you excited and frustrations that made you sigh. yet the more you had read, the more you wondered if what you had was so much more different. the stages and times of other couples hadn’t been like yours.

the first time yukhei ever told you he loved you hadn’t been a grand gesture of a candlelit dinner, a fancy dress and flowers. instead it had been in the wee hours of the morning when he was in another country for filming and with you and him in pajamas because you had stayed up just to see his face and hear his voice. and before you had ended the call, yukhei had whispered it with a shy grin. it had been simple yet honest and caused the fluttering in your chest.

and you had considered his job and his work too. a different city every few days or an entire day practicing the new choreography, you had thought of the schedules. how sometimes you hadn’t been able even see him when you and him were in the same city. how at times yukhei would just drop by even if only for an hour after all his schedules had ended because being on the phone with you wasn’t the same thing. yet regardless of time apart or the distance that separate, every time yukhei had been back to you, there was the familiarity. his touches, his kisses, the way he teased or complimented you with his words had been as if he never left. his presence was just as strong as if he had been there since always. 

hope had sparked in you. 

and as you gaze at yukhei now, his warm caresses so soothing while the distinctive scent of his favorite cologne of musk and citrus surrounds you, in your heart you feel everything.

bold he makes you feel when he takes your hand because you know he is besides you. yet nervous he can make you. his kisses that leave the butterflies in your stomach and his stares with the goofy smile on his face because you’re his favorite sight, still gets to you. safe you are with him because his presence and his arms provide the best security and warmth you are certain you have ever felt. and after all this time, the love for him in your heart has never wavered. 

it feels right to start a new adventure with him.

you move, your eyes turning back to the screen as you rest your head on his shoulder. it only takes seconds until you feel the tender kiss to the top of your head. a soft grin forms on your face as yukhei tugs you closer. and for the remainder of the time then, you do your best quieting your nerves and worries and concentrate on the movie. you listen to his quiet commentary, his animated reactions and his applause when the credits begin to roll.

“i might have to watch it again. that was amazing.” he’s smiling wide and threads his fingers through his hair.

yukhei stands momentarily, arms stretching high up to relieve his muscles with a deep breath before he drops back down onto the couch. you reach for the remote to shut everything off. he grabs the pillow at the corner of the seat and with a few fluffs, plops his head on it with a yawn. you turn to him to see a loving beam form before you as he throws his legs over yours. his tall frame is just the perfect length of your couch with a few inches to spare. you chuckle softly as yukhei lifts and opens his arms, an invitation and desire for you to go to him. you comply, shifting around his long limbs until you are laying with him. legs are tangled and his arms wrap tightly around you.

“i like cuddling with you,” yukhei informs you, his voice charming and curve of his mouth boyish.

with a gentle touch, you readjust the frames adorning his handsome and satisfied face. “now aren’t you glad i suggested to stay in tonight?” you question with a smile, the sounds of raindrops still heard against your windows. 

yukhei folds an arm underneath his head and his face shines before he leans to give you a soft kiss on your lips. “as long as i’m with you, baby, i’m good,” he remarks with a wink.

you roll your eyes and hold back on your smile widening. his hand quietly sneaks beneath his hoodie you are wearing and lightly massages your flesh at the curve of your waist. you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and breathe in. 

it will be soon. 

you allow your eyes to flutter close for a moment. you love him. yukhei sighs blissfully into the peacefulness of the room while his hand tenderly runs up and down on you. and you know, whatever his response will be, even if you want him to fill those drawers and the closet with his belongings, even if you think you and him are ready for this, if he tells you not yet, that he is not ready, what you feel for him will not change.

time soundlessly ticks away as the rain continues to fall. you remain content just listening to his soft breaths and feeling his heart beating beside you. but then a buzzing brings you out of it all and you feel the slow and lazy movements from him. the hold on you seemingly tightens as yukhei extends his arm to reach for his phone on the coffee table. he flips it over and you glimpse up at him as he reads whatever messages he received.

“is everything okay?” 

yukhei nods. “yeah, it’s good. practice’s been pushed back for an hour tomorrow morning.” he scrolls through his phone for a minute before locking it and sliding it back. “which means i can probably stay a bit tonight.” he giggles with glee at the thought of sleeping a little more and being with you a little longer. 

you wonder if this is some sort of sign for you. 

he presses you closer to him as if you aren’t already laying on top of him. your head rises and yukhei bends forward to leave a brief kiss to your mouth. you watch as he settles down, folding his arm beneath his head once more. a dreamy smile plays on his lips while his eyes gradually shut. he looks happy, peaceful and so calm. yet you feel your heart beating loudly and your head spinning. you tug the sleeve of the hoodie over your fingers and take a deep breath. you hear his voice in the back of your head. 

timing is everything.

“i want to talk to you about something.”

the eight words come out a tiny bit uneven. you aren’t sure if it even sounded right. but then yukhei’s opening his eyes. those eight words put together he is certain does not sound good. yukhei has seen enough dramas and movies to know something is wrong. the strokes on your skin halt. you also don’t fail to notice the uncertainty in him speaking or the fleeting panic flashing in his large eyes.

you clear your throat, trying to steady your voice and your nerves to repeat again, “i want to talk to you about something.” 

his stare on you is intense and the combination of that and your anxieties has what you’re wearing too hot and heavy. his brows faintly furrow and a soft frown appears before you. “is everything okay?” 

and now it’s his turn to ask you. there’s the concern in his tone and you hate yourself for a second for scaring him. a low uneasy chuckle escapes from you and the corners of your lips turn up weakly. you push yourself a little up, propping yourself up on your elbows. the position offers you a clearer picture of his face.

“yeah, everything is fine. i just- i just i wanted to talk to you about something.” 

you’re suddenly aware that it’s your third time reiterating it. you avoid his gaze. you feel insane, struggling to talk to him about this. yukhei moves to sit up, causing you to do as well and on his thighs, you end up. he senses the trepidation radiating off of you. still away from him you look and yukhei puckers his mouth, tilting forward to graze his warm lips on your very hot cheek. slowly he moves until his mouth rest next your ear.

“talk to me,” yukhei prods, his words deep and gentle. “what’s going on up there?” 

when you finally turn to him, there is an affectionate smile accompanying his soft gaze. his patience right now is steady. yukhei reaches for your hands, pulling them out from within the long sleeves. his hands are warm and strong as he laces your fingers to his. your bottom lip catches between your teeth for a minute before you breathe in deeply. you angle your head and softly grin at him.

“i’ve been thinking for a while about us, about you and me and where we are. and it made me think about how it would be nice, you know, for nights like this. or maybe even any other night, when it’s late or if you’re tired or because you just want to, that you wouldn’t have to go back to the dorms,” you pause, feeling your heart pounding faster with every word you say. “that maybe you can stay here.” 

you notice the expression on his face shift the slightest as yukhei catches onto what you are implying, what you are asking him.

“i’ve been cleaning and i left drawers and some space empty… for you. i know this might not be the dorms, but i think we can make it work for us here.” you can’t tell if the faint twitch of his eyebrows is positive or negative. “i know we never discussed it nor have you or i even mentioned this before. i didn’t mean to spring this on you like this, but i have been thinking about it. i’ve been trying to make sure with everything before asking you. i even did research and read articles about it.” you try your best to gauge what he is really thinking. you hear the trembling exhale escape your lips. “and i think we are ready for this. it feels right.” you feel a smile hesitantly form on your face. “and with your text now, the timing just seems perfect.” 

yukhei gives nothing though. 

“what do you think then… about moving in with me?” 

a sudden weight you are supposed to feel lifted off you with your question. instead the silence from him presses down on it while his stare stays fixed on you. you find yourself chewing on the inside of your lips because the longer yukhei remains quiet, seconds turning in minutes, dizzy and nauseous you are feeling. you want him to say something, anything because with yukhei, he always knows what to say.

your nervous eyes turn downcast. regret fills you for throwing this at him without warning. maybe you should have made a list of better reasons, dropped hints or perhaps gotten a glimpse of what he even thought of living together. but it’s too late now and you prepare yourself to laugh it off and tell him ignore the last few moments. you swallow the small lump in your throat with soft uneasy laughter following.

“do you want something to drink?” you hear yourself asking, despite the two bottles of water sitting on the coffee table already.

quickly you let go of his hand and move to stand.

this is a possibility you remembered. that he might not be ready, that really, he has not considered living together. yet you can’t stop the growing tightness in your chest from the deafening hush. the embarrassment washes over you and the faint sting builds in your eyes.

“i’ve thought about it, you know.” 

yukhei's quiet confession freezes your movements towards the kitchen. it takes you a minute before you turn back to him. he threads his fingers through his hair before looking at you. you don’t say anything or fight when he reaches for your hand again.

“a few times actually,” yukhei admits with a guilty heart. “how nice it would be to not have to wake up earlier. how convenient it could be for me to get ready here and then meet everyone. how at the end of a long day, i can just forget about everything and i wouldn’t have to worry about anything but just you and me.” his fingers interlocks with yours. “it would be a new and exciting stage for us.” he is young, yukhei knows. but he also knows he keeps picturing you in his future. and moving in together, living together is towards that direction.

he feels that twinge of ache in his chest. “so i have thought about it. i still do think about it.” 

you let out a shaky breath. “you’ve never said anything about it.”

yukhei pulls you back to him and in moments, you’re straddling him. he tilts forward, pressing his forehead to yours and sees the faint glassiness in your eyes. his large hands cradle your cheeks as the tip of his nose brushes against yours. your arms circle around his shoulders, your fingertips finding the hairs on the nape of his neck. 

“i know.” yukhei gives you a short nod. “i know i didn’t. but i wanted you to be ready to share this with me. this is your place, your home. i didn’t want to push you into it,” he says honestly and watches you nibble the corner of your mouth. his touch drops to your hips, thumbs slipping again below the hoodie to stroke your bare skin. yukhei angles his head back. a gentle and almost sad smile is on his face as he exhales slowly. “and because every time i think about it, want it, a part of me starts feeling… guilty.”

the confusion across your face you can’t mask while your brain goes through the possible scenarios from his words. “why would you feel guilty?” you ask hesitantly, a part of you fearful of what his response is. 

and yukhei doesn’t mean to make you worried. he doesn’t mean to cause the slight tension in your body. he just wants to be truthful with you. he wants you to really understand what you are asking him is what you will really want.

“because i might not always be here with you.” his voice softens with the reality. “i’m gone for a month at times and even sometimes when i’m back here i don’t always get to see you. that’s already unfair to you.” almost two years later, yukhei still remains in wonderment that you are in his life. “i don’t want you regretting it when i’m supposed to be here and want to be here but i can’t.” it will feel more different when his belongings will be here and he’s not. even after all this time, yukhei still thinks that eventually not seeing him enough, missing him too long will become too much and too tiring and you will regret it all with him. the ends of his mouth briefly twitch up and falls. “that scares me.” 

it is his greatest fear when it comes to you. 

his eyes drop momentarily before he looks at you again. yukhei shrugs shortly with a regretful chuckle. “i think that’s why i insist on always taking you out so much sometimes. i don’t want you missing out on anything because of me,” he confesses.

he wants you to have the experiences you deserve. 

the sight of him remains a little hazy as you bite the inside of your cheeks and feel the faint throbbing in your heart. to say you never wished to see him more, to spend more time with him and do what people normally do and experience in a relationship is a lie. it would be nice to have that.

but with yukhei, the warmth he radiates, the fluttering in your stomach, the love he gives you, you are certain magnifies by hundreds and is incomparable to what other people have. he has changed your world. you will take the late-night special dinners, the video calls with different time zones and the all-night long reunions when he’s finally back to you because it means one thing only.

that he is in your life.

you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

everyone in the world are the ones missing out.

your hands move to hold his face in your hands. you tip forward and gently take his mouth into yours. it’s sweet and reassuring and as simple as the kiss is, yukhei feels the fast palpitations of his heart. when you lean back inches to get a clear look at his face, his eyes glisten with the tears that threaten to fall as a fond watery smile gradually forms in front of you.

“as long as you’ll have me, i’m not going anywhere.” your thumbs stroke his warm skin. you give your shoulders a nonchalant shrug. “you’re stuck with me,” you whisper, your own smile matching his. 

you mean it with your heart and soul and you hope he knows it.

a laugh that comes from deep within his chest makes the curve of your lips even more radiant. a vague shake of your head you give him. you move your forehead to his. he wonders if you know how much happiness beats into his heart because of you. “and what you think,” you murmur, his smile freezing and embedding in your mind. “i want you. i’m not missing out on anything. i have you.”

without hesitation you’re encased in his arms. his hold on you is firm and loving and yukhei knows he doesn’t want to let go. his mouth finds yours, touching and teasing with the faint pecks. he inhales the scent of vanilla from your shampoo before tenderly latching onto your soft lips with a smile. 

in an instant you feel his passion, his warmth and his love. 

you angle his head when he slides his tongue in fervently. you let out a soft moan through the sounds of wet kisses. yukhei is relishing the silkiness and heat of your mouth and tongue as he grasps your hips and nudges you back. you fall back onto the couch with giggles in between your lips as he comes along with you. he’s heavy yet cozy and comforting like a quilt on a winter night on you. your legs over his hips, you’re careful without pressing into his glasses as an arm encircles his neck and a hand moves to hold onto his shoulder to have him close. yukhei lets go of your mouth, beaming against your wet lips. 

“i love you.”

yukhei has lost count now with how many times he has told you this. but he also knows he can tell you forever if you let him. there’s a shine in your stare he cannot miss. the warmth blossoms in your heart. the giddiness and happiness flows through you as if it’s the first time you heard it. 

you move back to him, breath prickling his skin with the tips of your noses caressing before you catch his mouth again. and you move languidly, wanting to cherish how good he feels against you. how even after perhaps thousands of kisses shared between you and him, you remain ever so fascinated by how your mouth moves and molds to his. 

but soon yukhei releases you again to leave slow open and wet kisses along your neck. your eyes are fluttering as he sucks at the base of it. his touch slides underneath the hoodie, the material rising up while his hands grasp on all he can. your fingers run from his shoulder into his hair. he’s focused and softly biting your skin when he feels the handful of gentle tugs of his hair to look up. and once yukhei does, his eyes connect to yours with his breaths a little labored. he lightly grinds into you and a whine squeaks out from you. 

your body is heated and so inviting to yukhei. you want him now and you are sure he does too by the way he seems to be staring at you with stars in his eyes. but he notices the faint shake of your head while his fingertips outline the edge of your bra. there’s something else to get through first. you erase the tiny gap once again, tenderly swiping your tongue against his parted lips. yet he can’t help but close around your mouth, insistent to kiss you for a moment longer. 

when yukhei reluctantly pulls back, you let out a sugary chuckle at how he looks with his hair messy and crooked glasses. your fingers rise to straighten them for him. there’s a beam on his face and a glimmer in his eyes at your gesture. 

yukhei falls beside you and you shift to allow his tall body to adjust to the space. he holds you close, tugging the hoodie back down. but his touch remains beneath it to continue caressing your skin. his head rests besides yours on the armrest. you turn to him, finding him looking at you attentively. and for a while then, you watch one another and listen to breaths slowly begin to match. your hand moves to gently smooth the side of his hair.

“i love you, too.” 

your whispered words cause his cheeks to faintly dimpled. 

silence fills between you again for a minute until yukhei inhales, letting it out slowly. “so, what do we do now?” and his question for you and him brings it all back. 

you lick your lips, catching the flicker of curiosity in his eyes before you speak with your voice calm and quiet. “i know you’re worried and i don’t want to lie to you and say a tiny part of me isn’t still too. those same thoughts ran through my head. but then i remember how every time you come back to me,” yukhei watches you sigh with the tiny joyful smile appearing on your face. “and i wouldn’t change anything.”

one by one he slowly registers your words. 

“what i said, i meant. it’s you and me, baby.” you make sure his eyes are on yours. “but if you need more time, wait a little bit longer, that’s okay.” because as much as you want this with him, start this new adventure you have been envisioning with him, you want him to be happy. “i love you and i’m not planning on going anywhere, okay? we have time,” you whisper as the strokes on his hair stop. 

you watch as yukhei faintly bobs his head before you do the same and give him a chaste kiss. you wrap your arm around his torso and nestle your head to his. once more you close your eyes, feeling the safety and security with his warmth and the rises and falls of his chest beside you. 

he is it for you.

and as you hold onto him until he has to go, yukhei listens to the steady patterns of your breaths. 

his heart and every fiber in him you have affected. 

he recounts the first moment he ever saw you. he recalls the first date of nerves and giggles with him hoping for more days with you. he remembers when he finally got to hold you for the first time after an entire month apart. he thinks about the first time he heard your sweet moans and desperate whimpers from his touches. so many firsts he has had with you, each one making him fall a little deeper than before.

many more firsts with you yukhei wants. 

you softly sigh and he feels your hand gripping on his shirt. instinctively his arm tightens. 

compliments from people yukhei has shyly heard and accepted with gratitude. how he works hard, how he puts his energy and mind into everything he does and how he deserves success because of it. but yukhei doesn’t know what he has done to deserve you. your laugh is one of his favorite sounds. your understanding and support of his work has not changed since the day you learned who he was. he will forever be amazed at the way you seem to perfectly feel and fit against him every time. and when the days become unpredictable and the faces he meets change daily, a constant you are to him. everything about you is familiar and as gravitating as day one. 

yukhei wonders if this is what luck truly feels like. 

how will it be possible to love you more than he already does, he is not sure. but yukhei wants to find out. you keep him on his toes, waiting in anticipation and awe of what else he has yet to discover about you.

yukhei turns his head, pressing the sweet pucker of his mouth to your forehead. he lightly nudges you and whispers your name. it takes a moment for you look at him through slightly hooded eyes. a quiet whine comes from you and he giggles almost guiltily from taking you out of your early slumber.

“what will i put in them?” he softly questions.

you hum, trying your best to process his question as you gently rub the remaining sleep from your eyes. his lips curl upwards with the sparkle in his gaze before echoing again, “what will I put in those drawers?”

yukhei is certain now that you are more awake than before because your eyes widen a little. your breath hitches in your throat and it takes you a minute to clear it, “whatever you like,” your words barely above a whisper.

he hears you though, your response earning you a nod while his brows wrinkle like he is in deep thought. 

“anything?” his hand leaves from underneath your hoodie, his long fingers pushing up his glasses. “shirts? pants? are they good?” yukhei inquires interestedly.

you feel the hasten rhythms of your heartbeat, wondering if he can hear them too. “of course,” you manage to squeak out. 

his mouth forms a small ‘o’ like he finds this shocking information.

“that’s good.” yukhei tries his best to sound calm even though he knows you’re not and his own anticipation builds with the passing moments. his hand cups your cheek, your skin so warm to his touch. “hmm, how about socks? you know, just in case my feet get cold at night.” 

you don’t miss his façade falter for a brief second. his lips form a line with the faint indentations in his cheeks, trying to suppress a broaden smile.   

“only if you want,” you murmur breathlessly.

yukhei gives you another short nod before bringing you nearer and leaving a just a few inches between your parted lips. his eyebrow rises up for a second. “and underwear? i can keep them there too, right?” there’s a teasing lilt in his words.

you hold onto your smile wanting to break out. “as much as you want.” you lean forward to press your forehead to his. “but if you don’t mind, preferably the colorful ones.” 

in an instant then, his face is too bright and yukhei is laughing with the corners of his eyes crinkling. he crushes you to him, leaving wet kisses all over your face as his fingers tickle you. your laughter mixes with his and he feels his heart wanting to burst. he is certain he has it all right now. 

when yukhei eventually stops after your playful cries of mercy, he lies beside you once more. he watches the high you were on fade before you shift closer to him. you hook a leg over his thigh as his hand gently massages yours with his touch reaching the hem of your shorts every now and then.

“what does this mean then?”

even with his teasing inquiries, you can’t stop yourself from questioning. the quiet minute between you makes you nervous, your heart pounding against bones and your sight turning misty again. 

yukhei leans in to give you a soft peck before he speaks. “that there are some details we still need to figure out.” because even if he can’t be with you every day, yukhei wants you to feel as if he is. “i want to contribute like i am here every day. i don’t want you to feel like you’re alone, okay? that even if i am not here with you, i am,” he states, his stance solid. “so, if you want, we can figure them out together. how does that sound to you?” 

you watch his lips coil up and wonder if he knows how much not only do you love him, but you admire him too. everything he does, yukhei does with his heart and mind. 

a slow nod you give him. your arm drapes over his shoulder as you press into him. “yeah, i’d like that,” you reply with a grin. “it is a yes then, right?” 

and yukhei chuckles at you, feeling the light shakings of his body against you. he wonders what games your mind is playing on you. he holds your face lovingly and firmly, bringing you into a tender kiss. he leaves his lips grazing yours, smiling wide alongside them. 

“most definitely, it’s a yes,” he confirms. 

the excitement fills your heart. the faint squeal that suddenly comes out has him giggling. yukhei slips an arm around your middle, his hug warm and cozy. your face buries into his neck, breathing in his scent.

“you make me happy.” you muffle into his skin and yukhei shifts to look at you. you give him a pull until he’s rolling onto you once again. he stares down at you, the gleam in your eyes captivating. you tilt your head, your hands reaching up to hold onto his neck with the pads of your thumbs stroking his jawline. “so very unbelievably happy,” you emphasize each word. 

yukhei bestows a brush of his mouth to your nose. “right back at you.”

his hands glide to grip onto your hips, humming quietly when you gently dig the heel of your feet into the back of his thighs. you want to stay like this with him for as long as possible. his eyes lock on yours as he continues drawing circles on you. but the blissful and comfortable silence breaks when yukhei laughs lowly.

“what?” you chuckle interestedly. 

he gently shakes his head with a sheepish grin. “it’s just- you know, every time the guys catch me getting back in the morning, wearing the same clothes, they always tease me about how the ramen was,” he recounts with the tips of his ears turning red. 

it takes you a brief moment to put together his statement and then yukhei is watching your eyes widen. his loud giggle immediately surrounds you as your face heats. he finds this amusing and you find this mortifying. the thought of seeing his friends again after this revelation has you covering your face with a cry of embarrassment. but light creeps back into your eyes when his large hands gently take hold of your wrists, pulling your hands away. yukhei laces his fingers together with yours and rests them on either side of your head. the glare directed towards him has him releasing another short laugh. 

there’s the faint stiffness in your body. “and what exactly do you tell them?” you’re slightly afraid to ask because you know he loves his friends who are like brothers and they talk about almost everything. 

but yukhei’s still beaming with his eyes twinkling through his lenses. his face inches closer to yours, eyes transfixed on you. your hands tighten around his. 

“that I don’t kiss and tell.” he loves them like brothers, but whatever you are thinking he will never do that to you. yukhei feels your body relax slowly beside him as he chuckles once more. “you’ll never have to worry about that,” his tone is quiet and honest. 

he hums softly and gives you a quick kiss. you nod briefly, a smile steadily coming out before his gaze. “i’m sorry for doubting you,” you apologize with a tiny pout. 

you let go of him, leaving his hands to rest beside your head as your fingers move to thread and fluff his hair. his lips twitch up delightedly as he shifts into your touch. yukhei watches you angle your head and chew on your lips for a minute before your eyes avert his while you let out a faint nervous laugh.

“be honest with me. how is the… ramen every time?” you cannot believe yourself for asking him this but your curiosity gets the best of you. 

and yukhei chuckles deeply at how flustered you are as your stare meet his again. your fingers gradually stop moving when he leans back into you. his mouth grazes yours momentarily before it turns into a sincere smile. “it’s delicious,” he whispers, his voice intense with an inflection of teasing in it.

his hands travel down to hold your waist. he pulls you nearer. 

“yeah?” there’s a trace of surprise in your tone. your ankles cross behind his lower back to push him closer, leaving just a handful of centimeters between where you want him the most. 

he grinds into you unexpectedly then, the feeling of his growing need has you letting out a soft gasp. “always.”

yukhei looks brighter than the sun now as he stares at you and does it again. your back instinctively arches and you grip onto his shoulders. there’s a smirk on his face when he drags his hips a little harder and much slower for you to feel exactly what you do to him. he grunts when you meet his movements.

your face, your entire being is hot while your heartbeat races in your chest and you feel yourself starting to pool. for a minute then there is a steady a rhythm between hips and a stream of moans filling the room until yukhei suddenly stops to your disbelief and pulls back the slightest. you’re feeling the thin layer of sweat building on the back of your neck. his breaths are jagged as he coolly pushes his glasses up.

yes, he wants and needs some relief. but, yukhei also loves the current dazed look across your face as you let out short quick breaths to calm yourself. he’s biting his lips and looking a bit devilish at you. his hands slip underneath the hoodie, the thick material bunching up. he stares at the expanse of exposed skin, his large hands slowly sliding up to cup your covered breasts. you let out quiet sighs at the pressures of his touch, your hands falling to cover his.

“that’s good,” your words draw his attention back to your gaze. you lick your lips and softly hum. “cause it’s always perfection to me.”

with your words you deliberately grind your hips against him just like before. 

you can play too. 

yukhei’s satisfied expression gradually fades as his eyebrow rises up. you kill him in the simplest ways with the simplest words. another roll of your hips and the little desperate whine out your parted mouth makes him grasp your waist again. you smile, watching as he quietly clenches his jaw, feeling the increasing strains you are causing on his body.

your stare glitters with anticipation and excitement when you rock your hips again and again and yukhei can’t control his own hips eagerly moving forward to connect to you. a deep groan escapes from his throat when you stop while a light chuckle slips from yours despite how sticky you are feeling.

with a fleeting glance down at him, yukhei watches with slow gulps of air as your mouth curls sweetly before you look back up at him. his grip moves to the back of your thighs. he kneads your flesh, his squeezes strong and affectionate. he shifts back when you give him a tiny push. your fingers gingerly make their way down his body. your touch is light like a feather yet teasing and he can’t help the sudden shudder. yukhei sees the hint of mischief in your gaze when they reach his sweatpants. 

your heart is full and you are glowing. 

you run your fingertips along the edge of them before dramatically clear your throat. 

“so what color are they today?” you question with a sugary giggle. “maybe i can decide if i like them or not.” a finger slides underneath, grazing the band of his underwear. 

regardless of the current state of his body, his infectious laughter promptly filters the space you when you wink.

you're going to be the death of him.

yukhei nods and leans forward again, leaving half a dozen of small yet enticing kisses on your mouth. you sigh happily, your warm breath fanning his hot skin. he smiles when he feels your fingers slowly hook onto his either sides sweatpants. 

“be my guest, babe,” his tone deep and lingering with want. “but you’ll like them,” he insists.

you’re grinning alongside his smirk. “and if i don’t,” you argue quietly. yukhei softly licks and takes your lips between his, tenderly tugging and nipping on them to his pleasure. when he lets go, you lift your hips up and rock against him again with a teasing whimper. “hmm, what will you do?” 

there’s a pout to your faintly puffy lips and a sparkle in your eyes.

yukhei chuckles and shakes his head at your challenge. his expression is confident and his heart is delighted. 

“trust me, you will.”

within seconds then your lips are captured, your laughter is muffled and yukhei ends up proving you very wrong because they’re a bright red and you really do like them.

you can’t wait until he put them in the drawers.

[endlessdelirium]

Nothing to see here (or "We can't stop here. This is Bat Country!)

Hello from The Void! How did you get here? Well, I probably liked one of your posts, or I read something you posted that really resonated with me to the point that I broke my silence and actually responded (instead of just lurking like a creepy ghost). Or you're probably like a creepy ghost yourself and saw my username enough times or read one of my comments that made you wonder just who is this moron spouting off all this nonsense? Either way, you thought you'd check out my account and return the favor, or something, I really have no idea why you're here lol.

The thing is, I made this account years ago. I had a couple of irl friends who also had accounts, so I followed them plus a handful of other people from my interests back then. And it was great for awhile, until social media fatigue set in. This was nothing new. There'd be new social media sites that would be trendy for a time, and I'd be curious enough to try it for awhile, until I realize lol I'm not a very social person irl, why would I be better at it online? So I start losing interest until I eventually stop checking in. Even now, I am barely on any social media sites. I keep my Facebook account active because that's pretty much the only way people could get in touch with me if they don't have my number, and I'm on Reddit all the time but I barely post/comment there as well and just mostly lurk (like a creepy, creepy ghost wooohhh. Nah, but seriously, social anxiety is a real bitch!) Other than that, I practically have zero social media presence.

So I'm pretty much done with Tumblr... until Haikyuu dragged me back in. I can't really remember when I entered the fandom, I think I started watching sometime in late 2018 and I've been obsessing ever since. Reading the manga wasn't enough, I wanted more content. The Reddit sub was okay... for awhile. Eventually I wandered back into the wastelands of Twitter and Tumblr, all in my pursuit of extra Haikyuu juice. Yes, there's no point denying it, I'm pretty much an addict at this point. Stop judging me.

The thing is, I'm also incredibly lazy. I didn't see the point of creating new accounts when my old ones are still serviceable. For all intents and purposes, this account is pretty much dead. It's just, sometimes (okay, lots of times) I would scroll through Haikyuu tags and I would find something funny, insightful, pretty, interesting that I just have to like it (or is it hearting something? Sorry, I'm not really well versed in Tumblr lingo anymore) or leave a comment to show my appreciation. Which is all well and good, it's just lately a couple of people have been following my account, which isn't terrible per se, I just find it a bit weird since I haven't posted anything new in years. Really, the only thing I updated was my profile pic, since my account was supposed to be a personal one, and wasn't supposed to be dedicated to just a specific fandom so the pic I originally used was one of my irl head which is just... ick! I don't know what I was thinking. So I changed it because I didn't want to frighten anyone by manifesting my mug in their notifications, and really Hinata's head is infinitely better than my head so it can only be an improvement for my account.

Other than that, I pretty much left everything as is. I didn't have the heart to delete everything. In a way, it's kind of like a time capsule for me, still, I don't really recognize the me who made these posts anymore. I mean, I don't have amnesia or anything. I sorta remember them, but since they were made by a younger version of me, one with different interests and obsessions (I mean still share some of these things with this person, it's just a lot has changed as well, and I've since changed my opinion about some things) there's a sort of detachment as well. Which is why it feels like receiving a jolt of electricity everytime I get a new notification that someone has liked a picture or post. It's like "Huh?", I sort of remember the post, but also not really since it was litterally from years ago made by a younger and more naive me. "Okay, I guess?" is all I can say at the end.

So, what now? I still don't want delete my posts. Even though it kind of weirds me out now, I still like having it as a record. Like "Hey, this was ME! Wasn't I weird? I mean, I'm still weird, but in a slightly different way. Anyway, wasn't I a riot?" I also don't feel like making a new account. I still don't really consider myself active in these parts. I just like scrolling through my tags of interest (like a creepy stalker), liking awesome fan arts, and leaving a comment or two when I couldn't contain myself anymore and I just had to say something. I've also thought about re-blogging things sometimes, but I feel that would tip my account back into a semi-active state, and I don't feel like it just yet. Maybe in the future. For now I kinda like keeping my account as is, as a time capsule when I was still active here.

So, where does that leave you? I still don't really know why you're here, but you're welcome to have a look around. Just remember you're looking at an old account and it would help if you view it like a window to the past. I don't mind if you like anything, just know I only have vague memories of making any of those posts so I can't really discuss any of them now. If you're okay with all of that, then make yourself at home... or not, I'm not the boss of you lol.

Anyway, you're still here? And you read everything? Why? I mean, wow, what a trooper! I gotta reward you with something. You know what, here's a picture of Hinata. Did I draw it? Of course not, don't be silly! I like art, but unfortunately art doesn't like me so I can't draw to save my life. So this here's just regular manga panels of Hinata. But not just any Hinata, it's Third Year Hinata! Why? Why not? I see many itenerations of Hinata on Tumblr including Brazil Hinata, but for some reason I don't see Third Year Hinata get as much love on here. I don't really get it. He is so precious. So here he is!

Bonus: The Duality of Hinata

Thanks for stopping by. Have a nice day!

[pupmastersd]

A Pup’s Tale

Chapter 6:

Now, Listen, slave!

His immediate message almost surprises me. The sudden change in tone causes me to unknowingly sit up a bit straighter and wait patiently as his typing icon dances across my screen.

From now on, whenever you are talking with Me you will always add “Master” to whatever you are saying. This will be a sign to show you are talking to your superior. Do you understand, slave?

Without thinking, I quickly respond with:

Yes, Master.

Secondly, I will always be in control. You may not ask Me any questions until I have given you permission to do so. Do you understand?

Yes, Master. I understand, Master.

Good. You seem curious, and I am one hell of a curious man Myself. I think I became curious the time I saw some men had dicks (Masters) and others had pussies (slaves) lol😄

I am very curious with many kinks haha! So what sort of kinky things are you into?

I have not given you permission to ask me questions, slave. AND you did not address Me with My proper title.

I’m sorry, Master! I’m sorry. I guess I still need more training.

If this happens again, you will need to be disciplined.

Disciplined? How would that work? The thought of Him punishing me makes my member start to throb.

It won’t happen again, Master.

Okay. I see you are new to BDSM, so I should let you know what the lifestyle is all about. What is important to note so that BDSM is role play. We act that you’re a slave and I’m the Master. We like to live that lifestyle, but the only reason it works is because both participants choose to make it work. Out of love. Out of mutual respect. The love and respect is what’s real, the bondage is an illusion.

Thank you for that explanation, Master. I feel like I’ve been preparing for this since college lol. My friends and I have been playing D&D for years!

That is good to hear, slave. A healthy BDSM relationship is a healthy mixture of fantasy and reality. So, you are here to serve and obey, as you may have seen on My Tumblr profile. I am Jake. I am dominant. I am superior. I am demanding and will not have it any other way. I will only accept true servitude with integrity and you will learn to cater for My needs. You will earn your rewards as you will experience My lead henceforth. Do you understand?

Yes, Master. I am here to serve and obey.

I always enjoy a faithful relationship. I prefer having one loyal and humble slave to a colony of slaves. I think having one slave increases the connection and level of relationship a Master and His slave might share. So now that I am interested in you, you must cease talking to any other Master. Your service to Me is your reward. Your thoughts and opinions will always be taken into consideration, but the final decisions will always be mine.

You are the only Master I have. It is a reward to see your messages, Master. They bring me so much excitement!

Okay. I guess you want to know some more things about me, huh boi?

Yes, please, Master!

Well, I live in the midwest. I work in an office. Some of my hobbies are drawing, writing, video games, singing, listening to music, spending time with someone I share a connection with, finding new experiences as well as finding new kinks, traveling, swimming, camping, hiking, hardening, home decorating, sports, and going to the gym.

Wow, Master! I also live in the midwest! I can’t believe how close we might be. And those all sound great! I enjoy doing many of those activities, too. You sound like an amazing Master to serve.

Thank you, slave. I am also pleased you are within my grasp. As for My experience in the kinky lifestyle, I began My journey as a Master early in life. I noticed from a tender age that I had always wanted to be heard, to lead, and to dominate. I became more aware of these tendencies as a teenager and would not date girls, but boys. Or rather, I wanted these boys to do Me favors, complete My chores, and run errands for Me. I would even pick on or bully them as a I grew quicker and was bigger than most of my peers. When I was 20, I got invited to a kinky party for the first time. I saw a lot of fetish scenes with men dominating men and that was it. I began my curiosity and the rest is history. I now have about 7 years of experience in the BDSM lifestyle. I have trained 2 males as My slaves before now. One slave was released due to a professional opportunity which caused him to move a great distance. The other slave opted to become a Master himself to another slave. He chose to use my training in order to train another. I am both proud and saddened by his departure.

Dang! That is really hot, Master. It sounds like You’ve had quite the life of experiences. I’m sorry for the loss of Your other two slaves, though selfishly I’m happy You are able to be my Master.

Well, I hope to enjoy new experiences with you as My obedient slave. I am looking for the ultimate slave companion, one who will let Me keep them forever. When I come to visit you, I am sure I can train you with discipline to be the perfect toy for Me to use. I will also be able to accommodates as I have a basement with the intentions on making it a mini-dungeon/playroom.

I hope so too, Master. I know I have a lot to learn from You. I’m excited to see where things go while being Your slave! A mini-dungeon sounds like the kinky dream, Master.

Okay, now, qualities I expect from you as a good slave are as follows: you must always be honest, respectful, attentive, submissive, open-minded, and have a good ability to communicate through your actions that at all times you are submissive and reference Me as your superior. I have quite a wide range of kinks and activities I enjoy so I hope you will be eager to wear My collar and leash, relinquishing total control of yourself to Me as a true slave should. I fantasize about having great times together and exploring kinks we may not know we had.

Yes, Master. Woof! I am eager. My neck is bare and my tail is wagging (if I had one lol). I would kiss Your feet if I could!

Mmmm. That would please your Master. I have had some fantasies already involving you. I see Myself with you, My abducted slave, ready to give up all his pleasure for the sake of My pleasures only. As My voluntary slave, you could quit any time, but no matter how I treat you, (or humiliate you), you will always be willing to go the extra mile for Me or take the extra pain to please Me. Now it’s late. It is time for bed. It is important to maintain a healthy lifestyle which we will talk more about later. Sleep well, slave. Thank you for taking such a big leap today. You’re a good boi!

I look at the clock: 2:00 AM. I can’t believe we were talking all day and night!

Good night, Master. Thank you for presenting me with this opportunity! 💜

To be continued . . .

Prelude

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

[beca-mitchell]

wish i could pretend i didn't need you (2/?)

Summary: Beca Mitchell is born into a life of organized crime, directionless and despondent. Then she meets Chloe Beale.

Chapter Summary: One week later, Beca and Chloe go on their "first" date.

Word Count: 3,564

Chapter title from "What Am I" by Why Don't We.

Read below. AO3 Link under the cut.

“Beca, piano is about precision, of course. But also...a delicate touch. Precision and gentleness all at once. Watch.”

Beca watches carefully, eyes trained on the keys her mother presses. Very intently, she tracks each motion, making sure to memorize the melody.

“Understand?” her mother asks, lifting a hand to sweep a strand of Beca’s hair behind her ear.

Beca furrows her brow in concentration before she places her hands on the keys and mimics exactly what her mother had down, copying the melody precisely. When she finishes, she beams up at her mother who smiles at her with pride and a little bit of another, then-unidentifiable emotion.

* * * * *

 Beca glances at her phone for the tenth time since she reached the corner of the block she had agreed to meet Chloe at.

Radio silence from her father. He must be in a good mood. Better for Beca if he is. She has been riding a wave of being nervous over her first date with Chloe. Chloe Beale, a twenty-seven year-old vet with a heart of gold and a devastating smile.

The whole date thing—that pretty much came out of nowhere, smashing into Beca with the force of a thousand sledgehammers. Any ensuing breathlessness, however, turned out to be breathless excitement and anticipation. She wasn’t...opposed to going on a date. She wasn’t opposed to seeing Chloe again, despite telling herself that she was just attracted to Chloe on a physical level and only that.

After that first night—that first morning—they had exchanged numbers, content on simply staying in touch—at least Beca is sure that was how she had phrased it. She had caught the lingering dash of disappointment on Chloe’s face as she had slowly slid from the bed. Whatever had caused her to partake in her next actions, well she totally blamed her lingering hangover (nonexistent hangover), but she had kissed Chloe again.

It was just...that time of year, she told herself. Continues to tell herself.

“Stupid,” she mutters to herself, now absentmindedly tapping through her phone. Her last text from Chloe—a cheerful On my way!—stares innocently back at her. Is she dating this woman now? Are they girlfriends? Is there—should Beca have brought flowers?

Huge oversights everywhere. Red flags everywhere. Beca runs through all the possible options in her mind, thoughts of her father so far out of her mind.

Ultimately, worst case scenario: Beca had, quite simply put, been unable to resist Chloe Beale that night and she had found that she needed the company more than anything. She rarely found connections with other people, let alone strangers. It was something ingrained in her from the beginning—something that had been impressed upon her as a child, then as a teenager, and continuously as an adult.

Don’t become attached.

“I hope I’m not late.”

Beca startles, quickly putting her phone away as she turns to greet Chloe. She stops—freezes—and for once, finds her mind going blank. No thoughts about her calendar. No thoughts about missed phone calls. No thoughts about missed shipments. No thoughts about her father, obligations, or meetings.

Just one thought: “Chloe, hi. Wow. Hi.”

Chloe’s hair, carefully curled and flowing over her shoulders, ruffles in the wind. She is wearing a denim jacket over a black shirt and black jeans which Beca can tell hug her hips and thighs beautifully. Somehow, despite the simplicity, Beca feels underdressed in her own nice sweater and jeans.

“That’s a good wow, right?” Chloe’s voice holds a teasing lilt to it, like she knows exactly why Beca is so flustered. She probably does, Beca muses. Beca wonders if they can kiss—wonders why she has all kinds of knowledge about various weapons, business transactions, and how to get the deal she wants, but none—well, hardly any knowledge—about how to handle a normal first date with a beautiful woman.

She goes with the first thing on her mind.

“You’re…” Beca swallows, eyes tracking down Chloe’s body. “You’re beautiful.”

“I…” Chloe blushes, shy for once under Beca’s gaze. “Thank you.” Beca holds her breath, wondering if Chloe will kiss her; wondering if that would be odd. Chloe smiles, leaning in to press a kiss against her lips, allowing a brief moment of indulgence when Beca’s tongue sweeps across her lower lip, almost politely. It makes Chloe giggle, causing her to draw back to Beca’s disappointment.

“What?” Beca asks. She licks her lips unconsciously, taking a step back. It is so different seeing Chloe like this in the drifting sunset and on a public walkway, without the shadow of night and alcohol, all tangled up in their bedsheets. “Did I do something?”

“Nothing,” Chloe promises, reaching out to gently tuck a curl behind Beca’s ear. “You’re just a lot more shy today, considering what we did last week.”

Beca laughs, a breathless sound, tilting her body slightly so she can face away from Chloe just enough to hide the blush rising on her face. She can hardly compartmentalize the sensation that flows through her then. The ease she feels with this interaction—Chloe is hardly somebody she would consider a confidante. More likely to be a liability if anything. A danger to herself if she were to ever get too wrapped up in Beca’s life.

The thought makes Beca swallow. Too much thinking about the future. Too much thinking about a guaranteed future with a woman she slept with once.

A woman with whom she is about to embark on a date.

A first date with somebody who has no idea who she is.

“Beca?” Chloe’s voice comes back into Beca’s depth. “If that is your name. Beca Mitchell,” she drawls.

“Sorry, what?” Beca asks quickly.

“Nothing you just…got all quiet and shy. I was just kidding.” Chloe beams at her, holding out a hand. “Want to get going then?”

“Oh, um.” Beca smiles, reaching out to hold Chloe’s hand, resisting the urge to shiver at how warm and soft Chloe’s hand feels in her own. “Let’s. And yes, my name is Beca, you weirdo.”

“Are you okay with going to Victor’s?”

Beca blinks in surprise at the mention of one of the restaurants where her family frequently conducts business. “Oh, um—”

“I just heard it had good reviews, and it’s close.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been there. It’s fine.” Beca doesn’t think much of it. She hasn’t been there often enough and never really for business in a high profile sense. She’s sure it’ll be a relatively easy-to-handle situation.

She’s on a date. She knows she isn’t working. She knows that her father knows that. But still, she misses what Chloe says in response, too focused on the logistics that have momentarily flooded her mind.

“Hey,” Chloe says quietly, stopping them in their tracks. She tugs on Beca’s hand expectantly. Beca swallows, looking up into Chloe’s eyes as Chloe is seemingly unaware of the people having to walk around them on the sidewalk, grumbling all the while. “I’m glad I get to see you again.”

Beca finds that she has only the urge to tell Chloe the truth—to be honest and open with this woman. It is different. Refreshing. “Me too,” she replies, smiling again when Chloe leans in to kiss her again, soft lips tender and gentle against her own.

 * * * * *

 Beca finds that she loves talking to Chloe—loves her company and her presence. That first morning together had been more of the same humorous banter. They had kind of gotten to know each other, but mostly Beca had basked in the comfort of Chloe’s presence and her touch.

(And more of some of the same activities that had brought them into Chloe’s bed in the first place, but that was just a bonus, Beca told herself.)

Tonight, however, is something more. Beca feels it. It had been what she had anticipated, with no small measure of nerves, when she had accepted Chloe’s text asking her on a date only a few days after they had gone their separate ways.

Tonight, together, they sit in the quiet corner of the restaurant, staying for hours until the lights dim and they realize that they’ve stayed until closing. Chloe turns to meet Beca’s bewildered expression and they both burst into quiet giggles as they quickly gather their belongings.

“That’s never happened to me before,” Chloe comments. “Staying until a restaurant has closed.” She flutters her eyelashes at Beca. “You’re a good date.”

Beca smiles, taking a moment to make sure her phone is in her pocket. As she does so, she notices one of the wait staff gesturing for her to go into the kitchen.

“I’ll be right back. Just going to the bathroom.” She pecks Chloe on the cheek, quickly making her way to the back of the restaurant. When she’s sure that Chloe isn’t looking, she ducks into the kitchen, brow already furrowed and her mouth set in a thin line. “This better be good,” she points out, clearly displeased.

The maître-d cowers under Beca’s gaze for a few seconds before she grows bored and turns her attention to the restaurant owner who, to his credit, walks right up to her without a care in the world. “Miss Mitchell—”

Beca’s jaw clenches. “Beca.”

He smirks at her. Her fingers twitch against her thigh, wishing more than anything she had something more than a switchblade on her. “Miss Mitchell, so kind of you to stop by our restaurant tonight.”

“I’m kind of busy, so if you could…” she motions with her finger. “Hurry up a little, that would be great.”

“Is that any way to talk to somebody who extended restaurant hours for you and your…” his eyes cut to the door with a knowing glint. “Your friend.”

“I’m not working tonight,” Beca says lowly in lieu of responding to the obvious bait. “What do you want?”

“Seems your associates left something behind the last time they passed through here. And shortchanged us on some money. When we agreed to help you, it was simply that—to pass through.” He lifts a small package, carefully wrapped and tied in string. “We can’t have things like this here.”

Beca smirks. “Are you sure that wasn’t just one of your employees taking a little something for themselves?”

He presses the package into Beca’s arms before stepping back. “Send your father my regards—or maybe I can call him to let him know I saw you tonight?”

Beca swallows back the immediate rage she had felt when the package pressed into her arms roughly. She quickly tucks it into the waistband of her jeans, finding no pockets in her chosen sweater for the evening. Already, she feels the tension in her chest about to snap—a combination of anxiety and frustration with yet another business mishap. A business dealing that she can’t even address properly because Chloe is sitting alone at their table in an empty restaurant, simply waiting for Beca to return from the bathroom. Definitely not thinking about the package of questionable substances (drugs, Beca assumes dryly) tucked into her date’s jeans.

“I’m sure your friend will understand if you…end the evening early. But we would be happy to help you find an escort to get her home.” 

Beca’s heart races. She meets his gaze defiantly. A litany of words threatens to escape, nothing particularly appealing or fitting for the current situation. She steadies herself mentally, attempting to plaster a neutral expression on her face. She goes for calculated reasoning and an even tone, hedging a bet as to what exactly happened to have caused a mix-up at this level. “Next time,” she says, keeping her voice low. “If you ever try to steal from us again, at least make the effort to own up to it instead of chickening out. Trying to save your own ass like this?” She shrugs, making her way back to the kitchen entrance. “Not a good look,” she finishes, without looking back.

The short walk back to Chloe feels like a lifetime, but Beca makes it. She releases a breath she hadn’t known she was holding the moment Chloe turns to face her. Chloe, who is blessedly alone, stands and her eyes flash with concern. “I was about to go find you. Thought you slipped out the back or something.”

There is levity in Chloe’s voice, but Beca senses the underlying hesitation. The uncertainty. That same uncertainty is reflective of the sheer newness of...whatever this is and already Beca feels like she has done enough damage for one evening. For as big as Los Angeles is, she has come to know, through experience, that there is rarely anywhere to hide. “Sorry, just had some business to take care of,” she apologizes, offering a sheepish shrug to mask the momentary guilt and dread that had crept through her.

Chloe grins. “I mean. I didn’t ask. But thank you.”

Beca blushes even though she had totally said that with the intent of diverting Chloe’s attention while also going for some honesty, though she’s sure Chloe doesn’t need to know about what happened in the kitchen. She doesn’t need Chloe to know about any of that.

“Shall we?” Beca asks, opting to change the subject instead.

“Okay,” Chloe agrees. She stands, reaching for Beca’s hand. The gesture and all its casual intimacy makes Beca swallow. She doesn’t dare look back to see if anybody is watching; she doesn’t dare look back to check if any unsavory eyes are focused on their actions. She is suddenly so aware of how empty the restaurant is, how they really are the only ones there. She just had become so distracted and enamored by her conversation with Chloe—the way her eyes had sparkled so beautifully under the gentle restaurant lighting.

Still, with Chloe’s hand in her own, Beca finds that she manages to remain stoic, ramrod straight back and all. Together, they leave the restaurant, Beca’s heart somewhere in her throat all the while.

“I...don’t want this night to end,” Chloe admits as they walk down the quiet street. Beca shifts her gaze from assessing the parked cars along the street to meet Chloe’s eyes.

“I don’t either,” Beca admits.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Didn’t you kiss me already?” Beca asks quickly with a twitch of her lips. Before she can even form a full smirk, Chloe’s hand comes up to cup the back of her head delicately and her lips descend on Beca’s. Softly, she kisses Beca, both of their eyes slipping shut at the sensation. Beca sighs quietly, reaching up to grip Chloe’s shoulders as she tilts her head to fully sink into the kiss. She tries to memorize the way Chloe kisses her. It is a mix of desire, tenderness, and newness all at once. There is nothing to memorize however, not quite yet, as Chloe’s technique shifts and changes seamlessly with each moment.

“Come back with me,” Chloe requests, pressing her fingertips more firmly against the back of Beca’s head. “Please,” she whispers, breath ghosting against Beca’s jaw. Beca whimpers quietly, lifting her chin to catch Chloe in another kiss, both of them sinking into the sensation. Beca feels her back hit the brick exterior of the nearby storefront. Chloe presses closer still, sliding a hand around Beca’s waist to hold her close. The action incites Beca’s back into arching so she presses more solidly against Chloe’s front, enjoying the sensation of their bodies slowly beginning to meld together so naturally. Beca reaches up to hold Chloe’s face, losing herself momentarily.

She is abruptly brought back to reality when she shifts her stance to nudge her leg between Chloe’s and the rough texture of the package still tucked into her jeans rubs harshly against her belly. She gasps, pushing Chloe back slightly, placing her hands against the collar of her jacket.

“Sorry,” Chloe says quickly, looking rather contrite. “I’m sorry, I just—I haven’t stopped thinking about—”

“No, no, um. Me too. It’s…” Beca gently nudges Chloe back further as she steps away from the wall. “It’s...I have to be somewhere tonight. See my dad.”

Chloe’s lips—already pink and swollen, sending a flash of desire through Beca’s body—curve downwards, but she nods in understanding. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes again. “I just thought…”

“No, I just...yeah. He called earlier and I should…” Beca blows out a breath, running her fingers through her hair. “I should...go. See him, I mean.”

Chloe smiles reassuringly, both of them relaxing as Chloe takes one of Beca’s hands off her jacket. She presses a slow kiss to Beca’s knuckles, sending a shiver down Beca’s spine. “It’s okay. I’m not really a...put-out-on-the-first-date kind of person anyway.”

That breaks the rest of the tension that had been lingering in Beca’s body and she has half a mind to say fuck it to her father (not a new feeling) and all of this bullshit and just go home with Chloe. She laughs, pulling Chloe boldly in for another kiss, but stopping before they can go any further. “Well. I mean, something tells me that’s a lie.”

Chloe scoffs. “Please. That wasn’t a date. You were just a hot girl I met at a bar.”

Beca raises an eyebrow. “And now?” she asks, a twinge of curiosity seeping its way into her tone before she can help it.

“One of the best first dates I’ve been out with,” Chloe murmurs. “And I want to see you again.” Her eyes seem to shine even more than Beca had previously thought possible. “If that’s okay with you.”

Beca finds herself smiling—a smile that very nearly stretches her face uncomfortably because she cannot recall ever smiling that widely. At least not in recent memory. “That is...super okay with me.”

“Super okay,” Chloe echoes with a playful smile. The sight makes Beca’s stomach swoop, but at the same time, she is only reminded of the pressure against her belly from both the anxiety and weight (figurative and literal) of the package. “By the way?” Chloe chirps. “I would totally break that first date rule. Just saying. If we just forget all that bar nonsense.”

Beca groans. “Shut up,” she murmurs, though she does not mean it. She wouldn’t mind hearing Chloe laugh for the rest of the night, but she knows she cannot.

 * * * * *

 Beca’s good mood dissipates fairly quickly as she punches in the number to her father’s gated house. She trudges up the path, ignoring the greetings and acknowledgements from the guards she passes along the way.

By the time she reaches her father’s study, passing all the ornate decorative pieces lining the hallways along the way, she is clutching the nondescript package in her clenched fist. Without knocking, she pushes through the doors.

He barely glances up from his book. “Beca. What’d I say about knocking?”

“I forgot,” she says breezily. She tosses the package on the desk in front of him. “This is yours, I believe?”

He sighs, taking his time to earmark his book before he removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Such manners,” he mutters. He peers at the package, reaching out to turn it over delicately, noting the small writings along its edge. “Didn’t know I asked you to go to Victor’s today.”

“I was…” Beca pauses, choosing her words carefully. “I was just having dinner there. They recognized me.”

“Oh? Having dinner by yourself? How was the food?”

“Fine,” Beca murmurs quickly, avoiding the first question deftly. “I didn’t have to bring this back, you know? You need to pick better fronts,” she points out, daring to show defiance for just a few seconds. She’s kind of banking on her father still being in a good mood.

“Do you have any suggestions?”

“No,” Beca responds quietly. Obediently. “It was just unexpected.”

“The price to pay when everybody wants a slice of the pie and we’re only just too willing to accommodate.”

Beca grimaces. She hates this aspect of their relationship. Whenever her father attempts to impress upon her the nobility of what they do. Or the respect they command. It makes her nauseous and ill to even entertain the thought of doing this for the rest of her life. She cannot envision it — not for herself and not for anybody she happens to be friends with.

Not that she has many friends. Less friends means less stakes in the long run.

“Anyway, that was all.”

“You should stay the night. I’ll have Beatrice make you up some breakfast tomorrow. It’s late anyway.” His eyes flash up at her. “Unless you have somewhere else you’d rather be?”

Beca schools her expression carefully as her mind quickly fills with images of fingertips trailing up her arm, down her side, across her tattoos. Delicate sighs. Desperate kisses.

Kind, bright blue eyes and a trusting expression.

“No,” she murmurs. “Nowhere.”

 * * * * *

 “Was that okay?” Beca asks expectantly, searching her mother’s eyes for positive reassurance. “I got all the notes right.”

Her mother’s lips twitch though they still rest in a gentle smile. “My dear,” she says gently. “It’s not about just getting the notes right. Your hands and your heart need to be in concert with each other.”

Beca’s brow furrows, a pout gracing her lips. “In concert?” she echoes.

Slowly, her mother takes Beca’s wrists and places her hands back on the piano. “Try again, but play from the heart. Nothing beautiful ever comes from following the rules.”

fin chapter 2 |  AO3

[justsomefluff]

Hello I was wondering if you could do an ateez reaction to going to a fashion show with their girlfriend 🥺❤

here it is!! sorry it’s so late!! I hope you enjoy! <3

Hongjoong:

Okay so Joong is the type to pretend he doesn’t want to go

But then love every second of it

And after your first one, he’s gonna beg you to go to more shows with him

Like every time a model comes out wearing something new, even if the entire look is hideous, he’s gonna complement something about the look

Because he knows how hard the models and designers work to make all this happen

And if there’s a look he really really loves, he’ll look at you and be like

Im gonna buy that for you

Suddenly showering you in complements

“Babe, you’d look so beautiful in that”

“Babe, you’re the most stunning person in here”

NO FAX, JUST PRINTER

And at the end of the night, you’ve both compiled a list of colors and styles you would like to see on each other

So you decide to make each other outfits for the next date you go on

And its just so cute bc Joongie really does draw inspiration from everything he sees

So he totally writes a song about this experience with you

Seonghwa:

Seonghwa is not shy about his love for fashion

Like he has his own sense of style, and he loves choosing things that he feels will express his personality

So when you guys get the chance to go to a fashion show together

OH BOY GET READY

He’s gonna grade every look under his breath on a scale from 1-10

And then he’ll tell you what he likes most about each style that is presented

He tries not to be too critical though bc he knows that everyone’s tastes are different

Will also ask your opinion on the outfits

Like “ooh what do you think of that one? I really like the textures on it!”

You will both choose your top two outfits 

like you choose them so that you have one you want just for yourself and one that you want for him

And then he does the same

You typically choose similar looks because you know each other’s style super well

And Hwa is totally the type to surprise you by buying you one of the pieces he had seen you eyeing more than the others

“Just as a thank you for coming with me :)”

Yunho:

His crackhead comes out in full force at fashion shows, believe me

I mean seriously

Every time something comes out that he doesn’t like he insults it in a really funny way

And you’re sitting in the front row so your literally biting your lip so hard to not laugh in front of all these cameras

Like a model comes out with a bunch of feathers on her outfit and Yunho’s just like 

“Heads up, everybody, Chicken Little has just hit the stage!”

Or if he sees something particularly revealing he’s like

“Wouldn’t you love to see me in that, baby”

Like would you just hush already lmao

He takes a picture of every single look that he finds funny, just so he can send them to you later with a funny caption

But he also sees one he really loves

Will take a picture of your side profile when you aren’t looking

And the model is coming down the runway in the background

He will save that picture as his background as a reminder that he is going to get you that outfit someday

But he will try not to let you find out that he was so soft about it lmao

So he tries to keep you from seeing his wallpaper

He really wants it to be a surprise, but he also cant stop looking at the picture and imagining the moment you are finally able to put the outfit on

Yeosang:

(he’s so cute I cant breatheeee)

Yeosang will sit pretty silently through most of it

But do not be fooled

NO MODEL IS SAFE

He is judging and critiquing every single look like it is his JOB

The most stone cold poker face you will ever see

Will only crack a smile if you whisper “you’d look so good in that, Sangie”

But when you finally leave he will show you any of the pictures he had taken and start a legitimate conversation about how you liked or disliked each look

Has a grading system lmao

Like you have A-F grading scale, but also categories that each look has to fulfill

Color, texture, fit, overall flow of the patterns and clothing items, etc.

And you can play along for a while before you’re finally like 

“YEOSANG, WE ARENT JUDGES ON NEXT TOP MODEL”

“We could be”

Like boy if you don’t-

But then he gives in and he’s like “just tell me which one you loved the most and I’ll tell you if it was good or not”

So you do and he’s like “THAT WAS THE WORST LOOK OF THE ENTIRE NIGHT WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT”

And then that launches a playful debate about who has better fashion sense

But overall you both had a really good time and plan on making this an annual tradition

San:

(he’s so breathtaking here im sorry I mean cmon his hair matches his sweatshirt)

This fashionista here

Sees the artistry in every look and compliments literally everything

Very genuine in his appreciation for the work that has been done

Spewing compliments the entire time

“Omg look how intricate all the stitching is.”

“That fascinator is so stunning, look at all the colors wow”

And it’s so cute to just watch him

Like he’s assessing all the models with the biggest doe eyes

He really is like a little kid at Disneyland for the first time

Just so excited and appreciative of every little thing

“I wish our next comeback could be so beautiful like this!”

“Sannie, your comebacks are always beautiful”

“BUT LOOK AT ALL THIS ELEGANCE!!”

It’s just so adorable

And when the designer comes out at the end of each parade of models, you can bet San is cheering the loudest

And he’ll be so inspired and as his makeup noonas to try and replicate some of the looks he had seen

Gets hella motivated and literally starts drawing up ideas that he has for costumes and things

He’s just a sweet baby who sees the beauty in everything and wants to make beautiful things too

And he will always ask your opinion on his drawings

“Do you like this one? Do you think it could work?”

And of course you tell him all of them are fantastic bc they are

And you guys work together to make some of his outfit dreams come true

Mingi:

At fashion shows, Mingi thrives bc models tend to be really tall for some reason

As a short person, I am offended by tall people’s clothes

ANYWAY

Mingi is just looking at the pants like “I bet those would actually fit me on the first try”

And then he’s like “baby, I could be a model”

And you’re like “I already knew that, you’ve always been pretty”

He gets blushy aww

“I’m pretty” UWUUUUUU

And now that you’ve got him going you cant just let that blush fade away I mean its too cute

Don’t squander this opportunity to make our baby blush even harder

So literally every other model your whispering “you’d look better in that”

“You’d be the best model here, Minnie”

And eventually he’s smiling so big and blushing so hard that he’s like “stoop my cheeks hurt”

So you settle for giving him a lil smoochie on his cheek

But then he shall take his revenge

Starts complementing you even more than you had complemented him

Thus begins a complement war

By the end, both of you realize that you’ve ignored the last two sets of models and had just been telling each other how much you love each other over and over

Get a room you guys I mean really

Wooyoung:

Wooyoung is a giggly mess

The entire time

Because he thinks every little thing is funny

A model’s makeup is too extreme? He’s laughing

Someone’s hair is too wild? He’s laughing

Someone looks like they rolled straight out of a dumpster? he’s laughing and saying “thats you”

Like SHUT UP lmaoooo

He’s also laughing bc he’s imagining the members in all of the ugly outfits

Like “lmao imagine Hongjoong wearing that big ole hat”

“Imagine Seonghwa wearing those balloon shorts”

Like he’s so annoying lmao

But it does have you both laughing hard enough to get dirty looks from other spectators

Once he eventually calms down and hushes himself, he actually starts getting into it and thoroughly enjoys watching the way the clothes flow when the models walk and stuff

He finds it genuinely interesting to see how each artist has fit the clothes to each specific model’s body type

But he will still fit in some snide comments here and there to make sure you’re fully entertained

Bc if he’s not laughing… is it really Wooyoung

Jongho:

Okay Jongho is definitely into fashion

Whether he is obvious about his affinity for cool clothes or not, he’s into it okay

And he evaluates every look in terms of “would I look good in that? Would bae look good in that? Would any of the hyungs look good in that?”

Very thoughtful baby

Will take pictures to send to people and be like “this reminds me of you”

Will say it directly to you too

He is also kinda cheesy and poetic about it

“The bright pink reminds me of how happy you make me”

“That blue is like the sky when you’re around: cloudless”

Eventually you’re like “oh shut up ya freak” lmao

And then he’s laughing bc he’s embarrassed that he said all that

He’s like “why am I so cheesy”

And you low-key love it so you just smile at him

But then he keeps taking pictures of the models and eventually starts taking pictures of you bc he just loves you and finds you so breathtaking awww

At the end of the night he’s so sweet to you and thanks you for coming with him and hopes you had a good time and-

You just kiss him and tell him you had a lot of fun and you should definitely do it again next time there’s a show in town

He definitely agrees bc he really just loved sharing that experience with you

[geniusgub]

north//chapter five

new chapter time!! let me know if you want to be added onto the taglist. enjoy and don’t forget to leave your feedback!

also this chapter is dedicated to @babybobbybones​ because Ruby is always so supportive of my writing and they are always willing to give me honest opinions on my writing and my moodboards so thank u sm!!!!! love u fishy!! dis is for u!

genre: fluff

pairing: season nine spencer x female oc

warnings: none

word count: 5.6k

AMELIA

I fall onto the floor of my studio, leaning my head against the wall and staring up at the easel, a half-painted canvas propped up on it. I scrunch up my nose, tilting my head back and forth to try and find the beauty in the ugly flowers I’ve just painted. I sit up on my knees and reach my brush forward, adding just a few more strokes to the canvas, but my brush happens to be too saturated with water and the paint just drips down to the bottom of the canvas, ruining the entire painting. Whatever, I didn’t like it anyway.

I throw my brush into the water and sit back down against the wall, letting my eyes wander out the window to my left. My eyes dart between the window and the canvas and I wonder whether I should start over on a new canvas or throw in the towel for the day. Before I can either stand to get my keys and leave or stand to retrieve a new canvas, my phone starts ringing beside me. The name Mike flashes across my screen, so I lunge to answer.

"Hi, there!” I quip, and before Mike can even speak, I hear squeaks and screams of children in the background. The sound makes me grin. 

"Hey, Lia. How's it going over in Virginia?" He nearly has to shout over the kids around him.

"It's-" my eyes wander back out the window and to the Starbucks across the street. A couple walks out the door just at that moment, clutching cups of steaming liquid and giggling with each other. My smile only grows and my mind wanders off to Spencer and what he might be doing right now while I’m trying to work, "it's pretty amazing, actually. I'm, um, yeah, it's great, Mike,"

"That's,” he pauses, “great, but there’s something else in your voice. What's happening in Virginia? Anything I need to know about?" Mike's voice is teasing, as he always is.

"Maybe," I respond in the same mischievous tone he gives me, my cheeks turning pink. I don’t give Mike another chance to question what is going so well in Virginia, and I just keep talking about the guy that has been on my mind every second since I first laid my eyes on him. "I've, um, I met a guy and I really like him and-"

"Whoa, whoa, you've got a boyfriend? Have we entered a parallel universe? Is this even you on the phone? Whoever is talking to me on the phone- who are you and what have you done with Amelia Stark?”

"I know, I know," I giggle, and I start to kick my feet like an excited child. "I met him at this cafe, and I swear, Mike, you'd love him. He's insanely smart and he's so sweet and he's such a gentleman. And get this, if you're not convinced then this will convince you- he’s an FBI agent."

"Amelia Stark. You're dating an FBI agent?"

"More specifically, he works for the BAU," Again, I let out a dramatic sigh and fall onto my back on the floor, letting myself be pulled into another lovesick daydream. I let my mind wander off to Spencer’s smile and his laugh and his warm touch and how utterly beautiful he makes me feel whenever we are together. "I just- I know I don't really date but-"

"Telling me you don't date is the understatement of the century. You’re not a commitment girl, and you’re a one night stand girl. You've never answered my calls and told me that things in Virginia are amazing and great and you've definitely never told me that you have a boyfriend, much less a boyfriend that works for the BAU,"

"There's just something about him! He's so different from any guy I've ever met before. I never wanted him to just be a one night stand or some guy that I hang out with for a few weeks and then forget about. Spencer is just amazing- he's so gentle with me, and he indulges in the things I like instead of always forcing the things he likes on me, and he always makes an effort to see me even though he's insanely busy,"

"Wow," Mike scoffs out a laugh. "I don't even know what to say. I'm glad you found someone who you like this much. I'm not even gonna bring up the capital L word because I know you're scared of it, but I have a nasty feeling that you might be bringing up the scary L word soon. And I'm even more glad that you've found an FBI agent with a gun who can protect you,"

"Oh my gosh," I shake my head at him, rolling my eyes into the back of my head. "I've never seen his gun, actually,"

"Good. You tell him to keep his gun away from you for quite a while, especially since you’re telling me he won’t be one of your one night stands. Both of his guns, if you know what I mean,"

My jaw nearly hits the floor at Mike’s remark, and before I can even respond, he bursts into a fit of laughter. "I- oh my god, you did not just say that,” 

He chokes on his laughs as he keeps talking. "I'm only messing with you, but not really. Form emotional connections before you jump into bed. That’s what I did with Wendy and look at how long we’ve been together,”

I wrack my brain for any kind of number, but I come up empty. “How long have you guys been together?”

“Too long,” he deadpans.

“Hey! I hope Wendy isn’t home right now because she would have your head on a stake if she heard you say that,”

“She’s at work right now but she left me alone with all the little monsters. Listen, just make sure you use-"

"A condom! I got it, Mikey. I’m a responsible adult, contrary to popular belief. Can we stop talking about this? Let me talk to the kids! I’ll tell them to stop screaming,” I sit up again and my grimace from the slightly NSFW conversation turns into a wide smile, the giddiness bubbling in my stomach.

"Hey, kiddos! Gather around! Your favorite grown-up person is on the phone!" Mike shouts over the hoard of children in his house, and their shouts get closer and closer to his phone until their voices are blaring through the speaker of my phone.

"Amelia! Amelia! Amelia!"

"Hi, my loves!" I exclaim, "how's everything with Mike and Wendy?"

"Come home, Lia! We miss you!" Reese cries out, stumbling over her words in a way that makes my heart swell.

"You didn't come home for Christmas and we missed you so much!" Tyler squeaky voice adds.

"I know, I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to come home for Christmas, and I missed you guys so much too. But I’m sure Mike and Wendy made Christmas really special for everyone, didn’t they? I'm gonna try to come home soon but I can't promise anything. I have lots of pictures of you all and I think about you every day. I'll draw and I'll paint lots of new things and I'll send them home to you. Does that sound good?" They all shout confirmations back at me, and I manage to pick out a few requests for things like dogs and cats and flowers, and that request makes me remember the failed painting right in front of me. "Great. I'm sitting in my studio right now so I'll get working on those. If y’all have any more requests then tell Mike and he’ll tell me. I love you all, okay? I miss you guys so much,"

The kids all shout goodbyes at me before there's rustling on the other line. "Alright, it's just me now," Mike says. 

"I actually plan on sending you guys art, partly because I want to and partly as an apology for not coming home for the holidays. Let me know if you need anything new for the walls, whether it’s at home or at the police station. Need a new piece for your office, Sheriff?" I tease, pushing myself off the floor for the first time in almost two hours, grabbing a stack of new canvases.

"We could always use more of your artwork, sweetheart, you know that. Call more, okay? I know it's hard, but we clearly all love hearing from you. And I wanna hear more about this profiling boyfriend of yours. Maybe I'll look up his file in the FBI database,"

"You don't have access to that database, you’re not a federal agent. Just google his name. I gotta get started on these paintings. I’ll call soon.”

“Wait! I only know his first name! What’s his-”

“Oops, that sucks. Tough luck. Gotta go,” I finally get the chance to throw his teasing right back in his face, a grin coming to my face as he groans dramatically. “Love you, Mikey!”

"Love you, kid. Stay safe,"

"You too. Don't get shot,"

"I won't."

///

SPENCER

///

My fingers drum against the book on my lap as I listen to dial tones over and over, waiting anxiously for an answer. Maybe today is a bad day and we don’t get to talk today, and that’s okay. There’s always tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. But I was just hoping for a nice conversation today, and every time another dial tone rings in my ear, it’s like another stab to the chest.

“Spencer?”

I perk up at the answer, grinning and setting my book onto the coffee table in front of me."Hi, Mom,"

"Spencer, I've been waiting for you to call me for weeks! You can’t ignore me for that long! You can’t leave your poor, old mother in the wind like that!”

I chuckle at her, happy that today seems to be a good day and she’s even capable of joking around. "Sorry, Mom. I've been really busy with work lately, but I wasn’t ignoring you. How was Christmas? I'm sorry I couldn't make it out,"

"It was good, Spencer. I would've preferred to spend it with you, but I enjoyed it," Mom tells me. "We watched movies and made gingerbread houses and some of the nurses got us gifts,"

"That sounds wonderful,"

"So tell me how you've been, honey. You know I hate talking about me and this dreadful place. I'd much rather hear about you,"

My eyes wander over to the coffee table in front of me, or more specifically the scarf that Amelia had left here when stayed over. It must have slipped off of her head when we were sleeping and fell under the couch, and when she rushed out so I could get going, she didn’t realize she wasn’t wearing it anymore. I hadn't gotten a chance to return it because I got whisked away on a case and I haven't been able to see Amelia yet. I reach for it, feeling the soft silk between my fingers. "Um, it's- huh, it's actually pretty great over here,"

"That's wonderful to hear! What's so great about it?" Mom doesn't get much entertainment in her facility and her main contact comes through me. I'm always open to telling her everything and I try to write her at least one letter every day so she can have something to read if I can’t call her, but I was so hell-bent on keeping Amelia a secret. I thought that maybe if I kept her a secret from everyone, then I'd be taking one more precaution at shielding her from my world, but I know that's useless. It's not worth it to keep Amelia a secret and to lie about the source of my happiness, at least not from my mother.

"Well," I look down at the scarf and picture the way Amelia uses the square of fabric to tie back her unruly curls and the way she always seems to look like an angel, "I've met a girl,"

"I’m sure you meet many girls, Spencer. You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.” 

"Her name is Amelia and she's an artist and I swear, Mom, she's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life. We met at the cafe where I get coffee before work and we got coffee together every day that I was home from a case for two months and we spent Christmas together. I just,” I fully expect my mom to cut me off and start rambling about Amelia and how I should pursue a relationship with her if she is making me this happy, but she doesn’t say anything and it forces me to have to finish a sentence I don’t want to say, “she's the first girl I've liked this much since, you know, since Maeve, and I knew I liked her right away and that’s just- it’s really scary,"

"Spencer, it sounds to me like you might even love her," Mom's voice softens. "I'm not going to try and tell you what you’re feeling, but like I always tell you, a mother knows. I'm happy for you, I really am. You deserve to be happy and have someone in your life to look after you and make sure you're healthy and take care of you. Did you ask her to be your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, last week. But we've known each other for almost three months and every time I look at her, I just feel so, I don’t really know. Whenever I get to see her, I never want to leave when I have to and-" I lay down on the couch and throw my head onto a pillow, the scarf resting right in front of my face. "Maybe I do love her. That's so scary though. I haven't known her for long at all. Can you fall in love with someone after three months?"

"When you first meet someone, you get a first impression, right? Sometimes you can be put off, or you can be instantly intimated by someone, or be intrigued, and so on. Love is a feeling, right? It’s a feeling in the same way that fear and intrigue are. Who’s to say you can’t feel love when you first meet someone? Who's to say you can't fall in love with someone in that same amount of time that someone can scare you? Love is complex and, yes, it’s scary and you've been scorned by it in the past, but don't let that get in the way of this good thing you've got with this Amelia girl,"

"I've never thought of love like that before."

Mom laughs gently. "Like I said. A mother knows," she pauses. "Oh, Spencer, I've gotta go. The nurses need me."

"That's fine," I breathe out a sigh, pushing myself up to a sitting position and pulling the scarf into my lap again. "Thanks for the talk. It was really helpful. I love you, Mom,"

"I love you too, Spencer," Mom says before hanging up, leaving me alone yet again in my apartment.

I push myself to my feet, leaving the scarf on the coffee table, making my way into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee for myself. I lean over the counter and check my watch, counting down the seconds until Amelia is set to show up at my door. And as if the universe is answering my silent prayer, there's a soft knock on the door just a millisecond later. I leave my coffee on the counter and rush to let her in, throwing the door open. 

Amelia is standing there, looking as beautiful as ever, wearing a white dress and her black peacoat, camera hanging around her neck and one strap from her backpack draped over her shoulder. She’s beaming at me, almost emitting rays of sunshine from her body, shuffling her way through the door and throwing her arms around my neck in a tight hug. It nearly takes me by surprise, but if I’ve learned anything about Amelia by now, it’s that she’s affectionate and she loves to hug, and I can’t seem to find a single fault in that. I whisper a greeting in her ear, reaching around Amelia’s waist to shut the door, keeping out the cold air that blows inside from the hallway.

"Hi, dove," she chirps, sinking down on her heels when we pull away from the hug.

I cock my head to the side like a puppy, trying to hide my confusion but I’m positive it’s evident on my face. "Dove?"

"It’s just a pet name. Do you not like it? I could call you something else, or I could just stick to your name if that’s-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Amelia unravels her arms from around my neck and shrugs off her backpack, hanging it right beside my jacket, then crouches down to take off her shoes. “I like it, actually.” 

“Noted,” Amelia jumps back up to her feet, now noticeably shorter without her heels, and gives me a cheesy smile. She opens her mouth to say something else but her mouth snaps shut when her eyes travel downwards just a bit. “Spencer, you’re still in your work clothes.” 

“Oh,” I follow her line of sight and look down at my trousers, button-up, cardigan, and tie, my gun holster on my hip (but my gun is locked away in a hidden place) and my credentials in my pocket, “yeah, sorry about that. After I got home, I was on the phone with my mom for a bit and I just didn’t get a chance to change yet.”

Amelia’s lips settle into a pout as she follows into the kitchen. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your phone call.”

“You didn’t, don’t worry. Do you want a cup of tea? Anything to drink or eat or-”

“I do but why don’t you go change? I can handle a cup of tea by myself. Put on something other than a dress shirt and a tie. Be comfortable,” she breezes right past me and reaches into the cupboard for a mug, already grabbing the kettle and filling it with water. I just watch her for a moment, slowly unclipping my watch from my wrist and watching the way her white dress slides across her legs with every tiny movement. But she doesn’t turn around again to check on my location and just looks between the box of Earl Grey tea and camomile tea, mulling over which to indulge in tonight. So I leave Amelia to her seemingly challenging decision and hurry off to my bedroom, ridding myself of the work clothes I’ve been wearing for almost thirty hours. I change into plaid pajama pants and a sweatshirt, only glancing in the mirror for a split second to check if my hair is an absolute mess before returning to Amelia.

She’s leaning against the counter with her mug in one hand and her camera in the other, and when I re-enter the room, she looks up at me and grins at the sight of my more relaxed state. “You look cozy. Guess I should have worn my pajamas today.”

I go and lean against the counter beside her, picking up my cup of coffee and looking over her shoulder at the pictures she is flipping through on her camera. At first, most of the pictures are of a redhead I’ve never seen before, posed in a park and modeling for the camera. Then the pictures turn to the sights I see every day and I conclude they must be pictures that Amelia took this morning or on her way here. “These are really good.” 

“Oh, thanks,” Amelia’s cheeks turn pink at the compliment as she tosses the camera aside, clutching her cup of tea instead. 

“I’d love to see more of your art sometime. I haven’t seen that much but the things that I have seen, I really loved.”

“Maybe one day, when you’re available, you can come to my studio. It’s just a couple of blocks away. I’d love for you to come and see some of what I do when you’re gone,” her head falls onto my shoulder and she scoots closer to me, her arm slowly moving around my waist, pulling me even closer to her. “It’s what I did all day. But speaking of all day, how was your day? How was the case?”

We move into the living room and get under a blanket as I give Amelia vague details about the case we solved this past week. She sits just as close to me as she was in the kitchen and tucks her feet under my legs to warm herself up, and once I’ve decided I’ve told her enough about the serial killer that we captured last night, she starts telling me about her last few days and how she went out to see a bad movie with her group of friends. She keeps moving closer and closer as the sun gets lower and lower and soon enough, Amelia is laying over my lap and my hands are in her hair, brushing the strands out of her face. I can confidently say that it’s the most relaxed and the most comfortable I’ve been this past week, and maybe even in the last few months. Every time Amelia is around and we get to just sit and talk, it’s a breath of fresh air. I don’t get to do this enough. I look up at the clock after being on the couch for a long time, seeing that it’s almost midnight. Thank god I don’t have to work tomorrow.

“Hey,” Amelia hums and looks up at me, her head in my lap and the blanket wrapped mostly around her, “it’s late. Do you want anything to eat?”

She hums once more, sitting up and keeping the blanket pulled up to her chest, her eyelids fluttering like a child fighting off sleep. “Yeah. I could really go for some ice cream. Do you have any?”

“I do, actually. But just chocolate, I think,” I stand from the couch and hold my hands out to Amelia, lugging her off the couch when she puts her hands in mine. She follows me one more time into the kitchen and pulls out bowls and spoons while I grab the gallon of ice cream from the freezer. 

“So,” Amelia draws the word out, bumping her hip with mine when she reaches over me for a bowl, “will you tell me about your BAU team? I know their names, but they’re your best friends and basically your second family so I wanna know about them.”

“Oh, really? What do you wanna know?” She grins as I slide the chocolate syrup over to her and she quickly steals it to drizzle it all over her bowl of ice cream. 

“Mm,” she hums, far too concentrated on her ice cream at first to give me a proper answer. But when she finishes with the syrup and hands it back to me, she hastily grabs spoons from the drawer and returns her full attention to the conversation, “just about your history with them. I’m not sure, whatever you wanna tell. Whatever’s important.”

We retake our seats on the couch, both of us now evenly draped in the blanket with our ice cream bowls in our hands. Amelia slings her legs over my lap and scoots as close to me as she can get, pressing her cheek to my shoulder. Despite wearing pajama pants, I can feel Amelia’s thighs, exposed by her dress, pressed against mine and it takes my breath away for a moment. I have to shift my position in the slightest so Amelia isn’t too on top of me, and once I’ve moved and I’m more comfortable, I start to let my mind race over what I could tell her. 

“Well, Morgan is one of my best friends and he was one of the first people I met when I started working at the BAU. He’s loud sometimes and a little overwhelming but he’s always there for me. For example, during a case, I got anthrax poisoning and-”

Amelia nearly drops her bowl at this revelation and she reaches for my arm, squeezing tighter than ever before. “I’m sorry, what? Did I hear you correctly? Anthrax poisoning? And you’re still alive?” She practically throws her bowl onto the coffee table, quicking whipping around and grabbing my cheeks, pulling my face closer to hers until our noses are touching. “Am I speaking to a robot right now?”

My eyes practically roll into the back of my head. “A robot? Amelia, I can’t even use my DVD player. What makes you think I’m a robot, which is essentially a being made completely of technology?”

Amelia narrows her eyes at me, dragging her thumbs down to my jawline. She looks away for just a moment to eye the DVD player and then returns to me, just as close as she was two seconds ago. “Why do you have that thing if you don’t know how to use it?”

“It was a gift from JJ,” my lips brush against Amelia’s as I speak and even though we’ve kissed a million times by now, the feeling of our lips touching still makes the butterflies in my stomach act up. But her lips taste like chocolate and I can’t help it when I pull her closer and into a kiss. Now, it’s almost like it’s second nature to want to be constantly touching Amelia and kissing Amelia and just being around Amelia all the time.

Amelia abruptly pulls away from our kiss and lets out a loud yawn, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Sorry, sorry. It’s impossible to hold back a yawn while kissing.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” I wave my hand at her casually, and when she rubs her hands over her eyes and then pushes her hair back, my heart seems to pound just a little bit faster. She’s a little bit bleary as she inhales sharply, falling forward and pressing her temple against my shoulder. “Hey, it’s really late. I can tell you about my coworkers another day. Do you wanna get to sleep?”

“No,” she shakes her head but her body language strongly contrasts her words as she lets herself melt further into my embrace, “I don’t wanna leave you. I missed you a lot today.”

Okay, Spencer. Being bold with Amelia has yet to fail me so why should it now? Just ask her if she wants to spend the night for the first time. It’s with innocent intentions, anyway. No funny business. Just a couple sleeping in the same bed- what’s wrong with that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So just ask. Ask! It’s one night and I’ve recently cleaned my bedroom and washed the sheets so everything should be fine for a girl to sleep over. Sleep over? You’re not a ten year old, Spencer. Don’t ask her if she wants to sleep over like you’re a group of girls planning on eating candy and watching movies until three in the morning on the living room floor. Is that what girls do at sleepovers? I don’t even know. Nope, don’t get sidetracked. Just ask. 

“Lia?” She hums in response, not even lifting her head from its spot on my shoulder. I’m used to her being boisterous and loud and positive when I’m anxious so I guess I’ll have to muster up enough courage to ask without her encouragement. “It’s really late already and, well, I don’t know what you’re doing tomorrow but would you wanna stay the night? It’s just- it’s past midnight and, you know, 40% of all fatal car accidents happen at night. 60% of adults have driven while drowsy and 37% of adults have fallen asleep at the wheel. I-“ I let out a breath, my chest deflating at her overall silence. “You don’t have to stay over and I could drive you home so you don’t have to drive but, you know, I would just like to know you’re safe.” 

I pause once more and wait for some confirmation or rejection from Amelia, but all I’m met with is quiet breaths across my chest. I duck my head down and find Amelia fast asleep on my shoulder and one of the straps of her dress falling down her arm from the odd angle she’s laying at. Of course, what else would happen? I go on a nervous rant and Amelia sleeps through it. 

“Hey, hey, Amelia?” I card my fingers through her hair and luckily, it’s enough to rouse her from her quick nap, and she lifts her head from my shoulder, eyes half-lidded. “Did you hear what I said?”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t. I’m really tired.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was talking about. Do you want to stay the night? I gave you a bunch of statistics on car accidents at night but I’m sure you’ll fall asleep again if I repeat them.”

Amelia lets out a small laugh, pushing herself to a sitting position and rubbing her eyes yet again. “Could you lend me some clothes? Sleeping in a dress is not really my vibe.”

“Sure, I can give you some clothes. But let’s go to bed before you fall asleep again,” I grab onto Amelia’s hands and pull her off the couch, leading my half-asleep girlfriend to my bedroom. She waits patiently as I open my closet and reach for a pair of sweats, handing her sweatpants and a hoodie from Caltech. “Here. I’m gonna go clean up the ice cream while you change.”

“Thank you,” Amelia lays a kiss on my cheek before I can leave, and the tingling on my skin persists even when I get into the living room and clean up our ice cream bowls, putting them into the dishwasher. 

I suppose that after tonight, there will be plenty of nights spent together. I won’t lie and say that sleeping in the same bed as Amelia isn’t a bit scary. I don’t know what kind of sleeper I am. Will I steal all the blankets and leave her freezing all night? Will I kick her relentlessly and leave dark bruises all over her pale skin? Will she just plainly hate sleeping with me and thus would begin the end of our relationship? 

“Spencer,” Amelia’s voice rips me out of my anxious spiral, and when I turn to look at her, my breath is knocked completely out of my chest. Amelia wearing my clothes is quite a gorgeous sight, even if they’re hanging off her body and pooling around her feet. Her hair is up and her face is washed of any makeup and she just looks wildly beautiful. She pops her head into the kitchen and gives me a tired smile, maybe the millionth of the night. “Do you need help with anything?”

I shove my bowl into the dishwasher and then slam it closed, shaking my head at her. “No, I’m good. Let’s just go to bed.” I shut off the kitchen light and swing my arm around Amelia’s waist, bringing her back towards my bedroom and shutting the door behind us. 

I watch with wide eyes and a stupid smile as Amelia crawls onto the bed, but right when she gets onto her knees, she pauses and looks over her shoulder at me. “Is there a side of the bed that you prefer?”

My eyes dart between Amelia and the pillows on the bed. Is there a side I prefer? I wouldn’t know. “I don’t think so. I mean, honestly, I’ve never slept in the same bed as anyone before,”

“Me either,” Amelia pouts, her eyes locked on mine as she debates which side to choose. “Well, we’re technically already on different sides of the bed.” She gestures to her place on the right side and me on the left side. I just shrug in response to her suggestion. It’s not a big deal to me whatsoever, just as long as Amelia is comfortable and she doesn’t wind up hating me after tonight. 

Amelia, completely exhausted, flops onto her stomach on top of the duvet, wiggling up just a little bit further until she can rest her head on the pillow. I shut off the lights and then crawl into the bed, on my predetermined side, tugging the duvet from under Amelia so she can join me under it. And as soon as she’s under the duvet, Amelia rolls over and curls up beside me, laying her head on my chest and slinging her arm over my stomach. “Thank you for letting me stay over,” she whispers, craning her head to kiss my cheek. “Goodnight.”

The feeling of laying in a bed with another person, especially a person who I feel so strongly about, is such a warm feeling. I’m sure I’ll literally be warm soon, what with Amelia on top of me and a duvet covering my legs. But my chest feels tight and I can’t wipe off the smile on my face, no matter how hard I try. I just beam, knowing that Amelia will be beside me all night. 

So I sink further into the duvet and tug Amelia as close as I possibly can, receiving a small snicker from her. But she doesn’t seem to mind the closeness since she curls into me even more and then presses another kiss to the center of my chest. Maybe she can feel my pounding heart under her lips. Her affection comforts me enough to allow me to close my eyes and force out a goodnight, drifting off to sleep with Amelia in my arms.

TAGLIST

@babybobbybones​ @thematthewgraygube​ @anepiphany​ @goldenalvez​ @reidscardigan​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @stxrryspencer​ @rxseinbloom​ @penelopecult​ @nastyhar @whollytaciturn​ @thegingerfairchild​ @matthewreid​ @shrimpyblog​ @garcias-batcave​ @anamelessfacelessnerd​ @gublergirls​ @wonderlandhatter​ @matthewgublerswife​ 

(I’m pretty sure I messed up this taglist so if you weren’t tagged and you should be OR you’re tagged and you don’t want to be, then lmk and I’ll make the appropriate change)

[emilycollins00]

A3 actors! Art in bloom

Type: One shot

Pairing: Miyoshi Kazunari x Reader

Theme: Passion / Art / Clash

Contrary to what many people and even classmates of yours thought, being an art student was not something you should chose to do lightly.

Sure, it seemed enjoyable, cute even. But no one ever talked about how many hours you would spend with a single portrait, drafting about abstract concepts or trying to discern at two in the morning whether a sculpture should turn more sideways or look at the ground to create a deeper perspective. 

Art was wild.

But you loved it and, why not admit it, you took it pretty seriously. Maybe a tiny bit more than most people.

That’s why you had always liked how Kazunari Miyoshi, although being the loud person he was, frequently went on and on with you discussing ideas when there was some debate in class. That brain of his was something else. His works and usual approach when mixing modern and traditional Japanese culture fascinated you. It really did.

But that had been changing lately, and it angered you.

Up until this year you hadn't really cared about it. Everyone had their right to live however they wanted after all.

However, without being able to tell when it began, you started casually observing him. You watched him talk to your other classmates as soon as the lecture, frowned as he concentrated on the draft they had one hour and a half to finish or taking selfies and live videos of the works you all were demanded to do. You even discovered yourself staring and how the sun caressed his profile first hour in the morning.

He had a nice profile.

By that point, something inside you was getting frustrated. He participated in class and attended to the lectures, but at the same time…? you felt he was starting prioritising social media over art, or looking for people for one of his popular mixers, like so many of your other classmates, who had most likely entered this major without much thought, did.

You would understand if he would have a part-time job, but the thought of him being able to do so much more and deciding to stop midway left you speechless.

You wished for him to take more things seriously. 

“Miyoshi, were you able to clean all the supplies from last class?" you called him out between the break. Everyone in class traded places to carry the main boxes with brushes, paints and whatever main source they had to work with each week "Our teacher told me to take some clay from there. I'm planning to use them for my final project, but I can't seem to find the key in the secretary office”

The university student lifted his head from his mobile and tipped on his chin, trying to remember "Supplies from...? Oh man, THAT is why I had them in my working space!” He palped his jeans looking for it “My bad, I was totes in a hurry and just closed as soon as we were done!” 

You contained an exasperated groan “Why would you get the key unless it was to clean the practice room?” 

Kazunari laughed nervously under your intimidating glare “True, true! It's just that I was talking with some friends over the phone and they were in a hurry so…” he showed you the key taking it out of his pocket, maybe to show that at least he hadn’t lost it “Do you need them now? I could go clean for you” 

The vein you had tried so hard to maintain calm popped altogether. Not wanting to keep talking, you rapidly grabbed the key from his hand and headed to take the supplies. God grief how you hated that carefree attitude. 

                                         ……………………..…….

“No prob, dude! Next time just hit me up with a DM and I’ll come running to your uni here! In exchange, I’ll need your help to finish the flyers so…” 

Recognizing the flashy voice, you slowly looked behind, witnessing the blond with another person. Was he meeting with people to play around here too? 

You couldn’t believe it. You all had your final projects deadlines almost spitting in your faces! That’s why you had to come to this other university to ask for permission to use a kiln for your final, as you didn’t have lectures prepared today and your university didn’t have any. Didn’t look like it was Kazunari’s case. 

“Uh? No way, Y/N-pyon!” he waved at you with both hands, confirming it was you indeed, as he got closer “Looking fleek today too! What are you doing here in Yosei?” the person walking next to him whispered something “They’re a friend from my major Tsuzuroon, I told you about them, dude!” 

You mentally scoffed. Without returning his greet and turning on your heels, you headed for the teacher’s office.

 “You said friend but…” Tsuzuru squinted his eyes, watching you leave “…It doesn't look like they like you very much” 

“No worries! Nowadays they are always like that. But their works are so lit! Y/N-pyon is the ultimate remix of you, Ten-ten and Yukki!” 

“That’s… not a good thing, Miyoshi-san”

                            …………………………………………

“Y/N-pyon, about-”

“Miyoshi, sorry. I am on my way to Yosei University to finish my work and unlike your usual approach of work to play, I actually don’t have time to waste”

“Uh? My works are…”

“Are what? I’ve been seeing you doing half-assed things all over the semester. This last week you didn’t even come at the afternoon lectures” you were pretty sure this was just you venting at this point “You’re amazing Miyoshi, I honestly think that, so why? If… If you only put more of yourself into it, your art would be even more unbelievable!”

He went quiet, a rare sight.

“Art it’s not something you just do for laughs; I thought you were one of the few people here that felt the same and-” the phone in your bag started ringing. Head  teacher. Inhaling deeply, you answered it “Yes?”

“Y/N-san? I am so sorry. Could you come to Josey university?” 

Losing the eye contact you had been maintaining with the blond boy, your heart sank as you heard the words ‘kiln’ and ‘malfunction’. “…Please tell me my final project is ok” 

                                       ……………………………….

You stood in silence, looking at the mess when you heard a knock at the door.

“I know I shouldn’t have followed and am expecting you throw me out the door but…” you didn’t move an inch so Kazunari took that as a free pass.

Just as the teacher told you, the electricity in the small building had had an issue and there had been a combustion, meaning, the sculpture you had kept here while working for weeks was now cracked and in shreds. You sniffed, brushing away the tears that were trying to come out from your eyes. All your hard work. All the time spent, had been for nothing.

“The Kiln is burnt. I don’t have anything good to save” you felt emotionally exhausted “Damn, I should have used air dry clay since the beginning… or not tried to sculpt anything” your vision became blurry again “I don’t know why do I make everything more difficult that it is”

Kazunari contemplated the situation, studying the seemingly full cracked sculpture from afar.

“Teach probably told you she would wait for you to turn on the work, right?” He saw you vaguely nodding you head “You got this!” he put his hand on your shoulder, you barely glancing at him “Look, If you still wanna use this base I’ll go ask for some moisturize and clean water to mix. Then I will maintain the upper part as you work down there, not bad idea right?”

You stared at him, finally grasping that he had come all the way here and was now trying to help “Why are you here? I… was being a busybody telling you how to work in our major” you had realized you had crossed the line back then.

Kazunari laughed, shaking his head “You were not saying anything that was a lie though, I don't want to admit it, but it’s true I've been a mess for a while”

“I guess parties require a lot of work” you bite your tongue hard. He was being a decent person trying to help and you couldn’t stop for two seconds to pick on him? You wanted to punch yourself.

“Mmm? Ah, our theatre troupe is almost opening for performance and the next troupe is on practices so flyers and scripts are running at full gas”

You stopped looking at your sculpture. What did he just say about a theatre?

“…What?”

“You’ve never come, Y/N-pyon? Mankai company is the best theatre in Veludo way! You totes should come, I’ll even send you the tickets for our new performance!” before you knew it, he had already DM you what you imagined was all the background information.

The moment you unlocked it, you almost dropped the phone. The photos and drawings of the posters were amazing, and you just knew who it had done “You… never said you had a job”

Kazunari considered what you pointed out. Mankai had managed to recover from what they needed to pay but they still didn't have enough founds “I’ve never thought about our acts as a job thought”

Your mind was a mess. Being an actor and doing publicity didn’t count for him as he studied? No wonder he usually left early! Now you felt even worst. You had behaved like a… “Uh, are these original templates?” you browsed over the performances’ posters, each one more astonishing than the other “This is… wow and this one?” 

He blinked, noticing how the tone of your voice was now more soothing. You had somewhat calm down. He would high-key enjoy hearing you talk to him like that more often “Hey, enough about me. We have work to do”

You agreed, putting away your phone “You’re right but again I… I am sorry, Miyoshi. And thanks, for staying” 

“No prob, Y/N-pyon!” 

“Would you tell me what I could do so you stopped calling me that?” 

“Eeeeeeh why? I think it fits! It's super-duper cute, like you!” 

Thump!

No. You told yourself.

Coming back to your senses you told yourself the warm you felt in your cheeks was due to summer starting earlier. It definitely wasn’t because of Kazunari smile directed at you, helped you or how the sun reflected on his perfect profile as you both started working on your work. 

Art was wild… but it was also an evocative of feelings.

_________________________________________________________

This one has been a difficult one! I wanted Reader to kind of clash with his mindset

Hope you guys enjoy it. Have a wonderful day! 💕

[giyuwu-san]

burn the stage — part 1 // dabi

—  A multi-chapter fic complete with your favorite indie and mainstream bops. Watch as you fall in love with the captivating guitarist of a band one drunken, perfect night. (BAND AU)

↱ PAIRING : Dabi x Female!Reader

↱ WORD COUNT : 5K

↱ WARNINGS : Mentions of alcohol, Suggestive themes, Strong language, Dabi being hot

↱ TAGS : @yusemis​ @lordexplosionsextra​ @astrrnmy​​ @basicallyberry​ @j-brielmalfoy​ (I actually remembered my taglist this time wow)

↱ AUTHOR’S NOTE : Thank you sosososo much to @kaikamikazi​ for allowing me to use her likeness for Kai’s character! Happy birthday to my favorite clown <3 everyone please wish her a happy birthday woot woot !!! And also huge huge thanks to @doughnuts-5ever​ and @jojosmilktea​ for helping me proofread/betaread this fic huhu it was a whole ass mess you guys are absolute legends tysm!!

↱ PLAYLIST

↱ SERIES  MASTERLIST 

------------------------------------------------✈

scene one; no song

          "Thousands of years ago, our ancestors looked up at the night sky and saw a field of lights." 

The aged man paced around the room, hands folded behind his back and hair graying by the roots. His side facing the blackboard on the wall, he continued;

          "None of them really knew what they were," he stopped and looked at the vast sea of students perched atop of chairs in the big room. "But, they made a fascinating observation."

You sat listening to your professor, your chin perched on your open palm, and eyes focused on the notebook that sat idly on your connected desks. 

          "They noticed that the patterns were predictable and had clear effects." The man said with some form of self-acknowledged eureka, his left hand coming up to the height of his face, index finger pointing up at the heavily-lit ceiling. "The seasons, the tides, the harvests."

          "Incredible, isn't it?" he resumed.

The man was about to continue on his tangent. But that was until a hand shot up in the air, followed by a voice. 

          "Uhm, professor?" the boy who raised his hand asked. "Aren't we supposed to be learning about chemistry?" 

Your professor looked at him, who now appeared to be slightly frightened by the blank but disrupted gaze of his teacher. 

          “Pfft—” 

You turned around to see your friend Kai, her head resting upon her folded arms. Was she seriously trying to sleep through the lesson again?

          “The one opportunity we got to sleep,” she sighed. “You just had to ruin it, brainy.”

          “Is that seriously what you call a sufficient insult?” you asked as you fully tilted your head towards her direction.

          “Wasn’t saying it to insult him.” She said casually as she massaged her head with the hand closest to her, face still partially buried within her entangled arms. “Wasn’t saying it to compliment him either though.”

You scoffed.

          “You’re unbelievable,” and at that, the darker-skinned girl turned to you with horror in her eyes.

          “Oh no,” she said petrified.

          “What?”

          “You’re being a Karen again.” 

You looked at her dumbfounded, sighing.

          “I am not being a Karen,” you started. “I’m just saying—” 

It was already too late, however, as Kai had both her hands covering her ears, blocking out your protests as well as all her other life issues. 

You sighed once more and turned your attention back to your professor, your notebook still open on your desk.

          “Your semester is practically over,” said your professor, standing idly in front of all the students, his left hand reaching up to habitually play with the fabric of his suit tie. 

          “So, let me have some me-time every once in a while," he continued.

‘You never let us have any me-time—’ is what you could feel the hoard of tired students internally screaming around you. 

The aged man cleared his throat and set along to once again resume his lengthy ramble. 

          “Where was I?” he asked himself, his feet already departing from his standstill position in the middle of the room as he started walking about once more. 

          “Ah yes, so it seemed logical that these lights shaped everything else in our lives. But with the scientific method disproving all these theories, why do people still look for meaning in the stars?”

A hand shot up in the air once again, only to be shot back down by a quick hand gesture from the professor.

          “Calm down now, I’m not done yet,” he said. 

          “Many prolific historical figures of our kind, such as the Iikes of William Shakespeare, have used the concept of astrology as a metaphorical expression, more than an actual study. Whether or not he truly believed in it, he still used the idea of astrology to create some of his most well-known epigrams to date,” he continued.

          “With lines such as; ‘These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us.’ from King Lear, ‘A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life.’ from Romeo and Juliet— I’m sure a lot of you are familiar with that one." He faced the students once more. "And my utmost favorite, ‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars—’” 

          “But in ourselves, that we are underlings.” 

          “—From Julius Caesar,” the professor smiled. “Well done, Miss L/N.”

Shock settled into your form, having realized that you had said that much louder than you had anticipated. Now with the burning stares of your classmates and uncontrolled laughter coming from a seatmate you used to call your best friend, you let out an exasperated sigh, head falling onto your desk and arms protecting you from the unfiltered judgment of the outside world. 

You sighed for what seemed like the thousandth time that day before finally coming out of hiding, your chin once again finding shelter in your welcoming palm. You stared down at your open notebook, observing each line and angle. Stared at the drawings of orbits clashing together with the unwelcome intrusion of jotted scientific equations. A picture of the sun as each planet aligned themselves accordingly within their rotation, along with the lengthy compound formula of 4 Bromo, 3-4 Dichloro, Ethyl Hexanoate, written briskly, and uncared for.

But despite your apparent unhappiness and deep-rooted sorrow, you lifted your head forward and listened to the lesson in front of you.

"You seriously need to loosen up," said Kai, her head faced towards you. "When was the last time you danced to music alone in your bedroom?"

You thought about it for a second.

She sighed.

          "You're so sad," she sighed once more and patted your head. "Poor baby."

She brought her hand down from the crown of your head, arm now resting on your shoulders as she brought you in closer. 

          "I'm gonna get you laid tonight," she said with conviction. You looked at her profile, absolutely bewildered.

          "I'm sorry, what?"

          "That's right," she nodded her head in content. "You're having sex tonight, just leave it to me."

          "Shouldn't we work on having me dance to music alone in my bedroom first?" you countered.

          "Even better," she grinned at you with the type of grin your primary teachers warned you about. You know, those creepy man smiles that you should run away from when faced with in a dark, ominous alley? "I'm taking you to a bar."

You could feel Mrs. Peterson screaming at you to run. 

But nobody really listened to Mrs. Peterson. Sorry.

You sighed once more at your beaming friend and nodded your head slowly.

          "Whatever," you finally said. Attention spanning back to the lecture in front of you as you turned your head. "After the class ends."

Kai smiled and leaned back into her chair, legs crossing and folded arms supporting her head from behind. She looked utterly satisfied.

          "Alright Karen," she said. 

          "My name is not Karen," you grumbled.

          "Then stop being such a Karen and let me have my fun," she closed her eyes and smiled. Totally abandoning the lecture playing out before her. Chemistry was all just a bunch of bullshit anyway. 

scene two; black eyes

Ambient lighting and muffled voices were what greeted you and Kai as you both entered the bar. The light that shone down above you cast an evanescent sheen across the tiny, hidden bar. 

You fumbled in with your red dress and heeled boots, bridging the edge of comfortable and painfully exposed. It’s been years since you've last worn a dress. 

          "Are you sure this isn't some kind of ancient speakeasy?" you asked Kai, uneasy. 

          "A speakeasy for bands and stuff sure," she shrugged. "Sadly, no dancing flapper girls, so sorry to disappoint." 

You nodded and started heading towards the bar. No matter how badly you wanted to keep up the 'holier than thou' attitude, college was rough and unforgiving. 

You ordered your drink and sat down on the stool, Kai following you shortly after as she sat beside you. 

          "I heard there's gonna be a good band playing tonight," she rings up the bartender and orders a drink. 

She takes one look at your drooping face and sighed, her hand coming up to massage your shoulder. 

          "Loosen up," she takes a sip from her drink, "just for tonight, okay?"

You sighed and nodded timidly, copying her as you took a swig of your own drink. 

          "Looks like they're almost up," she taps your shoulder. "Mr. Compress is about to introduce them." 

          "Mister wha—" she shushes you before you could continue, leaving you no other choice but to sigh and watch.

The man with the strange name took center-stage with the microphone in his hand. The crowd seemed to know who he was, for they cheered and started gathering at the front of the stage. 

          "Let's go take a closer look too," Kai stood up and started dragging you with her. "Take your drink with you."

You looked at the already half-empty glass and shrugged, opting to chug it down instead. You finished your drink and walked with Kai towards the pit of people, still confused about what exactly was going on.

The strangely named man started to speak.

          "Ladies and gentlemen," he threw his free hand in the air by his side flamboyantly. "What an incredible pleasure to have you all here tonight. I am delighted to see some familiar faces, and some new ones too." 

He grinned.

          "I'm sure a lot of you are here to relieve some stress, no?" he asked, and the crowd cheered in affirmation. The man chuckled and continued;

          "Well, I best not keep my wonderful patrons waiting then." The crowd cheered louder. "Without further delay, may I present to you, The Villain League!"

The crowd roared as four people took the stage, varied instruments at their disposal, but the one that caught your eye was the one that stood at the center, a guitarist, and a good looking one at that. 

He was mostly dressed in dark clothing, aside from the white t-shirt he wore under his long coat. His features were hidden beneath the shadow cast by the dimmed lights.

And that was when the music started.

Electric guitar blinded your senses and opened your eyes. The exhilarating sound numbed the nerves that coursed through your entire body. Every hair on your body stood on its roots, awakened by the new thrill of music.

The lights turned on to the max, and the crowd went wild. Hands flew up in the air, the drinks in the opposite limb gambling on the edge of death.

It was music like you've never heard before. 

          "Holy shit," you said to yourself, the alcohol in your system taking its effect.

The man in the middle started singing, and you gasped as you took in the rest of his features. A good portion of his face and neck were covered in burn marks, as well as the top of his torso, which then spread across his arms. You awed.

How could someone who looked so damaged be so perfect?

Your eyes watched in wonder as your ears listened with delight. You made a mental note to thank Kai for dragging you into one of the best nights of your life. 

So this is what college was supposed to be like.

You smiled, feeling the bricks fall off your shoulders. You stood straighter as your eyes opened wider, and shined even brighter. 

This is so awesome.

You threw your hands in the air and let out a scream with the rest of the crowd. Kai catches sight of this and follows along with your mania, a laugh escaping her lips.

You were enjoying the aura of absolute chaos, but nothing had prepared you the moment your eyes caught his, staring right back at you. His mouth formed a devilish smile that made all the heat rush through your body in mere seconds. 

          "The girl in the red dress," he said into the microphone. Your eyes widened in unalloyed shock as they caught sight of the mischievous glint in his own. "Come out on stage with us."

What the fuck?

The crowd cheered louder and started to look around to find who he was referring to. They soon caught sight of you, who was still calculating the odds of you being the only girl in red. 

The sea of people parted and formed a direct path from you to the stage, and you were honestly shell shocked. 

Kai laughed and cheered you on.

          "Congrats Karen, you've officially been promoted to Moses!" she cheered even louder.

          "What, I—" you sputtered out.

Kai took her left hand and smacked your back, forcing you to stumble forward.

          "Go!" she yelled at you through the howls of the crowd. "Get. Fucking. Laid!"

At that, the crowd burst into an explosion of screams. Whistles and hoots were all that was heard as your shaking legs made its way towards the stage. 

You eventually made it to the edge, and the enigmatic guitarist leaned down to help you. Grasping your hand firmly in his, he hoisted you up easily. 

          "What's your name?" he leaned into your ear as he said it, his steady voice combating all other noises, and winning. 

          "Y/N," you said right back into his ear, a shiver coursing through your body as the current situation was doing its number on your sanity.

          "Nice shoes Y/N," he said cooly, and your head started spinning.

          "Uh, thank you—"

          "Let's have a good time together," he smirked at you, who blushed madly. 

You looked over at the rest of his bandmates. A young girl with a blonde fringe manning the second electric guitar, she looked at you and grinned widely at you. Eyes smiled shut and tongue jutting out, she threw you a peace sign in welcome. 

You looked behind you and saw a strange-looking man playing both the bass and keyboard. You made eye contact with him and he smiled, only for him to completely change his expression and give you the stink-eye, much to your confusion and anxiety. 

Finally, you looked over at the drummer who had dead-looking baby blue hair; he glanced at you and nodded briefly in acknowledgment.

          "Don't mind the last two," the mysterious guitarist chuckled, "they're a lot more decent than they seem."

You nodded and smiled at him.

          "So," he started. "Care to join in on the fun?" 

You took a deep breath.

          "Okay."

It was funny how you had started with not even being able to dance alone in your room. And now here you were, dancing along with countless strangers to music you never felt before.  

scene three; ilysb

            "You're new here, right?" the man said. He was sitting across from you with his head resting on his hand. His piercing blue eyes were focused only on you. 

It had been about an hour since you stepped foot inside the hidden bar and thirty minutes since you were standing on stage with the band having the time of your life. 

You looked over to the stage and saw your drunk friend Kai singing 'I Kissed a Girl,' microphone in her hands as she belted her heart out to the cheering crowd. 

You couldn't help but chuckle, before turning your attention back to the enigmatic man staring intently at you.

          "That's not slightly creepy at all," you answered jokingly. 

The man chuckled slyly.

          "I play here almost every night," he retorted coolly. "I would have definitely remembered you if you weren't new." 

You nodded. Smooth.

          "Fuck men!" you turned around to find Kai screaming into the microphone, one hand on the microphone stand and the other on the microphone itself. You sighed at the common occurrence. 

          "Fun friend you got," the man with burn marks said, attention also brought over to your crazed friend.

You sighed and nodded.

          "I'm this close to dropping her," you said with no conviction.

He seemed to have caught on to your tone and answered accordingly.

          "But you never will," he said.

          "Yup," you nodded once more.

You looked over to him again, the alcohol in your body taking full effect.

          "Wanna get out of here?" you asked him.

He looked at you with his eyebrow raised, a small smirk playing on his lips.

          "And abandon your fun friend?" he asked you.

          "Yes," you looked at him straight in the eyes as you said it.

          "Sounds fun," he said, already standing up from his seat.

You followed suit, casting your drunk friend one last look before following the strange man out of the small speakeasy.

The cold night air greeted your body that clung tightly onto the limited warmth of your sweater jacket. You walked idly with the man standing beside you, the streets painted a dark vignette by the evening sky. The night suited him, you thought.

You let out a deep exhale which invaded the darkness with its cold color, the hues fighting until the dull white was engulfed by the overwhelming darkness of nightfall.

You looked up at the stars that were scattered across the sky, their white twinkle enrapturing the night sky with its light and color. Their light so bright that it couldn't be overthrown by the darkness of black. Instead, they were displayed up in the sky, allowed to show off their beauty with no restraints. 

          "Orion's in the sky," you observed quietly. 

The man turned over to look at you.

          "The constellation?" he asked as he too tilted his head up to watch the night sky.

          "Yeah," you nodded, "I can't find the Pleiades, though." 

Absentmindedly, your feet started moving in hopes to catch sight of the constellation. The dark-haired man watched you quizzically.

          "Do you really think moving around will make them appear?" he asked you, who was now trudging farther and farther away. He sighed and started following you.

          "There're so many buildings around," you groaned in your drunken state. "Can't a girl just see her stars when she wants to?" 

He tilted his head in slight amusement and chuckled lowly. 

          "If it's the buildings you're worried about, I know where there's a field," he said. You turned around instantly.

          "Show me this field, good sir." 

          "It's this way," he tilted his head over to the right, feet already walking towards its direction. You followed him, skipping.

You eventually were led towards an open field located on a small hill in the park. Wow, we had a park?

          "Woah," you said in wonder. Your arms flying up from your sides as you spun around the grass, hair dancing in the breeze from your movements.

The man just watched you curiously, a small smile of endearment flickering on his lips.

You let out a big sigh of contempt and threw yourself down onto the grass floor, feeling at peace as the earthly bodies embraced you. The man who led you here followed suit, leaving little to no distance between your two figures as he laid down beside you.

          "Can you see the Pleiades now?" he asked from beside you.

You looked up and examined the heavens, and your eye immediately catches the open star cluster that painted the sky. A gasp escapes your lips as you point up at the constellation you were looking for.

          "There they are!" you squealed slightly, unable to control your excitement in your drunken state.

          "Why'd you want to see them so badly?" he looked at you and asked.

          "If you catch sight of Orion, then you're most likely gonna find the Pleiades too." You started, eyes focused eagerly on the stars. "There's this whole story behind them you know, about Orion and the Seven Sisters.

          "It was said by Greek mythology that Orion fell in love with the sisters, and pined over them for 12 years. He would always chase after them in hopes that they would become his someday. But that was until one day Zeus decided to turn him and the sisters into stars. So Orion could chase them forever for the rest of eternity but never once be able to touch them."

          "Wow," he said from beside you.

          "Yeah," you said from beside him.

          "You said they were the Seven Sisters," he said.

          "Yeah?" you turned your head over to look at him, his eyes seemingly glowing under the star studded sky.

          "But I can only see six at most," he stated.

          "Oh," you turned your head back to the sky. "That's because those are the only ones visible to the naked eye. If you look through a telescope, a dozen more stars are visible."

          "Is there a story behind that, too?" he asked.

          "Yup," you stated and continued. "According to storytellers, Merope— one of the sisters, is hiding her face because she's the only one of the sisters who married a mortal and thus isn't respected for it. 

          "Her husband, Sisyphus isn't represented in the night sky either, cause he was condemned by Zeus to forever roll a stone up a hill in Hades only to watch it roll down again when he almost gets it to the top."

          "That's..." his voice drifted off, "really sad." 

You hummed in affirmation.

          "You really like astronomy, huh?" he stated. "I'm assuming you're into astrology too?"

          "Yeah," you answered.

          "So, you're some type of zodiac girl," he said. "How quirky."

You scoffed.

          "What type of music are you into?" he suddenly changed the subject, surprising you.

          "I don't listen to music that much honestly," you said, surprising him, but not showing it on his face.

          "Okay," he said. "Very quirky."

You laughed at yourself.

          "Are you okay?" he asked you jokingly, maybe the alcohol was finally starting to get to him too. "Childhood trauma? Emotional baggage? Crazy ex-boyfriend?" 

          "Traumatizing college life," you said matter-of-factly. "And also just downright not having the time to listen to music."

          "Spotify's expensive, too," you added.

          "Ever heard of a radio?" he asked.

          "Yes, but I can never concentrate on studying when music is on," you said.

          "Ah," he said in a moment of realization. "It all makes perfect sense now. What's your major?"

          "Organic chemistry," you said.

          "Yeah," he nodded. "Makes sense."

          "Kindly enlighten me then, cause I can't make sense of anything going on in my life," you said.

          "You're a young adult suffering from the expectations and academically-focused constructs of our society," he said.

          "Damn," you started. "You're right." 

You sighed and placed your attention back at the azure before you.

          "The moon's crying," you stated.

          "What?" he asked, confused.

          "The moon feels sad," you answered vaguely.

          "The moon is sad," he stated beside you, eyes now focused onto the heavenly body in question. "The moon's just a broken planet that needs the sun to make it shine."

          "Just because it needs help doesn't mean their shine is any less beautiful," you said back.

A long silence passed between the two of you, he looked at you, whose focus was still set onto the night sky. Whatever had you so enchanted by them, he might never know, but as he watched your features bloom with the ethereal sparkle of night, the twinkle in your eyes matching— no, outshining that of the stars you looked so fondly upon, he just sighed softly.

          "Whatever you say, zodiac girl."

scene four; still with you

You were walking home with him in the cold night air, wind dancing softly around both of your figures as the gentle shrill tickled your senses. 

It was colder than usual, you thought. But maybe that was just from the thrill of not spending your nights like you usually did, alone in your bedroom studying a topic you couldn't care less about. You sighed.

When was the last time you were able to lay down on your bed listening to music?

You were grateful for Kai, who you just realized had been abandoned at the bar she forced you into. You prayed for your survival the following day. You say that, but in the end, you were nonetheless thankful for giving you a college experience other than cramming every day.

You thought about what you would have been doing if you weren't forced into the bar, and laughed at the predictability. 

You finally made it to your front door.

          "Goodnight," the blue-eyed man said to you. 

          "Yeah," you said back. "Thanks for walking me home."

He nodded and watched as you made your way over to your front door.

You stopped.

You didn't know if it was the alcohol in your system, the cold night air, the thrilling atmosphere of spontaneity, or all of the above. But right now, you weren't in the mood to answer any multiple-choice questions.

You wanted to live for once. You wanted to feel anything else other than the dread of an upcoming deadline or relief after a grueling exam. 

For once, you wanted— needed to be free of the expectations and academically-centered constructs of society. Constructs that you never wanted to question until now.

Even if it was only for tonight, you wanted to do the thing you wanted to do. 

Even if it turns into a mistake, you would gladly take it for a few minutes of freedom.

You turned around and ran towards the man whose names you realized you didn't even know. But you were too far gone to be stopped. 

Your hands found the side of his face and pulled your faces close, eyes meeting and lips almost touching. You breathed nervously.

          "Can I kiss you?" you asked suddenly.

Shock and confusion flickered before his eyes but disappeared just as quickly.

          "Sure—" he said, and your lips finally connected.

The kiss lasted for mere seconds until you pulled away, flustered and drunk and confused.

What were you doing?

You turned back around to enter your home and scream at yourself.

How could you just throw yourself at him like that?

But suddenly, his hand grabbed your arm and pulled you back towards him, connecting your lips once more. You could have sworn you melted.

The kiss lasted much longer, lips moving against one another and breaths being mixed together in the cold night outside your apartment building. Your hands in his hair and his arms around your shaking frame.

You pulled away to catch your breath, your air puffing up in the chilly twilight.

You pulled onto the sleeve of his jacket and led him towards your apartment, rushing past the other tenants and employees, you quickly got on the elevator where more kisses were exchanged in a drunken haze.

The elevator doors opened, and the two of you rushed out with you guiding him to your door.

You hurriedly put in your key, hands slightly shaking, the door opens and you hastily go inside.

He comes into your small apartment and closes the door with his foot, the door meeting the frame with a soft thud. He pushes you against the wall and your lips meet once again.

You didn't know how much time had passed with his lips moving against yours and hands roaming across your body, the contact sending both heat and shivers to course through your entire being. 

His lips moved to your jaw, slowly making its journey down to your neck. Your breath hitched. 

Some more time passed with low moans and heavy breathing coming from the both of you, now laying on your twin-sized bed half-naked.

You looked out the window beside your bed and saw the stars and moon staring back at you, illuminating your figures in its magical glow. 

It was like time didn't exist when you were engulfed in his arms, his lips peppering your body in kisses and bite marks causing you to moan softly. You wanted to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling, with the moonlight shining softly on his features.

Your hands found themselves buried in his soft hair, time passing by faster as more clothes were being discarded around you.

          "Y/N..." he said your name softly. His light voice passes by you, sending shivers down your spine. 

Your breath hitched. Having no name to call out to, you whimpered instead. Your bodies intertwined together under the dim light of your apartment, and your heart taking timid steps towards him, tripping and falling deeper and deeper. 

It was colder than usual, the low-pitched hum of the air conditioner you forgot to turn off comforting you from afar. Your body shivered more, not used to the sensations. It felt good, it felt really good, but there was something about it that pained you and made you want to fall apart. 

The unfamiliarity of the pleasure and sweat clouded your mind and made you think back to the times when you were studying instead. This was far different than the dull absence your mind feels when reviewing all your lessons. But even then, thinking back to the simple emotions that came from your textbooks and notes, maybe these simple feelings were special to you too.

The night progressed further, and time was lost once and for all in the midst of your shared pleasure, the night turning darker as the sparkling sky glowed onto your sweaty figures. 

You both reached your climax and breathed heavily, eyes meeting and foreheads touching in what seemed like a hazy afterglow, both your minds fogged and judgments clouded. 

Your hand delicately went up to touch his cheek, his eyes shimmering in the glow of the night sky. He looked at you with the faintest smile. Underneath it was painted the most beautiful purple, his broken and damaged face sending your heart into a fit of shooting stars. 

His body collapsed next to you on the small bed, arms encasing you tightly against his warm body.

You looked over to the window beside your bed. The sun was slowly rising, and the moon began to fade away into the brightening sky. 

You felt your eyes slowly closing, finally giving in to the sleep you denied yourself all night.

Goodbye moon.

And just as the moon left your sky that February sunrise, so did the man who slept next to you that very next day.

[momentofmemory]

FICTOBER 2020 - day nine

Prompt #9: “Will you look at this?”

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Characters: Michelle Jones, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds

Words: 1650

Author’s Note: Michelle’s in charge of AcaDec, which really shouldn’t be that much responsibility—except, of course, it is. Set a couple months post-HOCO, spring semester. Michelle POV.

>> i promise i’ll promise

“What is the melting point of mercury?”

Charles’s bell rings instantly, and its sound waves have hardly have the chance to make it to the back wall and bounce back before he’s following it with his answer. “Negative thirty-eight point eight celsius, or negative thirty-seven point nine Fahrenheit. Or two hundred thirty-four point three Kelvin. Or—”

“Correct,” MJ says, forestalling any further commentary. “No points. What does the term ‘amensalism’ refer to in—”

“Wait, rewind?”

MJ glances up over her notes at Charles.

“I got it right,” he says, “so why don’t I get points for it?”

Michelle sighs, blowing a stray piece of hair away from her face. She writes an extra study note next to his name. “The melting point of mercury is negative thirty-eight point eight, but if you'd paid attention to your flashcards, you’d know the Basic Guide says it’s positive six hundred and fifty degrees celsius. Presumably because they confused it with magnesium. So, the answer you should give is positive six hundred and fifty degrees celsius.”

Michelle doesn’t bother looking up when no one responds—the silence communicates her team’s confusion all on its own.

She flips to the next card.

“Soooooo.” It’s Betty’s voice this time. “You want us to give the wrong answer on purpose?”

“Does your textbook still describe Columbus arriving in America as discovering a new land instead of starting a mass genocide?”

“Uh—”

“Great, so now that we’ve established we’re cool with lying for grades, next question. Amensalism. Any takers?”

Charles’s previous enthusiasm for the bell must have evaporated, because her question is once again met with silence.

“The correct answer is ‘a relationship between species that harms one with no effect on the other,’” Michelle says. Then she gathers up the cards and straightens them by tapping the deck against the table. “We’re done with practice questions for today; break for individual study. And for the future, please cross-reference your answers and if you come across one that’s incorrect, memorize both the correct and stated answer and let me know about it for the record.”

The seven students on the stage just stare at her.

“So like.” MJ gestures towards the study tables. “Dismissed.”

She watches them slink off the stage and set up around the room, some in clusters of two and others preferring to study alone. Mr. Harrington’s out sick and the teacher that’s supposed to be helping is… incompetent, judging by the fact that she’s been snoring for the last fifteen minutes, so that just leaves Michelle in charge today.

It’s not a great day for that.

MJ sighs again, then swipes the Music Basic Guide off the desk and walks over to where Ned’s texting furiously in the far corner.

“Hey.”

Ned doesn’t seem to notice her. MJ reaches out over the table and then abruptly drops the book, which is considerably hefty, directly in front of him with a loud bang.

“Whoa!” Ned jerks upright. “Hi?”

MJ nods towards the phone. “That Peter?”

“Uh.” He tilts the phone away, suddenly very interested in her not seeing the screen. “Yeah. He uh, he said he’s on his way.”

“He always says that,” Michelle says. “Tell him MJ says that she’s highly aware of his growing absences—not in like, a creepy stalker kinda way—but in a she will literally kick him out of AcaDec kinda way. We only have nine spots and we need them all at one hundred percent if we’re going to win this year.”

“Good thing I’m here then!”

MJ turns just in time to see Peter, red-faced and breathless, slide into the seat next to her.

He drops his book bag onto the table—the noise once again startling Ned—and then has the audacity to ask, “Did I miss anything?”

She stares at him. “You’re half an hour late, Peter.”

“Which is still earlier than I was yesterday—”

“You realize that makes your argument worse, right?”

“—and Ned filled me in on pretty much everything, so, no need to backtrack for me.”

MJ pins Ned under the weight of her stare. “Oh he did, did he?”

Ned doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty about it, though he does shove his phone in his pocket awfully quickly. “You know what, now that we’ve established that I’m a great friend and teammate, I’m going to be even better and get us some snacks.”

Michelle’s eyes widen. “Ned, wait—”

“I’ll just run to the vending machine and back, don’t wait for me to get started!”

Ned then grabs his bag and is headed out of the room before she or Peter can get a word in, leaving both of them alone.

Michelle folds her arms on the table and lays her head in her hands, and groans.

Peter, mercifully and uncharacteristically, is quiet. After a few moments she hears his chair scrape against the linoleum floor as he finds a more comfortable position, and then the sound of the zipper on his backpack as he pulls out his study cards.

Michelle closes her eyes and ignores all the things she needs to fix, and probably all the eyes that’re pretending not to stare.

“So,” Peter says, somehow almost immediately after her heart stops pounding in her ears, “wrong answers, huh?”

“So many.” MJ drags her head back up and draws patterns on the table with her finger. “Or at least three, I guess. There’s probably more I haven’t found yet.”

“Still, the fact that you noticed them at all is really cool,” Peter says. “You’re good at detail stuff.”

“Or maybe just good at finding bullshit.” MJ chances a quick glance over at the sub to make sure she didn’t hear that. Mrs. Haney, predictably, is still asleep. “But I shouldn’t have had to find them at all. The USAD started charging for study materials this year instead of just handing out the topics, and the price was—a lot. Midtown’s already facing budget cuts, so they didn’t love the idea of spending money on a club run by a sophomore.”

Peter highlights a phrase on one of his cards before writing it down in his notebook. “But you got them, right? That’s got to count for something.”

“Yeah, until I found out they were a complete waste.”

“Complete might be an exaggeration—”

“Well, they’re not good enough!”

Peter pauses halfway through writing a sentence and turns his full attention to her, and it’s—a little nerve-wracking.

“I just—” Michelle grasps for words, then settles by dumping out the flashcards she’d made with the highlighted errors. “Will you look at this disaster? Switching up the melting point of a metal isn’t just a typo; it’s lazy. And easy to miss. We’re going to have to fact check practically everything in the books because there’s no way of knowing where the mistakes are, and who knows if they’re going to quiz us on the right answers or the wrong ones. They just… they charged all this money and they don’t even care who it hurts, because they still get what they wanted.”

“Amensalism,” Peter says.

“Wow, Ned really did tell you everything.”

Peter grins, and Michelle tries very studiously to ignore the way his smile makes her feel a little softer inside. “He’s a very efficient texter.”

MJ rolls her eyes. Peter doesn’t seem bothered.

“I just.  Liz chose me for this.” Michelle shrugs, picking at her cuticles. “And since she’s… I just feel like I owe it to her to do it right.”

Peter rubs idly at his wrists, suddenly uninterested in meeting her eyes. “Yeah. I get that.”

For once, despite his hesitancy, Michelle can tell he’s not lying.

It’s a nice change of pace.

Then she awkwardly fist bumps his shoulder and concentrates, intellectually, on how infuriating his flakiness and normal lying-ness is.

He is a disaster. And not interested.

She doesn’t need this kind of distraction.

“Anyway,” she says, abandoning her thoughts and pulling into a stretch, “it’s already done, so. I have to make this work somehow. I’ll figure it out.”

Except, there’s so much work to do already. Student profiles with strengths and weaknesses demarcated, logistics of traveling together for meets, a study plan complete with alternates, a recruiting strategy for next year, and not to mention all the drills she needs to run. Maybe an angry letter campaign to the USAD board while she’s at it.

Peter clears his throat. “Maybe I could help?”

Given his previous participation in AcaDec it is, quite possibly, one of the last things she’d expected him to say.

“I could go through the physics section pretty quickly,” he says, “and Ned can take economics, and—”

“Peter,” she says, still  recovering from the surprise of his offer, “you can’t even make it to practice on time and now you’re promising to do extra work?”

Peter has the decency to wince. “Okay, well. Yeah, that’s fair.”

“Yeah.” Michelle squares her shoulders, and resigns herself to the mountain of undeserved work. “But thanks for—”

“How about I just promise to help now? Since I am here?”

Once again, more staring.

“And then next time I’m here,” he continues, “I’ll just promise again.”

It’s utterly ridiculous, but he’s also utterly sincere.

“So you’re.” MJ frowns at him. “Promising to promise?”

“Yes, that.”

“…Huh.” Michelle squints at him. “You’re full of surprises, Parker.”

His eyes grow wide in that way that always makes her think, maybe. And then that stupid grin returns and makes her think a whole lot of other things.

“And one of those surprises is a highly informed understanding of physics.” Peter makes a ‘gimme’ motion with his hand. “Wanna give it a try?”

Michelle looks at him, and how genuinely earnest he is about the whole thing.

Maybe.

“Yeah,” she says slowly, opening the Math guide to the appropriate section. She scoots closer. “We can try.”

[nawaazishein]

As always I am late to the game 'cause I took 4 pages worth of notes while watching and that took forever. Ama neyse – thoughts on Sen Çal Kapımı episode 8:

Generally: 

While I spent a good part of the episode incredibly angry at a very specific person (hint: this time it is not Selin or Kaan), it turned out to be one of my favorite episodes so far, I think. The angsty hoe in me was thriving. I’ve read that people would’ve wanted more “shippy” stuff, for Eda and Serkan to make up at the end of the episode, a lot more progression in their relationship but I couldn’t disagree more. To me, there’s been incredible progress for not just our main couple… Serkan:

The main theme in this week’s episode was trust; Melo somewhat blindly trust people too easily, Ferit mistrusting Selin, but most of all Serkan no trusting literally anyone except himself.

I was very angry at Serkan Bey all throughout the episode and wanted to shoot very different things in his head than Eda… 90% of my Serkan-related notes were “I WANNA SMACK HIM SO HARD!” or “Serkan looked like he was about to combust because of rage. YES, SUFFER!” but oh well…

We learned that his trust issues are related to his past and the way his parents raised him. Alptekin says that he is to blame for this, that he raised Serkan as a “protector” and that it lead to him being like that. Serkan mentions at the end that it has nothing to do with other people, it’s just the way he was brought up. All in all, we got little snippets of where these issues come from but not a lot more than that, which honestly makes me wonder how this is related to his past. I’m gonna go so far as to say that almost all the people close to him (his mother, Engin, Pırıl, Selin) have always stood by him, no matter how badly he treated them (e.g. the way he yelled at them in the “Git!” scene), so where does trust come into play? My guess would be there is a lot more emotional trauma to be unraveled and we’ll get to know more about that in the future. Anyway, while I was incredibly angry at the, I wanna say, “blind rage” this triggered in him, how he put up his walls again and mostly how he treated Eda seemingly without an ounce of regret, I think we also saw him working through a lot internally. I’m talking about the impact being away from Eda had on him. He was constantly reminded of her, he wanted to know where she was, wanted to hear her voice, found excuses to see her. Every look he gave her in the scenes they had together spoke volumes about what was going on inside him, the turmoil, the want to apologize but not being able to. I think at this point, there’s no doubt in his mind that Serkan cannot lose her and that he loves her.

Eda:

My girl, my çiçeğim, my strong little warrior. Almost all my notes regarding Eda this epi had “YEEEESS!” written at the end because I was rooting for her so much. We get to see two sides of Eda this episode. 

On the one hand she is absolutely heartbroken by what Serkan did. She’s as hurt over Serkan seemingly reconciling with Selin, as Eda is made to believe, as she is over him questioning her integrity and loyalty. Right from the start, no matter how much she hated Serkan Bolat, she has always opened up to her mistakes and has always wanted to fix them. She values integrity a lot, and for Serkan to believe she did this even though they’ve gotten to know and understand one another understandably hurt her way more than the Selin thing ever could.

On the other hand, we get to see Eda (once again) ready to stand up for herself, no matter what. She’s ready to fight her battles with her head held high and I love that so much about her. Of course she does falter, she does get overwhelmed by her emotions and tear up, she is so deeply hurt by all of this, but she pulls through and stands her ground. I love this duality we get to see.

So far we haven’t learned a lot about Eda’s past except for that her parents died and her relationship with her grandma is on the rocks but I feel like that’s not all there is to it. I can’t put it in words but the way she carried herself throughout this, always trying to keep her composure and self-respect, has my gut feeling saying there’s more to her story than we’re anticipating. The mother figures/the girl gang/the women:

Something that stood out for me this episode was the level of support all these women showed for one another this episode. Ayfer is a wonderful guardian to her “little ones”. She always supports them unconditionall. Even though she might not agree with their choices, she gives advice and let’s them make of that what they will (e.g. her telling Melo that something about Kaan is not right), and she will always try to protect them from who is hurting them (e.g. her talk with Serkan). Aydan, as I said, is growing on me sooo much! I feel we’ve already seen so much “character development” in such a short amount of time and I love it. As we know, her son is her world and she doesn’t like Eda but nevertheless she acknowledges that her son is not perfect and what he did was wrong, which I’m not sure she would’ve done at the beginning of the contract. She tells him that this is no way to treat a woman and I especially loved that she not exclusively talked about Eda, but a little more generally, this is no way to treat anybody. I feel like, as I said before, there’s more to Serkan’s issues than we know and Aydan hints are something here, too, possibly something more in the direction of anger issues? I’m not sure but what I wanna say, this conversation didn’t seem like it was just about “That’s not how you treat a woman”. 

Oh, and the girl gang. @mnmississippi​  wonderfully said “Yes, love love love seeing strong women support each other and there were so many examples in the episode. I also appreciate that the girls have different goals and dreams but will help each other out (no one makes fun of Melo for being a dreamy romantic, the girls are fine w/ not knowing what mysterious Fifi does, Ceren doesn't make a big deal about being richer than the other girls.” and I absolutely agree. We get so see so many multi-layered and distinctive female charactes all supporting one another, no questions asked. I especially want to mention the scene in which the girls find out Kaan did it because wow, my heart… the way Melo teared up and immediately started apologizing to Eda for not realizing he did it, the way Eda didn’t hesistate for a single second and immediately went to hug her and apologized herself. I teared up myself. 

Selin:

I’ma keep this short because I cannot stand her. Yes, that means Bige is doing a great job playing a villain but oh my God, do I hate her. Her character lacks depth and intention and I don’t know what her goal is here. I’m not sure she knows, tbh. We get to hear her say things like “If she even has a little pride, she won’t come back.” about Eda and “Serkan is not a man I can spend my life with.” because apparently she loves Ferit and wants to start a life with him, but a couple of hours later she runs to pay Serkan a visit at night and sucks up to him so bad??? The stable scene physically made me cringe so hard, like, just make up for mind and life with that. Stop running after your ex and focus on your fiancé, who is an actual good egg imo. Someone on twitter said that Eda needs to “punch that hoe in the boob” and I wholeheartedly agree. Pırıl/Engin/Ceren:

It's an up and down with this love triangle for me. I thought I wanted an Engin/Pırıl ship last episodes, but this episode had some ambiguous glances between Engin/Ceren and Pırıl once again being a workaholic nightmare that I’m going back and forth on this one. We’ll see. Alptekin:

Yeah, we got a liiiittle more information about him but I’ma reserve judgement until we get to see a little more. I don’t know what to make of him this episode tbh.

Scenes I loved/that made me scream:

The scene where Serkan looks at the pictures he’d printed of them and the mug turning from red to black. I honestly needed a break after that!

Literally every scene of Seyfi being so salty towards Serkan and Leyla’s “My executioner has returned”.

Usually I don’t like obvious product placements, but if it gets me more Serkan Bolat in a shower then give me all of them!

The scene where the girls find out about Kaan and Melo starts crying. That shit was beautiful.

Eda coming up with a mindblowing concept for the project – although the drawings we saw were way more than a couple of days or even weeks worth of work, there’s no way she did that in a day or two.

Her giving him the ring and leaving. “This game is over, Serkan Bolat!” which means that everything that comes next will be real and based on feelings. Sign. Me. the. Fuck. Up. 

Random things:

Bige’s eyes… I don’t think I have ever seen eyes that blue. It’s been eight episodes but they still make my take me off guard every time I see her.

Why did Erdem move in, though? Just for comic relief because of the proximity to Fifi?

Pırıl’s legs in that pink dress were… a lot.

Hande needs to share her eyelash routine asap! And God, she looked how in that white skirt... damn

Speaking of hot, the cinematorgraphy… we got a lot of nice side-profile shots and... How is it that perky?!?! Ok damn, Bürsin.