#and really a person like him. that has worked in that field as long as he has surely has the kind of mental capacity for it

[batsplat]

hiiii <3 i just saw your casey race recs post and i was wondering if you had one with dovi or marc races too! i'm relative new to motogp and i don't know where to start watching!

thankk youuuu, i love your blog, i'm learning so much thanks to you 😭😭 also you're really funny 🫶

right, this one admittedly was trickier than the casey list. marc in particular has accumulated one hell of a body of work... not easy to do justice to. marc's won a lot, but his most enjoyable races aren't the ones where he gaps the field by about two minutes at cota. it's the ones where he's scrapping and brawling his way through and the whole thing is a bit of a mess. and there's a lot of races to choose from in that regard, against a whole host of different rivals

which is very nice for him, but that makes it impossible to do anything comparably comprehensive for marc without getting to a slightly ridiculous length. luckily, that's never stopped me before, and long is what you're getting. you asked about dovi so I'm gonna go with him first, because that's a somewhat easier to tackle body of work - and limit myself to a mere ten twenty five seven eight recs. then I'll get to marc, where I've limited myself to an extremely reasonable thirty three five races, not including any I already covered in the dovi section. if you're looking for something a little more specific, like idk wet weather or feuding or whatnot, lemme know

same warning as before: plenty of race results will be spoiled in the description. in honour of how worryingly long this list is, I've escalated to a three asterisk system: * means 'go check it out', ** means 'personal favourite', *** means 'classic race'

dovi

spoiler free top ten list: welkom 2004, turkey 2007, sepang 2008, silverstone 2010, mugello 2012, mugello 2017, austria 2017, sepang 2017, brno 2018, qatar 2019

*welkom 2004: dovi's first grand prix win. most of this race consists of a three-way battle between locatelli, dovi and casey (who eventually drops away a bit) at the circuit that kicks off dovi's 125cc title-winning season. the second half of this race is more exciting than the first, and you'll never guess how dovi wins a grand prix for the very first time. let's just say he wasn't leading going into the last corner and leave it at that

**turkey 2007: andrea dovizioso once again getting himself involved in a last lap battle? SURELY not. this race is so so much fun, though after the start it settles down for a bit - stick with it, because when it gets going, it really gets going. these kids are vicious with each other! half the joy of watching these old 250cc/125cc (or equivalent) races is hearing the stuff the commentators chat about, basically getting all the good gossip of the time... like say jorge telling the spanish press they shouldn't believe half the things he says about his rivals... or how he'd already been visibly pissed off after qualifying because he was starting from p2 rather than pole... also the kind of podium both me and the commies always massively enjoy, aka one where two people on it basically refuse to acknowledge each other. the vibes between jorge and dovi are NOT good here and it's a lot of fun to watch these children being so pissy with each other

^one of his favourite career victories against his main rival in 250cc, the defending champion jorge lorenzo, who was sporting the number one plate on a superior bike to dovi's honda machinery. more often than not over the course of their time in the sport, these two have not gotten on well at all. it remains one of the sport's defining tragedies that chupa chups did not sponsor jorge throughout his career

qatar 2008: his debut in motogp and a strong race. pleasingly he gets involved in a last lap fight, and does pick off one of the aliens

*sepang 2008: dovi's first premier class podium and an extremely deserving one that really showcased his abilities as a defensive rider, the latest of late brakers etc etc. fought with valentino, then led a train of four/five riders at one point, then was involved in a great late scuffle for third place that lasted until the very end

donington park 2009: first motogp win! has to be said the aliens... uh. none of them delivered their most dignified performances. but ignore those clowns - dovi's of course cemented his reputation as a highly skilled wet weather racer over the years, but this was his first time in the spotlight in the premier class. it would take him seven more years to acquire his next victory

*qatar 2010: a somewhat stronger season than his disappointing 2009 campaign, and the first race was certainly promising. dovi scraps with vale, scraps with nicky hayden, scraps with lorenzo... the racing is pretty decent too. includes the strange sight of seeing the ducati out-powered in a straight line down the lusail straight and I'm sorry but at that point ducati might as well have called it a season, like that was their ONE thing. anyway, dovi still rode well to take advantage of it

*silverstone 2010: once jorge hits the front following some initial resistance from dani, the fight for the win is basically over - but what's going on behind him is good enough to make up for it. bunch of different duels going on in the top seven, whether it's dovi and de puniet, hayden and pedrosa, spies and sic, and eventually casey shows up to join in on the fun too. another one where a bunch of riders are pleasingly close together and there's some real suspense about the final order late on (though the most dramatic action in the last lap is happening right behind dovi - not that you see most of it given the classic tv direction sin of instead giving us a nice prolonged shot of jorge doing a wheelie over the line and his crew celebrating. cheers guys). nice comeback ride for casey-enjoyers too (he wasn't enjoying it)

**sepang 2010: lot going on in this race. three-way fight for the win. valentino is eleventh after a few corners. he does not end the race in eleventh place. this is a good race both for dovi enjoyers and for enjoyers of the... uh. complicated vale/jorge dynamic (this race immediately followed motegi, a notable low point of their relationship). lovely little spite ride, for people who like that kind of thing. love the way it gradually builds up as valentino closes and closes and dovi is just sitting on jorge's rear wheel, and then it just nicely lights up around half distance. me and the commentators are once again having a great time. it is here that jorge seals the title, so it's all post-race smiles with just a hint of posturing

silverstone 2011: casey won this by several light years, but dovi demonstrated his pedigree as a wet racer once again. his race involved intense skirmishes first with jorge and then with sic, and it's fair to say he got the better of both of them

^two excellent wet weather racers and teammates for a single year in a three person repsol honda squad. when dovi was informed he would be let go by the factory team, he decided against accepting a demotion within honda and instead made the jump to yamaha's tech 3 satellite outfit for one year. this was the first time he raced outside of honda in his grand prix racing career. then, in 2013, valentino's return to yamaha made space within ducati. he was always going to have to be vale's replacement rather than his teammate - in 2011 while searching for a ride he said "I would never accept to be teamed up with valentino rossi. it would be pure masochism. there is no room for anybody at his side, he takes it from you and he takes it all. when rossi is ready to share the limelight it will be the end of his racing days". fittingly, dovi was valentino's last ever teammate in motogp

mugello 2011: this feels like one of those classic alien era races where the winner of the race is determined after about a lap. but... it's not! makes for an unexpectedly exciting race and also *ding* last lap overtake

*valencia 2011: this one should have gone on the casey list too, knew I'd missed some. anyhow, on dovi - a lot of dovi's best races during those years came in the wet. but this time he was already engaged in a nice little scrap with dani and ben spies before the rain came. the clash also had real stakes for dovi and dani's final championship positions, a point of personal pride given that dovi had been let go by honda and pedrosa had been retained. a race that accidentally gets exciting again at the end, quite the dramatic finish. this was an emotional podium at the first race after sic's death. dovi and sic had grown up racing each other - and while he stressed that they had never been friends, dovi went to sic's house two days after the crash to see his family and share his grief with them

assen 2012: another one that probably could have gone on my casey list too, actually, with the fight for the win between dani and casey lasting pretty far into the race. behind them, it's dovi putting pressure on spies, lying in wait to make the attack... and, thrilled to say, we do in fact have some last lap overtaking. we don't really get to see how this contest is resolved because the audience needs to see the race winner coast for half a lap, but nevertheless! this one also has extra significance because spies was a factory yamaha rider and dovi was with the satellite team. always a good idea to get your market value up during contract negotiation season

*mugello 2012: would put this on my casey list if I'd included some disaster rides, which this is for him. that bit of the season where he made some high profile errors and controversial passing attempts of his own (and there was an overtake he did apologise for post-race) (this is the last casey mention I promise). anyway, never mind him. this is another one of those alien era races where the winner pretty quickly checks out by a margin of around ninety nine years, and indeed is already waving to the crowd on the last lap. the racing behind him is not too bad though, dovi is involved in a long duel with bradl that hayden eventually joins, and casey isn't the only guy executing controversial passes

assen 2014: ducati was in a pretty sorry state in 2013 and it's still in a pretty sorry state in 2014. another wet race podium, very strong race from dovi where he does manage to stick with marc for a while there. lower down the order, valentino is executing a rather nifty comeback ride after making an erroneous tyre choice

**qatar 2015: a great race and one that nicely sets the tone for what some consider a fairly interesting season. marc goes wide in the first turn and jorge has some kind of visor issues, so we end up with the two ducatis and valentino having it out for the win

^valentino after qatar 2015 about the current era of racing. at the start of the season, it looked like the ducatis would be right in the mix - surely one of the two factory riders would be able to snag a victory sooner or later. it was not to be that year and the results for the rest of the season were largely disappointing, but ducati had clearly made a step forward

sepang 2016: dovi's 2015-16 must have been maddening. three consecutive p2's to start 2015 but drops off from there. rumours at the start of 2016 that jorge's sick of yamaha and speculation is ripe about who in ducati might be sent packing for him. it looks like dovi might well be headed for the door, except iannone did something extremely damaging to his case early that season - dovi was the safe pair of hands, not the guy ducati put their hopes in. they're handing out wins to anyone who rocks up that year and indeed dovi's soon-to-be-former teammate gets ducati's first victory in about a million miserable post-casey years. plenty of talk about who'll win next and marc and vale both point to dovi, but it's just not happening. sepang is the penultimate round of the season and by this point, at least a little order has been restored again - which is when dovi finally gets his win in the wet. still bonkers to think he had two premier class wins pre-2017 both in the wet and then he's runner-up three consecutive years, very gibernau of him. he earned it too, a long scrap in the race with valentino until vale's tyres went kaput

*mugello 2017: dovi begins his transformation into a genuine title threat here. it looked like lorenzo would lead the ducati charge as he had been hired to do at ducati's home circuit in mugello, a circuit he had always been strong at. in the early stages of the race, jorge fought valentino (fresh from his first motocross accident of the season and expected to struggle late in the race) for the lead. dovi had missed warm-up as he was suffering from food poisoning, but, as would happen repeatedly that season, jorge quickly slipped back down the order - and in the end it was dovi who took the fight to the yamahas. a home victory, his first dry win, and all while not at his best physically... no wonder it was one of dovi's favourite career wins

^the moment dovi replaced maverick vinales as marc's biggest threat that season

catalunya 2017: it took dovi seven years to win two races and a week to win his next two. this was the moment when yamaha really started falling apart and confirmed the looming realignment of the competitive landscape. it all came back to the tyres - as it often did in those years, but it was particularly extreme in the sweltering heat. winning a race with your tyre preservation skills on a bike that allows you to preserve those tyres doesn't make for the most thrilling of races, but hey, job well done. his teammate finished fourth, almost ten seconds back after leading on the first lap

***austria 2017: one of the classic marc/dovi duels. the best races between the two of them (unsurprisingly) tended to be at tracks that quite heavily favoured ducati - and austria was already establishing itself as a prime ducati hunting ground. which meant that marc was pretty happy to even find himself that high up in the order and doing damage limitation in terms of the points swing in the championship fight. does that mean he plays it safe while trying to snatch the win from dovi? not even going to bother to answer that question

*motegi 2017: another in the marc/dovi collection and one that reaffirmed dovi's status as a worthy challenger to marc. a dramatic last lap in treacherous conditions that goes down right to the very last corner

**sepang 2017: such an impressive win. the title was on the line... or rather, dovi knew that he basically had to win to even still give himself a chance. he was not helped out one bit by his teammate in this regard, but rode a fantastic race in the wet to eventually force the title decider (left field choice but this dovi win is the one that most impressed me, fully thought the title would be wrapped up here especially after a poor race in phillip island)

valencia 2017: has to go on here as it's the one title decider dovi has gotten himself involved in. marc had a comfortable 21 point margin, which meant that for dovi to win the title marc would've had to finish... uh p12 or lower I believe, and dovi would've had to win the race. straightforward for marc, right? well, title deciders have a tendency to get a bit weird and nervy, just because of the stakes involved... and you can tell from how marc's riding. this race is also really dull until about ten laps to go... thing about valencia is that even when it's looking like an overtake is coming it's basically guaranteed that it won't be. the funniest part of the race is jorge ignoring team orders to a ridiculously blatant extent and ducati attempting to psychically murder him

^dovi always knew the odds were against him going into valencia. this is the moment his title bid ends, ironically just after he'd finally been freed of lorenzo

*qatar 2018: dovi would never come as close to the title again as he did in 2017, but at the start of 2018 at least it looked like he could be a serious challenger once again. this is a great race, another last lap battle... trying not to get repetitive so here, have some of my race notes to change things up:

**brno 2018: for a while, this looks like we're building up for a nice little four-way fray between dovi, vale, marc and jorge (feat. crutchlow). dovi does what he always does when he's leading and goes at the slowest possible pace, and everybody else does what they always did in those years and lies in wait, while occasionally reshuffling the order at the front in the name of whimsy. and then the yamaha does what it always does and somehow burns out its tyres anyway even though they're crawling around the circuit. anyhow, once valentino has done his scheduled backwards slide and jorge has rejoined the fray, it shapes up as a nice little three-way fray between dovi, marc and jorge. appreciating dovi races is all about getting really into the idea of tyre preservation and knowing the last laps will probably be fun. extra little spice because by this point the jorge/dovi dynamic is... not great :)) and we get an appropriately feisty duel between those two in particular

^after his win at the season opener in qatar, dovi had struggled to continue the momentum from the previous season. he went into the race fourth in the standings behind marc, vale and maverick, already 77 points down on marc - and his teammate had recently won back-to-back races. an important win and the rest of his season was a lot stronger. and of course, he had the joy of beating jorge, a relationship that managed to deteriorate even further over the course of that year

*thailand 2018: minus the yamahas providing an early and a late cameo, this one's all about another marc and dovi duel. a lot of stalking and lurking and then marc makes his move with four laps to go. excellent last few laps with overtakes galore, including of course at the very last corner

**qatar 2019: perhaps the archetypal dovi race. runs a very slow pace at the front to just carefully manage the pace, which leads to a nicely bunched up field that keeps sniping at each other. the top three for much of the race of marc, dovi and rinsy switch around plenty of times. there's one moment where dovi just like. ups the pace simply to test if he can drop everyone and then fully drops it by a second the next lap when he can't. pretty funny in how blatant it was. also, don't want to shock you here but we do indeed have another last lap battle. top five at the end covered by .6 seconds

*austria 2019: the first lap is WILD and actually manages to delay the inevitable marc/dovi duel. fabio leads for a bit, and then you are reminded of exactly why he hasn't been able to shut up about top speed for the past few years, like man after a while I'd be traumatised too. another fun duel between marc and dovi, which ends with... that's right. a last lap battle. that was kind of what their rivalry was about by 2019, given there wasn't really a title fight any more (certainly not after jorge played bowling in catalunya) - but the races themselves were thrillers, a welcome remedy when marc's dominance was at its most stifling

austria 2020: just as a heads-up - this race includes a terrifying crash when the bikes of zarco and franky morbidelli almost fly straight into valentino and maverick. nobody was seriously injured but they were inches away from a life-threatening accident; it's by the grace of god stuff. the race was stopped and then restarted, which... bit tough to say whether that helped or hurt dovi. probably helped (though I reckon he was always winning this) - in part two mr tyre whisperer is chasing jack miller on soft tyres. what happens next will shock you. deeply odd race... a lot of 2020 races had a surreal vibe - you just have to kinda experience it for yourself. at one point there's a graphic on screen telling you dovi, zarco and stefan bradl are competing for the win. this is not the case

^once more with feeling: dovi's third win at the redbull ring and only win in 2020, just after he'd announced his decision to leave ducati. between injuries, being unable to make the new rear tyre work for him and the growing alienation from ducati, 2020 was not an easy season for dovi. in the end, he was not the one to take advantage of marc's absence, and his time as a top-level rider ended when him and ducati parted ways

marc

spoiler free top ten list: cota 2013, assen 2015, phillip island 2015, mugello 2016, misano 2017, phillip island 2017, argentina 2018, assen 2018, silverstone 2019, sachsenring 2021

mugello 2010: first grand prix win! once marc has worked his way through the field this develops into a tight four-way scuffle that continues until the very end, with marc winning by .039s

estoril 2010: absolute chaos race and also the penultimate race of the season with a tight and tense championship situation. marc does well to move up the order until the rain comes and the race is paused... and then my man bins it on the sighting lap. anyway who needs more than half a bike to win a race. one hell of a comeback ride with a nicely dramatic ending

phillip island 2011: marc had to start this race from the back of the grid as a result of a one minute time penalty. early in one of the practise sessions that weekend, he had crashed and had been forced to wait in the pits while the bike was repaired, but was then sent out with only a minute to go. he tried to get in a hot lap after the chequered flag was out, and barrelled into the back of another rider who was slowing down after a practise start. the other rider went to the hospital, though was not seriously injured, and marc ended up with only a cut - but both parties were very lucky to escape relatively unscathed and he was heavily criticised for it. he himself did not agree with the penalty, and his team lodged an unsuccessful appeal. this was also a big race in that year's championship fight (that marc eventually could not see out after his crash in sepang), presenting a huge opportunity for title rival bradl to gain a decisive points advantage. a very impressive comeback ride, as well as a good contest for the win

**qatar 2012: love a race that's a mess. the season opener, and also marc's first race back after the horror crash in sepang the previous year that had given him career-threatening diplopia. marc spends a fair portion of the race battling with iannone, one of his main rivals that year, and if I personally had to fight both baby marc and baby iannone I would simply leave. another bloke is so furious at marc he slaps his arm on the cooldown lap, which was in response to a very controversial pass down the straight where marc kinda ran him off track. both were reprimanded by race direction. the finish is ridiculously close. go watch it

^the cooldown lap slap - marc was involved in several controversies that year. at the end of the year, the fim updated its rulebook, widely seen as a response to marquez-related incidents and the controversial handling of them, and introduced the penalty point system. ironically, it was that system that resulted in valentino's back-of-the-grid penalty in valencia 2015. in early 2017, the penalty points were once again scrapped

motegi 2012: another comeback ride - this time, marc stalls at the start. does his thing and eventually has a late scrap with his main title rival pol espargaro for the win. good fun

valencia 2012: 'oh you can't overtake at valencia' 'oh all the races are boring' 'oh could they please kick it off the calendar come on we deserve a better race to end the season' is what only an idiot would say. marc's last moto2 race starts from p33 after being penalised for a practise collision. spectacular comeback rides are a funny calling card to have for the statistically strongest qualifier in motorcycling grand prix history, but reflects how much of a trouble magnet he was - especially in those days. he might not have a great reputation in the premier class, but he did calm down in 2013, relatively speaking. or, well, he certainly did things it was harder to penalise him for

*qatar 2013: marc's first premier class race. jorge basically fucks off at the front from the word go, but it's an exciting battle behind him - that of course eventually involves valentino, who as ever had worked his way through the pack from further down the grid. first race first podium simple as

*cota 2013: this was always going to go on the list given that it's marc's first premier class win. the race itself is fine, not the most exciting entry on this list, but still! obviously worth a watch

**jerez 2013: icl I feel like this race really benefits from watching jerez 2005 first. not only because 2005 is the better race, but because I think you need to picture twelve year old marc marquez watching this race and thinking it was just like. the coolest shit ever. the patriotism left his body that day. I will not talk about the 2005 race here, but to be clear I am with twelve year old marc marquez on this one. anyway, back to 2013: the race is decent, the infamous copycat overtake is great but arguably the parc fermé and podium vibes are even better. not only was he shameless, but he was shameless in a way he knew echoed his hero beat for beat. baby's first premier class controversy

^the infamous finger wag. marc tries to approach him again during the podium celebrations, but seems unbothered when he is rebuffed. jorge made clear throughout that season he thought marc should be penalised, repeatedly bringing up when jorge himself was given a one race ban and how it had taught him a lesson about responsible riding (some of his rivals in 250cc and premier class rookie season might have some thoughts on that). his criticisms continued well into the season, with tensions rising again after marc's overtake on dani in aragon led to dani crashing

**laguna seca 2013: can't leave this out. important to stress moto2/125cc never went there, so it was his first time at just this notoriously tricky track that was known to be incredibly hard to conquer (here is a clip of vale and marc talking about this in the sachsenring presser). I wouldn't say the race itself is all that great once marc does his thing at the corkscrew, but laguna's quite high up there on tracks you can mostly just enjoy watching bikes go around. big moment in the championship fight because it's when marc is racking up the points at the expense of the injured lorenzo/pedrosa

^2008: valentino stops during his victory lap to kiss the corkscrew where he overtook casey // 2013: marc gets his photo taken at the corkscrew a few days before he will overtake valentino there

*silverstone 2013: a jorge/marc contest for the victory with a dramatic ending, one of the best races that year. marc had dislocated his left collarbone in that morning's warm up, so there was added tension in whether he could hold up physically across a race stint - at a time when jorge (and dani) desperately needed to make up points. interesting continuation of the lorenzo/marquez arc that season in that jorge was a little more willing to match marc's aggression, whatever the problems he had with it

valencia 2013: not bad as valencia races go, actually. which is literally only because it's a title decider and the points situation is exciting, but well credit where it's due. proper tussle between the top three - jorge was so aggressive as he attempted to back marc up into the pack that journalists in the presser afterwards were essentially inviting marc to call jorge a hypocrite. obviously has sentimental value as it's where marc's first premier class title was sealed (even if it should have been sealed earlier but hey ho)

*qatar 2014: I found it quite tricky to make a few picks for 2014, because I feel like a lot of the races this year are in the category of 'fun but not all time epics', and it's hard to really choose between a bunch of them in terms of either significance or entertainment value. the first race of a ten race win streak feels as good a place to start as any, and represents the moment when marc really began stamping his authority on the series. in many ways, this race echoed the race of the previous year: jorge leading from the start, valentino charging through the field, marc somewhere in between. except this time jorge crashes and the fight between marc and valentino is for the victory. it lasts until the penultimate lap, and this time it's marc who comes out on top

le mans 2014: marc did try occasionally to keep things interesting. yes he consistently qualified very well, but sometimes he threw in a bad start or an awful first lap for the vibes. in this one, he ran very wide during the first lap (partly helped along by jorge) and ended up back down in tenth. the pace differential is too extreme for good battles but still, some nice overtaking

**catalunya 2014: see above - there's not all that much to separate this from say mugello or silverstone, so the tiebreaker is personal preference. a good, fun scrap that involves all four of marc, vale, jorge and dani at different stages - even if the end result by this point feels almost inevitable. it is here that valentino rather understandably attempts to strangle marc in parc fermé

^still a close contest with seven laps to go. plenty of overtakes, plenty of confusion relating to a yellow flag, and last lap contact

indianapolis 2014: last of the win streak, at a track that was never particularly popular with riders and typically short on good racing. for a while there at the start it looks like this race would deserve to go on the dovi list until valentino just. um. bumps him aside. and lets marc and jorge past both of them. and then lorenzo also bumps dovi aside. sorry dovi, yamaha decided you were not to be involved in this. the next few laps are good fun too, like by this point you can TELL how much both yamaha riders want this. no manners in sight. icl it's mainly the fact that it's closing out the win streak that has made me include it and the first few laps, because once it settles down it... sure does settle down. ignore this list and just pick a win from the 2014 win streak at random - if you enjoy that one, you'd probably enjoy them all

***assen 2015: probably my favourite marquez/rossi battle. really all you can ask from with a race with two protagonists: lasts the whole race, tense, high stakes, two guys who are particularly motivated to beat each other, several overtakes plus a hell of a lot of stalking and studying each other, and last lap controversy. involves cunning, a little bit of ambiguity in the intentions of both parties, some unresolved questions. an appointment with race direction. an awfully tense post-race press conference that the relationship of the protagonists could never quite recover from. the ideal race

***phillip island 2015: one of the best races of all time etc etc, though it may make you feel like somebody is repeatedly stabbing you with the sword of damocles. still, that's entirely to do with what follows, and the race itself is a fantastic four-rider battle with a murdered seagull and a late twist

**sepang 2015: well, obviously! the actual confrontation between marc and valentino is deeply counterproductive in terms of 'guys you're letting lorenzo/pedrosa escape, stop divebombing each other' and well the whole thing is all kinds of tragic. but the racing itself nicely showcased the complete lack of respect between the pair of them and there is something kind of mesmerising about seeing two all time great wheel-to-wheel fighters go at it, no holds barred. plus it's a major part of marc's story. it is what it is

argentina 2016: this probably isn't making a lot of top thirty something lists, but hey, sometimes you just need to watch a kind of stupid race. this race was kind of stupid. it has the dubious honour of being the first in the marc/vale walk of shame 'hey remember when you guys fought here last year' tour, and they do actually get to scrap it out a bit on track again - though that confrontation is defanged from the moment they have to switch bikes. the last corner incident is dumb but also funny. the podium has truly rancid vibes. I had a good time

^nobody else on that podium as much as twitches when marc goes down. blank faces when he jokes about it in the presser. kind of impressive really. same weekend

***mugello 2016: there is a moment when you think this race will end up being an extremely tight contest until the end between the three protagonists of the 2015 fiasco. then something extremely infuriating happens, and it ends up not being that. on the one hand you leave that race feeling a little robbed, on the other hand it did still feature a veryyy dramatic finish between two of the protagonists. excellent race

**catalunya 2016: the first proper post-2015 marc/vale battle, and at valentino's favourite location for enjoyable race-long duels. it's not like... I don't think of that particular category, I'd call it my absolute favourite - but that's a very high bar. no surprise that they both really really wanted to beat each other, and hey interpersonal animosity always adds a fun nice note to the racing

sachsenring 2016: the problem with the sachsenring is that it used to produce banger after banger race until some diminutive bloke called 'marc marquez' fucking ruined it. 2003 2006 2009 2010 2011 are certified classics, as good as it gets really, tight dramatic fights for the victory and podium positions and integral to the narrative arc of their respective seasons. you used to be able to rely on this track to give you a SHOW. but then that twat showed up and... tbh I can't even remember many of his wins there having particularly memorable racing behind him (I did quite like 2018), so maybe it's not only his fault (to be clear it is in large part his fault). anyway the 2016 edition is in that stretch of 2016 where everything just kind of. goes to shit. like they start just letting anyone win. jack miller won in assen that year. anarchy in motogp. it's the michelin tyres, it's the rain, and it's this bit of the season where marc starts running away with the title. this is another very messy race, more rain, and it's one that has convinced me once and for all that marc has actual plot armour at this circuit. there is a moment where you will go 'how does he win this race' and it's the moment where he goes so far off the track he's halfway to austria. watch to find out how he somehow scams another win at the ring. damn him please do it again this year

^come on this is bullshit. if I'm the other guys I'm calling for a ban of the sachsenring until we figure out what the hell is going on. no wonder he was hopeful of winning on the murder honda

**assen 2017: brilliant race. initial four-way tussle between marquez, rossi, zarco and petrucci that includes some early aggression between the usual suspects and then some light rain to further spice things up. right on the very last lap, there are two great scraps going on - one for the win (with a controversial involvement of a backmarker), and the other for the last podium spot against cal crutchlow

**misano 2017: this is a race that very much had the shadow of valentino rossi looming over it, even though he was not in attendance. valentino had gotten himself involved in his second serious motocross crash of the season, both right before italian races, and had this time decided to take himself out of the title hunt rather definitively by breaking his leg. some time after this, marc posts a photo of himself doing motocross - which he has done a lot of over the years, but was interpreted as taunting valentino and got plenty of backlash online. whether this was a contributing factor or not, he received a frosty reception in misano. he crashed during the wet warm up session and was booed by fans as he rode past them on the scooter, prompting him to blow kisses at them. the race occurred at a tense moment during that title fight: marc had suffered a mechanical dnf in the previous race and in doing so had surrendered the championship lead to dovi. he could not afford another dnf at this late stage of the season. which perhaps made it a little surprising just how hard he fought for that win against petrucci in the treacherous wet conditions, the risk he took with his overtake on the very last lap. was it just to get an extra five points and the win, or was it (as the speculation went at the time) about getting revenge on the italian fans? who's to say - but in any case it was one of the defining performances of that year's championship and another example of marc's skill and confidence in the wet

***phillip island 2017: you know the drill - this circuit produces bangers, and this is another all-time great race. marc by this point had a weird and somewhat cursed record at phillip island in the premier class, where he'd a) been disqualified in 2013, b) crashed out of a comfortable lead in 2014, c) won in a dramatic last lap in 2015, and d) crashed out of a comfortable lead in 2016. so in his first four years, the only year he'd even finished the race, it set off a deeply unfortunate series of events involving marc and allegations of sabotage made by his childhood hero - which maybe goes to show the universe just wanted that particular relationship to be doomed. anyway, 2017!! apparently marc decided he could only finish at that circuit when it involved a dramatic battle between multiple riders. good on him! the racing is brutal, with plenty of contact between the riders, as perhaps you might expect looking at the list of protagonists: marquez, rossi, zarco, vinales, iannone, crutchlow. high stakes too - a decisive points swing in that year's title fight that could have easily gone disastrously wrong for marc. in 2018, marc once again did not finish the race

^a hard-fought race where all participants are more than happy to get physical. one of several races that season that prompts questions about aggressive riding, though this time all the riders are in agreement. after the handshake, marc gestures to the rubber that now stains valentino's leathers. in a year where team orders were a big topic of debate, valentino finished right in front of his teammate - who had still been in mathematical contention for the championship

**argentina 2018: for lovers of hubris and head loss. the full marc marquez experience. off his rocker the entire weekend. got whacked with a massive penalty at the end of the race that made the whole thing quite literally pointless and deserved every second of said penalty. jorge's long-standing mantra of 'just give him a race ban' became part of the discourse again. ended up p18 to valentino's p19, hand in unlovable hand. but apart from that, it was a really great performance!

^complaints at the time obviously centred around how marc was a repeat offender in the recklessness of his riding, and lacking in respect (see too the ever-lurking parallels drawn with the jerez 2011 apology - which was, it has to be said, issued for a considerably less egregious offence). publicly marc was mostly remorseless, accepting more blame in the aleix incident than the valentino one, and saying in an interview a few days later that he wasn't going to change his approach. it's the worst and the best of him - he had no need to barge aside other riders with the sheer raw pace he was able to access. on the phillip island 2003 comparison, see valentino's words about riding angry here. in 2012, marc was asked about whether there were races where he was determined to win at all cost, and he mentioned some examples from that year before adding, "there have been many times when I had to channel my inner rage to win a race"

***assen 2018: excellent race, as memorable as phillip island 2015 or 2017 if your favourite type of race is multi-rider dogfights. involves seven or eight riders in the lead group for large chunks of the race, with the order of those riders chopping and changing with incredible regularity. some pretty ridiculous saves (at least three riders right at the sharp end of the action where you feel that they really should have hit the deck) and a lot of contact, putting on full display just how aggressive riding had gotten during that time. most riders enjoyed the contest, though this time it was dovi's turn to be a dissenting voice. in any case, there were reportedly 99 passes within the lead group and it is rightly remembered as one of that era's finest gems

*austria 2018: marc vs the ducatis, as was tradition at the red bull ring. marc wanted to get payback for the last time they had been in austria, and determinedly got a good start to try and avoid history repeating itself - but he never quite managed to escape his pursuers. this is one of those races where there's a long stretch of it just... building, where it feels like either marc will make the break for it or there'll be a dramatic finale. which can make it ever so slightly annoying when there isn't a dramatic finale, but I am happy to assure you that this race delivers on that count. gets very good with ten laps to go

^plenty of close battles, but in those years nobody could match marc for week-to-week consistency. the closest by that metric in 2018 was valentino - but typically a few positions further down the order, hindered both by competitive decline and an increasingly horrendous yamaha. as for jorge, he found his form on the desmodici just as the ducati higher-ups lost their patience and kicked him out. he reached some impressive peaks and at last adapted well to the demands of the bike, but his season was eventually marred by injury

***silverstone 2019: quick warning - quite a scary crash on the first lap even by motogp standards. anyway, dramatic last lap battle with alex rins, who I think it's fair to say marc hasn't always had the best of relationships with. while things haven't exactly gone to plan for either rider since then, excluding fabio that was probably the rivalry that I was most excited to see develop post-2019. ah well. the race itself is fantastic though, one of those that just gradually ramps up the tension before the finale. the last two laps are crazyyyyy. top five closest finish in premier class history

^marc and rinsy (not at silverstone but earlier in the season at jerez). some long-standing bad blood here and I'm sure rinsy really would have liked to strangle marc from time to time

**misano 2019: another visit to valentino's home turf in the year time finally caught up with vale. before this race, marc and valentino tussled in qualifying. an odd and deeply unserious incident that had zero actual impact on their already doomed laps, it's notable in part due to how much marc visibly lost his cool over the whole thing. from p5 on the grid he ended up in an enjoyable duel with fabio quartararo for the victory that went down to the very last lap. as the commentators noted, he celebrated more than he has after sealing some of his championships. coming out best in a last lap battle, making sure to keep the edge over fabio, as well as 'winning in enemy territory'? the perfect weekend. as he says in the immediate post-race interview, "honestly speaking, yesterday was the extra motivation, the extra push for the race" and "really nice to win here in italy". you could tell

**thailand 2019: marc attempting to burnish his last lap battle record by breaking children's hearts? sad stuff. cruel and unusual. a lot of fun to watch. it's an understatement to say that fabio's rookie campaign exceeded expectations, and marc quickly identified him as his biggest threat going forwards. this was a match point race for marc and he needed to outscore dovi by two points to seal the title, but he had such an overwhelming lead that he could afford to take more risks than he might have other years - even if the race did follow a massive crash in friday practise that required a hospital check-up. another race that involves a lot of stalking and shadowing and plotting before the action really kicks off (with four laps to go). this race was part of marc's considerable efforts that year to put fabio in his place while he still could. poor fabio

jerez 2020: hurts to include but this list wouldn't really be complete without it. another race that very much encapsulates the full marc marquez experience. truly bonkers pace until it all went horribly wrong

^funniest moment of the race is when valentino does what is surely the closest you can get to a double take on a motorcycle when he sees marc go past. like he sees marc, then clocks who he's seeing and then visibly looks again in a sort of 'HOW is he here'

*sachsenring 2021: thing about marc at the sachsenring is that it undoubtedly got boring in terms of the victory fight for a few years there, but it's also just a fun, tricky track and he's a joy to watch on it. obviously this win is anything but boring, and the margin he pulls on the field never feels as comfortable as it should be. I don't really think I have much to say about this race that hasn't already been said. I cried

^make that eleven in a row at the ring. honorary mentions go to cota and emilia romagna '21, at time of writing his most recent wins. neither are classic races exactly - and indeed, if you're looking for races relevant to the current climate then aragon '21 is a good shout. at emilia romagna (the second race held at the misano circuit that year), pecco crashes out while being pursued by marc, which clinches the title for fabio. it is also the last race on home soil for valentino

**phillip island 2022: one more for good measure. somehow this is his first premier class ride at the circuit where he finished the race but did not win. late on in that year's tense title battle and gives you exactly what you want from a race at phillip island. it's not even a multi-rider dogfight as it is an every-rider dogfight that eventually becomes a multi-rider dogfight at the front of the pack... but if you looked at the run order after about three laps you would NOT be able to guess who the riders involved are, never mind who wins it. absolute chaos. one hell of a contest right until the very end involving one of that year's two primary title contenders - and some other foes old and new. marc's sole podium that year, and his 100th in motogp. second closest top ten in premier class history, not too bad

[lilhealthybean]

daisy

"Aren't they as gorgeous as you?" tags: jjk, yuji itadori notes: angst, ik im terrible since jjk universe has already lot of angst. what can i say? im a hoe for this shit.

The pink-haired boy walked through the corridors until he reached the room where his friends and teacher were relaxing.

"Yuji! You finally decided to show up! We thought were not going to see you today since yesterday you returned late" exclaimed Gojo as he stood up from the couch to approach the teenager "Are you okay?"

Yuji's last mission didn't end up well. Despite successfully exorcising the curse, there were some sacrifices made. As a result, Yuji stayed in his bedroom for three days until he felt recovered.

"Yes, I'm okay Gojo-sensei" he smiled as usually, trying to conceal the fact he was not feeling okay.

That last mission really took a toll on him.

"You still have the rest of the month off, so take it easy" Satoru added, tousling his student's hair.

Yuji nodded, focusing his gaze on the floor

"I was planning on visiting y/n" he confessed.

It wasn't a request for permission, Yuji was going to do it.

"Tell y/n I said hi" Megumi said with a soft smile to his friend "If you need anything, just call"

With that, Yuji continued his walk, leaving the Tokyo sorcery school behind. He felt a knot in his stomach; Yuji had been visiting you since he recovered, feeling guilty of your condition.

He followed the routine he had been following for the past two weeks. He passed by the convenience store were you used to buy snacks together. He walked by the arcade where he spent all his money just to get you the plushie you wanted. He walked by the bench you two had your first kiss. He stopped by the florist to buy you yours favorite flowers, daisies. He continued his walk towards the bridge where he confessed his feelings to you, and you accepted him. His heartbeat always increased when he recalled the last memory.

"I can't wait to see you" he said in a low voice as he held the daisies in his hand.

He began walking towards where you were, reminiscing about all the wonderfull memories he had shared with you. It still felt unreal for him that you had accepted his feelings. Yuji considered you the most genuine person and the one he loved being with the most.

The moon was already arising on the sky, urging Yuji to hurry as he really wanted to see you. Five minutes after, he was there, by your side. Carefuly he placed the daisies he had bought for you in a plastic vase.

"Hi honey, hope I didn't kept you waiting too long. I said I would be here at 5 pm, but I got distracted. Anyway, I brought you daisies, your favorites. Aren't they as gorgeous as you?" Yuji admited with a big smile as he showed the vase held in his hands "Oh! By the way, Megumi sends you greetings"

However, he knew that smile wasn't genuine. After the mission, no smile he made was genuine. His vision started to blur due to the tears that were threatening to fall, but he held them back. Yuji didn't want you to see him like that since he swear it to you.

He sat on the ground, trying to compose himself. Attempting to stay calm by taking deep breaths to ease his mind, but it didn't work. Before he even realized it, he was sobbing uncontrollably. Yuji left the vase with the flowers on the floor to wipe his tears. Ten minutes passed until Yuji had no tears more left to cry, grateful that there was no one else to see him in that vulnerable state except for you.

"Sorry... I promised you I wouldn't cry..." the pink-haired boy whispered as he got up "Tomorrow I will come again, don't worry. Wait for me, okay?"

Yuji left the flowers by your side and stared at them.

"I really hope you are in the daisy fields you have always craved for"

And just like the past two weeks, he departed from your grave, filled with sorrow and feeling heartbroken.

[ellemj]

Strawberries

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT

Request by @cherrywinedarling: fuckboy!Bucky, sex pollen.

Summary: Bucky, the man with a long list of girls on his roster, gets exposed to a sex pollen in the field. Will he fuck the first girl he calls or the girl he's wanted for the last two months?

Warnings: profanity, sex pollen (dubcon), fingering, unprotected sex, fuckboy!Bucky, size kink, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N: Special thanks to @cherrywinedarling for submitting such an inspirational (fcking hot) request and coming up with the entire plot of Bucky being unable to get himself off with a random girl, and only being able to get what he needs from reader. Lowkey loved writing this. And thanks as always to @littlemiss-yeehaw for pre-reading and catching some errors.

            Twice. No, maybe it was actually three times. Definitely three times. Bucky can remember being exposed to different versions of HYDRA’s sex pollen three times before. Each time was strictly for experimental or torture purposes rather than being done with the intent of breeding super soldiers, but it happened three times, nonetheless. So, this would be number four.

            Bucky lets the cool water from the shower faucet splash over his face for a minute before beginning to scrub his skin with a wet, soapy cloth. He tried to tell you that it wasn’t anything to stress over, that he’d keep his distance from the rest of the team on the quinjet and then lock himself in his room once you were all back at the compound, but you insisted on doing things the right way. He didn’t have to take an order from you, but he did. He shot you a frustrated look before making a crude comment and trudging off to the safehouse bathroom to take a shower like you’d told him to.

            “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you, don’t keep me waiting too long.” Bucky had said it with a smirk as he stood in the living room of the safehouse and stripped his shirt off with ease. But that smirk was gone the moment he shut himself in the bathroom and turned on the faucet. He’s been through this three times before but it was never enjoyable. It’ll start out as a sort of general discomfort, maybe some body aches and chills as his temperature rises slowly. Then it’ll progress to cardiovascular symptoms: his heart will begin to race, he’ll hear the thumping sound of blood rushing in his ears, his blood pressure will spike. In a normal person, the dangerous spike in blood pressure would be enough to cause a stroke, but Bucky’s vascular system has much more elasticity than a normal person. He’ll be fine. It’s the third stage of the drug’s effects that will really drive him mad. He’ll begin to feel the undeniable urge to fuck.

            As you carefully piece together the gun that you’ve just dismantled, cleaned, and oiled, you’re lost in thought. You’ve done enough research over the years to know that HYDRA worked overtime to come up with various chemical compounds that would induce a near primal sexual drive in super soldiers. They wanted a sure way to grow an army of super soldiers over time without having to go through the process of wiping countless minds clean and reprogram them. You almost audibly laugh when you think about the irony of Bucky Barnes being exposed to one of those very sex pollens on your mission today. Bucky Barnes, the man who lately seems to be attempting to catch up on his eighty-something years worth of celibacy, has been exposed to a chemical compound that will make him even more insatiable than he’s already known to be. You have to wonder if he’s secretly thrilled that he has the drug coursing through his veins now.

            “You’re not gonna go help your friend out with this?” Sam’s voice rings out from somewhere behind you just as you’re reloading your gun and sliding it into the side holster of your tactical pants. You laugh lightly, shaking your head as you begin packing up the last of your belongings from the kitchen table.

            “He’s fucked every girl he’s met since he finished therapy, I think he has a long list of people who can help him out when we get back home.” Though there’s a lighthearted tone behind your words, you’re serious. Bucky’s been a ladies’ man since he stopped seeing Dr. Raynor for mandatory therapy sessions, and not just your average good looking, single bachelor type of ladies’ man. Bucky’s a fuckboy. Sure, he seems to be respectful about it. He doesn’t lead girls on, doesn’t make them think there’s ever a possibility for something more than one or two nights in his bed, and he leaves them all satisfied. But he’s still a fuckboy.

            Your words didn’t hurt his feelings. Bucky can’t fault you for being perceptive. He really has fucked almost every girl he’s met in the last couple of months. Hell, he would’ve fucked you too if you’d just given him a chance. That’s how you ended up becoming friends. He tried like hell to get you into his bed shortly after you were assigned to the team and moved into the room next door to his, but you were adamant that you weren’t looking to be a notch on his bedpost. However, instead of telling him to fuck off, you put up with his shit and even seemed to have a good time doing so. So, you ended up being the only female friend of his that hasn’t been tangled up in his bedsheets.

            Although your words weren’t necessarily hurtful, Bucky still finds himself a little bothered. He was just about to join you and Sam in packing things up and getting ready to head out when he overheard your conversation and swiftly turned back around, quietly shutting himself in the bathroom once again. You’re right, he does have a long list of people who can help him out when you get back home. God, you’re always right. If he wasn’t so inexplicably drawn to you, he’d probably hate you. But being friends with you is one of the few things that keeps him from comparing his life now to his life eighty years ago. The girl from the bar last week, that’s who he’ll call when he gets home. She was pretty. She had a nice smile, eyes that really drew him in, and she was easy to talk to. She could definitely be the solution to the problem at hand. The more Bucky thinks about her, the more he realizes she sort of reminds him of you. Shit. He’s done that too many times in the past month, brought home girls that seem so familiar but it isn’t until he’s fucked them that he realizes they remind him of you. Why the hell does that keep happening?

---

            It’s just an hour later when you’re all arriving back at the compound. Sam excuses himself to go brief Fury and a few other higher-ups on everything that went down during your op, while you and Bucky head for the main tower, each of you ready to unwind in different ways. As you take the elevator up, your eyes wander over to Bucky, who stands to your right. His cheeks are flushed pink, a few stray strands of hair are stuck to his forehead with sweat, and he’s rubbing the back of his neck with his flesh hand like it’s sore to the touch. He acted like being exposed to a sex pollen was just another day at work for him, but you know him well enough to know that at the very least, he’s uncomfortable right now.

            When the elevator doors slide open to let you both out into the main room of the living quarters, Bucky doesn’t even wait to let you off first like he usually does. He steps in front of you and exits quickly, walking a little faster than usual to get to his room down the hall. Maybe that’s what makes you feel bad for him, or maybe it’s the fact that he feels like he has to pretend like he’s unbothered in front of you and Sam instead of telling you how much it sucks to have such a vile chemical compound wreaking havoc within his body.

            “Do you need anything?” You ask softly as you pass Bucky in the hall and near your own door, just a few steps beyond his. The sound of your voice breaks his focus and he drops his keys at his feet. Bucky stoops down to retrieve them and then turns his full body to face you from five feet away. You work on unlocking your own door, but cast a sideways glance in his direction. His usual smirk is notably missing, and a stormy, hard-to-discern look has taken its place.

            “If I do, I can call one of the girls I’ve met since I finished therapy.” The words are like ice: cold and jarring, sending a chill down your spine. He overheard you and Sam earlier. You don’t know why you feel like a kid sitting in the principal’s office, not when you’ve teased him over his fuckboy ways for as long as you’ve known him. It shouldn’t have bothered him that much considering it was true. Why do you feel like shit for having said it now? More importantly, why does his response to your question feel like a rejection?

            When Bucky steps into his room and shuts the door behind him, you hear him seal himself in with the resounding metal click of a lock. If only he’d known that a deadbolt wouldn’t keep you away.

---

            You’ve just finished showering and getting yourself ready for bed when you hear the familiar sound of Bucky’s door opening and closing down the hall, followed by two sets of quiet footsteps heading in the opposite direction. Two sets of footsteps? Bucky must’ve called for one of his late-night guests a little early tonight, to help with his situation. You’ve lived next door to him for a couple of months now and if you’ve learned anything, it’s that the man has stamina. So, for one of his guests to have arrived and left in the short time that it took you to shower and pull on some pajamas, something must’ve gone wrong.

            Bucky stands with his back pressed against the cool metal wall of the elevator and his arms crossed over his chest as he mentally kicks his own ass. He couldn’t go through with it. He called the girl from the bar, the one who reminded him of you. He invited her over, took her upstairs to his room, gave her a mind-blowing orgasm with minimal effort, but the moment he heard her cry out his name, he knew he wasn’t going to sleep with her. She sounded nothing like you, not even similar enough that he could’ve imagined she was you.

            “Thanks for coming over on such short notice, it was good to see you.” Bucky forces himself to break the silence in the elevator. When his eyes land on the girl standing a few inches to his left, she offers him a genuine smile.

            “Of course, I had a good time. I wish you would’ve let me make things even though.” She says, referring to the way Bucky had gotten her off but then briskly offered to walk her back downstairs. He nods slowly, tracing the backs of his teeth with the tip of his tongue.

            “Yeah, maybe next time.” There won’t be a next time, not when he’s stuck thinking about how hard it was to imagine the girl being you. A few minutes later, Bucky’s guest is riding off into the night in the car he called for her. He’s left standing in front of the tower, feeling the full effects of the sex pollen as he enters the peak hour of its activity. There it is, that undeniable urge to fuck.

            You’re sitting in an armchair by your bedroom window, munching on a bowl of strawberries that you settled on as a late-night snack, when you hear one set of footsteps coming down the hall. It’s the sound of Bucky returning to his room alone. You have to wonder if the sex pollen decreased his stamina. It must have, otherwise his little guest would’ve been here for at least another hour or two. You make a mental note to research that in some of the old HYDRA files tomorrow, out of sheer curiosity. As you sit there in your chair, licking a drop of strawberry juice off of your bottom lip, you can’t help but wonder what the hell Bucky’s doing. By your calculations, he should be experiencing the worst of the sex pollen effects right now, yet he’s alone in his room. You remind yourself that he doesn’t want your help, that he doesn’t need your help. You tell yourself that he probably took care of every urge he had with the girl that he invited over earlier, and then you try to focus on your snack and the TV show you have playing quietly on your TV.

            When you hear the distant sound of a pained grunt coming from the other side of your bedroom wall, every muscle in your body goes rigid. You quickly pause your show and set your empty bowl on the small table beside your armchair. Only a few seconds go by before you hear another grunt, followed by the sound of what you surmise is Bucky’s fist colliding with something in his room. Before your mind has a moment to attempt a rational thought process, your feet are carrying you out of your own room and down the hallway to Bucky’s closed door. Your fist is rapping against his door softly at first, knowing he’s awake and you don’t have to be very loud for him to hear you. No answer. You knock again, a little harder this time, hoping he hasn’t stroked out from a spike in his blood pressure. Still, no answer. The third time you knock, you use the side of your fist instead of your knuckles, and you bang on his door so hard that you feel it rattle on its hinges.

            Bucky heaves a deep sigh before unlocking the door and pulling it open, knowing you’ll be standing on the other side of it. Just the sight of you has Bucky’s already hard cock twitching in his sweats and he has to avert his gaze, choosing to look over your shoulder instead of right at you.

            “I would’ve answered the first time if I wanted to talk to you right now.” Bucky says coldly. A chorus of go away’s play on repeat in his mind as he wishes with every fiber of his being that you’d do just that.

            “You didn’t sleep with her, did you?” One look at Bucky’s disheveled state, his messy hair, the sheen of sweat making his chest and abs gleam under the dim lights of the hallway, and the way his breaths are coming in much more shallow than usual, tells you that you’re right. Bucky meets your gaze for a brief second, and his eyes give you the answer his mouth won’t. He didn’t sleep with her. “How bad is it?”

            “I’ve been through this before.” Bucky reminds you, running a hand through his hair and squeezing his eyes shut. You’re standing in front of him wearing a pair of gray joggers, a little cropped tank top, and a light cardigan over your shoulders. He knows that tank top well. If the lighting was a little better, he’d be able to see straight through the thin fabric of it. God, he needs you to leave. “Like I said earlier, if I need help, I have people I can call.”

            “You called someone and it clearly didn’t help, Bucky.” Just the sound of his name leaving your lips has him biting the inside of his cheek.

            “Go to bed.” His tone is authoritative now. But of course, you’d never take an order from him. Especially not when he’s so obviously miserable. Your eyes drift down his torso, taking in the sight of the super soldier that stands before you nearly drowning in a chemically-induced state of arousal. You don’t really know why it pains you to see him like this, why it pains you that he keeps rejecting your help, but you’ve had enough. When you continue to stand in front of Bucky, defying his order for you to go to bed, he drops his hand from his hair and narrows his eyes at you. As you make eye contact with him, an unfamiliar warmth begins to spread along the surface of your skin. Maybe that’s what made you do it, maybe the warmth is what made you start taking your clothes off. You don’t really know what it was, but once you started you knew you wouldn’t stop.

            Your fingers begin carefully tugging on the drawstring of your joggers, loosening the tied knot as you look into Bucky’s conflicted blue eyes. You continue watching him as his gaze darts down to the motion of your hands, his eyes widening as he realizes what you’re doing.

            “What can I do to help?” You ask the question in a whisper. It’s obvious what you’re offering and it has Bucky’s mind racing. He’s wanted you in his bed since the day he met you, but you never gave in to his chase. He’s sure that you’re only giving in now because you think that he needs you to, because you’re ever the kind, helpful girl next door for him. You’ve finished untying the drawstring of your pants and you’re letting the cardigan slip off of your shoulders, baring even more of your skin to him, when Bucky has to stop you. He reaches out with both hands, catching the soft fabric of your sweater in his hands and pulling it back up to cover your shoulders.

            “You can go to bed, that would be really fucking helpful.” Bucky rasps. The fingertips of his flesh hand graze over the skin of your shoulder as he sets your cardigan back in its place, and the contact sends a fresh wave of primal need throughout his body. That wave of need is quickly followed by a horrible ache that forces him to draw his hands back to his sides and clench his fists.

            “Bucky, stop rejecting me.” A sudden boldness comes over you and you find yourself placing both palms against his chest and pushing him back into his room. He doesn’t fight you as you take two steps inside and shut the door behind you, letting the room engulf both of you in near-darkness.

            “Rejecting you? You’ve rejected me since we met.” Bucky scoffs, falling back to sit on the foot of his bed. He brings his elbows to his knees and lets his head dip down to rest in his hands. He may not be watching you, but he’s listening intently as you strip off your cardigan and drop it in the armchair by his window.

            “Yeah, I wasn’t going to sleep with the guy who slept with everyone. But now we’re friends, and I’m not going to sit next door while you suffer through this alone.” Bucky dares to sneak a glance at you through his hands. You’re standing a foot in front of him, now in just your sweats and tank top, with your hands on your hips. God, your hips. He’s imagined holding onto those hips while he fucks you from behind so many times. His eyes flutter closed as he lets out a groan. “Bucky, please.” You saying please in such a circumstance is what breaks him.

            When Bucky pushes himself off of the foot of the bed and comes to stand only a few inches in front of you, you take half a second to wonder if you’ve just opened a dangerous can of worms.

            “Think about what you’re offering.” Bucky’s voice is shaky, but his gaze is hardened as he looks into your eyes. “This isn’t just some favor between friends.” You stay quiet for a moment as you run through the scenario in your head. You imagine going through with it and having sex with him, fulfilling his needs and lessening the pain that he feels from the sex pollen. You imagine the sun rising in the morning and the two of you pretending like nothing ever happened. Why does that last part make you feel uneasy? The idea of sleeping with him tonight doesn’t seem to bother you in the least, but the idea of going right back to normal tomorrow doesn’t sit so well with you.

            “I think it’s better if we don’t think about it.” Without letting another thought through your mind, you grasp the waistband of your joggers and begin pushing them down your thighs. As more and more of your skin is revealed to Bucky, his heart rate picks up and his breath hitches in his throat. When you stand up straight in front of him, with your joggers now lying on his bedroom floor, he has to bite his bottom lip to keep from grabbing you and throwing you down on his bed. You can see the wheels in his mind turning as he overthinks this. It’s the thing he’s wanted since he met you, being offered to him on a silver platter, but he can’t stop thinking about how this could ruin the most real friendship that he’s had since Steve. You do the only thing you can think to do to break him out of his thoughts. You step forward and take both of his hands in yours, guiding them up to your face. When his palms make contact with either side of your jaw, his thumbs are quick to begin caressing your cheeks, as if the gentle touch is instinct for him, as if the two of you have done this countless times before. “I said don’t think about it.”

            His blue eyes search yours for any sign of hesitation, but he finds none. So, he takes the leap. Bucky leans in and closes the gap between the two of you, his lips finding yours in the darkness. With the first brush of his lips against yours, your eyes flutter closed and you’re at his mercy. You part your lips to accept him, feeling a rush of heat travel through your body as he sucks on your bottom lip gently. You didn’t expect a kiss from Bucky Barnes to be so gentle. You expected it to be hasty, used as a means to an end rather than for the simple pleasure of kissing. But Bucky kisses like it’s as vital to his being as breathing. His tongue glides along your top lip slowly, feeling his way into your mouth before fully tasting you. As soon as his tongue tangles with yours, he pulls back, his hands still cupping either side of your face.

            “You taste like strawberries.” He says, licking his lips as he peers down at you with narrowed eyes. Blush creeps into your cheeks, you can’t tell if he’s saying that as a good thing or a bad thing with the hard-to-read expression on his face. Another lick of his lips and a smile begins to tug on the corners of his mouth. “You taste like strawberries.” He repeats, going back for more. This time, you experience the less gentle kiss that you initially expected from him. He wastes no time in sliding his tongue back into your mouth and letting it work in tandem with yours. As he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his vibranium hand slides down and wraps around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. His flesh hand ghosts over your jawline, along the side of your neck, and then you feel him wrap it around your throat just lightly enough that you notice it. Something about having his hand around your throat sets a fire ablaze inside of you, and before you know it, your hands are flat on his chest. You almost wish he had a shirt on so you could grip onto the fabric and tug him further into you.

            Bucky’s losing his mind. He’s losing his goddamn mind because you’re in his bedroom, your pants are on his floor, and you’re kissing him back. You’re kissing him and you taste like strawberries. The longer you let him kiss you like this, with one of his hands wrapped lightly around your throat and the other resting dangerously close to your ass, the more his fuckboy ways start to evaporate right through his skin. Kissing you for thirty seconds makes him rethink his entire lifestyle.

            You’re the one to pull back this time, you pull back the moment Bucky shifts his stance and you feel the outline of his fully erect cock pressing against your lower stomach. This time when you part, his gaze is so much softer. As much as you’re enjoying kissing him, you know that’s not what he needs right now. Taking matters into your own hands, you move past Bucky and sit on the foot of his bed. His eyes follow every move you make.

            “Are you sure about this?” He has to ask. He has to know that he isn’t taking advantage of you and your friendship before this goes any further. He isn’t so sure he’ll be able to stop once he’s really touched you, so he’s offering you an out now. When you nod, keeping your eyes on Bucky, he lets out a soft sigh of relief. Your eyes follow him as he moves around the bed to the nightstand and pulls open the top drawer. After pulling out a little square packet and dropping it on top of the bed, he looks over at you once more. “You’ll tell me if I’m too rough?”

            “I trust you.” You whisper. Bucky’s eyes darken as his pupils dilate even more and he begins walking back to the foot of the bed, coming to stand right in front of you.

            “You trust me.” He repeats the words slowly, savoring them. You trust him. He looks down at you with an even mix of lust and admiration, but you only notice the lust. Raising his right hand up, he tucks your hair behind one ear and then traces a line from the point of your jaw to the tip of your chin with his index finger. Bucky curls that finger beneath your chin and tilts your face upward. The way your eyes pierce his, he feels like you’re looking straight into his soul, like you’re seeing every darkened corner within him that he’s tried so hard to hide. Instead of feeling vulnerable, he feels at home under your watchful stare.

            Bucky tilts his head to the side and his eyes flit behind you to the expanse of the bed, signaling that he wants you to move back onto it. You do just that, turning over so your back is to him as you crawl further up on the mattress. A soft groan from Bucky lets you know he likes the view already, and you smile to yourself. You always knew he was attracted to you, but having the extra confirmation now really feeds your confidence. You can hear the rustling of fabric behind you and when you turn over once again to lay on your back, holding yourself up on your elbows, you see that Bucky has tossed his sweatpants onto the floor beside yours. Now, you see your friend, standing before you in only a pair of black boxers. Your breath hitches in your throat when your eyes land on the bulge beneath the thin fabric.

            “Oh my god, you’re so big.” Your eyes widen and dart back up to meet Bucky’s. Of course, he has a smug smile plastered across his face.

            “You couldn’t have guessed that?” He asks, placing one knee on the foot of the bed as he looks you over.

            “I never thought about it.” You find yourself staring at it again, but Bucky blocks your view when he starts crawling over your body.

            “You don’t have to lie, sweetheart.” Bucky tsks, resting his body weight on you as he leans in and kisses your neck. You find yourself tilting your head to the side to give him more access, loving the way he alternates between licking and sucking your skin. “God, you taste like strawberries, you smell like strawberries.” Bucky grunts against your neck before sitting back on his knees between your legs. “I don’t think I can wait much longer.” He says quietly, analyzing your expression. You study his face for a moment, taking in his flushed cheeks, the way his chest is rapidly rising and falling, and even the way the tips of his ears are turning pink. His blood pressure is spiking.

            You push yourself up to a sitting position and without thinking, you tug your tank top over your head, tossing it on the floor and completely baring your chest to Bucky.

            “Fuck.” The curse falls from his lips as his eyes devour your nearly naked body. It takes him a few seconds to compose himself and focus. When you start shimmying out of your panties, he moves to stand on the floor beside the bed, squeezing his eyes shut as he takes his own boxers off. He’s worried if he gets one look at you completely naked in his bed, he’ll start cumming and because of the sex pollen, he won’t stop.

            “Look at me.” Your voice is too kind, too sweet for someone so willing to be fucked. But Bucky listens, opening his eyes and meeting your gaze. His hand is fisting around his cock within a second, stroking it as he looks not at your body, but into your fucking soul. “You’re supposed to be letting me help you.” You remind him, fighting the urge to look down at where he’s touching himself. Bucky groans again but starts climbing back over you, his hard cock dragging along the skin of your thigh as he situates himself over you but slightly to one side, resting his weight on one elbow.

            “I don’t want to hurt you.” Bucky presses a kiss to your lips. It’s a kiss he meant to be quick and reassuring, but neither of you could resist deepening it. So, he licks into your mouth once again, loving the way you taste, and you feel his right hand sliding down your stomach. His fingertips ghost lightly over your thigh at first, testing the waters, but you don’t flinch away. He has to make sure you can take him. He knows he’s big, and he has no idea how long it’s been since the last time you were with someone. When his hand ventures between your legs, you spread them without hesitation, continuing to kiss him with a growing desperation. The moment Bucky lets his fingertips glide along your wet folds, he can’t stop himself from rutting against your thigh. “You’re so wet for me, fuck.” A soft hum leaves your lips but it’s quickly transformed into a moan when Bucky applies pressure to your clit and begins to circle the pads of his fingers over it. Sparks of pleasure ignite, urging you to spread your legs even more and break away from his mouth to take in a gasp of air.

            “Bucky, you don’t have to—” You’re cut off by your own cry when Bucky abandons your clit and slips two fingers inside of you, sending them only halfway as he watches between your legs. He’s in awe of you. Your back arches off of his mattress and he’s so tempted to kiss and lick all over your breasts, but he can’t ignore the overwhelming ache in his lower stomach and cock for much longer. He curls his fingers against your walls slowly, turning to watch your face this time. He studies you as your eyes scrunch closed and your mouth parts to let a heavy pant past your lips. You look fucking perfect. He knows the longer he delays his own release, the worse he’ll feel physically. He can already hear the blood rushing in his ears and feels the pain throughout his body worsening with every sound you make, but he wants this to be good for you. He needs this to be good for you. So, Bucky begins dragging his fingers out and then pushing them right back in, over and over again. He works you up to being able to take them deeper and deeper until he can’t push them in any more. That’s when he leans into you and leaves light kisses across your right cheek and temple. You find yourself leaning into his touch.

            “I can’t wait anymore.” Bucky grunts, as he pulls his fingers out of you slowly one last time. He wants so badly to lick his fingers and taste you, but he knows that if he gets a taste, he won’t ever be able to get over it. He’d spend every day doing whatever the hell he had to do just to get more. Instead, Bucky slides those two wet fingers over the head of his cock, mixing your arousal with his precum and spreading it down the shaft. He gives it a few strokes, letting his head fall against your shoulder as he begins to feel just the slightest bit of relief inside his body. But it isn’t enough. Bucky lets go of his cock and leans over you, reaching across the bed to grab the condom he placed there earlier. When he rolls onto his back and begins tearing the small wrapper open, you take matters into your own hands.

            Bucky damn near feels butterflies when you move to straddle him, bracing your hands on his bare chest as you swing a leg over him.

            “Just give me a second.” Bucky grunts, his eyes darting between the half open condom wrapper and where you’re lowering yourself down over him. He gets the condom out of the wrapper but freezes when he feels your dripping cunt grind along the shaft of his cock. “Shit, be careful.” He warns you through gritted teeth. You know you really should be careful. Hell, he’s slept with so many girls just in the last month that you should be using any and every form of protection out there. Not to mention the fact that both the super soldier serum and sex pollen really ramped up his reproductive system, increasing his sperm count and motility like crazy. The man could easily save the human race from extinction if he was the last viable male on Earth. But you’re not thinking straight. You’re not thinking straight at all when you begin grinding down and circling your hips against him, reveling in the feeling of his hard cock pressing against your clit. You drag your hips back and forth as Bucky’s hands move to grip you there, with the unwrapped condom still in his right hand. You can feel that little piece of latex between his palm and your hip. The thought crosses your mind so briefly, but once the seed is planted, there’s no going back. Feeling the condom all rolled up between Bucky’s hand and your hip is really what planted the seed. You want to feel him inside you, without a damn thing in between. So, you grind along the length of his cock once more, but when you near the tip, you continue sliding forward on it and grinding down until you feel it against your entrance, and then you grind down a little harder, angling your hips just right so it starts to slide in.

            “Oh my god.” You moan out, letting your head fall back as you reach down with one hand and start fully guiding him inside of you. Bucky can only watch, his grip on your hips getting impossibly tighter. You’ve only taken in the head of his cock when you still yourself, trying your best to adjust to his ample size. You feel a mix of stinging pain and pleasure, but he did such a thorough job of preparing you with his fingers that the sting is minimal.

            “I’m not wearing a condom.” Bucky pants, scanning your face as you slide down another couple of inches. He’s nearly halfway in now and it’s taking every single ounce of his self-control to keep from pulling your hips down and making you take all of it. Your eyes flutter open and lock onto his.

            “I know.” You pair your two little words with the act of forcing yourself to take the rest of his length. Your clit brushes against the base of his cock and for a moment, you actually think he might be too big for you.

            “Fuck.” Bucky groans lowly. His eyes scrunch shut even though he so badly wants to keep them wide open and memorize the way you look when you’re being fucking ruined by his cock. His balls feel so full and heavy, even more so than usual with the way the sex pollen is screwing up his reproductive system, and the fact that you’re the one he’s balls deep inside of isn’t helping. You really should’ve let him put on a condom, but he sure as hell isn’t going to stop you now. Bucky releases his hold on your hip with his right hand and lets the unused condom fall from his grasp, watching as it lands on the bed. When he digs his fingers into the skin of your hips once more, the sensation spurs you to attempt moving. You start with slow up and down movements, only fucking half of his cock, unsure if you could manage the whole thing at once. But when you get a look at Bucky’s face, at the way it’s contorted with pleasure yet restrained as if he’s holding himself back, you know you need to give him more. So, you take a deep breath and begin lifting yourself off of his cock. Bucky’s eyes follow, so focused on the way you leave his cock glistening as you pull off of it. When only the head is left inside of you, you breathe out as you sit all the way back down. Fuck, it hurts when he’s all the way in but you don’t want to stop. God, you don’t want to stop for anything. You go again, trying the movement a little faster this time, earning a soft grunt from Bucky and a few bruises on your hips as his hold tightens more.

            “Bucky, you’re too big.” You finally say, after sliding down onto his length the third time. You want to ride his dick and do as much of the work for him as you can right now, but there’s just no way. There’s no way you can pick up the pace and set a good rhythm when he’s so fucking thick and long that you feel him in your stomach every time you sit down. You don’t have the time that you’d need to adjust, you don’t want to make him wait for you to be ready for it. So, you need a new position. Bucky understands immediately. As much as he was loving seeing you fuck his cock all by yourself, his insides are screaming at him to take control and do whatever he needs to do to get himself off.

            Bucky eases you down onto his full length one more time, simultaneously hating and loving the way you cringe once you’re fully seated. Then, in one quick, smooth movement, he captures your hands in his and tugs you down to his chest, before rolling both of you over so he’s on top.

            “We can save that for next time.” Bucky promises, positioning himself so that the majority of his weight rests on his forearms on either side of your head. As soon as the words have left his mouth, you realize what he’s just said, but he doesn’t. He leans down and licks your bottom lip while you’re lying beneath him, with his cock motionless inside you, as you remind yourself that there will never be a next time. Bucky’s a fuckboy through and through, you’ve never known him to sleep with the same girl twice, and you can’t imagine anything about tonight is going to change that. “Are you adjusted?” He asks, pulling back from your face to look into your eyes. You bend your knees a little and take in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you focus on your senses. No pain. You nod your head and let your hands ghost along Bucky’s sides.

            “Are you always this gentle and thoughtful in bed?” The question sneaks past your lips before you can stop it, but Bucky chuckles as he begins to pull his hips back, sliding his cock out of you inch by inch.

            “You think I’m gentle and thoughtful?” Of course he’d take your question as a compliment. Or…maybe not. Bucky shoots you a mischievous look before biting down on his bottom lip and snapping his hips forward, thrusting into you so hard that your back arches off of the bed and your breasts press up against the skin of his bare chest. He took it as a fucking challenge.

            “I take it back.” You whine. You dig your nails into the skin of his back hoping to draw a little pain from him, but truthfully, he loves it. He begins slowly dragging his cock back out of you while you’re wondering how the hell he’s still so composed and restrained. “I thought being exposed to a sex pollen would’ve made this a quick, sort of desperate kind of thing.”

            “Is that what you wanted?” Another snap of his hips and you’re filled with his cock again.

            “I didn’t say that, it’s just what I expected. Does it not make you feel like fucking the shit out of anyone you can get your hands on?” Your fingers dance up his sides until they’re tangled in his messy hair. Another slow drag of his hips and you’re feeling nearly empty.

            “It does, but like I said, I don’t want to hurt you.”

            “Hurt me.” He freezes with his cock halfway out of you. Your own eyes widen at your unexpected request. Where the hell did your filter go? You didn’t even mean it the way it sounds, you just meant that you don’t want him to keep holding back for your sake. “I meant—”

            “I know what you meant.” Bucky grunts, clearly turned on by the presumed meaning behind your words. He lowers himself down until his body weight feels like a warm, thick blanket covering every inch of your body. He’s giving you what you want. The talking part is over, you realize, as Bucky lets his forehead fall into the crook of your neck and slides his knees beneath your thighs, opening you up for him even more.

            Then, he fucks you. He sets a rhythm and pace so desperate and unforgiving that every thrust causes the mattress to bounce you right back up against him. No matter how much he pulls out, you continuously feel the presence of his cock inside you. Every breath he breathes against your neck, every time his lips ghost over your skin, every needy grunt that meets your ears feeds you like a dose of ecstasy. The atmosphere is reduced to the sounds of skin on skin, panting breaths, and obscene curses and moans falling from parted lips. Bucky fucks you more thoroughly than he’s fucked anyone in the last two months. When he hears your moans increase in pitch and your breaths becoming more and more shallow, he drives his cock into you harder and deeper, making sure his name is the only thing on your mind. You give him no warning when your orgasm begins to tear through your body, but you don’t have to. Your cunt grips his cock so tightly that pulling out to thrust into you is damn near painful, so Bucky begins grinding into you, moving his hips in rhythmic circles. When your breaths begin to come a little easier, Bucky’s own release is threatening to spill over, so he starts to slow his hips and pull out of you. He isn’t wearing a condom and he knows this won’t be a small mess by any means.

But you, the girl next door, the girl who tastes like fucking strawberries, you slide your hands down and grab his hips every bit as harshly as he grabbed yours earlier, and you pull him further into you. An orgasm hits him like a fucking freight train. It wasn’t even the sensation of being inside you that sent him over the edge, as heavenly as that was. No, it was the fact that you wouldn’t let him pull out. The fact that you didn’t even let him wear a condom. The fact that you’re you and you’re so desperate for his cum that you’d hold him there and take it like you had a right to. After three seconds, Bucky’s surpassing a normal amount of cum, and both of you are fully aware of it.

“It won’t stop, fuck.” Bucky groans against your neck as he slowly ruts into you, trying to get himself through his orgasm. “There’s so much cum.”

“That’s okay, it’s okay, Bucky.” You whisper, moving your hands back up to his head and carding your fingers through his hair. “I can take it.”

Shit. He might be in love with you.

[astrito]

It's funny to think of Mercer being inmature and Kira being the opposite, when in retrospect it is very much the other way around.

[vetyr]

hi, i ireally love your work and i don't know if you've answered this before but, what kinds of studies do you do or how did you learn color theory? i wanna get better at rendering and anatomy but im having trouble TT TT

Hi! Long answer alert. Once a chatterbox, always a chatterbox.

When I started actively learning how to draw about 10 1/2 years ago, I exclusively did graphite studies in sketchbooks. Here's a few examples—I mostly stuck to doing line drawings to drill basic shapes/contours and proportions into my brain. The more rendered sketches helped me practice edge control & basic values, and they were REALLY good for learning the actual 3D structure behind what I was drawing.

I'd use reference images that I grabbed from fitness forums, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest, and some NSFW places, but you could find adequate ref material from figure drawing sites like Line of Action. LoA has refs for people (you can filter by clothed/unclothed, age, & gender), animals, expressions, hands/feet, and a few other useful things as well. Love them.

Learning how to render digitally was a similar story; it helped a lot that I had a pretty strong foundation for value/anatomy going in. I basically didn't touch color at all for ~2 years (except for a few attempts at bad digital or acrylic paint studies), which may not have been the best idea. I learned color from a lot of trial and error, honestly, and I'm pretty sure this process involved a lot of imitation—there were a number of digital/traditional painters whose styles I really wanted to emulate (notably their edge control, color choices, value distributions, and shape design), so I kiiind of did a mixture of that + my own experimentation.

For example, I really found Benjamin Björklund's style appealing, especially his softened/lost edges & vibrant pops of saturated color, so here's a study I did from some photograph that I'm *pretty* sure was painted with him in mind.

Learning how to detail was definitely a slow process, and like all the aforementioned things (anatomy/color/edge control/values/etc.) I'm still figuring it out. Focusing on edge control first (that is, deciding on where to place hard/soft edges for emphasizing/de-emphasizing certain areas of the image) is super useful, because you can honestly fool a viewer into thinking there's more detail in a piece than there actually is if you're very economical about where you place your hard edges.

The most important part, to me, is probably just doing this stuff over and over again. You're likely not going to see improvement in a few weeks or even a few months, so don't fret about not getting the exact results you want and just keep studying + making art. I like to think about learning art as a process where you *need* to fail and make crappy art/studies—there's literally no way around it—so you might as well fail right now. See, by making bad art you're actually moving forward—isn't that a fun prospect!!

It's useful to have a folder with art you admire, especially if you can dissect the pieces and understand why you like them so much. You can study those aspects (like, you can redraw or repaint that person's work) and break down whether this is art that you just like to look at, or if it's the kind of art that you want to *make.* There's a LOT of art out there that I love looking at, probably tens of thousands of styles/mediums, but there's a very narrow range that I want to make myself.

I've mentioned it in some ask reply in the past, but I really do think looking at other artist's work is such a cheat code for improving your own skills—the other artist does the work to filter reality/ideas for you, and this sort of allows you to contact the subject matter more directly. I can think of so many examples where an artist I admired exaggerated, like, the way sunlight rested on a face and created that orange fringe around its edge, or the greys/dull blues in a wheat field, or the bright indigo in a cast shadow, or the red along the outside of a person's eye, and it just clicked for me that this was a very available & observable aspect of reality, which had up until that point gone completely unnoticed! If you're really perceptive about the art you look at, it's shocking how much it can teach you about how to see the world (in this particular case I mean this literally, in that the art I looked at fully changed the way I visually processed the world, but of course it has had a strong effect on my worldviews/relationships/beliefs).

Thanks so much for sending in a question (& for reading, if you got this far)! I read every single ask I receive, including the kind words & compliments, which I genuinely always appreciate. Best of luck with learning, my friend :)

[thatrandomsarahchick]

DC x DP short

I'm picturing Danny moving to Gotham once he's an adult. He came out to his parents, and it went fine. More than fine. They listened to how he was struggling at school because he kept having to chase down the ghosts they let out by leaving the portal open. Jack was super proud of his son for being a ghost hunter even as a ghost, but Maddie understood his concern and set up some new protocols for the portal.

It now automatically closes after two minutes unless a specific command is put in by Danny to keep it open while he is in the Zone, and the shielding around it actually works to stop ghosts coming trig without hurting them now.

The shine of the mortal world has worn off for most of his regulars now, and those that come through have figured out compromises so they can still fulfil their obsessions without hurting others. The meta-protection act officially disbands the GIW, and Red Huntress is given a very thorough speaking to about personal bias and vendettas. She's not allowed back in the field until she comes to the realisation that ghosts are people too, and that she been the bad guy by hunting them the way she did. Phantom is officially recognised as a Hero, but he turns down working for any teams or joining the Big Leagues. He agrees to act as a back up though, in case of any world ending event.

By the time senior year rolls around, Danny has gotten his grades up enough that he can go to a pretty decent university if he wants to. He chooses Gotham University for his engineering degree because they're a feeder school for Wayne Enterprises, who in turn are a feeder company for working for the Justice League as a civilian engineer. Tucker also chooses GU for their tech program, while Sam elects not to go to university straight away.

Tucker and Danny move into an apartment right on the borders of Crime Alley and The Narrows. Tucker manages an impressive 4 months as a local hacker before Oracle notices him, but Danny only manages 3 weeks before he's spotted by a Bat.

He's lying down a foot above his building's roof, looking at the stars. It's a very rare cloudless night, and the power is out in his area. Poison Ivy had launched an attack earlier in the day that had taken cut the power lines, with her mutant plants feeding on the smog and pollution to get stronger.

Duke was up late, finishing the day shift by a quick loop of The Narrows, when he noticed a slightly glowing teenager(?) floating on one of the roofs. He takes note that the man isn't causing any harm and is just peacefully stargazing, before calling it in to Jason. He was technically supposed to be off the clock an hour ago, and besides, the building was on the Crime Alley side of this street. It's Jason's problem now.

Jason, on the other hand, is exhausted and just wants to have a quiet patrol before collapsing in bed. He hadn't been hit by Ivy's plants, but had taken a couple of tumbles while dodging them. He heads over to the address Duke gave him, to find the guy still floating there staring at the sky. He gets it, he does, he would float above the grime that coats Gotham rooftops if he could, but it's dangerous for a meta to be so unawares of his surroundings like this while obviously displaying his powers.

Danny, meanwhile, had clocked both of the vigilantes coming near him, but was really hoping that they would leave him alone. It had been a very long day for him. He'd finally managed to get to campus for his class, only to find that the place was covered in overgrown plants. He'd had to freeze a few to get into the building, and had then spent most of the afternoon in the library due to his class being cancelled. Unfortunately for him, his nearly finished assignment that he'd spent the day working on was eaten by one of the giant flowers on his way home. He'd been 'saved' by the stabby Robin, which had caused him to then also lose his laptop as they crashed to the rooftop a few streets over.

Thankfully, he had an amazing best friend in Tucker, who was doing his best to recover as much data as possible. On the downside, though, Tucker was mad at him for now having saved a backup of his files since they left Amity. He'd fled to the roof to escape his wrath, plans of bribes in the form of food running through his mind, when he'd caught sight of the Stars. Holy shit. It was so clear tonight!

He didn't even realise he'd begun to glow and float, too caught up in naming all of the stars and constellations he could see. His Obsession was feeling very satisfied tonight. Usually he had to invisibly fly above the cloud cover to see such a sight. Sure, the light pollution was still bad, but his mind was able to fill in the blanks across the sky.

The moment Jason landed on his roof, Danny heaved a great sigh. Damnit. The fun police were here. He wrenched his eyes from the sky, only to notice that - oh, shit - he was floating again. He fell to the roof with a light thump.

"Heeeyyy stranger, come here often?" Danny asked, as he rolled over to his side, propping his head up on his hand.

[sixosix]

and his voice is a familiar sound | scaramouche

forced proximity + childhood friends reuniting, humor, kissing and tension. suggestive implications and suggestive humor, a bit of scara’s mommy issues, wc 5k

ft. a down bad jealous bf scaramouche, bffs heizou and kazuha, and aether bc aether always has to be there

“If I ask you to come with us for a vacation, would you say yes?”

Your bedroom was already too cramped for one person, with what you could afford with your money after quitting your part-time job. It made it incredibly difficult for all parties involved when you invited someone over, especially when that person had no concept of personal space. You barely looked up from the pages of your book, humming halfheartedly to whatever Heizou is saying. You heard vacation and instantly decided to not waste your time.

Heizou must have sensed these thoughts, too, because he forces himself into your field of view by nearly climbing over your lap. “Hey, look at me. Would you say yes?”

“Heizou!” you hissed, pushing him off before Heizou could wrinkle the pages of the book that’s definitely overdue for borrowing time. You started to think about taking another part-time job if your friends kept inviting themselves over and invading your personal space.

Heizou looked at you, his face doing a complicated combination of a frown and a smug grin. “Come on. You never join us on trips…”

“For good reason,” you said, gesturing to the lapful of Heizou you are currently getting bombarded with.

“You’re so mean,” Heizou laughed, thankfully getting off your lap. He refused to let go of you, however, immediately wrapping an arm over your shoulder and pressing up against your side. This must be one of his techniques to make the people he was questioning feel restricted. It was working. “How will you get yourself to settle for a nice, young man with that attitude? What are you even reading?”

“I grabbed whatever book had a pleasing cover so I can tune your nonsense out.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“What?” Heizou clapped the book shut and turned to you with the eyes of a reprimanding mother. “I swear I’m being serious. Can’t you consider it for even a minute? You’re breaking my heart. Plus, Kazuha’s the one who’s inviting us out.”

Hmm. What a compelling argument. Heizou knew that no one could ever say no to Kazuha. You wouldn’t really care if your absence would break Heizou’s heart, but Kazuha’s disappointed eyes were enough to put a god to their knees.

You zeroed in on Heizou’s wording. “Who’s ‘us’?”

Heizou started listing each with a raise of a finger. “Just Kazuha and Aether—and a friend we met recently. Kazuha invited him.”

You frowned. You didn’t know Aether visited again. “How the hell did Aether get invited?” Then, upon careful reflection: “And who’s the new friend?”

“If he was around, why not, right?” Heizou laughed, carefully setting the overdue book aside from your view. “The new friend’s Scaramouche. Have you met him before?”

What a strange name. Kazuha always managed to befriend people from all over, like a child bringing home turtles and a new species of bugs. You made a note to look him up. “Never heard of him.”

He hummed. “Said he came from Sumeru but he looked pretty Inazuman to me. Funny guy. He’s like a disgruntled baby brother.”

“And you only met him, what, recently? Why is he invited to our group already?” you asked, like the territorial person you are. How come it seemed like you were the last to know about this guy?

Aether was alright. Aether came back every few months to check up on everyone and got roped into all kinds of things with your friends, so you knew him well enough already. You liked his long braid. Heizou and Kazuha had been your friends for as long as you could remember being a college student.

Heizou grinned, patting your head. “Scaramouche’s nice, I promise. You wouldn’t even notice he’s there.”

At your dubious stare, Heizou amended, “C’mon, do you think I’m the type to befriend an asshole?”

Yes, but Heizou wasn’t the type to befriend a major asshole whose opinions he vehemently disagreed with, and he thought belonged better in jail, so you had to think about it for a bit. At the very least, this new guy didn’t seem like a criminal.

Your friends loved traveling, with Kazuha mostly being the culprit, but you liked staying inside most of the time. They never forced you to go with them, so why was Heizou being suspiciously persistent today?

“I think he’s your type,” Heizou finally said, caving in.

“You’re trying to hook me up with him?”

“Not exactly… but you two would seem cute.” He went silent for a thoughtful moment. “I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed if you slept together.”

You made a face.

Heizou laughed brightly. “Alright, alright. You can go back to being the good poster student you are if you promise to think about it. Seriously. Kazuha’s moving to Liyue soon—he’s probably inviting us out because of that.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, reaching around for your book.

You would. What Heizou said about Kazuha made you remember that there are only a few weeks left until this is all over—then, after that, you all might go your separate ways. That thought floated around your mind for a little while as Heizou made himself comfortable on your bed, sighing before he dozed off.

You sighed, shuffling to give him space. “If this is your way of trying to make me get laid, try to at least be subtle and not weird me out before I even meet the guy.”

You stalked Kazuha’s Insta to search up this Scaramouche guy and nearly dropped your phone.

scaramouche11206. It was empty, entirely useless for your research. Scaramouche’s profile was a public account, had zero posts, and had four people he was following. It was Kazuha, Aether, Heizou, and a Vahumana Darshan update page.

You checked the tagged posts, and your jaw dropped to the ground.

Scaramouche was Kunikuzushi.

Heizou was taking a group selfie in the image, his tongue stuck out and winking while the camera showed two other men. On the left was Kazuha, with his ever-polite smile, then on the other, with the all-black getup was what the tags said was scaramouche11206.

It was a little difficult to tell why you were enamoured with the masked face with a short hime cut for a moment, but the piercing stare to the camera couldn’t be mistaken. It was a minute of staring before it clicked. This was your Kunikuzushi.

You dialed Heizou before you could even think about it.

“What…? It’s five a.m.” He sounded like he just woke up, “What’s up?”

You swiped back to the image of Scaramouche, as if staring at it any longer would imprint each pixel to your brain and bring him to life before you. “Hey, where’s Kazuha? Tell him I’m going.”

YEARS AGO.

Summer. The cicadas rang in your ears. They chirped about as you and Kunikuzushi trudged further into the forest. Sunlight peeked through the leaves, splashing Kunikuzushi’s beautiful face in a delicate glow.

Komorebi. Shadows scattered on the ground. Kunikuzushi lifted his head and turned to you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His voice was quiet, but even with the wind and the singing cicadas, you could hear him loud and clear. You could pick out his voice from a crowd. Your heart would know where to find him.

“I like looking at you,” you said. “I like you.”

He accepted the answer and continued walking. You beamed. Usually, Kunikuzushi would scoff and bat your words away, hiding his flustered face. But he didn’t.

Longing. Kunikuzushi turned back to you, stopping in his steps. You nearly bumped onto his back. “Do you like me enough to marry me?”

Was this a marriage proposal? You tried to think of you and Kunikuzushi, walking down aisles and reciting vows, and almost laughed. But then you tried to think of anyone else. You tried to think of a life without Kunikuzushi.

You thought of Kunikuzushi with anyone else and nearly threw up in his face. “You’re the only one for me.”

“Even if I hurt you?”

You frowned. “You would never hurt me, Kuni.”

Kunikuzushi’s expression crumpled. He could never hide anything from you; he was too expressive, eyes round and lip trembling. Your heart sunk to your stomach. You reached for his hands and forced him to look at you. “Kuni, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He looked at the ground. “I said I didn’t want to live with her anymore. I didn’t really think Mom would make Aunt Nahida take me.”

The cicadas faded. The world fell into a hush. Your grip on his hands grew weak. “What?”

Kunikuzushi didn’t have a good relationship with his mother; you knew that. They were complicated. They always fought and he grew up to loathe her. You knew that. But you didn’t think…

You breathed in deeply. It was not Kunikuzushi’s fault. It was not Ei’s—and definitely not Nahida’s fault. It was just the way things go sometimes.

You forced a laugh, hoping to ease the troubled expression on his face. “Were you proposing because you’re moving away?”

Kunikuzushi blushed. “Shut up.”

Your face softened. He was always so cute when his face was as red as the red by his eyes.

Kunikuzushi inhaled sharply, taking your hands and looking at you with a determined glint in his eyes. “If I were going to ask you out, I would do it better than anyone who would try to marry you. So don’t entertain them.”

The trip’s plan was basically swimming when you could, staying at a hotel, driving out of the hotel to eat somewhere cheaper, and it would be stretched out for a few days. All in all, it didn’t sound too bad. With the type of people you were going out with, you were expecting a lot more drinking (Kazuha) and near-death-related activities (Aether). Although Heizou said it was Kazuha’s trip, he was apparently mistaken.

“It was originally for Scaramouche and his family, but his mother had last-minute changes and couldn’t go,” Kazuha explained as he helped you fit your luggage in the trunk of Aether’s car. “Scaramouche said it would be a waste and told me to invite my friends.”

“Woo-hoo, Scaramouche’s mom!” Heizou cheered.

“When we met her, it seemed like you hated her,” Kazuha mused as Heizou climbed inside the car. You were in the passenger seat while the two were shoved in the back. It seemed that even if you moved to a bigger apartment, you’d end up suffocated by Inazuman men either way.

“Hard not to after hearing Scara’s contempt for her. I’m an empath or something.” 

Aether adjusted the side mirrors. “Are we forgetting anything?”

“Where’s the Scaramouche guy?” you asked.

Heizou cast you a sly smile. “He’s already at the hotel, probably buying us other rooms.”

At least another thing about him hadn’t changed: he’s still disgustingly rich. You did some digging about the hotel, and it was the kind of place you could only dream of even looking at. You suddenly felt severely underdressed for a five-star hotel, with only sweatpants, a duffle bag, and a dream.

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” Kazuha said, and weirdly enough, you caught him looking at you curiously from the sideview mirror.

“No?” Heizou crossed his arms behind his head. “I doubt Scaramouche’s the type to willingly share a room with anyone.”

Aether scoffed, laughing under his breath. “Definitely not with us.”

You looked outside to hide a smile. It seemed that your Kunikuzushi hadn’t really changed drastically. This made you feel better about meeting him again.

“What made you change your mind?” Heizou asked.

You sighed and fell into step along with him as Kazuha and Aether went on ahead. There are families crowding the lobby, draped in gold that matched the fabric of the chandeliers overhead. Their jewelry was brighter than your future. Even the floor smelled expensive.

“Scaramouche did,” you mumbled.

Heizou’s brows lifted to his hairline. “Oh?”

“I mean—I don’t know, I’m not sure yet.” You were absolutely sure, but it’d be embarrassing if he didn’t recognize you at all, and Heizou would think you were just lying. It had been years.

Heizou tilted his head. “Well, whatever it is, I’m rooting for you. And if he fucks up, I know how to pack a punch.”

You didn’t doubt it. Heizou definitely knew how to pack a punch.

The hotel was so fancy and so meant for only rich kids that you and Heizou stood out like sore thumbs by looking around. Some woman your age walked past, her chin high and her steps light. You and Heizou looked at each other, then tried to mimic the same grace as you pair sashayed towards the desk.

“What are you idiots doing?” Aether asked as you reached them.

“Fitting in, unlike you,” Heizou said.

A new voice cut in. “Took you losers long enough.”

Scaramouche turned around after speaking to the clerk, his mouth in a thin line and his stare piercing. He also stood out next to the men in polo with his fingerless gloves and gold rings. He looked like he belonged better on an Inazuman fashion magazine cover than on a hotel vacation with a bunch of losers.

Heizou beamed. “Scara!”

“Hey,” Scaramouche said, then his eyes landed on you.

It was hard to tell if there was any reaction on his face because Heizou went up to him to ruffle his hair, stealing away his attention.

“Thanks for inviting us out. I didn’t know you were the type to want to snuggle with his friends.” Heizou waggled his eyebrows as Scaramouche pushed him away with a hand to Heizou’s face.

Scaramouche wrinkled his nose. “I am not sharing a room with any of you three. You snore, Kazuha snores louder, and I would wake up to Aether’s leg on my stomach the next morning.”

“That was one time,” Aether muttered, blushing.

“How many rooms are reserved?” Kazuha asked.

Scaramouche sighed, craning his neck. He had a really nice side profile. “Still two. The other one with a king and the other with two queens. I was supposed to have the first, but you didn’t tell me you were inviting someone else. This shithole’s booked full now.”

Your gaze fluttered away as they all turned to you. You bit your lip, frowning. Did Scaramouche not recognize you? He was acting like he didn’t. He was treating you like he would any stranger. That upset you, but for the entire car ride, you were also preparing for it. It probably would’ve hurt worse if you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself.

Heizou grinned, slinging an arm over Scaramouche’s shoulder. “I suppose you have no choice but to share a bed with us.”

“No.” Scaramouche picked up his luggage and started rolling away. “Heizou, Kazuha, Aether, you share the king.”

The three men turned to you instead, surprise visible in their expressions. It was exactly because Scaramouche decided to share a room with you, whom he never acknowledged since you arrived.

You wanted to protest. If Scaramouche didn’t recognize you and opted for a choice that didn’t involve sharing a room with anyone, you’d rather sleep on the floor in Kazuha and the others’ room. But Scaramouche was already stepping inside the elevator and was holding the door for you.

You held your gaze to the floor the entire time as Scaramouche pointed at a room and told the three they would sleep there. Scaramouche flashed the card against the door of your room, then stepped inside.

“This one’s ours,” Scaramouche said. You couldn’t detect any hint of emotion.

The room was bigger than the two rooms at your apartment. It had two beds, as Scaramouche said, and a TV across. The room was cold as fuck. You shuddered, and Scaramouche remained unbothered with his layers of clothes that probably cost more than you.

As Scaramouche set his luggage on the bed closest to the window, you gathered the courage to not make this trip any more awkward.

You breathed in deeply. “I’m Y/N—”

“I haven’t forgotten.” He arched an eyebrow as he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at you. “Have you forgotten about me?”

“No, no, of course not,” you said. “I could never forget you, Kunikuzushi.”

You stiffened, thinking it was a mistake and there must’ve been a reason he was called by another name, but you took a look at him and got distracted. His face relaxed when you said his name.

I could never forget you. It was sickeningly true. You can never forget about Kunikuzushi. He was your first love. He was so cute with his wide eyes; and he was very clingy, too, which made him all the more endearing.

But looking at the present Kunikuzushi, with his intense stare and permanently bored expression, he was hot, and you started to think that maybe your type was just Kunikuzushi.

Horror settled in your stomach as Scaramouche flashed a wicked grin.

“Then you wouldn’t mind sleeping with me, would you?”

“He said what?” Heizou cackled, hitting the wall as he threw his head back, laughing.

Scaramouche meant it as sleeping in the same room, but he could have— no, should have worded it better. Scaramouche laid down on his bed right after and went on his phone as if he didn’t say anything at all. You blurted some half-baked excuse and left the room to cry about it in your friends’ room.

When Scaramouche said their room was assigned a king bed, you didn’t expect it to fit five people—and Scaramouche said he wanted it for himself? The bed was incredibly big, almost in a lonely way. You have never seen an Alaskan king bed before, but now, sitting on the edge of it, felt as if you could fit your entire apartment on it.

Kazuha was in between Heizou and Aether, their backs resting on the headboard. They were about to sleep, too, but as soon as you burst in, they settled into position and listened intently. Except Aether, kind of; he was texting his sister, who was demanding a room tour.

“I never thought he would be this bold. I mean, demanding to share a room the moment he laid his eyes on you? Wow,” Heizou said, looking terribly criminal with his expression.

“It is surprising,” Kazuha mused. “I’ve witnessed how women flock to his feet and how he bat them all off like he never saw them.”

An unpleasant feeling washed over, which was weird because why would you be upset? Of course they’d flock to him—with a face like that. He had the looks and the personality that would garner him a lot of masochistic fans if he were a character in a drama.

“Does that happen a lot?” The way you spat it out spelled exactly how upset you are.

“No need to get so jealous, now. After that display, I’m positive that he wants as much as you want him,” Heizou laughed, falling forward and resting his elbows on the mattress. He moved his chin to his palm. He looked like he was going to ask if you wanted to paint nails and curl hairs the next second.

Your face felt hot. What was this conversation? You’d much prefer painting nails than talking about this. “I don’t want him!”

Heizou arched an eyebrow. “No?”

Even Kazuha looked doubtful, which was enough of a blow.

“I’m just confused,” you insisted. “You know what happens when you’re in a room alone with an objectively attractive guy? You get confused.”

“I get it,” Aether said, setting his phone aside to share his insight. “This is your sexual awakening.”

“What? No!”

“It definitely is,” Heizou agreed. “Why else are you crying about this to us?”

There was a sense of impending doom at realizing that Heizou was brewing some horrible, horrible thoughts in that head of his. “To stop feeding into my madness!”

Heizou clicked his tongue. “How do you think he feels? His childhood best friend came back to his life looking like that—I’m surprised he hasn't eaten you right up yet.”

You didn’t know what was more horrifying: Heizou implying he thought you were hot, or him implying that he thought Scaramouche thought you were hot.

Your face must’ve looked like a constipated mix between flustered and horrified; Kazuha chimed in to tell Heizou, “You should be more careful with your words. I’ve never met anyone as possessive as Scaramouche.”

“It’s already a miracle he even remembers me. He wouldn’t get jealous. I doubt he actually wants me that way,” you sighed.

“Oh, but you want him that way?” Heizou asked.

You wanted to slap that expression off Heizou’s face. “Of course I do. He was so cute when we were little—I already liked him then. I didn’t think he’d grow up to be so…”

“Sexual awakening,” Aether said again.

“Ow,” Aether whined when you hit him square on the head.

Reluctantly, you returned to your room. Heizou, Kazuha, and Aether told you to get your shit together and face this not-sexual-awakening like a man. Kazuha didn’t say it, but you could feel that he was also thinking it. And if he ever said it out loud, you’d tell him to go fuck off to Liyue already.

Scaramouche was awake. The door clicked shut, and you faintly felt like those heroines locking themselves up in a room to hook up with someone who they didn’t think was the murderer on the front page right now.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

You tried not to let your surprise show, but Scaramouche was staring so intently that you would’ve failed miserably either way. “The other room.”

The longer you looked at him, the more you realized that Kunikuzushi felt like a fever dream. Being only a few feet away from the guy you used to be so fond of, now grown and had an air of haughtiness that would’ve been a turn-off had it been anyone else— it was doing things to you.

“Are you scared of me?”

You laughed and nearly choked on it when registering that Scaramouche was still looking. It wasn’t something like embarrassment. It was more like laughing unabashedly and then sensing that your hallway crush walked past. Maybe it was a bit of embarrassment.

“No. No, I’m not scared.” You moved to sit on your bed, eyes trained on the wall. “You didn’t tell me you were back.”

“You changed your number. You moved out.”

“Oh.” You did do that. Your apartment was very far from your home.

“And I figured you forgot about me or wanted to forget about me because of what I did to you.”

“Oh.” You wanted to say that he didn’t affect you that much. Life goes on; you meet new people and lose them every day, and all that. But Scaramouche was affecting you that much, especially when he’s only a few feet away from you, looking like he wanted you to pounce him.

Scaramouche grinned lopsidedly. “But I guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

What the hell does that mean? Your heart skipped a beat. Did he figure it out? Were you that obvious with your thoughts about pouncing?

Scaramouche stood up from his bed, moving towards yours slowly. “Are you seeing anyone right now?”

You tried to avoid getting too close by leaning back, but he kept drawing his face closer, bending towards you. You’re one last tilt away from him pinning you down on the bed.

“No,” you blurted before you could even think about it. It was a little difficult to think about anyone else when you were a breath away from kissing. “Why?”

Scaramouche’s eyes narrowed, electric indigo. “Do you still have a crush on me?”

“You’re asking too many questions.”

“We’re catching up. This is how it works, doesn’t it?”

No, it was definitely not how this worked. Your neck was starting to ache with this awkward angle, and he hadn’t even answered your question.

“Do you?” he repeated, hovering above you.

You gave up on the painful angle and laid flat on the bed, frowning up at him. You crossed your arms to achieve the stance of someone who will not back down easily. “How are you so sure I even had a crush on you?”

“You’re telling me I’m wrong?”

What was this? Some fucked up game of 21 questions, but Scaramouche was too high and mighty to follow the rules? You didn’t know what to say to that. You wisely decided to stay silent, glaring up at him.

You probably didn’t look intimidating at all. Scaramouche smiled, much less sharper. Almost fond as his eyes flicked down to somewhere below your nose. “Am I still the only one for you?”

Okay. You would back down easily if he kept looking at you like that.

“You didn’t hurt me, Kuni.” You sighed. “You never could.”

Scaramouche straightened, his face carefully blank. It was much harder to read him like this. You sat up, wanting to ask if it was the wrong thing to say. You couldn’t get the words out because he lunged for a kiss.

You might have gasped. You might have made some embarrassing noise while a laugh rumbled from the back of Scaramouche’s throat. But that was all thrown out the window the moment your eyes fluttered shut and you lost yourself in the sensation of his warm mouth on yours.

He pushed closer, and you were pulled back on the mattress, his arms on either side of your head. Your eyes flew open when Scaramouche nipped at your lip. As if suddenly remembering where and who you were, you forced his chest back and gaped.

“What?” He looked irritated you interrupted him.

“At least say it back!”

“You didn’t even say it,” Scaramouche said, one eyebrow raised.

“I like you, Kunikuzushi.”

Scaramouche turned red and then looked humbled that you saw it. “I still like you, too.”

You looked at him up and down. You asked, but you didn’t want to hear the answer. “And you didn’t have anyone while you were in Sumeru?”

“Of course not,” Scaramouche scoffed. “You think anyone there was worth my time? You think I’d settle for less than you?” He scowled. “How about you? Nevermind, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. I’d do it better than any of them.”

You laughed, tugging him close with your arms around his neck. If anyone were to come in, they would assume the worst. Then again, maybe Scaramouche had plans to indulge in the worst.

wake up! let’s eat breakfast at the restaurant we saw yesterday!

ask scaramouche. so he can pay for us

Despite the freedom and space of lying on separate queen beds, you and Scaramouche were huddled and pressed close. And despite books in your bag, you were occupied with huddling and pressing close against Scaramouche. You were lying on his chest while he had an arm resting on your stomach.

As soon as Heizou’s texts appeared on the top banner of your screen, you looked up, and Scaramouche looked like he was going to murder someone.

“It’s a joke, probably,” you said. “They don’t see you as a wallet.”

“It’s not a joke,” Scaramouche said. “I don’t really care about that. You and Heizou close?”

“He’s the one who introduced me to Kazuha and the others.” You sat up from the comfortable position and stretched.

“So you’re close.”

“Oh, very much so.” Then you laughed at Scaramouche’s thunderous expression. “Idiot. Why are you jealous? He’s not the one I’m sharing a room with and was making out with last night.”

Scaramouche’s gaze cut down to your neck. He looked extremely pleased.

You and Scaramouche took the elevator down, holding hands throughout. You felt a little giddy. What must this look like to everyone else? They’d all assume you were out with your boyfriend. As you reached your friends, Aether had just started the car. Kazuha slipped into the passenger seat, and Heizou waved at the both of you.

Then Heizou gasped. Aether turned to you and gasped as well.

“What happened to you? You look like you were mauled by a tiger,” Aether asked, scandalized.

“If the tiger had a short hime cut and a thick wallet, maybe,” Heizou mused. You flipped him off and climbed inside the car. Heizou laughed and sat beside you.

Aether frowned. “What kind of tiger would that be?”

You groaned, burying your face in your palms and wishing that lightning would strike you down. You needed coffee. Or a beer. Maybe if you bat your eyelashes and kissed him on the lips, Scaramouche would buy you bottles of wine.

As if summoned by your thoughts, a figure forced himself in between you and Heizou. Scaramouche worked fast. He glared at Heizou and tugged you away from him.

Heizou’s eyes went wide. “What’d I do?”

“Know your place, Shikanoin,” Scaramouche said. You just wanted to at least not be half-sitting on his lap, but he was proving a point and didn’t let you budge.

Kazuha smiled. “I warned you, Heizou.”

“Damn,” Heizou said. He looked exhausted. He was the one who suggested you and Scaramouche hook up in the first place—did he not expect his intuition to be right this time? “Didn’t take you for the clingy type. Two more days of this?”

“This is not some fling,” Scaramouche hissed. “You think I don’t take this seriously?”

You smiled as your heart fluttered. Scaramouche could be so unintentionally sweet sometimes, not that you’d tell it to his face, because he would grumble and hide his face. You rather liked his face. It was pretty, and you knew that if you tugged his hood down, you’d see a bruise on his neck as well.

“Didn’t take him for a romantic as well,” Kazuha said, thoroughly entertained.

“Wait, are you actually a thing now?” Aether made a face. “What the hell happened in that room?”

Scaramouche smirked. “You sure you wanna know?”

a/n it was already so hard for me to not turn it into a heizou fic dude. That entire first part was so unnecessary i was just hopelessly infatuated. BUT ANYWAY!!1 thank you so much for reading i hope u liked it <3 if u do, leave a comment or a reblog so i can see your thoughts :DD

also, another note: on the day i wrote this fic the insta acc of scara didnt exist. so if it does by the time youve read this fic, its pure coincidence and i have nothing to do w it. or maybe i did, because i came up w the name HAHA

[lolita-lollipop]

Iron

YANDERE BARBARIAN BAKUGO X READER

The king of the most violent and powerful tribe in the eastern world is captured during battle by a small farmers village. What does a violent man like katsuki bakugo do upon meeting a kind servant girl like you?

WARNINGS: reader gets hurt by villagers (bakugo saves her)

He couldn't remember how long he had been here, he just knew it was cold, dark, unsanitary, and painful. He remembered the battle that put him here, getting shot with a poison-laced arrow, feinting on the field. Heh. imagine it, the great barbarian Bakugo, the children's slayer, the village burner, the soldier slaughterer falling because of one puny arrow from one puny kingdom. When he first had woken up he could feel the slick of his blood under him mixed with the dirt and grime of the cell, he had giant iron cuffs wrapping his wrists and legs, binding him to the floor. He couldn't blame these people, truly, they knew that once he woke up if he were to get out they were all as good as slaughtered.

It was a small stone dungeon, with only a couple of stalls, he occupying one of them. There was a small barred window, along with a wall of iron bars serving as protection from him and the rest of the world. Iron, he hated the stuff, and banned it from his country, it burned him, burned his people. There was a thick, damp smell of blood and rust, a musty smell he could easily recognize as death. He would carve every person in this building up, then burn every building in the village, and he would let the fire spread to their fields and watch as their lives work shrivels up into ash. But for now, He would wait for the perfect time to strike, all he could do was wait really, watch the guard rotation, see which ones were talkative, and which ones were cruel.

Many of the guards would beat him, carve his skin, and watch him bleed, they know of all the gruesome things he has done to so very many people, and supposedly the bastards feel some kind of idiotic vengeance or justice for those people. They would pay in the long run, who exactly do they think they are? he is a king, royalty, the highest of the highest, the strongest too. If he doesn't kill them his people will, they'll see. All the king could do was watch, wait, and plot the splattering of this village.

That was, until you came along.

Little you, in your flowy little skirt that was all torn up, with no shoes and a dirt-covered face. Little you with your oh-so-innocent smile, and your callused hands. Little you with your malnourished body, frail and sickly. Little you, who had no idea who he was. Little you who snuck in when no guard was on duty, a small bowl of soup in your hands, and a cup of water.

“I-im sorry that this is all I have, I know you haven't eaten in a long time I just- I’ll have more tomorrow” you whispered, and he swore he fell in love right then and there, you were too frail, too weak to be giving out food that you surely needed. Yet here you were, shakily handing him the bowl and the cup. He stared at you for a solid second, not even his own mother was this selfless, and you don't even know him. Who were you? You did not seem like aristocracy, too kind, maybe a farmer? Maybe a maid, a servant even.

He hadn't realized how hungry he was, not until the entire bowl and cup were gone, and he was left to stare at you. You were ethereal, dirt-covered and all, your eyes, your hair, your hands, everything, absolutely stunning. You had a look in your eyes. Something hungry and fearful told him that you were not happy, not safe and sound, not as you should be.

“I don't have anything to treat your wound, but- I'm sorry. Nobody should be treated this way, not even prisoners. I'll be back tomorrow, please don't tell the guards that I've done this. They will kill me.” you whispered, cautiously reaching to grab the glassware from his grip, waiting to see if he would snap at you. He didn't, only stared, grunting in response to your plea. You stared back with those sympathetic globes of yours, as if you could see the anger in his soul. Before turning on your heel, and quietly sneaking out of the dungeon room, you gave him one last glance before disappearing.

He was left in the quiet, in the cold, falling head over heels in love with you, a mere human. A peasant at that. Strange. You were too sweet, too kind, you clearly needed the food, clearly were starving and malnourished, yet you still stood here and offered your only food to him, a prisoner of war, you were so sweet. So kind. His people were not like you, they were not soft or sweet, he loved them for it, but you, oh you. You were soft and supple and sweet andso sickeningly kind. He would protect you, he has too.

The next couple of nights went similarly, you sneaking in during the dead hours following midnight with varying foods, sometimes a stale loaf of bread with milk, sometimes some leafy soup and water. He was grateful every time, thankful that he wasn't starving, still burning with absolute rage towards the mere peasants who believed that they could contain him. But you, in the very few days that he had known you, had wormed your way into his heart with your soft hands and pretty smile.

He can just imagine you adorned in stolen jewels and furs, dressed in the finest silk, or better, the clothes of his people. something soft like you, something pretty and supple and shiny and light. Something that reflects you, he would take you out of those rags, clean you up, teach you what luxury truly is. and you wouldnt have to lift a finger. he dreamed about your future everyday that you would visit, asking your favorite color or season or jewel.

That was, until you stopped showing up. No more quiet hours gazing at each other, no more shared food and drink, no more listening to you quietly talk about your life, no more sympathetic glances, no more questions about him from you, no more answers from him. It was like you had disappeared entirely, and back to his old routine of watching and observing the guards had begun once more. He had to admit it kind of hurt, having the only good thing here disappear entirely, he resented this place more, resented you.

He hated you, how could you leave him? You, a servant girl abandoning a king. Funny, hilarious, he sat in a pool of blood and hatred thinking about you, about this town, about the people who put him here, who chained him to the floor and watched him bleed out, this city will burn. And burn and burn and burn and burn and burn, his people would tear it apart until it was nothing but ash and blood-

What tore him out of his internal monologue was a pained scream, but not just anybody, he didn't know anybody in the town, it was yours. With that whispery rasp that you had from overexertion, and that neverending fear that dripped from your tone. He stood up to stare through the small window, only to see you on the ground, surrounded by many people, all bigger and stronger than you, yelling and screaming.

“It's her, the traitor!”

“She has been feeding the enemy, treason, treason I say!”

“She should be beheaded, the traitor.”

You let another scream ring out through the town center as one of the men brought their boot down on your bare foot, he could hear the crunch followed by another scream. The first kick sparked more from other men as they brought their feet down on frail little ou, you slowly reverted into a fetal position, lying in the dirt as they beat you relentlessly. He saw red, crimson blinding him and overflowing all of his senses. How could they? You did nothing, you knew nothing. You were just a sweet, innocent little human who knew no better, who were they to punish you, to beat you so cruelly? You were thin and frail and he could hear each one of your bones cracking and breaking into pieces.

He saw bright ruby red, anger wasn’t the word, absolute rage is a better way to put it.

Red red red red red red red red red

He didn't even realize he had broken from his chains till his legs were moving,

Red

He didn’t even feel the burn of the iron till the bars holding him were bent out of shape and twisted

Red

He didn’t realize they were all dead till his hands were stained with that bright crimson color he loved so much- you guessed it, red

He killed them all, so painfully, knuckles crunching skulls and tearing off limbs, pulling people apart faster than any wolf or bear could even try to. The thrill of freedom mixed with rage and pure anger let him revert to the ways of his homeland, back to the thrilling violence and electrifying feeling of tearing another apart. He enjoyed it, enjoyed tearing them limb from limb and watching them bleed as they had done to him. He cackled as they screamed in terror, relishing in their fear.

You watched deliriously, you had lost too much blood in too short of a time, and you were positive that you had many many broken bones, pain overcame you as you watched the bloodshed in front of you, your vision was blurry and shaking but you could tell that somebody was strong, and enjoying violence. Fear budded in the back of your brain, he was enjoying this, enjoying their pain, he would hurt you just the same, kill you, and relish in it.

You hadn’t known who he was, you swore to the village leaders, swore that you just felt bad for the poor starving man in the dungeons who seemed to gentle and sweet, they hadn’t cared. You were to be burned or drowned or noosed they said. But a death like this, at the hand of a man you had been fooled to be sweet? That was worse. Oh god, oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god you were going to die

Your breath became shallow, both because of what was surely a punctured lung, but also because of the slowly approaching footsteps crunching on the dirt. A small whimper escaped you as the figure towered over you, and your hands came up to shield your face from the blow that was surely to come.

But Instead of a painful ending blow, arms wrapped under you and hoisted you up, you never realized how tall this man was. Naturally, you curled into his warmth and tried not to think about how sticky his hands were with blood. your breath hitched as he squeezed you closer with calloused rough hands. Tears washed down your face, you were quivering, shaking in fear.

“P-please-“ you quivered out. Hand moving up to push him away, your statement had many meanings, to beg for your life, to beg him to put you down, to beg him to leave you and your village alone, to beg him to forgive you. He stared down at you with crimson eyes, a sudden softness overcoming them, more than he thought he could have.

“Don’t you worry baby,

I’ll take good care of ya”

———————————————————————

Cute

Anyway enjoy, I noticed a lack of barbarian bakugo content on here so I figured I would add some fuel to the fire.

Love you all, make sure to have a great day!

[dcxdpdabbles]

Cave boy Danny. What if he offhandedly mentions his parents being THERE (as in not dead) and being Doctors (not the same kind of doctors Bruce's parents are) and things like that and doesn't realize that the batfam starts thinking that this? This is what's different with this Bruce. He didn't lose his parents and thus does not grow up wanting vengeance, and his parents are similar in personalities but in a different field!

Now Danny is still as casual young Bruce as ever but the others are just freeking out around him.

Things are strange for a while. Danny knows that his actions have caused the Waynes to be....wary around him. Even Jason- who honestly threw a whole ass parade for Gotham in celebration of Joker's death- seemed to be tense around him.

Danny can't really say he blames them. He still doesn't know why Phantom reacted the way it did- a bit alarming. His ghost side marked Joker as a threat from the moment it laid eyes on him- a threat that could not and would not be reasoned with.

His ghost -half attacked, knowing that Joker's existence threatened his core. A core that was created from the desire to keep his friends safe at the moment of his death. (He had known he would die the moment the portal's electricity hit him- and Danny had not been mournful of his end but rather horrified that Tucker or Sam could have followed him to the afterlife. His last thought as a human was Please let me live long enough to keep them safe.)

Never has that happened before- not even when faced with Vlad or Dan. It was strange to watch Phantom attack and not be in equal amounts of control within his body.

Phantom has always felt a part of him but also not. Danny had once tried to explain it to Jaz, only to end up frustrated when she tried to paint Phantom as a different personality that shared the mind-space with Danny.

Danny knows Phantom isn't like that.

He's not another person- Phantom is Danny in the same sense that Danny is alive but dead. For the same reason, Danny is the flipped color scheme of Phantom. They are one, just viewed differently.

Or maybe they saw the world differently?

It's hard to say and even harder to put into words.

The closest Danny could come to explain was an example Tucker gave him. Someone is the same but acts ultimately differently online, even when they aren't trying to catfish someone.

It's the fact they are behind a screen that gives them just the extra amount of courage. Tuck had said.

Ancients, he misses Tuck. His ship is not ready to venture into his Ghost Zone- hell, if Danny is honest, it's barely able to move. He is trying his best to get it working, but it's slow going. Too slow, even with Wayne's generosity.

"Master Brucie," Alfred started, pausing just within the doorframe of Danny's room until invited in. He does that now, keeping to his manners as though Danny was a guest of the Waynes. Not someone who he can be so familiar with.

It stings to know his killing had lost him the right to be treated as a stranger when Alfred had always treated him as young Bruce Wayne the moment he was found.

"Yes?" He asks, trying to smile. It falls flat, but it's worth the effort.

Alfred's face stays impassive, and Danny tries to tell himself that he doesn't care. He's not a young Bruce Wayne. He wants nothing to do with the Wyanes'.

"There are more gifts for you." The bulter says. "Shall I bring them to your room?"

Danny has received a lot of fan mail since his actions were leaked to the public. Everyone knew that Joker was taken out by Danny Kane. And there wasn't a single person in Gotham who hadn't been hurt or known someone injured by the madman.

He is being praised as a hero.

For murder.

Danny can't find it in himself to feel guilty about it. Joker needed to die. He had too many chances to change, and too many people got hurt.

"That's okay. I'll go downstairs and look through them. I feel like watching a movie anyway." He shrugs his shoulders while strolling to the door in his lazy stride.

Alfred steps out of his way, bowing ever so slightly. "Very good sir."

Sir.

That stings.

Danny doesn't bring it up or mention that Alfred keeps a safe space between them. Not enough that it would be rude, but definitely one of a servant following a master instead of a man who thought him the younger version of his son.

When they arrive at the room, he is surprised to find a white shipping cart filled to the brim with packages and letters waiting for him. Standing beside the cart, flipping through the envelopes, is Tim.

He has yet to see much of Tim. Not since Danny proved his doubts weren't as unfound as Danny actively tried to convince the other teen of.

No time like the present.

"Hey, Tim." He calls just to mentally get the other prepared for his approach. As expected, Tim whips around with a narrow eye-ed glare that does nothing to hide his distaste for Danny. Alfred follows them into the room but stays by the door at an appropriate distance. "Anything good?"

"Good, how?" Tim bites, and Danny fights to not roll his eyes.

"I don't know. Maybe a letter from my mom saying I'm a good boy or another football from dad-"

"I beg your pardon?" Alfred cuts him off- which, okay, that's never happened before. The butler has never overstepped his position- even when they thought him harmless little Brucie- to talk over him.

Danny turns to find the man pasty white, looking both cautiously overjoyed and wishful. "Did you make a joke about your parents, Master Brucie?"

"Ugh, Yeah? Why?"

"Young sir, are- are your parents alive?"

Danny is floored by the choked-up emotion in that one sentence that all he can do is nod. Tim drops the package he was checking over, his jaw slacked, and staring at Danny like having parents was the answer of the universe.

"Thomas and Martha Wayne are alive in your universe.." Tim all but breaths. "They are alive and have more than one kid."

"Why is that a big deal?" Danny asks, unable to himself. "What happened to Bruce's parents here?"

"Master Thomas was a doctor," Alfred says, ignoring Danny's question. But he now hears the answer in the past tense when referring to Bruce's parents. "Is he still in your world?"

"Yes, and so is my mom." PHD doctors, but they don't need to know that.

"That's why you like this." Tim slumps into the chair closest to him. Danny is mightily alarmed that he seems pale now. "That's why you don't know anything about Batman. He was never inspired. You....you really are a civilian."

Danny will deny that he fleed the room when Tim burst into tears till the day he died. He does not look back even when Alfred yells for his return. He has outstayed his welcome.

He slips into his room, grabs anything not nailed down with any form of technology, and then activates his intangibility. He sinks down down, and down, to the caves. He knows where the Bats work, knows where to go from his nights where he tried to work on ship.

He flies in that direction, knowing he will never see the Waynes again. Not after realizing how much pain his lies have unwillingly caused.

Master Post Link

[nomazee]

EVENT TIME EVENT TIME

how about.. 4:44am & dr. ratio? 🫡

AUGHH THANK U GWEN i lvoed writing ths..... first time writing dr ratio be gentle on my fragile soul

my 1k event!

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

When Doctor Veritas Ratio walks into his very-private, very-locked, very-secluded study, he’s greeted with the unfortunate sight of you—sitting on the floor, an easel with a wide canvas set up low to the ground, oil paints sprawled absolutely everywhere. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

A sheepish smile pulls at your face, as if a sweet expression will get you out of the mess you’ve made of Ratio’s personal space. It’s far too late— late? Too early? Regardless. The hour of the night-slash-morning that you’ve decided to paint in his room is not appropriate at all. 

“I can explain,” you say, followed by a complete lack of an explanation as the two of you stew in silence for another half a minute. 

“Why are you even awake at this hour?” Ratio scoffs, stepping around you and your hazardous art set-up as he places some irrelevant stack of books on his (thankfully untouched) desk. “You should’ve been in bed a long time ago. Soon you’ll experience delirium from lack of sleep.” 

“Oh, please,” you argue, swatting a hand in his general direction playfully as you turn back to your canvas. It’s full of nauseating color, clear shapes and lines that don’t blend together in the slightest, vague animal-like forms that overlap with each other. “You’re awake too, aren’t you? Unless I really did hit delirium, and you’re just some Veritas-ghost floating around in my subconscious.” 

Ratio does not get a kick out of your very funny joke. An annoyed huff escapes him, tainted with something like weariness and exhaustion. Your eyebrow twitches. 

“And to answer your first question,” you prattle on, mindlessly scrubbing dried paint from the side of your hand with a wet rag, before picking up a fan brush, “I’m painting. This room is really well-ventilated, which is nice, because it would be a shame if all the fumes got to my head and zapped away my few remaining brain cells.” 

That one gets a laugh out of him, probably because it’s at the expense of your own intelligence. 

“There are a hundred other rooms that are exactly the same as mine,” he argues, finally turning away from his pointless shuffling of materials on his desk and facing you, looking at you while he talks to you—you know, like a normal person would. “There was no reason to infiltrate my own private study for your… painting. The door was locked, too. How did you—” 

“Don’t ask silly questions, Veritas,” and you like the way each consonant of his name clicks against your lips and teeth and tongue, “I have my ways. Does it bother you that I’m defiling your good room with my frivolous fine arts endeavors?” 

“Ridiculous,” his face screws up in displeasure at your assumption that he’d be so elitist to deny you of your passion. He walks around your spread of supplies again, carefully, before kneeling by your side to watch you work. As much as he’s loath to admit, you’re one of his few soft spots, and it shows in the way he traces the lines of your paint with his gaze, and the fact that he has yet to kick you out of his room. “The humanities are just as important as any other field.” 

“Spoken like a true scholar,” you quip, trying to hold back the shakiness of your hands and the swaying of your body. It really is too late for this, but you’d slept through the day and felt much too awake by midnight. Setting up camp in Ratio’s room was a natural instinct. 

“Go to bed,” he says, commanding yet gentle as he tugs a paintbrush from your hand. He doesn’t touch your hands, never really does, but he’s gathering your scattered, wrung-out tubes of paint and the little containers of linseed oil hidden under the easel. “It does neither you nor your artwork any good to be exhausted.” 

“I’m not even tired!” you complain, dragging out your words in a whine as he nudges you with his foot in a wordless command to stand up. There’s something like a cot in the corner of his room (because he does sleep, sometimes, and often it’s between textbooks and files and loose leaf paper) and a cozy patterned blanket that’s definitely yours. 

“You will be tired the second your head hits the mattress.” 

“This is a really awful mattress, Ratio.” 

“Don’t complain,” and his tone is harsh but you know he doesn’t mean it, because he’s pushing you back onto the little sleeping corner and tucking you into the blanket, nothing short of kindness in his hands. “You still have to clean your mess in the morning.” 

Sure, you think, already drifting off. By the time you wake up, you know that your mess will be packed away in a neat pile, floor wiped clean and canvas propped safely against the wall.

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin

fill out my event taglist (pinned) or my general taglist (navigation) to be tagged in upcoming works!

[hopeastrz]

𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒🪷 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫/𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 + 𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐭.

𝟕𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧 may indicate having a serious spouse, disciplined, neat and works hard to make fortune for his family, you’ll have a stable and long marriage due to saturn influence, but there will be many lessons to learn along the way.

𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 are born to be mothers, you can’t convince me otherwise, they just have this caring aura around them that resembles a hug!.

𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 especially 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐧/𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 I’ve seen or talked too always tend to be over thinkers, and i know that this might’ve been said before but it’s really one of their prominent traits, they are usually 25/8 nervous and they tend to be a bit perfectionistic.

Having 𝟏𝟏°, 𝟐𝟑° 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐭 tells you where you may be original or a trendsetter.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟏°,𝟐𝟑° your ideas, your voice may be unique, if you’re an author or just like writing in general you tend to create unique literature pieces that are considered quite creative.

𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝟏𝟏°, 𝟐𝟑° your style is original, what you wear, makeup you apply on your face, or even perfumes you buy may be quite underrated or unique etc..

Having 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐢𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟖°, 𝟐𝟎° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 may indicate going through many transformations with your friendships, they are always unstable, changing and evolving, also you may be the type to change personalities and sacrifice lots of things for your friends, please be careful and don’t get way too attached.

Having 𝐧𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞, 𝐏𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟏𝟐°, 𝟐𝟒° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟕𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 may indicate always attracting relationships with people that are calm, like serene or just way too quiet (one may even say secretive) on the outside but freakiest people to exist on the inside, one of my friends has this placement and her boyfriend barley speaks when he’s around us, but when he calls her and thinks we can’t hear him let me tell you.. that man becomes a whole different person, its kinda fascinating to be honest, neptune illusionary influence doesn’t fail to impress me.

𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 are hot as hell, both figuratively and well… literally no like they need to chill please calm down a bit you guys are really really fiery, always on your feet and ready to throw hands if someone angers you, seems cliché i know but it’s the truth.

𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟐𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 is one of my favorite placements to have, and i believe that it indicates fame and having a very beautiful spouse, also a very ethereal beauty.

I also noticed something a weird pattern on a whim but why does 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 tend to work on medical fields and 𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 may excel quite well in companies, relations and business in general.

𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐧>>>>>>> that’s it.

If they have earth placements combined with fire placements you won at life.

I have 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝟏𝟓° 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞, many people have told me that my voice is soothing and beautiful, i also love singing!.

[lattenha]

TERRIBLE TWOS — P. SUNGHOON

SYNOPSIS! A rash decision on your end causes you and Sunghoon to break up. What you think is for the best turns out to be the complete opposite, actually. Cue two years later when a random encounter with your ex forces you to revisit past feelings that has never quite fully departed from either of you. PAIRING! Chairman!Sunghoon x Fem!Reader WC! 11.4k (Got carried away)

GENRE/CW! Exes getting back together, fluff, slight angst if you squint, smut (fingering, brief mentions of fem oral receiving, sunghoon has a 7 inch cock; i headcanon that, unprotected sex, missionary, creampie, lots of tongue kissing), swearing, reader is in denial just a tad bit, ft. non-idol!yunjin, reader is a struggling fine arts major, etc. MDNI

A/N: originally, i intended for this to be a simple one shot but it somehow turned out to be greater than that in the end lol. this was also my first attempt at writing smut; i've always wanted to try it but damn is it kinda hard. i feel like the title doesn't match or capture the story as good but whatever-- it used to be called 'seasons,' yet that didn't make sense either so... terrible twos it is! i hope you enjoy <3

“Y/n?” 

A trace of uncertainty laces the man's voice, his mind racing with the possibility that he might have mistaken a stranger for someone from his past. Internally, he winces at the prospect of this awkward mix-up, dreading such an encounter with a random person. He clings to the hope that his intuition proves accurate.

Could it really be her? Amid the bustling crowd, she always managed to stand out, an unmistakable aura surrounding her. Her presence eclipsed even the most vibrant of settings, radiating a unique energy that outshone a field of flowers.

When he tentatively calls out her name in a hushed tone, she spins around on her heel, and for an ephemeral moment, Sunghoon feels as though he's stepped into a scene from a classic romance film.

Time stills and so does he. 

Each of your movements steals his breath away. The way your hair dances in harmony with the wind, and how your eyelashes cast the most delicate shadow upon your high cheekbones. Your gradual unveiling leaves him struggling to swallow past an inexplicable lump in his throat. 

Sunghoon notices the moment your eyes widen. Behind those enchanting orbs, he discerns a flicker of nostalgia and a touch of melancholy. During your time together, he had the uncanny ability to read those emotions hidden within the depths of your eyes.

“Sunghoon…” You say no louder than a mere whisper that could easily get lost in the summer’s wind that passes through the both of you. 

Your heart throbs in your chest. The biological response is far too overwhelming that you can feel your stomach tying itself in double knots. You think you might need to be pointed to the nearest bathroom so you can barf up the swarm of butterflies that disturb your system. No doubt, does crossing paths with an ex whom you share a long history with manage to do that to you. 

“H-how are you?” You’re the first to strike up a conversation despite that being Sunghoon’s unspoken responsibility. 

How am I? Sunghoon has to brace himself to collect his messy thoughts. 

“I’m pretty good, and yourself?”

His response is curt and short. In any other setting, he would have elaborated on his answer but he wasn’t sure how much information was too much to reveal to an ex regarding the state of his well-being. You nod at his words, not really expecting much nor having high hopes that he would give you more to work with in this conversation of playing catch-up between an ex. 

See, your relationship ended amicably, with both of you acknowledging that the spark kindled between you two had faded out. With your mind elsewhere, too focused on your academics (so you like to say), and Sunghoon preparing to inherit his family’s business, there was little room for romance in either of your daily routines. Your typical weekend dates were swapped out for meetings with major corporations and other soon-to-be-chairman-related activities so that he could fully understand what the rest of his future held for him. 

Even though you missed having your boyfriend's undivided attention, you refused to act as a temporary roadblock that prevented him from making significant progress. Despite your heart and brain being at war with each other, you made the conscious decision to slowly back down from being his lover and tucked your face in the pages of your academic textbooks.

With Sunghoon too busy to even acknowledge that his girlfriend was distancing herself from him, you were the first to come forward, bearing the news that breaking up would be the optimal solution to your and his fading presence in one another’s lives. 

That night when you bid goodbye, he felt half his heart shatter inside of him. Little did you know that you carried the other part wherever you went, but now that you were no longer capable of sheltering that missing piece, it almost made him want to die inside more than just a tad bit— a lot, actually.

He pretended to play it cool as your back turned to him and he watched you retreat to your car, feeling both helpless and defeated. With an unflinching countenance, a tightly clenched jaw, and fingers gripped at his sides, Sunghoon longed for his feet to have chased after you, preventing your departure from his life. He yearned to undo whatever had driven you away, to rewrite his mistakes and reshape your shared history.

Sadly, not even the first star in the sky he saw at night could grant him something as demanding as that.

On the contrary, had those things happened, he wouldn’t be here today on a Thursday afternoon rekindling a connection that got tossed up in the air and fell through his fingertips.

“I—“ Before you get a chance to deliver your sentence Sunghoon’s hold on your arm prompts him to draw you to his chest. 

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat, eyes simultaneously widening for the second time thanks to a certain ex. You look up at the taller one with crinkled brows. A mixture of confusion and a looming feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach that hasn’t quite left, tugging at your heartstrings. His intoxicating scent of Dior Sauvage is all too overwhelming for your nose to take in. You swear your head could start spinning any minute now. 

He’s so close to you. You’re so close to him. If someone were to come by and accidentally bump into you, you would be pressed up against his chest, breaking what limited distance is keeping you two apart. 

A bike rider disrupting pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk whizzes by, obnoxiously ringing the bell attached to their handlebar as if they aren’t to be blamed for riding on the concrete pavement, and it’s only then do you realize that Sunghoon was protecting you from getting hit. His body relaxes once he declares that it’s safe for you to comfortably stand in the open from any oncoming obstructions. 

“Sorry… acted on impulse.” His grasp on you immediately retreats to the inside of his pant pockets and you swear that his touch leaves a ghosting sensation on your skin. 

Sunghoon refuses to meet your lingering gaze, eyes averting to some random couple walking their dog across the street from where the two of you are standing. It’s almost funny how he fully believed two years ago that one day both of you would be exactly like that: dog owners who take their beloved fur baby on walks together and enjoy the simplicity of the little things that a relationship has to offer. 

“It’s okay, thank you,” You murmur, unsure of where things should go from here. 

A beat of silence comes and goes before Sunghoon has the chance to take the initiative to prove he’s different from his past self. 

The past self you witnessed throughout the duration of your shared romanticism. The past self who failed to convince you to stay because he never wanted you to leave his side. What he wanted was to work things out and to understand what he could do to change and make things better for the two of you.

Even if that meant you breaking up with him first to realize this.

“Listen, why don’t we…” He suddenly starts. Sunghoon analyzes your face and when your features evidently show that you’re all ears for what he has to say, he takes a deep breath to compose himself. “Get dinner. Together.“ 

Although the question comes out more like a demand rather than a request, you’re slightly taken aback because you were almost certain Sunghoon probably resents you for the breakup— at least that’s what you tell yourself— and that he doesn’t want any business involving you entering his life for a repeat performance. The only different thing is that you’re his ex.

Can you blame him? It was so sudden.

The concealed hurt he tried to mask but failed to do so when you told him you wanted to end things, hoping it’d be left on good terms, rambling about how much you do and will continue to care for him no matter what he does in life or who he chooses to love after you. It seems you did more talking than he got the chance to, and Sunghoon wasn’t sure if you had this all planned leading up to that moment, or if he should’ve seen it coming. 

Whatever it was, Sunghoon could never hate or repent you, but you’re no telepathic mind-reader and wouldn’t know how he feels about you now unless you asked. 

Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you ponder the idea of sitting in a fancy restaurant with Sunghoon and sharing a long conversation over an expensive meal that is highly overpriced for its ridiculously small portions. 

“On one condition,” You quip. Sunghoon gestures for you to keep going and you clear your throat. “No five-star Michelin places, okay? I just want a simple dinner to make up for lost time.” 

The older male chuckles, nodding his head sensibly. If there’s one thing Sunghoon learned about you is that you were never hard to please and preferred the opposite of a high-end luxury lifestyle that he naturally grew up with. 

“Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 8, how’s that sound?” 

“That’s perfect but um—“ you purse your lips. “Do you… Do you still remember where I live?” 

“Of course. It would take a lot more than time and distance apart from each other, for me to forget your every being.”

Sunghoon leans in to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The underlying intimacy hiding beneath his actions has you contemplating what the course of your relationship would have looked like for the two of you, had you not broken up with a man as sweet and thoughtful as him.

Was calling it quits between you two a mistake? Should you have stuck it out just a little longer? 

You can only shove those thoughts to the farthest point in the back of your mind and recenter your focus to the handsome ravenette. 

Sunghoon, sporting a warm grin that gradually grows into a pearly white showcase of his perfect teeth and adorable canines, makes it worth marveling if second chances are a thing that people still stand by. 

The next evening, Sunghoon unexpectedly arrived at your front door 20 minutes ahead of your readiness. While you were trying to situate yourself into your cami dress that paired well with the current season, a knocking sound coming from the entrance to your studio unit startled you in its wake. You tapped on the screen of your phone to check the time and crinkled your nose when the numbers staring back at you read 7:40. 

Sunghoon’s habit of arriving for an occasion earlier than expected was not unusual for his character. The taller's mannerisms crept into other facets of his social life after years of being trained to believe that "early is on time" and "on time is late." However, 20 minutes ahead of schedule was definitely new to you, and part of you can’t help but think if this is stemming from anxiety or if that’s just you projecting your nerves onto his much early arrival. 

“Just a sec!” You struggled to reach for the zipper to your dress, stress-sweating due to the pressure of having to rush through the rest of your routine.

After what felt like a millennia you finally managed to seal yourself shut into your attire and scurried to the front door where poor Sunghoon was waiting for you to answer.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t get to the zipper of my dress and I don’t think me flashing you or my neighbors in semi-public is socially acceptable.” You awkwardly laugh, strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck and forehead from the accumulated sweat you managed to produce. 

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head at your guilty tendency to overshare too much information for the dramatics.

“No worries. I know I showed up earlier than expected. Don’t worry about me, do what you need to do.” He smiles softly and for a second it almost slips your mind that you’re no longer romantically involved with each other. 

Oh, how you wish you could leap at him and smother the dashing man with kisses all over his Greek god-like, beautiful face…

“Here,” The taller unveils a bouquet of flowers that he attempted (underline, attempted) to hide behind his back. In reality, you could already see bits of it peeking out but chose to play coy about the item he was holding back from giving you. 

You fawn at the striking arrangement of tulips that come in different shades of the prettiest of pinks. Tulips. Of course, he would remember that those are your favorite. His words from yesterday ring in your ears, and believing them, you truly start to confide that Sunghoon could never boot you out of his memory as easy as a snap of his fingers.

“The prettiest bunch of flowers for the prettiest girl.” Sunghoon cautiously says, unsure if that would be stepping a line. To be fair, there isn’t an official handbook on what you should or shouldn’t say to an ex— except for some of the more common phrases; whatever that may be.

You let out a lighthearted laugh at the bold, yet cheesy, compliment and invited Sunghoon into the safe haven of your apartment, ignoring the way your heart practically skipped a beat when he said that. 

He’s been here on plentiful occasions so he’s really no stranger to the arrangement of your flat and could probably draw out an entire floor plan if he wanted to. At one point he almost committed to the thought of moving in with you, but you were a firm believer that it would be best if he stuck to the minimalist mansion he decorated himself; it was passed down to him from none other than his father. Needless to say, Sunghoon was a pouty puppy that day.

“I’m almost ready I promise.” You say. “I just need to add some finishing touches and then I’m all yours for the night.” Immediately your hands fly to your mouth when realization dawns on you about the delivery of your words. 

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, and luckily, you miss the faint smirk that tugs at the corner of his plump lips teasingly.

“You know what I mean!” You panic, waving off the metaphorical atmosphere that surrounds both of you.

You excuse yourself and escape to your room as the tips of your ears start to flush with embarrassment.

Once the door leading to your bedroom shuts behind you with a mellow thud, your back presses up against the surface of the entryway. A loud sigh that you weren't even aware you were repressing since Sunghoon arrived breaks out past your tinted lips. With your mind a foggy mess and your heart threatening to leap right out of your chest, you’re under the impression that you resemble the stereotypical anime school girl the way your entire demeanor changes when you’re around him. 

But that’s the thing.

It’s only Sunghoon. 

It’s just Sunghoon.

So what if you guys dated in high school and partially during college? So what if he was the first and only guy you’ve been with, and even though you have no one to compare him to, he would still be the best ex you could ever have? So what if you regret breaking up with him because you got ahead of yourself and refused to be transparent with him? 

So what if you want him back…

You pat both sides of your cheeks to wake yourself from a philosophical dilemma. you refuse to go down a rabbit hole of emotions especially when you’re about to go out to dinner. 

You shuffle through your wardrobe in search of a certain pair of Converse that a special someone gave to you as a birthday gift. When you find it neatly stored away in its original packaging and the box that it came in you’re almost too eager to slip your feet into the collar of the Chuck Taylor’s.

You halt in your steps when you reach your vanity and grab your everyday bottle of perfume, spritzing one pump, then two, then three, and four more of the floral scent, that you’re showering yourself in it at this point.

When you've deemed that you’re completely ready and satisfied with your appearance for the evening, you exit the inviting comfort of your cozy chambers. Sunghoon’s back is facing you as you ascend into the living room. You can’t make out much of what he’s doing and he’s seemingly too preoccupied to notice your footsteps stalk across the wooden paneling. His neck is craned downward looking at something on the decorative table where you have a neat arrangement of framed pictures. 

“You still have this?” He turns around revealing the photograph that he was referring to, now in his possession. There’s a distant glimmer of emotion that you can’t quite make out peeking around the curves of his irises. 

You let out a resigned sigh. 

You’ve been caught red-handed for leaving a single trace of the past out in the open. 

Of all the furniture and miscellaneous objects that collect dust on different surfaces in your flat, Sunghoon chose to go for the photograph of you and him standing under a cherry blossom tree in Ilsan Park. Your arm was hooked around his waist and his was wrapped around your shoulder. The brightest of smiles stretched across your faces as petals danced around you. It was the perfect moment captured in stillness and you wish you could leap through pictures to relive that special day. A distant memory that feels like it happened not too long ago.

“I couldn’t get rid of it. It’s— That’s one of my favorite pictures of us.” You simply explain. 

It was true, because out of all of the selfies, candid photos, and other pictures you shared together with Sunghoon, your date to Ilsan Park remained your number one core memory as a couple. 

You watch intently as Sunghoon places the photo back where it originally belonged on the console.

“I think that’s one of my favorites, too.” He says as a matter of fact. “That or the one where we went to Lotte World and wore matching uniforms together.” The taller laughs.

You giggled, the recollection of your amusement park date flashing across your mind. You dragged him to go on each and every attraction with you as he stumbled in your tracks, struggling to keep up with your social battery. You felt like two high schoolers in love at the ripe age of 20 because being with Sunghoon gave you the impression that you were your 15-year-old self again. 

“I like that one as well! I thought I looked pretty cute in that uniform.” You grin sheepishly.

Sunghoon chuckles and it causes you to whip your head to survey him. His eyes crinkle before they’re no longer crescent and back to their original doe-eyed shape. 

“You’re still cute, y’know that?” 

The comment sends your heart ablaze along with the blood that rushes to the surface of your cheeks. You can only hope that the thin layer of makeup and blush you applied is strong enough to camouflage the effect that sunghoon has on you. It’s no secret that he was always a smooth talker and still is. It makes you wonder if he’s ever used that flirtatious skill on other women he’s come across after you— or if he has. 

You tut your tongue at him and reach for your crossbody purse draped on the couch that you lazily tossed aside yesterday after coming home. 

“Ready, m’lady?” Sunghoon twists the knob and pushes the front door open, supporting the weight with his broad frame to keep it from closing in on you two when you exit. 

“Wait!” You pip, halting in your steps. You briskly retreat to your room and grab the bouquet of tulips you left on the side table next to your bed. 

You scurry over to Sunghoon, cradling the arrangement of florals like it was your baby. The haired boy opens his mouth to say something but you’re too fast to retort, 

“I wanna show it off. They’re too pretty to be left at home.” 

He nods and motions his hand for you to leave the unit first. The taller gives himself a mental pat on the back for inquiring in a floral shop before coming to retrieve you for dinner.

Tulips are a girl’s best friend, after all. For you, at least.

Coincidentally dinner happens to occur at the one restaurant you frequently visited when you and Sunghoon were dating. It was a simple ma and pa spot only locals in the area knew of. They were popularly known for their cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup. You like to think of it as a secret only two of you know about and continue to gatekeep it from your friends or families from ever coming across of it. 

The owners grew familiar with both of you through your frequent visits and friendly conversations. your rapport with them resulted in a warm welcome every time you returned, often accompanied by a generous discount as a token of their appreciation. Since your last visit to their restaurant, a while has gone by, and you both have been overdue to make an appearance at the restaurant.

“Aigoo, Sunghoon-ah, it’s been so long!” Mrs. Kim exclaims, wearing the biggest and brightest smile that brings out the crinkles in her complexion when she notices two familiar faces. “And Y/n, it’s good to see you too!” She turns to you with the same mien still permanently plastered on her face. 

You bow your head. Her contagious smile has you mirroring her grin. 

“Come, come, sit.” She waves her hand for the two of you to follow in her trail as she leads both of you to your— undesignated but designated— table that you and Sunghoon would constantly sit at.

Before you even have a chance to pull out your chair, Sunghoon beats you to it with surprising swiftness. The aged wood scrapes gently against the floor as he courteously pulls the chair back for you. A warm smile tugs at your lips as you appreciate this chivalrous gesture, unable to contain a soft giggle of delight. 

Mrs. Kim watches the interaction between the two of you and smirks, completely out of the loop that you have broken up; still under the assumption that you’re both dating to this day. Who could blame her when in her eyes you were the perfect missing piece for one another in this world like you were made for each other from the start. 

“The usual?” She asks despite already knowing the answer to her question. 

“Yes please,” Sunghoon nods.

He sits after folding his blazer in half so that it can rest neatly on the chair's backrest. To add some fuel to the flame, he unbuttons the cuffs to his long sleeves and rolls them past his forearms so that they stop an inch below his elbows. The expensive watch that rests snugly on his wrist glistens, almost blinding you. You’re reminded that the man sitting across from you is responsible for an entire company under his name and capable of powerful things.

You gulp. You feel like you’re watching something you shouldn’t be and instead take an interest in the condiments that are pushed to the side of your table. 

Soy sauce, vinegar, napkins… 

When you think that you’re ready to re-center your attention onto Sunghoon once your racing heart has calmed down from its high, the taller has his eyes closed as he combs his fingers through his hair. His lips are parted ever so slightly and there’s a shine to his plush tiers.

He has to be doing this on purpose now.

You watch the way his Adam apple bobs when he swallows and you swear it should be a sin to look this effortlessly good in warm overhead lighting. 

You huff, a little too audibly for the male across from you to hear and his doe eyes flutter open. The sudden eye contact catches you off guard and you’re struggling to maintain yourself from the tension your mind is projecting. You shift around in your chair trying to find a more comfortable position.

This is going to be a long dinner.

After Mrs. Kim returned with your delectable dishes, the food vanished quickly as you guys delved into stories and shared the exciting highlights of your respective journeys. You and Sunghoon spent the rest of your meal at the table reminiscing about the past two years including the many ups and downs you’ve dealt with.

You learned that a month after your breakup, Sunghoon’s father officially stepped down, handing over the reins of the company to his son as the new successor. The ravenette confided in you, revealing that even though he had been groomed for this role his whole life, the transition wasn't as smooth as he had envisioned. The weight of responsibility felt overwhelming. Taking charge of a major company brought with it a level of pressure he had never experienced before. The expectations were high, both from the company's board and the employees who had known him since he was young.

As he grappled with the complexities of his new position, Sunghoon couldn't help but reminisce about a simpler life. He missed the carefree moments he used to share with you, the laughter, and the ease of his unannounced visits when he would turn up at your door with snacks he bought from the corner store and canned beer. 

Eventually his determination and drive to persevere kept him standing strong in the face of these obstacles. With his family behind him, a supportive workforce, and you in the back of his mind, he knew he had people to look back on and make them proud. 

You praised the older for his character development, gushing at his transition from uncertainty to confidence, while sympathizing with the initial troubles he first started off with. Being a chairman at his age is bound to weigh heavily on his mental and emotional health, and you can’t help but wish that you had stayed by his side through it all in order to be that support pillar he needed at immediacy.

“So, what about you? I didn’t really get to hear your answer yesterday.” Sunghoon asks.

You blinked. “Me? Well, uhm…” 

A bubble of insecurity creeps into your stomach. Your mind races through a mental checklist of your own achievements, or rather, the lack thereof, especially when compared to Sunghoon’s impressive journey. While your lives have taken very drastically different paths, you can’t shake the feeling that at the end of the day, the two of you are worlds apart from each other. He’s the chairman of a highly respected company. And you? You’re just a college graduate with a bachelor’s degree in fine arts. A pursuit that feels miles away from Sunghoon’s milestones. 

During the period that he was absent from your everyday life, all you managed to build was your art portfolio, which you eagerly sent to numerous galleries in a desperate bid to gain recognition as a struggling artist. Rejection letters became an all too familiar sight, each offering the same hollow praise— impressed but not interested. Those were dark times, where self-doubt loomed large.

Thankfully, your situation started to improve when you summoned the courage to step out of your comfort zone. You took to social media, opening art accounts on Instagram and Twitter, and sharing your artistic odyssey on TikTok. Yunjin, one of your closest friends and best friend since middle school, commissioned you to paint a mural inside a cafe she was working at. “I begged my boss for this to happen!” She said enthusiastically over the phone the night she asked you for the favor. Everything to you was a leap of faith, a glimmer of hope that prompted you to fully believe in the light at the end of every tunnel. 

In spite of your situation turning out for the better, it was impossible to ignore the inescapable sense of solitude and loneliness that clung to you like a shadow. It followed you everywhere you went. A mental reminder that, no matter how bright life was starting to seem, you still felt trapped and not completely content with yourself.

You convey these exact thoughts and feelings to Sunghoon in a messy ramble, hoping that this unintentional therapy session you’ve turned dinner into won’t scare him off. You can only hope that you’re not ruining the evening with a sob story of another art kid struggling to make a name for themselves in a society, where choosing art as a career path is at a greater disadvantage in comparison to your stronger counterparts. 

When you find yourself coming to the end of your rant, a wave of silence washes over the table, and you grab the nearest cup of water to gulp from. Ignoring the condensation that sweats around the glass and soils your palms. Your eyes look everywhere, purposefully avoiding Sunghoon and the tragic visage he’s probably giving you right about now.

“Y/n, look at me.” 

You raise your head, complying to his soft demand. 

“I’m proud of you,” he begins, and in that instant, a surge of emotion that has been suppressed for far too long wells up within you. “It takes a lot of courage and willpower to continue to follow a path you’re uncertain of.” The comment makes Sunghoon chuckle dryly, closely reminded of himself, shaking his head. “But look at you, you’re doing so great.”

The warmth in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes— they combine like a gentle storm, and suddenly, tears brim your eyes, begging to spill over. Your vision is splotchy and you refuse to blink, save for ruining your mascara. You weren’t planning on being an emotional wreck tonight, especially over dinner with your ex.

“I understand how hard it must have been dealing with those struggles alone, and I wish I was there by your side to help support you when it happened.” Sunghoon continues. He pauses to take in a breath before resuming, “But I’m here now… I’m not going anywhere, and if you’d let me— I want back into your life again, Y/n.”

A solitary tear breaks free, followed by another, and then another, until suddenly your eyes unleash a torrent of waterworks like a relentless downpour from a stormy sky. You hide your face in a handful of napkins you hastily grabbed, unaware that Sunghoon got up to move from his seat and slipped into the chair next to yours. His touch catches you off guard but you immediately relax as he guides you into his embrace, allowing you to hide yourself in his arms; your face tucked away in his chest. He caresses your hair, his slender fingers thread through your styled locks as he lulls you to comfort from your shaken state.

The two of you stay rooted in that position until you confidently and mentally reassure yourself that you are okay; you’re going to be okay. Your breathing has calmed down from its high and returned to a normal, healthy rate as your tears subsided and are non-existent.

No longer conscious of your makeup— a matter far from substantial to care for anymore— you wipe away the mess around your eyes. Black clumps of mascara and some concealer transfer onto the napkin. Seeing the stains garner a weak laugh to emit from you. Sunghoon cranes his neck to survey what you’ve become engrossed with. He sees the ruined makeup and laughs lightly into your hair. 

You’re thankful that there aren’t many customers dining in tonight and that it’s just you, Sunghoon, and three other parties who are far too busy drinking, conversing, and laughing amongst themselves to acknowledge the young couple tucked away in the corner.

Mrs. Kim leads both you and Sunghoon out of the restaurant with a warmth akin to a grandmother bidding her grandchildren farewell, her heartfelt wish for your safe return home evident in her loving smile.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Kim. Thank you, again, for another delicious dinner.” Sunghoon bows at a 90-degree angle and the formality stirs a boisterous laugh from the frail old lady. You mimic his actions, also expressing your gratitude for the lovely meal and free dessert she served to you guys ‘on the house.’ 

“When you guys come back I better see a wedding ring on her finger, Sunghoon-ah.” Mrs. Kim scolds lightly. You almost choke on your own saliva at the remark, coughing awkwardly to cover up your bewilderment. Sunghoon does his best to maintain his composure for the sake of the elder’s oblivion.

“You guys disappear for two years and still no diamond in sight. I was hoping some big change happened!” She clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth, crossing her arms.

Sunghoon dips his head again in an apologetic manner. “You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.” 

You whack the taller’s arm giving him a what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about look, eyebrows scrunched with perplexity. The last thing you want is to continue to feed into Mrs. Kim’s false reality that the two of you are still a couple. Who’s to say that Sunghoon isn’t actually on the same page as you and everything is just a facade? I mean, sure, he’s been flirty here and there, bought you flowers, comforted you at dinner, and practically asked you to take him back… 

Your trust in Sunghoon has clearly waned, a result of your fluctuating self-confidence that leads you to confide in the pessimistic "what ifs." Your clouded judgment and self-doubt gnaw at your thoughts, casting doubt on the possibility of a reunion between the two of you. 

Sunghoon ignores the daggers slicing at the left side of his face and the buzzing pain you inflicted on him from the harsh impact of your hand. His digits dig gently into your side, drawing you closer to him. You stumble ever so slightly and flash an unconvincing awkward smile to the old lady.

You situate yourselves into the driver and passenger seats of his Hyundai Ioniq. You’re quiet when you pull the seat belt over your upper half, and for the first 10 minutes, not a single word was uttered from either you or the male sitting behind the wheel. Your mind loiters as you watch the building lights illuminating the dark troposphere of Seoul whizz by at 2x speed.

You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.

Yeah right… You almost roll your eyes but catch yourself prolonging the idea of a hypothetical engagement and wedding ceremony with Sunghoon as your groom. 

Would he have gone down on one knee to propose to you had both of you remained lovers? 

You shake the contemplation loose from your prefrontal cortex. 

“Is it okay if I roll the window down?” You’re the first to break the ice. Sunghoon nods, his attention still focused on the road in front of him. Without looking, his fingers find the car’s air-con button to turn it off and he gives you the ‘go’ to proceed with your desire. 

The tempered glass descends and you’re immediately greeted with the beating rush of the summertime air. You giggle and rest your arms on the weatherstrip trimming of the Hyundai, your head poking out like an excited dog who’s riding in the car with its tongue hanging from its mouth. You close your eyes, taking in the wind that messes with your hair and brushes past your skin. It’s enough to transcend you into a different headspace, almost forgetting that you’re in a moving vehicle and not on some speedboat skidding across the water in Europe.

Sunghoon looks your way, unable to suppress the natural smile that lights up his face whenever he sees you. You truly are a surge of energy he needs when he wants to uplift himself if he’s feeling down. You’re his happy pill— so much so, that he wishes he could keep a chibi version of you for him to carry in the pocket square of his suits and let you rome on the wooden surface of his office desk to help him get through the work day. It’s silly and love-sickening, but Sunghoon only knows how to act a fool with you around him. 

His fingers drum against the padding of the steering wheel, waking you from your daydream. You hadn’t realized that you’ve already made it back to the city and are soon approaching your apartment complex. Your neighborhood is only a couple of turns away from your current destination as the two of you sit at a red light. You roll the window up, at least it was fun for the duration it endured. 

When he pulls up on the side of the street in front of your building, you try to find some lame excuse to stay with him for another minute longer, not wanting to say goodnight to him. You’re scared that this evening will be a one-off event and you'll return to your old ways, enveloped once more in the arms of self-isolation that consumes you completely.

Your grip on the door handle tightens. 

“Sunghoon,” you shift your view in his direction. “You don’t mind walking me to my front door, do you?” 

The male smiles with his eyes.

“Who am I to not accompany a lady when needed.” 

Sunghoon makes quick work to unbuckle himself from the driver’s seat and rounds the front of the car to open the door for you. He holds out his hand for you to take, which you generously do so, and grants him the unspoken permission to whisk you away into the levels of your residential building. 

The elevator ride is a close resemblance to the trip back to your place, however, there’s a contrasting atmosphere waiting to burst like a champagne bottle and spill over. Sunghoon’s holding your hand the entire way and you don’t resist the notion. 

When you approach your unit at the end of the hall, you fish for your keys that are sitting at the bottom of your bag. Sunghoon’s hand slips out of your grasp and you almost whine at the loss of his warmth and touch, but you know he’s only doing it for you to use both free hands to ultimately unlock your door. The click! of the lock coming from the other side is an indication that you can push past the door once the knob is turned.

You stand there, hesitant to enter your own home. 

“I guess— this is it?” You murmur tentatively to yourself and the taller. You rock on your heels purposefully stalling time as you force both him and yourself to stare a little longer at the iron numbers detailing your front door. 

You let out a rigged breath.

“Tonight was great. The longest I’ve been out of the house in a month, really.” You cringe pathetically at the confession knowing that a month ago Yunjin was the one who pulled you out of bed to get some fresh air and sunlight because you were hiding away like a vampire. "Thank you... Sunghoon, for treating me to dinner and spending the evening with me..."

He remains stoic and unusually quiet, making it challenging to decipher what he’s thinking or feeling. You wish you could enter his mind to get a glimpse of how his brain functions. You’d hate to seem pitiful for hoping that his advances from today were, if at all, genuine.

If what he said at dinner was coming from the heart.

As you contemplate what might be your last encounter with your 'the one who got away,’ Sunghoon astounds you with yet another trick up his sleeve, when he secures your wrist in his delicate grasp. Forever one step ahead of you, his lips collide with yours in a passionate fervent. The only appropriate reaction that you can give him in response is to return the kiss with just as much fervor. The strap to your purse slides off your shoulders and lands below you with a little thud thanks to Sunghoon’s antsy hands pushing it out of the way.

He cages you against the surface of the door, your back bumping into it when he forces the distance between your bodies to dissipate. Bothered by the tiny gap that prevents you from being as close as you possibly can to him. The only active barrier is now the layer of clothing he’s wearing and the tiny dress that nearly clings to your every curve. He can’t wait to impatiently rip you out of it and slip in a “I’ll buy you a new one, princess.”

Your hands find sanctuary in his soft hair. How you missed tugging at their roots when he’d go down on you in bed, on the kitchen counter, and in the shower with your one leg supporting your entire weight as Sunghoon made the other side dangle over his shoulder. Those positions are tempting, and biologically the flashbacks of your sexual activity with the male feed into the expansion of your slick that gradually soils your panties.  

You squeeze your thighs together. The pressure of your inner fat is an empty feeling of pleasure that you wish Sunghoon could replace with his tongue, fingers, cock, or all three one at a time. The male notices this cry-for-help and trails his right hand down the sides of your waist. He stops at the lace hemming of the cami dress, bunching the material to provide easy access to your mid-thigh. His fingers dance on your skin, traveling upward ever so slowly in an antagonizing fashion that almost infuriates you for his teasing manner in the heat of the moment. 

Sunghoon reluctantly breaks the kiss. The evidence of your already smudged matte lipstick has left a faint trace on his plump tiers. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, mouth ready to latch onto the sensitive area he knows best that will cloud every crevice of your mind with nothing but want and lust. At the end of this night, all that you will know is how to be his obedient cocksleeve like the good girl he’s conditioned you into.

The sound of someone clearing their throat on the opposite end of your apartment’s hallway is akin to a record player scratch. You’re grateful that the construction workers, or whoever built this place, designed the structure of your building to be a certain way so that the split-off point from the elevator wasn’t a simple corridor style where you could see both fire exits at each side. Instead, it was more so a wide V-shape. 

In other words, no one really caught you and Sunghoon in semi-public eating one another’s faces. 

You stop to share a quiet laugh with Sunghoon and ultimately enter the safe space of your flat, out of your neighbors point of view where they could have had a free, front-row seat to some juicy content. The door closes behind you, you can barely get out of your shoes and make it past the front step leading to your living room when Sunghoon’s haste to have you underneath the sheets with him in your bed has you stumbling backward. He catches you before you can register that you would have fallen onto your ass against the hardwood. His lips serve him well, contributing to the situation as a distraction that redirects your every inner thought bubble. 

Sunghoon casually kicks off his shoes, adding them to the haphazard pile alongside yours— the least of his concerns at the moment.

The kiss from outside repeats itself, and this time, Sunghoon can contently resume what he intended to do had another tenant not interrupted the mood. But the voyeurism exploration kink in him would have liked either sequence of events. 

His tongue traces a wet stripe up your neck, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. You dully bite down on your bottom lip, trying to stifle the whimper that is sanctioned at the back of your throat, trapped by a surge of lust and anticipation. Sunghoon’s mouth ghosts over the shell of your ear, and his hot breath tickles. 

“I wanna hear you, baby.” He slurs. “Don’t be shy on me now.” 

Sunghoon’s lips sheathe that sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to gasp. Your shoulders tense at the foreign feeling of his mouth on your body, and you’ve forgotten how good it was to receive a hickey. You relax under his touch when he gives the soft fat of your waist a reassuring squeeze.

His canines graze your skin while he sucks on the same patch, switching interchangeably to lap his tongue at the area when he begins to see a blossom of red and purple hues mix together, creating the prettiest bruise that would surely take more than a couple of days to fully heal. You groan when his teeth apply the right amount of force onto your flesh, leaving indents in their wake. His perverted mind relishes in the fact that only he is capable of marking you in ways that no other man could ever come close to.

He steps back to fully appreciate his canvas, that is you, and the absolute masterpiece that you are to him.

He leans in, pressing another kiss to your lips, this time with a gentler, more tender spirit, devoid of any sloppy motions. It’s delicate, a striking contrast to the heated lip-locking session the two of you were entranced with just moments ago on the other side of your apartment door. His larger palms cup your face as the pads of his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks, making you feel loved and cared for.

Sunghoon lures your tongue into his mouth, clamping his lips around the muscle. He suckles at it, eliciting the cutest whimpers that he missed hearing from you since you’ve been gone. 

“Hnngh… Hah,” you pry yourself off of him, a string of your shared saliva connects the two of your equally moist lips. 

Your puffy lips shimmer in the moonlight streaming into your livingroom, as if the moon itself decided to play a starring role tonight. You squeeze his bicep, noticing that the muscle has doubled in size since you last touched it. You peer up at the taller through your eyelashes and Sunghoon has to conceal his primal instincts from fucking your throat with his raging hard-on. 

Your fingers graze the fabric of his long-sleeve collar, tracing delicate patterns across the black tie donned around his neck. Something about being able to witness a man up close in a suit never failed to provoke a flood of arousal from overwhelming your erogenous zone. Specifically, Sunghoon. It’s a shame— not really— that it eventually has to come off. With a deft touch, you begin to unravel the four-in-hand knot, a testament to Sunghoon’s meticulous self-preparation. The silk unravels, revealing its intricate texture beneath your fingertips. 

You assist Sunghoon in removing his suit jacket next, observing it gracefully descend to the floor. You briefly wonder why he's so nonchalant about leaving such an expensive garment on the ground, but he dismisses your concern with a wave of his hand. After all, as a chairman, he has the means and privilege to easily replace such clothing items.

You decide that it’s your turn to take the lead for once and initiate another heated session of sultry lip service. Your mouth kisses Sunghoon’s with primal hunger. Teeth clash, and you see no remorse for your hostility sponsored by pent-up sexual frustration and longing for some sort of relief that only Sunghoon can render. 

In a poor attempt to unbutton the last layer of clothing that shields Sunghoon’s upper half, your fingers fumble with the small disks that are fastened by the slits. You whine frustratedly against his lips once you realize you’re not making much progress. It is incredibly hard to multitask when your tongue is being manhandled by his.

“Here, lemme do it.“ Sunghoon mutters in a low growl. 

He tears open the placket just like he would to a bag of chips, and the buttons you were struggling to relieve him of pop off in ease, taunting you for your lack of efficiency at getting him out of his attire. He wriggles his arms free from the restraints of his sleeves and shrugs the apparel from the summit of his shoulders, allowing the ruined piece to join his suit jacket on the floor.

“Your turn, babe.” 

He twirls you around, your back fully pressed against his front as the tent in his pants pokes at your globes. The thrill of his length nestled between your ass spurs you to grind yourself on him, a staggered exhale of his hot breath fans the curvature of your trapezius, prickling your skin. The cotton material of your underwear cultivates a sticky sensation the longer you stay trapped in it.

“S-shit baby, you’re a fucking tease.” Sunghoon grabs your chin, forcing your head to turn his way so that he can seize your lips in an inconsistent kiss. Alternatively, it’s a tongue duel of him wanting to shove the muscular organ down your throat.

“A-ahh,” You moan helplessly.

He yanks the zipper of your dress. The item peels off of your bust, exposing your bare skin and naked torso simultaneously. You have to wriggle your hips past the remaining fabric in order to fully reveal your bare figure to Sunghoon— besides your damp panties that is.

“No bra today? It’s almost like you were expecting this to happen…” Sunghoon taunts.

“N-no…” You squeak, shaking your head.

“No? Use your words baby.”

You turn to face him, your perky mounds that come into his view are a sight for sore eyes. Even in the dark and scant amount of natural lighting from the celestial object in the night sky, is Sunghoon competent at reading your flustered features. How you manage to be cute yet look so lewd all at once is beyond his comprehension.

“I-I didn’t wear a bra because I thought it’d be easier to go without one.” You mumble, telling the truth.

“That’s better,” Sunghoon coos. He pecks your cheek and you smile at the reward.

“Eeek! S-Sunghoon!” You burst into a fit of shared laughter and giggles when said name scoops you into his arms, your body cradled against his chest, as your legs dangled over his one arm while the other supports your back.

“Just practicing when we’re both walking down the aisle at our future wedding.” Sunghoon jests.

Tenderness fills your eyes when you look up at him. He’s joked about the hypothetical conception of marriage twice in the night that you’re fully convinced it wouldn’t be all that bad of an idea. Given that both of you are ready and first rekindle the status of your relationship, of course.

Sunghoon grins. There’s a gentle kindness to his pearly whites, and you reach up to press a chaste kiss to his jawline.

He relocates to your bedroom. Gently, he lays you down on the bed, your body propped up on your forearms, bearing the weight of your upper half. With an unwavering gaze, you study Sunghoon closely, every detail of his expression and every nuance of his presence.

His eyebrows knit and meet in the middle, fixated on undoing his pants to escape from their restraints, followed by his underwear soon after. His stiff member rebounds off his lower abdomen, precum leaking from the mushroom tip. A satisfied exhale leaves his mouth. He stalks over to you with a sly smirk, towering your smaller frame when he crawls on top of the bed, his knees plant themselves into the mattress and his additional weight dips the space where you lay.

You whine when his length ghosts at the expanse of your inner thigh, suspense and arousal continue to bubble inside of you. Sunghoon murmurs for you to lay back. “Make yourself comfortable,” were his initial instructions before hooking the waistband of your panties with his fingers and dragging them below your legs. The undergarment was tossed to the side.

You nibble at your bottom lip and screw your eyes shut when a slender finger circles the perimeter of your labia.

“You’re so wet babe,” Sunghoon purrs.

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat when he slides his index finger through your inner lips, gathering an abundance of your slick to bring to his mouth for a taste. Both eyes flutter open in time to witness Sunghoon suck at the digit drenched with your arousal. The sight is sinfully lewd, nearly too much for you to handle. Your face reddens and you fight the inclination to hide behind your hands.

“You taste so good, too.“ He licks at his lips. “Wanna try?” Sunghoon cocks his head to the side, and you can’t find it in you to turn down his offer when he looks so innocent— yet acts like the devil himself when he’s overcome with lust. You nod your head with approval.

His duality needs to be studied at Harvard, you think in the back of your mind.

Sunghoon plunges his index finger past your hole, triggering your back to arch an inch off the bed. He chuckles lowly and watches as your hands grab desperately at the sheets beneath you to steady your sanity. The singular digit curls inside of you. Your unforeseen shock is vocalized in the form of a moan and Sunghoon repeats the motion several times.

“O-oh my god—“ You gasp.

The ravenette withdraws his finger and taps at your mouth, signaling you to open. You submit to his implicit dictation. Your lips encase his pointer, tongue swirling around it like a piece of sweet candy you’re tasting for the first time.

You bat your eyelashes prettily and moan. “Mmmh…”

“Dirty girl,” Sunghoon sniggers. He retracts his finger and you let it slip past your mouth with a ‘pop’ sound.

“Can you please give me your cock now?” You plead with a pout, doing your best impression of an endearing set of puppy eyes.

Sunghoon chuckles. “Let me at least prep you first, baby. How long has it been since you’ve had someone’s cock inside of you, anyways?”

You part your lips but close it just as quickly. To be candid, you've never been one to actively immerse yourself in the 'I'm single' scene. Your only foray into it was with Yunjin, roughly three weeks after your split with Sunghoon. The two of you ventured to a club, but it proved to be a brief endeavor. Within two hours, the fifth shot became a catalyst, turning you into an unending fountain of tears.

“Y/n?”

“Huh? Oh. Sorry…”

“I’m sorry baby. Did I overstep your boundaries?” Sunghoon cups your face with his right hand, his eyes scan yours, sincerity and concern laced in those chocolate orbs of his.

You stifle a giggle. Of all boundaries he could have crossed he draws the line at asking for your body count and not him fingering you.

“What? What’s so funny?” He asks.

“Nothing just… I think it’s ironic you ask me that now and not before we did all of this.” You motion to your bare bodies when you say ‘this.’

Sunghoon’s ears redden.

“But don’t worry, Hoonie.” You hook your arms around his neck and pull him closer to pepper his face with several reassuring kisses. “I don’t mind it all. Now can you please fuck my brains out!”

Your ex (whatever he is to you at this point) throws his head back to share a quick laugh, shortly pressing his forehead against yours.

Without warning, he buries three fingers in your pussy; your hips twitch at the sentience. They slide in and out without strain and together the two of you watch as he finger fucks your hole to “prep” for his cock. The squelching noise of your juices fill the room in addition to your moaning, and Sunghoon confronts a hurdle of his patience wearing thin, wanting to fuck you senseless.

His digits leave your hole and you whine immediately at the loss. Sunghoon uses the mass quantity of slick as a substitute for lube to lather on his angry cock. He shuffles against the bed, forcing your legs even further apart to fit himself in between them. The stretch burns your muscles but is soon forgotten when the tip of his length is rubbing your folds, occasionally bumping your swollen clit which generates a needy whine.

Sunghoon’s face screws with ecstasy when his shaft inches past your entrance. Your walls hug his length and he whimpers at the tight muscles that suffocate his erection. You squirm under him, tensed and breathing heavily. It’s hard to relax when seven inches feel like it’s splitting you in half after a long hiatus from sex. Sunghoon notices your discomfort and stills his hips from pushing further, allowing you the necessary time to adjust.

“Sorry baby, I know it’s been a while. You can take it, right? Like the good girl you are?”

You nod. He kisses your forehead, cheek, and lips to soothe your anxiety, using his lips as a distraction to keep your mind from zoning in on his cock. He seizes the opportunity to fit the rest of his length inch-by-inch, and you feel like a virgin all over again when the burn of his cock stretching you open is almost too unbearable.

“Sshh, it’ll be alright, baby.” He wipes away a loose tear. “I’m gonna move, tell me when and if it’s too much, okay?”

“O-okay, Hoonie…”

Steadily, Sunghoon recedes his hips, cock following in suit, just enough for the tip to be the only thing that your pussy clenches on. He snaps forward, your boobs jiggle at the motion and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head when he repeatedly thrusts at a steadfast pace. The pain you were once scared of is no longer a fear you have to worry about, as pleasure is the only thing you know how to feel.

“F-faster, harder, p-please Hoon.” You fight through broken moans to let your voice be heard.

“Shit—“ He curses.

Sunghoon’s fingers dig into the plush fat of your waist while his other hand presses into the space of your bed next to the side of your head. His eyebrows knit, focused entirely on increasing the speed of his thrusts. He continues to piston fuck your pussy, abusing your hole in the utmost gratifying procedure. Your thighs jiggle each time that his balls slap against your skin. Everything reminds him of an amateur homemade video he’s seen from other couples perform on Pornhub. He’ll have to ask you some other day if you’d ever be open to filming your own tapes to watch back.

“Mmh, right there, Hoonie.” You sigh dreamily, locking your legs around his waist and linking your ankles together. “You’re fucking me so good— Aah!” A high pitch squeal slips from your vocal box when his tip probes at your G-spot.

“F-fuck,” Sunghoon leans in close, relying only on one forearm to hold himself up from crushing you with his entire weight. He hides his face in your boobs, tongue flicking at the sensitive bud that hardens in response. He persistently thrusts deeper, his cockhead pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Hnngh… Y-yes, yesyesyes!” You chant. Your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, scratching gently at his scalp and tugging whenever his mouth would suck or massage at your breasts. “You’re gonna— make me c-cum!“

Sunghoon’s unrelenting despite your warning. He can feel your walls clamping around his shaft, signaling your impending orgasm, and it taunts him to force himself deeper within your warm cavern at every jerk of his hips. Your hands fall to his biceps. Nails digging into his skin as your face distorts into extreme pleasure.

“I’m so close too, baby.” He groans. “Just.” Thrust. “A.” Thrust. “Couple.” Thrust. “M-more!”

“I’m cumming! I’m c-cumming—“ Your hips tremble with a frenzied urgency as your pussy pulsates around Sunghoon’s cock. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp and a long, impassioned moan escapes your lips. The sheer intensity of the moment leaving you incoherent and lost in ecstasy.

Sunghoon twitches inside of you. “Hah— you’re so— fuck!— s-sexy,” He grunts. Your head thrashes at the overstimulation of his length continuously pumping into you and you push at Sunghoon’s chest weakly, crying on his cock for him to slow down. You whine, whimper, plead for mercy so that your pussy can recover from the intense orgasm you just experienced not too long ago. In spite of that, he ignores your pleas and concentrates on finishing. It isn’t until white ropes of cum are shooting at your walls when his thrusts start to get sloppier and progressively come to a stop.

“Fuck.” Sunghoon exhales through gritted teeth. Both of you are a panting mess trying to catch your breaths as your chests rise and fall synchronously. The ravenette pulls out slowly and he groans when he sees his seed spill out of your hole, it closely reminds him of those hentai comics he’s read through illegal websites.

“I’ll get something to help clean you up.” Sunghoon lifts his weight from the bed but you reach for his forearm to grab him. You don’t have to say anything for him to understand that you don’t want him to leave your side. He brings a hand to yours, the pad of his thumb grazing the hills of your knuckles soothingly. “It’ll be fast, I promise.”

Not even 30 seconds has gone by when he re-enters your room with a damp cloth. He wipes at the areas where a mix of your cum and his seed litter your skin with sticky residue. He discards of the ruined cloth before joining you in bed where you welcome him with open arms. He plops down next to you and you turn to lay on your side so that you can get a proper view of his handsome face in post-sex afterglow. You reach out to gently touch his moles that adorn his features. The moles you missed seeing as the first thing in the morning when you’d wake up with him by your side. He grins lazily and cranes his neck to bring his lips to your forehead.

“Sunghoon…?” Your faces are merely inches apart from one another. Though the close proximity is not a foreign situation— especially after just having sex— you speak to him with a hushed tone.

“Yes?” He inquires.

“At the restaurant, you implied that you wanted to get back together again… Is it true? Do you really mean it?” Your lips are quivering and you mentally berate yourself for being so soft hearted in these types of scenarios where emotions are high, vulnerable, and transparency is called upon.

Sunghoon breathes shakily. “I really mean it. I miss you, Y/n.” He tucks away loose strands of hair that fall on your face. “These past two years without you have been hell. The first couple of months were so bad, I almost reconsidered being the chairman for father’s company so I could fight for us. Fight for you. I’m sorry if that part of my life got in our way as a couple, and I wish I had made more of an effort to be around you.”

You sniffle, “It wasn’t just your fault. I should’ve communicated instead of thinking I know better and that I thought what I did was for the greater good— because it wasn’t. And you’re right, the two years I spent without you were awful. I never wanna go through that again.”

Sunghoon loops an arm around your waist and guides your head to bury against his chest.

“We don’t have to.”

Morning rays gently infiltrate the room as Sunghoon stands before the full-length mirror in your shared master bedroom. His voice carries across the space as he greets his loving wife, 'Good morning, Mrs. Park,' while he meticulously adjusts his tie.

You stir in bed. The unwelcome intrusion of sunlight forces you awake despite the supposedly blackout curtains you requested when you first moved in with Sunghoon. You sigh in irritation. Dismissing the hope of another ten minutes of sleep, you push yourself upright, your arms stretching above your head, accompanied by a vibrant yawn. Sunghoon, amused by your morning ritual, chuckles softly.

“Still sleepy?” Your husband turns to face you after successfully finishing the Windsor knot of his tie. You blink away the fog of grogginess from your eyes and grin when you get a clear vision of your husband clad in his usual work uniform.

“Mmm… you’re so handsome.”

Sunghoon's face lights up with a genuine smile, touched by your kind words that always seem to set the perfect tone for his day. He approaches your side of the bed with a confident saunter and takes a seat beside you.

“Any plans for today, my lovely wife?”

You can't help but giggle at his endearing habit of calling you 'wife' and 'Mrs. Park.' It's become a sweet tradition between the two of you, a reminder of your loving bond that has grown since your wedding day. You twist your hand to observe the silver band that ornaments your ring finger. The diamond twinkles back at you in the bask of the light.

“I think Yunjin and I are getting brunch, then we’re going shopping right after, and later in the evening we’re gonna drink some wine and paint as we gossip about our husbands.”

Sunghoon laughs. “You’ve got a busy day ahead of yourself then.” He nudges your side playfully and you giggle. “Don’t forget to fit me into your schedule. Let’s go out for dinner tonight.”

“Cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup?”

“Where it all started.”

You envelop yourself in your husband's embrace, showering him with affectionate kisses. Starting from his moles and moving to both cheeks, his nose, forehead, and, ultimately, his irresistible lips, you express your love and absolute adoration for him with each tender peck.

“I love you, Mr. Park.” You murmur against his plush tiers.

His fingers delicately sweep aside the loose strands of hair obscuring your face, as he lovingly takes in every captivating feature, examining them with deep worship.

“I love you more, Mrs. Park.”

Two years ago you and Sunghoon sealed the knot in California. The ceremony took place at the Alila Ventana wedding venue, perched on a cliff along the rugged coast line of Big Sur. It offered a dramatic landscape, nestled amidst towering redwood trees, and a breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean; the perfect picturesque backdrop for photos and videography. The outdoor spaces, gourmet dining, and coastal elegance were truly significant factors of your reception.

Sunghoon kept his promise to Mrs. Kim when the time came to send out the wedding invitations. Her excitement was beyond words as both of you entered the restaurant, radiating a newfound delight. Her gaze immediately fixated on the sparkling diamond ring on your finger— the same one she had scolded him for, which was now complete.

Come time to exchange your vows, Sunghoon's heartfelt declaration to cherish and devote himself to your love made it extremely difficult to keep your makeup in tact. Yunjin, your appointed maid of honor, had to step in to hand you tissues one after the other. The audience laughing to themselves at your showcase of emotions.

True to his words, Sunghoon carried you bridal style as he stalked down the aisle. Your families and friends cheering from their seats, their joyous applause resonating through the air. The warmth of their smiles and the happy tears in their eyes mirrored the love that enveloped you both in that moment.

Since then, life with Sunghoon after marriage was anything but dull.

[sugurism]

FLAGS EVERYWHERE. ୨ৎ are jjk men green, beige or red flags?ㅤheadcanons

featuring ♰ㅤmultiple. (choso, higuruma, megumi, nanami, gojo, geto, sukuna, toge, toji, yuji, yuta)

warning(s)! ♰ㅤNO PRONOUNS AND ANATOMY FOR READER. SFW (?) — toxic behavior ! cheating ! breaking-up mentions ! very much made based on personal opinions + i tried to write the characters off as canon as possible, but my favoritism will probably show ! sukuna is a warning of his own tbh ! violence + blood + death (mentions) ! cannibalism (mentions) ! angst (mostly) ! some are implied yandere ! not really dark content but i will tag as so just to be sure, some of them are dc vibes ! mentions about marriage + having kids (biologically and not) !

୨୧ CHOSO KAMO — beige flag.

not the reddest flag of the list. although, still has some fails. . .

this may come as a surprise to many, but choso is not a green flag. he’s perfectly in the middle, i think. not nearly as bad as others on the list, but his track record isn't perfect, either.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? he's family-centered.

choso is, as is well known, a man completely focused on his family. the joy of his brothers and relatives is his priority, and he will always be more focused on others than on himself (this could also be a red flag, he is quite selfless). he carries the burden and honor of being a big brother. of course because of his love for you, you are as much a part of the family as his siblings are.

however, if you don’t get along with his siblings for any reason, it’s very likely that the relationship won't be able to continue. it would be troublesome if you can’t take his true nature ── as a half-curse ── well, too. it would really upset him, because love is about acceptance and care.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

the answer is: no, but it is preferable that you are. being a sorcerer, you would have a much easier time understanding the abnormal aspects of his life (him and his family). if you’re not a sorcerer, it makes things a little chaotic. choso wouldn't want to lie to you about who he really is, his origins, and obviously, he would be prevented from introducing his (monstrous) brothers to you in that circumstance.

this would make him reflect for a long time, which ends either with a breakup, or with him showing you everything about jujutsu. living under a false identity and with a life built on lies is not how he wants the relationship to be.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

absolutely not. choso is aware of how heartbroken you would feel if he ever did that — besides, it's not like he feels desire or romantic love for anyone else. he has no reasons to cheat on you, and he never will have.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

choso has good intentions, but romantic love is a new and unknown field for him. this makes him inexperienced and often irrational towards romance. the information about relationships is too fresh and unprocessed for him, and it's all from the dead brain of the vessel he inhabits. he is not completely unaware about all of it, but his lack of experience shows.

he is very hasty and believes that the status of “boyfriend” is not bad, just that “husband” would be much better. if you don’t see a future, why would you be with him? he doesn’t understand when you correct him you are just dating and not married (you've been together for barely two months).

choso is not the type to let fights happen without reason, and he tries hard to make things work out, but he’s constantly overprotective and his affection can quickly become suffocating.

choso loves family. he wishes to expand it someday. and who would be better to help him besides you, his true love? besides taking care of his brothers, he would like to be a father himself one day (at least, a better one than his own father was), and there is this underexpectation — not exactly spoken out loud until he is confronted about it. choso wouldn't want to pressure you, and he would understand your choices and respect your decisions perfectly if you don’t want to have children, however, he gets a little sad over it nonetheless and always wonders if you would change your mind if he asked more nicely.

of course, we can’t forget the amount of people he killed (in and out of shibuya). this is a factor that is rarely talked about and choso doesn’t even think about it anymore, honestly. if you can ignore that, good! if not? well. . .

୨୧ HIROMI HIGURUMA — green / beige flag.

objection! he did nothing wrong (except for, at least, 22 murders, i guess).

BIGGEST RED FLAG? married to his work.

this is a completely personal view, but it’s hard to date someone so busy and married to their work. pre-culling game, the grueling overtime and mountains of paperwork would constantly keep him away from you ── from dates, from nights together, from romantic trips. furthermore, his ideal of justice is always dangerously close to failure in practically every situation hiromi faces, and this is a source of stress for him. he wouldn’t take it out on you, there’s no reason, but of course. it’s difficult to balance so many hours of work and such an important goal with personal relationships.

it’s not that he forgets commemorative dates, he merely doesn’t have time to celebrate them themselves. when he can’t be there for whatever the occasion is, he’ll send some expensive gift and an apology card, or call you and start a conversation for eight minutes to explain why he forgot your second anniversary. it’s common for him to come home, and you’re already asleep. you simply don’t have time.

in the culling game situation, it’s not so much work that keeps you apart, but training, focus and purpose. he focuses more on your protection and his than on romanticism, which can end up creating emotional barriers that are very difficult to break ── on both sides. hiromi is accidentally cold quite often. and that’s if you ignore the number of people he had to kill.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

honestly: yes and no. is a simple question with a difficult answer. hiromi prefers someone who can understand him completely: his feelings, his work, what he wants the justice system to become, and his vision of justice. so when he finally receives this new power that not only matches all of this but can make it possible, it’s very complicated to have a partner who doesn’t understand this new part of your life. he’s another person who wouldn’t lie to you about his nature. he swore to tell the truth, always the truth, and only the truth.

if you are a sorcerer, things get easier and harder. a relationship with hiromi has certain nuances, such as his constant concern for your safety, regardless of what you are (sorcerer or not). he believes in your own strength, but would like to stick around just to make sure you’re going to be okay. his change between coldness and sudden closeness can make feelings very raw and difficult to deal with.

if you’re not a sorcerer, his protection gets even worse. he’s not suffocating because he takes care not to be, but he would genuinely go crazy if something happened to you because he was careless. anyone who touches you won’t come out alive and brag about it. he just wants you to be okay.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

no. hiromi is loyal to all his oaths, whether they are about protecting justice or being by your side even in sickness and in health.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

he is very open and honest. it might be bad in certain situations, but it’s great for the bigger picture. he doesn’t hide his opinions from you and is willing to talk about almost any topic peacefully. fights with him are actually quite rare, because hiromi thinks it’s fair to listen to his side, then speak his own, and think together to see if you can resolve this peacefully. depending on the angle, this is another problem, in a way he tends to rationalize feelings very often.

despite all the negatives, he has a surprisingly good memory. he doesn’t forget special occasions, he simply didn’t have time to be there in person (which is still a con). but he remembers everything else about you. hiromi is the type to look at you with a slight smile on his face, looking like his words are going in one ear and out the other. but when you stop talking, he gets confused. “why did you stop? i want to know what happens next.”

୨୧ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO — green / beige flag.

honestly, a good option. if you’re able to catch up.

megumi is a better boyfriend than people would think, honestly. the issue, with him, is more about himself and his view of himself than you ──, but it still affects the relationship and your experiences together as a couple.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? no respect for his own safety.

as a jujutsu sorcerer, it’s perfectly common for megumi to get into situations that risk his neck. it’s as much a part of the job as anything else. the problem is his willingness to put himself in danger for the sake of a greater good, or greater goal that he needs / wants to achieve. he is bold and reckless, and can be very harmful to both him and you.

other than that, he’ not necessarily a very bad boyfriend. megumi doesn’t have as many communication problems as expected, although he can put up fights — especially on this specific subject, trying to justify his lack of care with “doing what was necessary”.

dying to win is not an idea he is opposed to, until someone (like you or gojo) puts some sense into him.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

not really. megumi would love you regardless of your ability and strength ── and would find qualities to admire anyway. he doesn’t think you’re incapable of protecting yourself, and a part of him is tempted not to introduce you to jujutsu if you’re not a sorcerer. it would be a fully, normal thing in his life, but he wouldn’t want to lie to you in any way.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

definitely not. megumi has way too much respect, admiration, and above all, love for you to do something atrocious like that.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

megumi is reckless, but at the same time he listens to what you say and can slowly learn to take care of himself in a more efficient way through your words and worry. he doesn’t forget precedents or dates, and he takes good care of anything you’ve given him. his shikigami love you, sincerely, so he would be happy if you could see them and interact with them ── because they are a reflection of their owner and end up showing all the affection he feels for you and doesn’t have the courage to show it.

he’s not cold or distant, just more reserved, but he could be more vocal about his feelings instead of dropping hints and hoping you understand what he means. everything about megumi is soft, even when it shouldn't be.

his inclination is indoor dates and having alone time with you that doesn’t involve his friends in any way. he has nothing against any of them ── they are dear people to both him and you, megumi is just inclined towards privacy and doesn’t want your time together to be interrupted. especially if you are a busy person who doesn’t have much opportunity to spend time with him.

despite being quiet, he is a little jealous often. not on a controlling level or anything like that, but he could easily end up making greater gestures to reinforce his dominance over your heart ── a treasure more precious than any cursed jewel. grabbing your waist gently and pulling you closer when he notices someone staring is not an uncommon occurrence.

୨୧ KENTO NANAMI — green flag.

i have nothing to say besides: you’re lucky — really. this man is a blessing.

nanami is honestly the ideal kind of guy no matter what life you want to lead. He honestly tries to balance his personal life with the work he so fervently hates, and he understands and helps you doing the same.

BIGGEST RED FLAG — emotional walls (eventually lets them down).

one of the few things that are not respectable about this man is that he really takes a long time before showing himself vulnerable in any way, shape, or form. nanami's experience makes him a very cold and harsh guy on the outside, but with well-defined morals and a heart of gold. he's also inclined towards privacy, just like megumi, and would prefer if you didn't get too involved in his circle of friends (more because of gojo than anything else, really).

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

no. not really. nanami appreciates the normality and calmness that can come from a life with you. he genuinely doesn't care if you're a sorcerer or if you're the head of the marketing department.

impressively, he's not as protective as others on the list. of course, he worries about your safety, but he doesn't doubt his own ability to be there to protect you if needed.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

no, never. nanami is very adamant and loyal to you in all situations — he can't be tempted by someone else, because all he desires is you.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

as already mentioned, nanami prefers that you not get involved in his social circle, especially if you are a non-sorcerer. this is due to the fact that his senpai is clueless and could often create very uncomfortable situations. furthermore, he is afraid that you will be interested in more of his acquaintances and end up discovering/getting more involved with jujutsu.

he's very supportive of pretty much every decision you make ── as long as it doesn't hurt you and doesn't seem rushed without thought. he makes a point of looking for you for conversations that he considers necessary and punctuating whatever is needed.

nanami is very analytical too. if the two of you set a goal, agree on its repercussions and after a long time, decide on it ── like, for example, having a family ── he works hard to make it happen. it is not uncommon for him to agree to work overtime to receive a salary bonus to prepare a surprise for you, or support you better. he doesn't doubt your independence in the slightest, but he would like to constantly give you gifts as thanks for your divine presence in his life.

kento is very kind and basically the height of chivalry. for those who say that romanticism is dead, it's because they've never seen your boyfriend tying your shoelaces, carrying you on his lap, taking you to romantic dinners and making dinner for the two of you.

୨୧ SATORU GOJO — beige flag.

strongest sorcerer, a charming man, and good at flirting. although, an actual relationship? oh, boy. . .

satoru isn't necessarily a bad boyfriend per se. he's far from the worst option on the list, but he genuinely has a lot of problems that would make a relationship fall apart.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? emotionally unavailable.

satoru's personal experience has made him carry the burden of being the strongest sorcerer during his entire life. it's his identity to nearly everyone else — the satoru gojo, and not just satoru. it feels set in stone.

he doesn't have close friends or a support group that he feels he can genuinely trust fully since suguru's betrayal. this rubs off on you and makes him avoid really emotional conversations or directly saying what he's feeling — even when it's necessary. it's almost impossible to make his emotional walls come down, and if they do, he'll probably act a little sour for a while ── a kind of reflex, where he's wary of the idea of being betrayed once again.

being vulnerable is not his strong suit.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

no, but it's preferable that you are. not only because you would understand him and his capabilities much better, but because as a sorcerer you would have your own worryingly long workload, and wouldn't make such a big deal about him almost never being home. at least, he thinks so, but he wouldn't avoid a relationship with you if you weren't a sorcerer.

also, he gets worried about you constantly — he has lots of enemies that could try to hurt you to get to him. if you're a sorcerer, at least he can believe more easily that you can defend yourself.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

personally, i don't think he would. as already mentioned, gojo's inability to be with just one woman is, in my view, his inability to be vulnerable and honest.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

personally, i interpret “satoru is the type of man who cannot be faithful to a woman” precisely because of the emotional problem. he can't be vulnerable and that only gets the relationship to a certain point before it stops working completely. it's very, very difficult to get past the defenses he's created for himself, and there's always the chance he'll get scared and decide to leave.

the gojo clan isn't really a hindrance ── what are they actually going to do, argue with their only relevant member? ── but they can be quite uncomfortable. the person with the strongest sorcerer needs, in their view, to be “proper.” this includes: being a sorcerer and having many strong children for a new generation.

if you do not meet these requirements for any reason (not wanting or not being able to have children), the clan is unfriendly towards you. this doesn't stop the relationship in any way, or it doesn't stop you and satoru from getting married one day, however, it is quite awkward.

regardless of whether you are a sorcerer or not, there is a gulf of difference between satoru's lifestyle and yours. while he doesn't have difficulties with money or power ── and maybe you do ── this means he can't quite understand what it's like to be in your shoes. he's not unfriendly, but his arrogant and defensive nature can really lead to a silly fight or two that escalates depending on the situation.

୨୧ SUGURU GETO — red flag.

i love suguru, but he’s undeniably not an ideal partner.

i don't think there's much doubt about whether geto would be a red flag. he is. even if you consider his nature in the relationship more than his personality itself, it's still the case.

BIGGEST RED FLAG (besides the genocide nature)? — manipulative.

as a very skilled cult leader and orator, suguru has an indescribable charisma and a well-directed charm ── be it to convert those he calls monkeys or to enlist sorcerers to his cause. however, this charm can also be used on you and your relationship.

intentionally or not, he ends up trying to convince you of the same things he does. either his own distorted belief ── or his apologies become attempts at manipulation. he's not beyond gaslighting you, either. he learns what type of action provokes a specific reaction from you and ends up acting very artificially sometimes.

the benevolent cult leader persona he uses on non-sorcerers mixes with the real suguru geto, and that's definitely something scary to have in a relationship.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

yes. there's just no other way. sorry, it's geto.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

not really. capturing geto's attention isn't really an easy thing, and maintaining your position as his partner is just as hard a task. i don't see him having eyes for anyone else, because i feel that if you were in a relationship, he would need to have some kind of attachment to you and wouldn't want to hurt you on purpose.

despite this, in those ridiculously impossible situations — if he could achieve the world he wants by sleeping with someone else, would he do it? then the answer is yes. but i don't know if that counts.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

he is more married to his cause than he would ever be to you. he will not change for you, nor he will abandon his dream. that's a thought you can't let go of your mind when you're with him. no matter your own actions and beliefs, the new world must be created using any and all means necessary. no price is too high, no one is too innocent to be sacrificed.

being around someone like that would not only be exhausting but terrifying. there is always the uncertainty of what he would do if you left him. on the one hand, suguru doesn't want to hurt you. on the other hand, as his partner, you would know too many valuable things to just leave. he would never let you go like that.

it's very important not to forget that suguru definitely suffers from delusions of grandeur and high expectations of himself and everything around him. whether it's about the new world, his role in it, or about you. he faces some frustration when this expectations are not met, but he does his best not to take it out on you.

he might even "forgive" the fact that you don't actively fight to kill non-sorcerers, like he does, but he wouldn't want you to interact with them other than when it's absolutely necessary. furthermore, suguru would require absolute hygiene. don't touch him if you've been too close to a non-sorcerer. in cases where you have shaken someone's hand or hugged someone, he will refuse to talk to you until you wash your hands or take a shower.

and if you see non-sorcerers as people, as lives who matter, it will be absolutely worse. it would certainly be a very frequent topic of discussion between the two of you, so opposing views would make the relationship unsustainable. but staying silently by his side makes you accomplice — the blood of all these people will be on your hands, because you knew.

you knew and you did nothing to stop him, nonetheless.

୨୧ SUKUNA RYOMEN — red flag.

do i have to say anything? nevermind. i’ll pray for your soul instead. lord have mercy on you — because sukuna won’t.

if you were so unfortunate as to capture the king of curses' attention in this way, i can only be so sorry.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? he's sukuna.

it's hard to know where to start when naming his worst red flag. would it be his violent nature? his overall behavior? the sadistic desire for death and the total lack of morals? sukuna knows nothing but power, and has no respect for anything other than himself or equivalent strength. it makes your relationship with him less of a romantic thing — and more like an owner-pet relationship.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

i'm inclined to say yes, because it's difficult to see where sukuna would be interested in a non-sorcerer. regardless, i guess it doesn't really matter as long as you fit his twisted and bizarre criteria, somehow.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

no, but not for the reasons you think. love is an unknown and irrelevant concept to him, so what really stops him from cheating on you is not moral. it's desire, or rather, the lack of it. no one is as interesting as you in that sense.

he wouldn't cheat on you simply because there is no one else he wants like that. but not in a romantic sense, like nanami. it's like someone who is so engrossed in one thing in particular that in comparison, everything is gray and rotten.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

there's very little i can describe without being extremely dark compared to other reviews. sukuna would play with you until he got tired, and when he did, he would send you to the pot and enjoy a nice dinner.

i think the closest thing that can be called showing affection from him is when he asks uraume to be extra careful with the meat this time. he had, somehow, a strange feeling for you that he didn't understand. even tired, he wouldn't forget a human who fascinated him so deeply. furthermore, it would be agonizing for other sorcerers and humans. sukuna would not be actively looking for replacements, but sincerely. if he was, he would be disappointed. sometimes he turns to bark a mean comment, just to not see you there, and murmur oh, right, knowing very well he is the reason.

despite this, he may feel some kind of affection for you. sort of. the kind of pity you would feel for a beggar on the street, or the feeling you have for a pet, in some way. he would never see you as an equal. an interesting creature, but beneath him, as it is your place.

none of this would ever stop him from killing you if you became a nuisance, though.

୨୧ TOGE INUMAKI — green flag.

few words, but a lot of action and gentleness.

after a horror show committed by our favorite cannibal, a good look at our favorite ingredient talker should cool us down nicely. toge is actually the type to act instead of talk, because, well. . . salmon?

BIGGEST RED FLAG? bad communication.

even if you are a great sign language interpreter, there will be communication problems in your relationship. sometimes you may not understand what he is saying, or the other way around.

this is not a fatal defect, but it certainly exists, and needs to be addressed accordingly. furthermore, it is difficult to have serious conversations or argue. it's very annoying not being able to have a serious dialogue without hearing an onigiri ingredient in response. but it becomes a bit habitual for you and it doesn't make that much of a difference — it's the way he needs to communicate and you understand. toge understands how difficult it can be to communicate with him and does his best to help the process.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

i'm tempted to say absolutely not, but if you're not a sorcerer there's no chance of you having a relationship without you at least knowing about jujutsu. in any case, you will be inserted into this world and this context, but honestly it doesn't matter to him. as long as it is you.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

no, not at all. man can barely speak to his friends, how could he even chat with someone else and cheat behind your back? despite all the jokes, it's not really toge's thing.

sure, he can't directly tell someone else he's rejecting them — again, communication —, but he just needs to show his ring and they'll leave him alone. usually. he does not entertain flirtation from anyone who's not you, though.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

loving toge is as calming an experience as it is chaotic. he wants to do everything that “more normal people” would do too. for example, going on dates in big, crowded places — even if a part of him screams internally when not being able to talk to you like these people do. and honestly, even when he merely wishes for the simple, he just wants you to be happy and enjoy. your relationship is something very important to him, and there would certainly be a doubt if he can be a sorcerer and be your boyfriend at the same time. inumaki's lifestyle is not really something anyone wishes for their significant other, after all, but he was willing to try.

despite not being able to speak, he always has a cell phone and a notepad at hand. it's common for you to find small notes and loving notes, or his messages. love messages, messages asking how your day was, messages telling you that you forgot your lunch — giving him the perfect opportunity to just slip away and personally hand it over to you. he turns down the collar of his coat to return your smile when doing so.

toge also has a habit of sending you pictures like cute cats and a small love poem. he never wants you to feel appreciated — and everytime his friends tease him for smiling like a fool to the phone, he murmurs an affectionate “okaka”.

୨୧ TOJI FUSHIGURO — beige / red flag.

already experienced with love, a hurt heart can literally end everything.

the experience of being in a relationship with toji can be the happiest thing in your life or the most toxic addiction possible. it really depends on a single factor: is he able to love you truly, even after mamaguro? he'll be the only character in this list with two “separated” versions.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? emotionally distant / inconsiderate.

in a world where he can love you just like he loved megumi's mother, toji has a lot of emotional baggage that is difficult to deal with. his job is dangerous, he had an extensive past with another woman and an abandoned son, it's a lot for both him and you. it's very difficult to get close to him at first, but he slowly opens up and is willing to change and improve his life, getting a new start with you. one he won't lose.

in a world where he can't love you, he just doesn't care. you're just another partner he hooks up with occasionally, and he makes that clear. he's not interested in anything serious, not marriage, not anything. you are not the love of his life and you will not be. and if you feel bad about these words? well. you're out of luck.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

definitely not. he couldn't care less in any case.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

again, that depends. if he loves you truly, hell no. anyone who comes to flirt with him while he is in a relationship with you will be ignored and likely humiliated if he persists. if you managed to capture this man's heart, congratulations, he's all yours.

if he doesn't love you — yeah. pretty much. then it's more about if he wants someone else than your feelings.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

there's not much to say about toji's part and his role in a relationship, except that it won't be easy in any case. the past is the ghost that haunts every man, conscious or not. and his is full of blood, guts, tears and lost love. being willing to deal with this is not only necessary but something he won't forget. it's very difficult to win his loyalty permanently, but if you do, you simply have to worry about it anymore.

if he does not love you, it's very likely that he will eventually leave you for someone richer. money is mainly what would keep him in a relationship — sex is just a bonus. when some of those ends up being too difficult to get (or when these things are missing), his lack of emotional attachment makes him easily turn around and leave, to never returning again.

୨୧ YUJI ITADORI — green flag.

a very good option! the problem is that it is not long-lasting.

yuji is a sweetheart, really. definitely not a bad choice (one of the best ones in this list!). although, he has a very unfortunate destiny in front of him.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? he's way too selfless.

being selfless is a great quality, but in cases like yuji's, things go overboard very easily. he doesn't have as much respect or admiration for himself as he does for other people, and this can definitely be very damaging to his mental health and, consequently, your relationship.

he takes risks for his friends and strangers, he swallows cursed objects, he does his best to save lives — and he blames himself under fail, despite it not being his fault. he's the kind of man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and doesn't want you to exhaust yourself trying to share it with him.

DO YOU HAVE TO BE A SORCERER?

not really, but if you're not, the relationship ends very quickly and suddenly. yuji wouldn't allow himself to tell you about jujutsu, being the vessel of sukuna, and anything that puts you under risk. this includes staying close to him.

he wouldn't break up with you just because you're not a sorcerer, he just values your safety too much and is afraid of what could happen. if you are one, he feels slightly relieved you won't separate, but still tense. you can still die.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

he would never. never, ever. you're his love and he could never betray your trust like that. in one occasion, he said he wouldn't cheat on you even if it were with jennifer lawrence.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

the most important point to make is that yuji will undeniably die. he would be executed, and he thinks he should be, and that was the order given since he made a mistake that day. one day, and his life changed forever. having a relationship with you is one of the few lasting joys in his life, but when it ends for whatever reason, it will hurt more. maybe he'll try to break up with you sooner and move away so you don't feel so upset about losing him.

yuji is also the guy who was thrown into the context of the jujutsu world in a very unfortunate situation — he can be very slow to understand some things and, if you are a sorcerer, fearful. he understands that many sorcerers have important reputations to maintain. maybe you have too. in that case, wouldn't it be better not to have a relationship with sukuna's vessel in your past? what if the higher-ups antagonize you for that, and your career can't succeed? he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable about the topic, and he often doesn't say what he's feeling directly. yuji doesn't lie, but he omits.

he is very anxious despite his constant positive attitude. sukuna likes to mess with yuji's mental health, and he knows how much you mean to him. yuji would purposely turn away from you very often, terrified that somehow, the king of curses would kill you simply to laugh at his expense. he can't lose you — the ironic thing is that maybe he would lose, distancing himself so much.

୨୧ YUTA OKKOTSU — green / beige flag.

not bad, but. . . very questionable, nonetheless.

last, but not least! the implicitly yandere yuta okkotsu — not by far the worst option we have out of all of them here, but. he has almost unforgivable habits.

BIGGEST RED FLAG — rika (?)

everyone agrees that seeing your boyfriend's first love as a bloody, inhuman ghost is a pretty uncomfortable experience. in your case, it is an uncomfortable and constant experience, happening practically on a daily basis. although rika is much more controlled nowadays, and she is more a manifestation of technique than a soul in itself — it's not the kind of thing that anyone just finds normal. even sorcerers.

unfortunately, your boyfriend's late first love is kind of always there anyway. he still wears the ring he needs to connect with her, even if he gave you a different one. it's strange and sometimes it gives the impression that either you are a replacement, or that you will never reach that level of affection. you're the other woman in your own relationship.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

again, no. but it's preferable that you are. all the difficult issues of being a sorcerer would be better understood if you were one yourself. it would also avoid him lying to you / hiding jujutsu from you. furthermore, yuta is a paranoid mess.

he always imagines that the second he's not around, you're going to get hurt. he cannot stand even the weakest curses near you, crushing them like repulsive insects.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

no, unless you consider rika and his “relationship” with her.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

honestly, the time you have with yuta always seems to be under the influence of an hourglass, limited. ready to end at any second, where his work will be a constant interruption. he tries and tries very hard not to let this undermine his relationship, but it can become an occasional problem. he had to spend long periods of time in other countries, and it hurts for him to be so far away.

yuta is strangely clingy. you can't expect anything less. he's the kind of boyfriend who can easily become overprotective in a way that's not cute. always guiding you to one side on the sidewalk, one hand around your waist, staring deathly at any man who gets too close. it doesn't matter if it's his friend or a mutual friend of yours, there is a certain distance that everyone must respect when it comes to you. except him.

besides being like a cat (very skittish with some people, invades your personal space very frequently), yuta is very demanding in some aspects. he really hates it if someone flirts with you, even though he wouldn't take that frustration out on you. after all, it's not your fault and it would be unfair. but he's very adamant about not having any secrets or personal things he doesn't know about. secrets kill people, and he can't bear to lose you.

despite all the lessons he learned with rika, sometimes you end up wondering if he will curse you too, if you end up dying. you ask him about it. if he would. yuta doesn't answer.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGIZE FOR ANY MISTAKES. thank you for reading! <3

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ ch 4

note: i had to rewrite this chapter TWICE. im sick of it so pls enjoy. also forgot to mention on here that I have been away this week on a little holiday. didn't stop me writing tho lol.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 2.3k

no use of y/n

readers callsign is 'stingray'

summary: while you're gone on a mission, ghost has time to ponder your relationship, and comes to a long awaited realisation

warnings: ghost's pov, mentions of blood and injury, lil bit of angst

ao3

【prev】 || 【next】

ghost never knew how to feel about you.

at first, he really did hate you; you were the bright-eyed new recruit with seemingly endless optimism, he simply couldn't help but be annoyed by you. honestly, he half expected you to tap out a week into the job. you were just so… normal, he found it hard to believe you were cut out for this line of work.

of course, he trusted price's decision to hire you, and deep down ghost knew he wouldn't have recruited you if he didn't think you could handle it, but he looked down on you anyway. it didn't matter how good price thought you were, you'd have to earn ghost's respect.

it was infuriating, the way you fit so easily into the dynamic of the team. they all liked you right off the bat, even the captain, who was notoriously hard to impress. he observed you from afar, watching how you easily broke down their walls and fell into place next to them like it was nothing.

if he was honest with himself, he might have even called it jealousy. it seemed that everything was so natural to you; everything that he struggled with, you did with such ease you made it look like child's play. he especially hated the way you could just be a person. you didn't lock up every time someone spoke to you, you didn't need to sit with a visual on every available exit, and you didn't need to analyse every person you met in the fear that the second you turn your back they'll stab you in it.

you pissed him off, but what was worse than anything else about you, is that ghost had to fight with himself not to like you too.

it was the first time he got sent on an assignment with you that he began to understand why everyone seemed to get along with you so well. the ruthless efficiency with which you did your job was almost shocking to see. he couldn't have predicted how well the two of you worked together; like a well oiled machine, by the end of the mission he didn't even need to communicate verbally, you could just tell what his next move would be.

he finally understood why price fought so hard to get you on the one-four-one – and he finally found it in himself to respect you.

but that didn't change the way he felt about you beyond the field. you were soft, too kind, and too optimistic, you weren't hardened by the job like him. so he went out of his way to be tougher on you than he was with the others, and he rationalised it by telling himself he was helping you; that without a little toughening up, this world would break you, and for some reason, he couldn't stand the thought of that.

when you started to resent him back, it made his stomach feel heavy in a way he'd never felt before. it was new, and uncomfortable, and it scared him. he wasn't sure when he first noticed it, but it only got worse when he came to the realisation that you didn't care for him like you did for gaz and soap.

you could joke around so easily with them, but you go quiet when he enters the room. you never meet his eyes, and make sure to never be physical with him. when he addresses you over comms, you answer with a quick 'yes sir' and that's the end of it. ghost would never admit it, but the distance between you hurt – even if it was by design. 

as he lay awake that night, he thought about what it would be like if you treated him the same way you treated the others. he couldn't stop the tiny smile that pulled at his lips as he imagined laughing with you, sitting next to you, touching you.

he imagined you, taking his calloused hand into your own, so gentle and kind like you always were, and the way his pulse skyrocketed scared him into staying up the rest of the night.

after that, the way he saw you changed. where he used to think you were soft – and therefore weak – instead he saw the way you chose to be kind. when once your constant jokes with the others was an inability to take things seriously, now it was your specialty way to keep up morale, and ghost actually found himself chuckling at a few of your quips.

it was like his entire perspective had shifted, everything about you that used to annoy him gradually became something he appreciated about you.

it took him a while, but he finally came to the conclusion that he… liked you. 

but it was bittersweet, because he already knew you didn't want him, and he doubted you ever would. you'd never see him in the same light, he'd ruined his chances before he even knew he wanted one.

maybe it was for the best, though. you deserved better, someone who would treat you right, someone normal. he already knew you didn't want him, and he could never blame you for that. people like you don't fall in love with people like him, that's just the way it is.

so he resigns himself to burying the feelings he harbours for you. you never had to find out, if you did you'd surely be disgusted by someone like him being interested in you. he couldn't handle rejection like that, not from you.

when price told him he'd have to take you in when your house burned down, he was fucking terrified. it shook him to his core, how much he liked the idea of the two of you living under the same roof. he did his best to avoid you, leave you in peace like he assumed you wanted; but you – wonderful, kind you – wouldn't just leave him to his misery.

you were being nice to him, and he couldn't figure out why. he assumed it was because he was doing you a favour by letting you stay with him; he couldn't even trick himself into believing that you might be doing it because you liked him.

every night, he'd go back to that fantasy of existing with you, by your side instead of at arm's length. you were so close, just a single door separating you, his hands started sweating every time he passed by the living room.

he knew he was a goner the morning you woke up before him. he'd scarcely ever seen you in a casual setting, but walking into the kitchen and being greeted by you sitting at the table, the domesticity of it all hit him like a bullet to the chest.

it was exactly what he wanted, and it scared the shit out of him, so he panicked. he needed to stay away from you, for your own good, so he did what the ghost does best.

he ran away.

he didn't even consider what you'd think, he just had to get away, before he said something he'd end up regretting.

when you came through the door, soaking wet, and laid into him – which he knew he deserved – he immediately regretted leaving you behind. seeing you cry, knowing it was because of him, it made him feel sick. he knew he never wanted you to feel that heartache again, especially if it was because of him.

he'd give anything to start again with you, go back to the beginning and do it all right this time, but the only thing he could do was try and make up for what he'd put you through.

the hot chocolate was a peace offering; he knew you loved it – he even knew about the stash you had of it hidden in price's office, away from the other soldiers. he half expected you to just tell him to piss off, but when you accepted it, he felt his heart soar.

it ignited a spark of hope within him. more than anything, he just wanted you to like him, it didn't matter if you never saw him the way he wanted you to.

he intended on waking you up the next evening, before he left for the pub, but when he saw how peaceful you looked while you slept, he couldn't bring himself to disturb you. 

you stayed with gaz and soap most of the night, and he spent the night watching you from the bar and dimly lit corners, assuring himself that you were okay. when it came time to drag you home with him, he had never been so nervous. taking care of people was the exact opposite of his strong suit, especially when they started crying at him.

he almost couldn't believe his ears when you said you liked him.

he'd dragged you home with an arm wrapped around your waist, his head feeling light as a feather. by all accounts, he should've been annoyed at having to look after you in your inebriated state, but he found himself smiling under his mask the whole way home – even when you almost threw up on him.

when you rested your head on his shoulder on the bathroom floor, he might've actually short-circuited. all thoughts except for you evacuated his mind, and a wonderfully warm feeling blossomed in his chest that made his stomach flutter like never before.

he came so close to spilling his guts to you, but then he remembered that you were drunk, and you most likely wouldn't remember it if he did. so he resigned himself to tucking you into bed with an uncharacteristically gentle touch.

the next day, sitting on that park bench with you, laughing with you like he'd wanted to for so long – it was everything to him. it sent his pulse through the roof, it was complicated, and it was so pleasantly warm.

the logical part of him knew that this would only end painfully for him, but found himself willing to risk that if it meant more of these moments with you.

but of course, he'd fucked it all up at the first opportunity. he'd screamed in your face and he had yet to even apologise for it – for any of it. he felt immeasurably guilty, but he was so scared he couldn't even force himself to be around you.

even price had yelled at him for how he'd treated you. you were traumatised, you had a very real phobia as a result of the house fire, and he felt like a fucking fool for not noticing. he swore to himself he'd make it up to you, he'd grovel at your feet for the rest of his life if he had to, and if you never forgave him he still wouldn't blame you.

he regretted it – of course he did. he let his fear consume him; the fear of you getting hurt, of losing you, and not being able to do anything to save you.

almost as soon as the words had passed his lips, he realised what he was doing, he heard himself. the anger in his voice, the fearful look in your eyes as they glistened with tears, it was everything he didn't want to be.

he felt just like his–

no. he refused to even entertain that thought. he'd never be… that. you deserved so, so much better than the broken husk of man that he was. no matter what he did, he would never deserve you; and it was selfish, but he still hoped that you could somehow forgive him.

it's only been a few days since you left on that assignment for laswell, but he's found that being alone in his house didn't bring him the same comfort it used to. the silence never bothered him before, in fact he greatly preferred it, but now it just felt empty. like there was something missing, leaving a hole in the space it used to occupy.

deep down, the rational part of simon knows that it's you, of course it is, but you wanted nothing to do with him right now. he knew he had to fix things, he would never get over the hollow feeling in his chest if he didn't. that's why he was currently standing at the edge of the runway in the middle of the night, watching the ramp of the helo lower to reveal you, gaz, and the captain.

you looked shattered, like you hadn't slept for days – which was probably true – and he was suddenly overcome with the urge to gather you into his arms and not let go. he wondered if the remnants of dried blood that were visible on your hands and face were yours.

he felt his heart rate pick up as you made your way closer to him, his icy stare softening when he sees how you drag your feet across the tarmac.

when you were close enough, he reached his hand out to grasp your arm, opening his mouth to speak, but he never makes contact.

you sidestep him, and he feels his heart break in his chest. any words he was planning on saying die on his tongue as he turns to watch you slip through the doors without a hint of acknowledgement to him.

price gives him a rough pat on the shoulder as he and gaz pass by. "fix it, simon." he murmurs, before disappearing through the doors as well, leaving him alone outside the building.

he will fix it – he'd do whatever it takes because simon doesn't just need you, he's come to the alarming conclusion that he loves you – he just has no idea how.

taglist p1: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @mockerycrow , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicyy , @guiltgoreglory , @postmodernrevolutionist , @untoldshortsofthefandoms , @delilah-grimes , @sunflowerqueen1416 , @luvssemma , @ghostslittlegf , @imonmykneessir , @kenz-ee , @eistro-phobia , @rzmarona , @alanalanalanalanalanna ,

@cathnoneofyourbusiness , @madsothree , @geisterfvhrer , @lazyninjaphilosopher , @aliilium , @koi-feish , @chaoticgoblindev , @clear-your-mind-and-dream , @thrivig-n-jiving , @lesterous , @glitterypirateduck , @slu77ym4nw415ts , @livelaugh-light , @trulylavendedarling , @stateofcatatonia , @rivalriotrenegade , @yoichiislovie , @nirvanaaaonly , @ameliaamareeee , @batmanunicorns523 , @sapientiia , @thesecretwriter , @susanmukami , @ryze1113 , @stars-andfreckles , @spya1 , @tunaa-luvchrm , @tzutology , @kuruksenshi

if your name is crossed out, i can't tag you for whatever reason, sorry! ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

[saeist]

a headcannon that nobody asked for! overprotective itoshi brothers

if there's one thing that sae and rin can at least get along and agree with, is that no one ever touches their baby sister aka you. like we're talking about no boys breathing within a 1 meter radius from wherever you're standing or they're getting it type of overprotective.

and if anyone tries to cross that border, well, get ready to pray for their sorry asses for even attempting to do such thing.

so when the infamous u20 vs blue lock match was happening, you bet your ass sae and rin (telepathically) were both "concerned" for your being knowing that they'll have to face the most dreading question one could ever ask the two brothers,

"who's that chick that has the same long under lashes like you?"

you were seated at the VIP area where all the rest of the teams families were also staying at. you noticed some had their player's respective jerseys on. you on the other hand, having brothers on both opposing teams, you could only do so much. you only had one balloon from each team in each hand.

hey, it's the thought that counts.

the first half of the match just ended and that means it was time for the half time. there, you took the opportunity to cheer for your two brothers, so they were aware of your presence.

"sae-nii! rin-nii! over here~♡" you wave

even if they were both on the opposite sides of the field, both sae and rin simultaneously looked up to find your voice

and of course that also means that their nosy teammates are also looking at your direction because, what do you mean there was another itoshi that they did not know about?

(both brothers purposely left out the vital information that they did in fact have a little sister because you know..)

"woah! who's that cute chick" otoya was the first to jump on rin. followed by karuso who also said the same thing

"rin, you have a little sister?" isagi joins in the little circle surrounding rin who looked like he was gonna bite somebody's head off.

"she's pretty" chigiri comments, also looking up at you. "long under lashes really run in the family~" bachira says in a singsong voice, waving at you

"everyone shut up!" rin barks, breaking away from the little circle that formed. by little i mean almost the entirety of the blue lock team (yes. including the bench warmers)

"rin-nii~ don't be mean" you yell from above, poking your tongue at him. rin gives you a "not the time' look that he usually gives you at home but to you it was fun to see rin so worked up because you know he's the one that gets verbal when it comes to you

there was a sense of satisfaction when you hear his team laughed and teased rin. choruses of:

"yeah rin-nii chan don't be mean to us~☆"

"just tell us her name, rin! we won't bother you again!"

"if i pass you the ball, would you give me her number?"

on the other side of the field, there was only one person sae has to look out for and that was no other than the man, the myth, the demon himself, shidou ryusei

when your familiar voice rang through sae's ears, you can only imagine what his face was. he clicks his tongue in annoyance and hesitantly looks up at your direction, wary that his teammates would also be looking with him

to his dismay, some were looking with him because who had the guts to call sae like that out in the open?

"she's hot isn't she, under lashes senpai~" he hears shidou tease behind him. sae reacts to this by giving him a good ol' wack on the head.

"that's my sister, you demon" sae spat, internally grimacing that shidou had those kind of thoughts about you. no, not on sae's watch. although, the realization only dawns upon sae that he just openly admitted that he had a sister

shidou somehow lived up to his insect nickname by jumping and zooming around sae in happiness or he says "i'm releasing dophamine~♡". while also screaming about how he now has dibs on you.

"you fucking demon. she's off limits"

sae may be shorter than shidou but damn, can he really threaten someone like it was nothing. shidou lowkey cowers in fear but he doesn't let that get to his head. in fact, he thinks this might be one hell of an opportunity to push the prodigy genius off the edge for once in his life

"if i score a hat trick, i'm getting her number. bet?" shidou proposes in a sing song voice. this agitates sae further. quickly shutting his offer with a simple, "hell no."

"then.. can i get yours instead?"

"if it means you backing away from my sister then i'll consider"

[bouncybongfairy]

Could you do a live action Zuko x reader, they were betrothed to eachother before his banishment. They frequently had visits and got along really well. First time they met he saw her creating a blue butterfly from her fire bending. The reader can produce blue flames but is a gentle, kind person. Zuko is reading the latest letter she has sent him, praying for his safety and health. How does he feel about them after all this time? Maybe this fuel his fire to complete his quest and get home.

See You Soon

Prince Zuko x Fem Reader

Summary: Both Zuko and can't stop thinking about each other, after reading the most recent letters you sent to each other.

Word Count: 2.0k

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It’s been some time since the last time you’d seen Zuko face to face. Ever since his banishment, so about three years. You’d think those wounds would have healed, a betrothal that was nothing more than a concept faded in time. Anyone who’d know you would say you were well past it, those people obviously weren’t paying close enough attention. Sending each other letters, drawings and pressed flowers. Detailing everything unfolding in his quest to find the Avatar. Her day to day life with school and helping your mom with all the tailoring for the Fire Lord’s family. A very important part in your life considering your family had been tailoring in the palace for generations. Every once in a while you’d send him an embroidered Lion to represent power and leadership, hiding his name tiny within the mane. Although you found comfort in the words of reassurance he gave through ink and paper, it only made you long for something more. Reminiscing on all the precious memories that now feel like they were taken for granted.  

The two of you met by chance, your mother worked in the palace. She made all the clothes for the royal family. Often having you assist, holding her pin cushion or any other request she may have. At first not paying each other much attention, one day Azula came in, berating both your mother and self like she did to all other staff. Hearing horror stories from others in the palace made you terrified of her. The last thing you wanted was to get your family banished for looking at her wrong. Zuko noticed this, and nudged your arm; looking over at her and then rolling his eyes. Giving you a reassuring smile, Azula then nudged your shoulder with hers as she walked out. 

“That girl may be a princess by blood line but not respect from her people. She rules with fear when it should be grace,” you mother grumbled as you walked into the house. 

“That may be true but it must be hard, growing up competing for the throne. Having your entire life mapped out for you even before you’re born. That must be so hard on someone so young, I think I'd break,” pulling your hair out of the tight bun. Your mother smiled, setting the bags on the table. Cupping your face in her hands,

“I love that in a nation so pitiless and jaded that you have kept your soft spirit. You know that, but that girl spoiled down to the soul,” your mother laughs before turning back to her bags.

You laugh and walk into your bedroom to change before heading back outside. The weather was perfect to practice your fire bending. One of the perks of having a mother who worked in the palace was better education for you. Now that you had been learning to bend from a master, you were able to do more than you could ever imagine. At school all you learned was combat or defensive bending. At home, you liked practicing making different shapes. At the beginning it was simple stuff like circles or hearts, with time they were getting more intricate. Being able to make things like flowers, birds and even butterflies. You were in the empty field behind your family's home, working on your bending. You’d finally learned to make the butterfly flap its wings and fly around for a couple moments at a time before dissipating. Taking a deep breath and creating the flames, putting all your focus into manipulating its form. Holding your breath nervously as you watch it fly around you. The blue light glowing off the flame lit Zuko's face up, where he was watching from a couple feet away. You gasped out of surprise and backed away. 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to- when Azula nudged you, this fell off your top. I just wanted to return it,” he said, holding out the embroidered patch of a crabapple tree that was pinned to your top. 

“Oh, thank you. Wow I'm really surprised you took the time to return it, as someone with so much responsibility; it’s an honor,” you say, giving him a quick bow out of respect. 

“I’ve only seen masters create such detailed shapes with blue flame, can I help?” he asks, you nod in agreement as he comes closer. He stands behind you, pressing his chest against your back. Nudging your arms up with his hands telling you to create the flame before continuing, 

“Holding your breath limits the amount of time your fire can stay in the air. Like suffocating a candle with its lid. Fire can’t be without oxygen, can you feel my breathing against your back? Match it to yours then try to make the butterfly,” he said. 

You were so nervous but took a deep breath in before matching the rise and fall of his chest. Immediately you could feel the difference, like you had more control over the flames. Being able to make the wing movements sharp and clean. Making the flame circle around the two of you, forcing your bodies closer together. 

“See, isn't that so much better?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I never thought I could have so much control over my bending,” you said, moving to face him. 

“I have to get back but i’ll see you around?” he asked, as he took off in a rush which made you chuckle. 

After that night, it was like fate just couldn’t keep the two of you apart. He was getting fitted more often for leather armor and things like that. Noticing each other in lessons and sneaking glances. This progressed until eventually Zuko became unbothered with who saw the two of you interacting. One day he slipped a note into your bag, wanting to meet later that night. Your heart skipped a beat of course, and for the rest of the day it was all you could think about. The day seemed so much longer now that you had something to look forward to. Practically skipping home from lessons, even though you still had a couple hours before dark. You were happy to be home daydreaming. Your mom was home, cooking komodo chicken. Giving her a kiss on the cheek before heading off to your bedroom. Originally you were going to wear what you always did but part of you felt like the night was too special for your everyday attire. Normally keeping your hair up in a tight bun, you decide to let it down. It took you a while to convince yourself to leave it down but eventually you did.

Everyone was finally asleep, the house dark and quiet. You sneak out the window of your bedroom. Zuko was waiting for you right outside which made you gasp, not seeing it was him at first. He had a big smile on his face, which was refreshing considering he’s been going through alot lately. On a night with such amazing weather, the main city and markets were busy with life. Zuko and you however prefer the peacefulness of looking over the city from the peak of a hill not too far. Zuko was pointing out different constellations in the sky to you. Or showing him new little tricks you were learning with your bending. He always acted really impressed but you knew he was doing it for your benefit. You loved that about him, that he cared so much about your confidence. 

“You know, my father says it’s time to start looking for a girl to betroth,” he says. 

“Oh? Any girls you had in mind?” you ask playfully. 

“No,” he says back in the same playful tone, which makes you elbow him in his ribs. 

“In all seriousness though, how do you feel about that?” he asks, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

“I think I'm waiting for you to ask me properly,” you said chuckling. 

Zuko also felt like he took all these moments for granted. He was currently in his room on the ship. Looking around at all the notes and drawings he’d pinned to the walls. They’d just left where he and his crew were docked, following a lead on the Avatar. Reading the most recent letter you’d sent him, it pained him to know you were feeling the same grief he was about feeling apart. He never really talked about it to his uncle or anyone but it was one of the main reasons he was so motivated to complete his quest. He felt like he was missing out on the most important years of his life. Uncle Iroh always talks about how memorable his late youth was, before he had real responsibilities as general. He missed everything about you. Especially how sweet you were, always finding the good in people. Even finding beauty and grace in Azula; his own mother couldn’t find that in her. 

Often when Zuko was anxious he would think about you comforting him. He knew he could be hot headed both emotionally and physically. This never phased you, even when he was in full blown flames. Always finding a way to calm you down. Somehow reassuring him without making him feel small or stupid. You always used to tell him that anger is a form of passion. That you loved the passion and resilience he had, and that one day he’d be able to channel it without anger. He found so much comfort in you so being ripped away was hard but reading your letters helped. Made him feel like everything wasn’t as impossible as it may seem. Like once he returns home he’ll know you’ll be there to support him. 

He laid back on his bed, your letter on his chest. Worried that you’d grow tired feeling his love through paper and ink. That you’d yearn for love that’s more present in your everyday life. This fear was doubled by the fact that he assumed telling you about this fear would make him come across as insecure. Maybe he was but he didn’t want you to know that. He hated being seen as weak, you were too kind to admit but he knows that exactly what you’d think. Currently thinking about one of the last nights you had together. In Zuko’s old room, laying on the bed together. You were playing with his hair and he had his arms wrapped around your waist. Both of you were pretty tired from training and school. Just melting into each other, enjoying the comfort you gave him. There wasn’t any talking but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. You’d kiss him on his forehead every once in a while, finger combing his hair. Taking in your smell and leaning into your touch. He never felt so vulnerable in a comforting way with someone. 

Iroh came into the room, making Zuko jump up. Clutching onto his letter, immediately his uncle sensed something was off. His eyes were dark and puffy, not to mention quite red. The bruise on his face appeared to be swelling and it was obvious that he was beyond his limit. Iroh set down the wooden tray he carried in, handing him a cup. 

“I know you don’t want to hear this but mentally you are being strained. Bending and combat is easy for you because you’ve done it your whole life. Emotionally, some of your muscles are weak but I can see your slowly strengthening them. It’s important that you get lots of rest while you-” he went to look over at Zuko and stopped talking once he realized the boy was asleep. Iroh held back a laugh before taking the cup and letter out of his hands. Zuko gripped the paper and woke up but settled down once he realized it was him. 

“Rest now, and please truly let yourself rest,” he said, pulling the blanket over him and he laid down. Folding the letter gently and leaving it on the nightstand.