#excel crash course

[mrmasukmia]

Excel Full crash course on udemy

[realbeefman]

wanting to apply for a job that i am absolutely underqualified for but remembering that men on average apply for jobs if they only meet 50% of the qualifications while women typically only apply if they meet ALL the qualifications so i just need to man up. really.

[jesuisgourde]

why did I agree to do this thing when I knew it would be on excel but I never learned how to work excel

[irndad]

won't you be my sunshine-a.h.

a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!

Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man. 

This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.

The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.

Which isn’t to say that he has one. 

There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk. 

It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.

That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership. 

Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you. 

He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself. 

“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning. 

He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks. 

“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”

She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection. 

He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone. 

He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation. 

He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically. 

It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this. 

“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting. 

“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride. 

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”

It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth. 

He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips. 

“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic. 

It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?) 

[lilhawkeye3]

A Continuation of A Crash Course to Kendrick’s Performance, from a Black Woman

Our voices are strongest together and it’s important to learn from each other!

@three-gnomes-in-a-trench-coat — great observation

@a-goddamn-fool — still a worthy analysis!

@seldnei & @humaudrey - yes, I had forgotten about this but have seen it mentioned a lot today! Also adding this bit from @aktrashpanda as I know it has been said about Serena & Venus Williams too.

@cbsaidwords — EXCELLENT resource for anyone just getting introduced to Kendrick Lamar’s works. Here is the link to the Research Guide.

@poetry-protest-pornography - great callout with “respectability politics”

@ace-sailor-uranus — INDIGO CROPS. This was also the blue of the Union soldiers in the Civil War. Excellent addition.

and @indignantlyindigo to wrap things up.

Keep analyzing. Keep questioning. Keep thinking. And do it outside of the scope of this performance.

This has been another Tea time with Hawk ☕️🦅

[twistedpink]

Mayhaps I sneak in a husband!Lilia into your Lilia collection? 👀

You were so right for this!!

Husband!Lilia settling down with you in retirement <33 He’s just so tired- Of the work, the people, doesn’t he deserve a pretty spouse to share his time? And wouldn’t you like to live in semi-luxury, accompanying him on party crashings and midnight games of boggle? Of course you do!!

Husband!Lilia hates nothing more than your discomfort, and he’s got the perfect remedies for anything that may afflict you! He tries his very best making you soup, (Silver’s on the phone for supervision) and nearly freezes you with all the ice packs he digs up- This is love! Putting forth effort! He only wants for you to be happy and healthy again, won’t you help him out?

Husband!Lilia that clings, as if he’s afraid you’ll run off. He’s more than happy to follow you anywhere you’re willing to take him. In his magicless state it’s much safer to travel in groups with all the wildlife in your area- And he’s sure you don’t mind the company tooo much. If you really need time alone, your bedroom has a perfectly fine lock! He’ll respect your peace by shutting up, but when you leave the sanctity of the bedroom you’ll find him curled up on the floor, waiting. Nothing is worth doing unless he can do it with you <3

Husband!Lilia does anything you ask- Only after a little giggling and jabbing, of course, it’s still him after all. He even pushes you to do stuff! Please take a couple classes or pick up hunting, it’s good for the soul! He just can’t travel anymore- But he insists that if it’s one of your goals, then you should just leave him behind. He won’t make you stay, but that needy, selfish part of him appreciates your attachment. It’s so,, Human of you.

Husband!Lilia yearns for your attention- He hardly goes to town anymore, so it’s you or the squirrels! He does pick up gardening for when you’re gone, if only to keep his hands busy. Normally, he wouldn’t be able to keep up a routine like this, but his partner just so happens to be an excellent alarm. Good job, hun! You’re the one who puts his plants on life support when his memory lapses, and it’s all worth it to see his smile during the harvest :)

Husband!Lilia may not be as strong or fast as he was during his prime, but he’s much preferring the golden years if he gets to spend them with you! The kids visit during holidays and runaways, but the rest of your time is spent alone. Together. With all the socializing you miss, he knows exactly how to get busy after a spot of crochet <3

@bju3c0re

[euphoria-looney]

I Got You On My Radar, Soon You're Gonna Be With Me, "Strategy" By TWICE

Creds to @dollywons for the dividers

This will have a lot of POV switches so get ready 😀

(This has a mother!darling and a daughter!darling, and they are separate from the reader- unless you decide they aren’t 😍😍)

gn!reader (if I accidentally make them seem too feminine, I’m sorry 😞)

Next chapter I'm going to make [name] crash out but not for the reason you think (hopefully not the reason you think)

So Much More.

Pt. 1 Pt.2

Alfred's POV

I couldn't say if I have a favorite among the Wayne family. I've served them for years even now in my old age. Left my own child, Julia, to train to be at my side, servicing the Waynes.

If you had to ask me to narrow down who was my favorite though, it would have to be young master, [name].

They aren't trained to be assassins, vigilantes, or even able to tame feral animals, instead, they excel in normal activities. I remember the first time they approached Master Burce, eyes that had stars glow in them. They wanted to invite Master Bruce to a ballet recital. They danced with such grace and perfection that many had asked them to continue the said sport. Professionally.

However, they had no time to spare as they raced down to see me, looking around frantically, and excitedly, it hurt my heart to see their eyes dim down so quickly after finding out that unfortunately none of their family had come.

Undeterred, they kept trying figure skating, football (soccer), and volleyball. They'd try the music pathway once they noticed sports didn't work. They excused the absences starting with opera since "opera was boring and easy anyway; maybe instruments are more interesting." They tried the violin, cello, organ, and harp. Still nothing.

Of course, it wasn't just these events that the family missed out on, it was also their birthdays, trophy events, everything. I could only try to support them on the side.

They were a gifted child, one, that had a fire burn so brightly. Till it wasn't.

They never stopped doing the activities, but you could tell they no longer cared if the family attended. I'd go and make excuses for them, and they would brush it off.

Then it seemed they had that fire extinguished when Lady [M/D] and Misstress [D/D] came into the picture.

I could only do so much as I wasn't their personal butler.

Then a day ago was their graduation. I believed I could make it, but the circumstances were too busy and important to go to the graduation. So, today, I hope I can make it up with cupcakes. Today is their birthday.

Imagine, my surprise when they started crying, how I felt such guilt, was it the missed events, or even bigger, the graduation?

None of that. They only said how thankful they were for me. I tried to spend the rest of the evening with them, but it just ended up with me being called to see [D/D] with a new animal. I didn't want to leave them.

I had to though, that is my duty as a butler. To serve my masters.

Another perk about [name] though was how understanding they were.

I should've seen the signs.

A smile and nod gave me all I needed to know that they were going to be okay if I left.

After a long day, I went back to my quarters, to see an envelope.

Sealed in wax with a Lotus flower imprinted on it.

Opening it up and reading the contents made numerous thoughts run rapidly in my mind.

Dear, Alfred

I can only hope this news doesn't affect you in any way. I simply couldn't find it in my heart to tell you in person. I'll be leaving the manor. I've left many things in my room that I hope you mind leaving in there. I don't want years of my work to go down the drain, as you see they hold memorial and sentimental value to me.

That's beside the point, Alfie, you mean the world to me. I don't think I could've made it this far without you. There were days I thought of quitting. Seeing your approval was enough for me to keep pushing myself. Alfie, you are the most capable person I've ever seen in anything. This is why I know my disappearance will help you more by taking the unneeded burden off your shoulders.

Alfie, I hope that when I make a name for myself, you will still look at me with such fondness that makes me feel like a child again, clinging onto you like my last hope, as you always have been. Take of yourself, as that is the most important thing about this message. You matter too much for me to ever forget or let go of you, whether it be through memory or anything else.

With love and appreciation,

[name] [last name]

I re-read that letter, over and over again.

True to their words I never saw them again, but they were wrong about one thing.

They were never a burden on my shoulders. Far from it. They felt like- my child, I raised them up and felt proud of the achievements they managed to get on their own.

I knew I had to understand. It was their choice. One that I didn't want to respect. I wanted to drag them back, but with no leads, how does one even do such a thing?

My only choice was to read their entries and watch recordings they did for themselves to look back on.

But that doesn't do the trick, does it?

I'll find a strategy to bring you back young master, I promise.

Journal 7th

(Entry #1)

I'm going into the 7th grade this year. Honestly, everything sucks. I wish to give up. Alfie has been busy since those two new people came into the house. They seem that they don't want to be here. Honestly, relatable.

Alfie tries but he can never understand me. (GUYS THIS WAS THEIR EMO PHASE, it's so unrealistic 😭)

I have to go, I have an ice skating competition to go to.

(Entry #45)

How is this fair!!! This is so sickening.

I've tried everything and what do I get?! NOTHING.

NoW I'm writing all sloppy! Forget it who says I even need their dumb attention!

Here comes waltzing in this mother-daughter duo!

"Oh~, I don't want you guys"

"But we're obsessed with you!"

WELL SCREW ALL OF YOU GUYS.

SIGNING OFF,

[name] [last name]

Journal 9th

(Entry #1)

It's been two years since [M/D] and [D/D] have entered the manor.

Despite what I wrote somewhere in my old journal, I don't hate them. If anything I feel pity for them. They do something that the family doesn't like and it is like their babies that did something wrong.

Not to mention Damian is always monitoring [D/D] at school and it doesn't help that not even the soundproof wall can block off the sound of Mr. Wayne and [M/D].

It's worse at home than before the family would be busy off doing whatever vigilantes do.

Also, it didn't take a while to find that out. As a kid, I thought they were playing dress-up without me. We'll ignore that though.

Anyway, now as soon as their done doing whatever they're to save the city they rush home to smother those two.

I'm starting high school soon. Slowly I'm changing my style so my hair, and clothing. The hoodie phase was... something.

Anyway

Yours truly,

[name] [last name].

Closing the entries, my thoughts are once again interrupted.

"Where's big sibling [name]?" a child/teenager approached me.

This would be [D/D] with a python on her shoulder.

"They're gone, young mistress." I kneeled down to her height.

"Gone?" The tone was menacingly, annoyed. You could hear the python hissing in agreement with his owner.

[D/D]'s POV

I hated how this family held me in such a possessive and obsessive way, but now I think I understand them.

How could I not when staring at [name]?

My precious sibling. If anything I do have something I appreciate this family for, but if I told them they'd probably annoy me even more, they ignored [name] allowing me to be their one true sibling.

They were special compared to everyone else in this whole world.

It sucked every second, moment, that I didn't spend with them. They give the best cuddles anyone could ask for, and they smelled so good.

I also liked their room, it was so ethereal sometimes. Mostly because they were in there but also because they had customized it perfectly, the decorations. I loved the figurines, the Hironos and Smiskis, the most.

However, the most important thing was the scent.

Did I mention that?

When I had first met them it had been a week since I got kidnapped to this god-awful place, I kept getting smothered and needed to just- get away from it all.

I felt so overwhelmed.

Then they walked in front of me, in this, from what I had assumed, abandoned hallway. It freaked me out and I asked what they were doing in this hallway as I was guessing that his hallway would be closed off or something.

"What are you doing here?! Did one of the freaks send you!?" I directed my anger at them since it would only make sense why I'd encounter them.

"What are you talking about? This is my 'wing' of the house, my room is right over there." They had made a confused face at me.

I felt embarrassed but I shook my head not believing them.

"Are you making this up? Listen as much as I don't want to admit this the only people who are living here are my family and Alfred, the only butler. You certainly can't be a part of this family with that attire, and not once has anyone mentioned you." I looked at them up and down.

"I get that a lot, well not really, I don't talk to anyone other than Alfie." Alfie?

"I'm [name] [la- Wayne. I think I'm older than Duke, so I'd be older than you. We don't really interact..."

"Oh, so you're my sibling." Weird her reaction was normal meeting me... "Well don't bother me like the rest of them." I stuck my head up, glancing at them, which wasn't as they were taller than me by a lot."

"The rest of them?"

"Yeah, they're so annoying, you're cool, for now. But they constantly bother me, going on and on about how I'm their precious little sister, boasting their love to me, notice all the jewelry? That's from them." I rolled my eyes.

"Oh." Their tone had changed seemed distance and the way their eyes sharpened, I didn't even notice.

"You know, I like you, you're perfect, want to hang out?" I batted my eyes at them. Something I wouldn't do in front of the others, they just gush over it.

"I'm busy." They answered shortly, already making their way out.

That made me frown.

"Busy? Doing what? I could join you."

"I'd rather you not, I have a performance to do and have no time to waste."

After that moment I would notice them more and more, that even a second not seeing them felt like my world was dying just to be fixed seeing them at the library. They Looked So Cool!

Flipping through a book, typing faster than my eyes could track, and their note-taking, gosh, that handwriting.

Just to be dragged away by that annoying pest, Damian, he'd be like "Good, you're in the library, I have a bunch of books that we can read together.

No, Damian, I don't want to.

I think I also grew on them, a wee bit.

Not to mention, my pets loved them, even more than they loved me sometimes, ungrateful 🙄.

Then one time, I wanted to skip school, and I knew none of the family would let me, even my mom! She would let me do anything to spite the family but not this, as she deemed education important.

So I maybe, sorta, kind of took [name]'s phone number at one point and called them up.

Damian wasn't near me at the moment. Thank Christ, since we attended the same school, same grade, and everything.

They showed up, sighing, they looked so cool with their windbreaker jacket, those s0ny headphones, the pants, the shoes, and that cool instrument case on their back!

They told the principal that they were my babysitter. Like c'mon, we're siblings. Signed their name really fancy and took me in the car.

One of the best memories as they allowed me to watch them practice at their school as long as I didn't bother them.

So I'm a bit peeved at the news I received today from Alfred.

"Gone?" Seems Copperhead agreed.

My head was reeling as a few days passed and my mom seemed to notice (so did everyone else but who cares about them)

I'll have you on my radar soon, my sweet-hearted [name].

"Honey, is something wrong?" She showed concern.

"Of course not, darling-" Father got cut off

"Not you, [D/D]."

"[name] up and left me" I could feel myself deteriorating even more at that sentiment I just said.

"They what?!" Mom seemed to explode at that moment. Her aura suffocating.

[M/D]'s POV

I had no choice; it was by some coincidence that I bumped into Bruce again. In some way, he tricked me, more like manipulated me into marrying him.

It was hard to adapt, of course, it was, somehow my daughter got used to it quicker than me, every time I did something simple one of the kids, those poor traumatized kids would ask to help me. At first, I didn't mind but they did become overbearing just like Bruce.

Don't get me wrong, they've somehow wormed their way into my heart even that dang handsome Bruce, which makes me show signs of Stockholm syndrome, but therapy is not something I need right now.

Though, they could never top [name].

They reminded me of the woman I met through Bruce, and how she was perfect.

So when I found out that she had a child, I couldn't be even more excited to meet her child, [name].

Even though they had no supporters, even one speck of some kind of light kept them going.

I love my daughter [D/D], but she gave up on doing anything used to being spoiled. That just makes me want to spoil her more though.

[name] did many things. I got an invitation to an ice skating competition. Alfred had handed me two tickets.

"Master [name] would appreciate it if you came to her competition, Lady Wayne." Alfred bowed before leaving."

"Woah!~ [name] ice skates?" [D/D] had stars in her eyes.

"Would you like to attend, sweetheart?" I patted her head.

"Anything to get away from home! Though one of my siblings will bother me again." [D/D] pouted.

True to her words we were delayed to the competition.

The sight that we witnessed though, well, I couldn't even describe it.

"Woah~! They did it! They did the triple axel!"

"Okay, but we all know they could've done a quad axel."

"Shut it, Coral, you got disqualified in figure skating when you were 5 years ago, you don't even know how to figure- much less ice skate anymore."

Apparently, the Axel move was one of the hardest moves to pull.

As they made their way off the podium and to Alfred, they smiled understandably as he made excuses for the Wayne household.

"Congratulations [name]!" [D/D] cheered, it made their smile drop for a moment, I didn't notice though, too enamored by their frame.

"Yes, congrats, I didn't know you had such a talent for ice skating." I gave them a bouquet of roses, which I have to thank that dang Bruce for, or else I would've had nothing to give them.

"Figure skating, but thank you." She accepted the flowers before motioning to Alfred that they were going away.

I was going to stop them, but my phone was getting flooded with messages, and when I looked over [D/D] phone was no different.

"Ah! So annoying! I didn't even get to say bye to [name]!" [D/D] had ruffled her hair out of agitation.

Year after year, my schedule got busy and I could never see them that much.

So tell me why, why in the world did my world have to crash and burn during this dinner that seemed to be perfect.

It even had scallop butre.

"Honey, is something wrong?" I was concerned. [D/D] had been in a bad mood all week.

"Of course not, darling-" Bruce got cut off by me.

"Not you, [D/D]."

"[name] up and left me"

"They what?!" I slammed my hand on the table.

"G-gone? What in the world are you talking about, angel?!" I tried to reason.

"They moved! Left! No one knows where though!" [D/D] cried shoving a piece of food into her mouth. Damian scolded her and tried to pat her back before getting his hand slapped away.

"Calm down." Dick went over to calm [D/D] down and Cassandra went over to rub my arm to console me.

"[name]? Darling, who is that." He chuckled, in that stupid possessive way, which would've made me drop this but this was his child!

"Your child! Yours! Remember! The one that has all the trophies!?"

"Trophies?" Tim chimed in.

"don't worry mom, They aren't that many trophies I've earned," Jason added in.

For god sake you pricks! Are any of your names, [name]?!

"I think they are referring to [name] [lastname], masters." Alfred brought out the dessert, his thoughts seemed to also be clouded.

Realization seemed to hit, starting off with Bruce and then spreading.

Who cares about them though.

Don't worry [name], soon you're gonna be with me.

Guys were already making our schedules for next year and being an academic weapon I am I signed up for all Ap.

Junior year is going to kick my ass.

Also

“I can write descriptions”

“Well I can write dialouge”

Man, I can't do either, unless… 😏 y'all beg to differ/j

Jk I feel confident on my writing, I just need validation 👁️🫦👁️

@cozmie @nxdxsworld @overcaffeinatedfreak @strwberryglass @leiiasurez

(Guys why is my taglist not working 😞)

[woso-story]

Crash And Care

Alexia Putellas x Reader

The sun hung low over Phuket, casting golden streaks across the sky as the salty breeze from the ocean wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The streets buzzed with energy—locals selling their goods, tourists marveling at the vibrant culture, the scent of sizzling street food filling the air.

You stood next to a row of brightly colored mopeds, hands on your hips, grinning as you turned toward Alexia. She, on the other hand, had her arms crossed, an eyebrow raised, her expression laced with doubt.

"One moped," she said firmly, her Spanish accent wrapping around the words in that way that always made your heart stutter. "I drive, you hold onto me. Easy, safe."

You let out a chuckle, shaking your head. "Alexia, come on. It'll be more fun if we each have one. We can race—"

"Absolutely not."

"Not an actual race!" you amended quickly. "Just… you know, side by side, cruising through the streets, feeling the wind, enjoying the freedom."

She sighed, looking between you and the row of mopeds. "I don’t know… Are you even a good driver?"

You scoffed, feigning offense. "Of course, I am! I’ve got great reflexes, a solid sense of balance, and a need for speed."

Alexia let out a groan, rubbing her temples. "That last part is exactly why I don’t trust you on one."

You reached out, tugging on her hand with a pleading look. "Please? Just trust me."

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head but smiling softly. "Fine. But if you crash, I will never let you forget it."

You grinned triumphantly. "Deal."

Little did you know, that deal would come back to haunt you sooner than you thought.

---

With your mopeds secured, the two of you took off through the bustling streets, weaving through traffic with ease. The warm air brushed against your skin, the world around you buzzing with life.

Every turn brought something new—colorful markets filled with handcrafted goods, vendors offering fresh tropical fruits, the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. You stopped frequently, indulging in juicy mangoes, sweet coconuts, and skewers of grilled meats that had your taste buds dancing.

At the beach, the sand was soft beneath your toes as you ran into the crystal-clear water, splashing at Alexia before she tackled you into the waves, both of you laughing as the sun kissed your skin.

Later, you found a secluded trail leading to a waterfall, the hike short but rewarding. The cascading water sparkled under the afternoon sun, the sound of nature wrapping around you as Alexia pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

"You were right," she murmured, watching as you ran your fingers through the cool water. "Today is perfect."

You turned to her with a proud smirk. "Told you. And see? No accidents, no crashes. I’m an excellent driver."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, you were right."

---

The journey back was smooth at first, the streets giving way to a more rugged, downhill path. The moped rumbled beneath you as you followed Alexia down the narrow trail, the setting sun casting long shadows across the road.

But then you felt it.

The road dipped unexpectedly, the moped picking up speed faster than you anticipated. Your heart hammered as you gripped the handlebars tighter, but the uneven ground made the ride unstable.

A bump. A sharp jolt. A sudden loss of control.

Time seemed to slow as the moped wobbled violently beneath you. Your instincts screamed at you to regain balance, but it was too late. The world tilted, and before you could react, you were thrown from the seat, crashing hard onto the rough terrain.

A sharp sting shot through your body as gravel scraped against your skin, the impact knocking the air from your lungs. For a moment, everything was a blur—distant voices, footsteps rushing toward you, the sensation of hands gently cradling your face.

Then, clarity.

Alexia was there, crouched beside you, her face pale with worry. "Amor, talk to me. What hurts?"

You groaned, trying to sit up, only for pain to flare through your left side. Looking down, you saw a long, angry scrape running down your leg, raw and stinging. Your arm throbbed, another large graze marking the skin.

"Shit…" you muttered, blinking away the haze.

Alexia’s hands hovered over you, hesitant to touch, as if afraid she’d make things worse. "Are you dizzy? Did you hit your head?"

You shook your head, wincing. "Helmet." You patted the scuffed but intact helmet still strapped to your head. "I’m okay… I think."

Locals had stopped to help, concerned voices mixing in Thai and English. With Alexia’s support, and a few strong hands, you were carefully lifted to your feet. Your whole body ached, your skin stung, but nothing felt broken.

Then, you saw it.

The moped, lying in a wrecked heap on the side of the road.

Guilt hit you instantly. "Lex, I'm so sorry. I wrecked it."

But she wasn’t even looking at the moped. She was looking at you, her jaw tight, eyes filled with something between fear and frustration.

"That’s not important," she said firmly. "You are."

The way she said it, the way her voice wavered slightly, made your chest tighten. She had been scared. Really scared.

You swallowed, feeling suddenly small. "I should’ve listened to you."

Alexia let out a breath, her hands gripping your shoulders. "Yes, you should have."

---

The next few hours were a blur—hospital, X-rays, bandages, and the relief of knowing nothing was broken. By the time you made it back to the Airbnb, exhaustion had settled deep in your bones.

The moment your head hit the pillow, you groaned. "This is not how I wanted our vacation to go."

Alexia, sitting on the edge of the bed, smirked. "It’s what happens when you don’t listen to me."

You cracked an eye open to glare at her, but she was already leaning down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "But since you’re injured, I suppose I have to take care of you now."

And she did.

For the rest of the trip, Alexia was relentless. She insisted on bringing you food, making sure you were hydrated, helping you walk when your leg was sore, even tying your hair when your arm hurt too much to lift.

Every single time, she’d throw in a smug, "This is why I said one moped, mi amor. Because you are a terrible driver."

You groaned dramatically, rolling your eyes. "I get it, I get it. You were right."

She beamed, clearly satisfied. "I love hearing that."

Despite the accident, the days that followed were still filled with laughter, love, and soft moments. Because as much as you might have wrecked the moped, you knew one thing for sure—Alexia would never let you fall alone.

[lvrclerc]

✶ WATCH ME PARTY ON YOU

summary: post-race parties usually don't come with invitations, but this one does. you understand why when you see lando norris, your ex, mixing on a rooftop in monaco.

F1 MASTERLIST | LN4 MASTERLIST

pairing: lando norris x ex!f!reader

wc: 1.5K

cw: alcohol, many many the great gatsby references because party 4 u is just so tgg coded, exes to ???, reader is bisexual because i'm bisexual and i'm the writer, complicated relationship, not proofread.

note: requested here! i decided that writer's block wouldn't get me and that no matter how much i hated it i wouldn't delete a word once it's on the page, enjoy this one sitting madness <3

THE INVITATION HAD come gold-lettered, and your name nowhere to be seen on the expensive, grainy material of the paper. You had laughed in Kika’s face, because no one ever came to post-Grand Prix parties with invitations— you knew someone who knew someone who knew a friend of the person who was invited, and it was proof enough. The brunette shrugged, muttering something about a special occasion as she gently sweeped the bristles of her highlighter brush on your cheekbone.

Monaco is small when you’re someone, which is why every face on the rooftop is familiar. You leave lipstick stains on darkening blush as acknowledgement even if first names escaped you, and welcomed the cool droplets of those who dipped in the pool for celebration against your burning skin. The music throbbed low and intimate: lights were dark purple swirling with the dangerous golden hem of your dress, your body pulled flush against Kika’s. There was something about the way the beat looped, syrupy and sticking to your collarbones in its sweetness, that turned the atmosphere heavy with secrecy.

The tongue of the girl you kissed tasted like vodka and cranberry juice, and the perfume of the man with his hand on your hips smelled of endless car rides from one country to another. They both ended up talking about the earlier Grand Prix, the words getting lost to you in the heat of the first hours of morning. Kika had told you about the winner, which you promptly forgot about— she looked at you with barely contained pity when you answered you no longer tracked the fingerprints staining the trophies.

“The music’s good!” the girl comments. You nod through the lemony haze of your cocktail— it was good. Familiar, even, and your eyes turn to the booth at the very end of the rooftop, where the sky brushes the railing with modest curiosity.

The name Kika had uttered between layers of sounds crashed onto you.

He’s up on a platform, one headphone half-on and his shirt half-opened in a similar fashion, exposing the slick of his tan skin under the Monaco air. His curls are longer, grazing the back of his neck the way you used to. The sickeningly saccharine liqueur that is melancholy sobers you right up: Lando Norris was not supposed to be good at this—the mixing thing he picked up after too many nights post-race with too much adrenaline and too little sleep—but somehow he is. Of course he is.

Lando excelled at everything he set his mind to. Yet, when it came to you, to the quiet maintenance of love  and all the small, thankless instances that came with it, he faltered.

You weren’t built for waiting. Patience was a language you never learned; the world had never asked you to slow down, so you never did. Life moved with you— not the other way around. When Lando didn’t show up the way you needed, you didn’t wait for him to catch up. 

You left before he even had the chance to prove if he ever would. 

The tangled mess of bodies dancing together under harsh brush strokes of lights stills for the half of a second, and memories come flooding back in the dull brown of strangers in train windows. As the beat lags, imperceptibly, and the pads of his fingers you imagine must still feel as rough as his steering wheel hovers over the board, you still knew him well enough to deduce he saw you too.

The crowd is champagne-colored when you go back dancing but your heart is already heavy with a hangover when your feet find the tempo. Lando’s eyes, as he navigates through the music for the night, glides over you like water when you drop in people’s arms, laughing and singing, one after the other. You didn’t enjoy it one bit— not because it was unwanted, but because the knowledge of his presence made you all too aware of the debauchery you’ve been indulging in ever since you left. The outside perception of your humanity was not something you liked to be reminded of.

Tracks after tracks, you dance for Lando to watch, and you can’t remember if it was tears or tongues that wiped the specks of glitters on your cheek.

The party doesn’t end in a cathartic split. It bleeds out, like so many other things.

Bit by bit, the bodies disperse. Laughter thins into whispers, lost to the humidity and the inevitable promise of tomorrow. The last bottles sweat themselves warm on sticky countertops, cadavers-shaped confettis floated in the pool, the shades of light going from enamel to watercolor, and somewhere below, Monaco exhales— restless and bright.

You lost sight of Kika hours ago, you realize as your bare feet plunged into the water. You find yourself alone again. Not in the literal sense— there are still a few limbs flung on velvet couches, a couple kissing like the night will never end. You wished it did, so you wouldn’t have to find yourself in your own company.

Behind you, the music switches to something treacly, ripping open parcels of your heart without much thought about the consequences on the feeble hold you had on it. The melody trickles down your spine. The first lyrics escape your lips like a well-oiled, forgotten jukebox.

You don’t look to see whose feet dips in the water next to yours. “That’s a nice song choice,” you comment instead, eyes locked on the dark water below. The melody spills like honey into the quiet. You remember swaying to it in the kitchen light, tucked comfortably in the warmth of his arm, the rare times he allowed you to settle between the shards of his self-doubt. He held you at the base of your spine like it was the only place he could linger without trembling.

The notes had never felt more intimate as they do now.

“Thought you might like it,” Lando answers, and the only bite behind it is the unforgivingness of the cool evening air on your bare shoulders.

The silence stretches for a minute longer than it should, dense. The last stragglers had stumbled awkwardly to the exit before the Brit spoke up again, the melody of the song echoing between each syllable. “I play it at the end of each after party,” he says, barely above a whisper, shifting. “In case you’d drop by.”

“You sent the invite.” It’s not a question.

Lando nod. “Kika told me you’d be in Monaco.” He breathes in, sitting a little straighter next to you. “I just… I wanted to know if that's what it would take.”

“You could have just asked.”

“I didn’t think you’d come if I did,” he says. It’s almost sheepish, as if he was the one declining your own party. He put you on a pedestal deserving of a marble idol— you were just another woman with neons in her bones, with the necessity to crack a little in order to shine. Nothing like who he pictured when he kissed you.

Which is why you replied, “Me neither.” Then, after a beat. “But I’m here, so now what?”

That undoes him a little, you can hear it in the hand he runs in his hair.

Lando draws a breath, pursuing something that already slipped past the fragile skin of his lips. “We could try again,” he offers, voice brittle with something desperate. “We could go back to what we were before, you and me. Before it all fell apart.”

You let yourself savor the possibility— but that’s what it was: a suggestion. You could play pretend at being a different person than you were back then, and Lando could too, but the truth was that you were still the same people who couldn’t push the thorny edges of their own minds to love each other properly. The city below sparkles, but the rooftop is dim, quiet.

“We can’t repeat the past, Lando.”

He turns to you fully then. You can finally catch the dark rim lining his lower lashes, and the flicker of something wide-eyed in his gaze. The want inside of them blurred into a child-like naiveness, which you could only compare to a boy staring through a looking glass and hoping to find the answers he seeked. “Why not?” he asks. “It was good, wasn’t it? While it lasted?”

The last rooftop light flickers behind you. Once, twice, and dies. A final green blink before you’re swallowed in darkness. The music stopped a few minutes ago, the only familiar rhythm now the aching pace of Lando’s breathing.

You don’t answer. You choose to kiss him instead, and it grounds you. His mouth is familiar, yet salted with nostalgia and softened by regret. His tongue slips in your mouth to swallow your secrets, his fingers wipe the black stains running down your cheeks following the map he traced so long ago. You finally feel real again.

The rooftop stays dark and the city spins on. Here, in the quiet wreckage of a night that once belonged to the both of you, you kiss him as acknowledgement that the past did happen. As a testimony that, in this moment, it was still yours to hold.

©LVRCLERC 2025 ━ do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

[lgbtlunaverse]

Fandom is so nice to Jiang Cheng's inferiority complex because in reality every single thing he gets accused of is something Wei Wuxian is better at than him.

Jiang Cheng killed Wei Wuxian? Nope. Didn't even get close. Wei Wuxian's own spirits tore him apart before jc could even get there. wwx:1 jc:0

Jiang Cheng tortures people? We get two and a half rumours and a mention from jin ling that jc has 'captured' demonic cultivators before, but who is also apparently confident that just letting wwx run off will kill the issue even though those earlier rumours said ~no one who sandu shengshou captured was ever seen again~

The word jiang cheng uses when he tries to talk big game about 'beating the truth' out of Wei Wuxian's is a word that carries the context of pestering someone to do their homework. Doesn't exactly strike fear into my heart.

Wei Wuxian? Excellent at torture. A prodigy. Did you fucking see what he did to Wen Chao? Dude didn't have fingers anymore because wei wuxian made him eat them. He ripped out his hair, burned his skin off, and then stalked him for several days just to prolong the pain. He forced Wang Lingjiao to bite Wen Chao's dick off and then made her shove a stool leg down her own throat! 10/10, no notes. Absolutely horrifying.

Meanwhile Jiang Cheng's idea of torture is getting a dog to bark at Wei Wuxian for a few seconds. Weak, unoriginal, I bet fairy was literally wagging her tail the whole time. 2-0

Jiang Cheng made the entire cultivation world believe Wei Wuxian was up to no good on the burial mounds and ultimately orchestrated his downfall? lol. lmao, even

It's a big thing in certain corners of the fandom to really zoom in one one particular phrase at the end of chapter 73, where after wwx and jc have their staged duel to make the world believe they hate each other jiang cheng tells everyone wwx has defected and become "a public enemy'' or "an enemy to the cultivation world" or whatever the translation you're familiar with decided upon.

(As an aside, something I really like about this line is that the last half of it is almost exactly the same, like verbatim, as what wwx told him to say. like, the chapter is really hammering home just how much jc is speaking from a script here. wwx tells jc to say "今后魏无羡无论做���什么事，都与云梦江氏无关." and jc says "今后无论此人有何动作，一概与云梦江氏无关" the only meaningful difference is that he says 'this person' instead of wwx's name)

I've seen it said that this bit, the use of 'enemy' was said without wei wuxian's approval, that jc deviated from the script just to hurt his ex-shixiong for leaving him. And that this is what caused all the other clans to turn against wei wuxian. Regardless of if this is what jc and wwx discussed, or if jc had malicious motivations for it (considering my conclusions above, you can guess where i fall) it doesn't really matter, because the novel tells us when the clans completely freak out and become convinced wei wuxian is out to get them (though of course they've been wringing their hands about it since the literal day wwx ran off with the wen, months before jiang cheng visited) very neatly in chapter 75!

It's when they find out about Wen Ning.

And how do they find out about Wen Ning?

Because Wei Wuxian took him on nighthunts! And they kicked ass!

...Wei Wuxian, my man, why are you on nighthunts??? Why are you showing off your incredibly cool sentient fierce corpse buddy, who is way better and stronger than all the other fierce corpses, in front of the whole cultivation world??

Whatever his motivations (extra money, maybe?? they were strapped for crash) I can only draw the conclusion wwx had already given up on appearing calm or non-threatening and didn't care if the clans thought he was a threat, because they'd believe whatever they wanted anyway. Which he seems to clearly be aware of the whole time.

Regardless, we know that this is what created the myth of the Yiling patriarch. It's literally when the title first shows up!

Even if you really believe jc was secretly plotting against wwx in chapter 73, he's clearly doing a shit job of it because nothing he said made anywhere near as big an impact as this. Flopped!

The other point people use to argue Jiang Cheng caused wei wuxian's downfall is Jin Guangyao's speech in Guanyin temple about how jiang cheng could have saved wei wuxian if only he stood by him. Setting aside that jin guangyao is trying to get into jiang cheng's head here, and isn't necessarily saying what he really believes (though it very well might be! who knows with a character like jgy. assuming he's always lying is just as misleading as assuming he's always saying the truth) the fact is, if you read the speech closely, what he's talking about is not the 'public enemy' line, he's talking about the bond between them. The fact that people wanted wei wuxian out of yunmeng jiang, because the two were too powerful together.

He's talking about that one time Jiang Cheng very publically kicked wei wuxian out of the sect!

Which, unbeknownst to Jin Guangyao, was in fact Wei Wuxian's idea the whole time.

final score: 3 for you wei wuxian, you go wei wuxian! And nothing for Jiang Cheng bye.

[leclerc-hs]

don't wake the kids - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x nanny!reader (fem) summary: in which you got his daughter to finally fall asleep but risk waking her up not too long later warnings: 18+, slight smut, oral (f-receiving), bad french (please correct me i was tired while writing this lmao), not proofread!!!! word count: 1608 author’s note: i think i’ll write more for them bc i like the idea of single dad charles LMAO. this was fun xoxoxo

PART 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THERE WAS SOMETHING about Mr. Leclerc that always made you stare at him in admiration. Maybe it was the fact that he always excelled at everything he did. For instance, raising a daughter on his own couldn’t have been easy. Hell, merely spending a single night watching over his kid has you feeling thoroughly drained. So, when Charles came home to you sprawled along his couch with the TV on a low volume, he wasn’t surprised. In fact, the sight brought a grin to his lips. You were the absolute cutest thing he had ever seen. Aside from his own daughter of course.

You weren’t even aware of the impact you left on him and his daughter. There wasn’t a day where you weren’t mentioned by his daughter. She adored you, and he did too.

“Comment était-elle?” How was she?  His voice was deep as he dropped his keys on the table of the entry way table. “Fatiguée?” Tired?

You barely moved as he approached the room, too comfortable to even sit all the way up for him. His hands rest in the pockets of his dress pants as he leaned up against the arch of the living room, suit jacket slung over his shoulder, eyes never straying from yours. 

You felt yourself swallowing harshly at the sight of him. He’s so fucking hot. “Elle était un ange!” She was an angel! There was a soft glow of moonlight that seeped through the curtains, casting a gentle radiance on the room as you whispered those words. You were whispering, careful to not wake her in the next room over. But also, in attempt to hide the desire in your voice. It would be a complete lie if you said you didn’t find him attractive. If you didn’t think about him that way.

With a subtle exhalation, Charles gracefully moved away from the archway, making his way towards the couch. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you, his head finding a comfortable perch on the back cushions, a gentle smile gracing his features. His legs extended languidly, and the contours of his thigh muscles subtly asserted themselves through the delicate fabric of his dress pants.

Turning his head to look at you, “Would you mind staying in the spare room tonight?” 

His eyes, an enchanting shade of green, held you captive in a mesmerizing trance. Lost in their depths, his question became a distant echo, momentarily forgotten in the captivating allure of those verdant depths.

It wasn’t an abnormal question. At least, not anymore it wasn’t. You’ve been watching his daughter for months now and have occasionally crashed at his when it was too late at night. When you didn’t answer right away, lost in thought, Charles felt the need to wearily add an “I’m too tired to take you home.”

It’s not that you didn’t have your license, but you didn’t have a car. And because it meant more money, you always said yes. At least you always told yourself it was for the money. But it really was for all the times you got to see a shirtless Charles in the morning. His hair all disheveled, eyes full of sleep. The rasp in his voice. And also, the breakfast.

His hand swiftly dropped to your exposed thigh, the tennis skirt adorning your body doing little to cover you. He patted the area right above your knee softly for your attention, “Je suppose que tu n’as pas de vêtements; je vais te trouver quelque chose.” I assume you don’t have clothes; I’ll grab you something. The touch was so miniscule, so quick, that you could barely grasp the concept that it happened before he was already standing.

Although staying over wasn’t new, borrowing his clothes was.

You found yourself unable to speak as he stood from the couch and made his way to his room. The air was charged with a delicate tension. You were convinced it was the suit that had you stumbling for words, or maybe the fact you haven’t had sex in months and Charles is just that fucking hot, and in front of you, looking at you, touching you.

“J’espère que cela est assez bon.” I hope these are good enough. Bathed in the gentle luminescence of the room, Charles gazes down at you with an intensity the captures the essence of the moment. In his hands, he holds a neatly folded pile of clothes, extending them toward you with a certain grace. A faint, sleepy smile graces your lips as you accept them. 

With a languid elegance, you begin to rise from the comfort of the couch, only to find Charles extending his hand toward you. His fingers confidently entwine with yours, pulling you up. Although, it seems Charles underestimated his strength because you are sent flying to your feet, awkwardly tripping in the process. But before you can make a total fool of yourself, Charles is slipping an arm around your waist, holding you to his chest.

You can feel your cheeks redden in embarrassment, “Je suis tellement désole.” I’m so sorry.

You feel Charles laugh reverberate in his chest, making you more alert of just how close you two were. “Ne sois pas désolée.” Don’t be sorry.

In that suspended moment, time seemed to stretch, creating a timeless place where you and Charles were encapsulated. Locked in a shared gaze, the world outside this intimate bubble ceased to exist. Uncertainty lingered in the air, an unspoken question hovering between you two. Charles’ firm hold persisted, grounding the moment in the tangible warmth of his touch. 

As the stillness enveloped you, his eyes were fixated on your flushed cheeks, a canvas painted in hues of warmth. The intensity of his gaze conveyed an admiration that transcended words. To Charles, the sight of your blushing complexion was nothing short of captivating – an endearing revelation of vulnerability that only heightened your allure.

“Tellement jolie,” So pretty. The words were so soft. Barely audible if it wasn’t for your proximity. It was as if he didn’t even know he said them out loud.

You felt frozen while trying to decide if this was a dream or not. But when the pads of Charles thumbs made way to your face, tracing your bottom lip slowly, you knew you were fucked.

“Est-ce que je peux?” Can I?

You wanted to scream. Yes! You felt your stomach churning with need. But externally, you were calm. You needed to be quiet.

You made the move to nod your head when his lips collided with yours. It was slow and tentative at first. Like he was trying to test the waters. He pulled away for a moment, eyes staring into yours once again, as if he needed to make sure you were okay with this.

But as soon as he saw your lips draw into a smile, he knew he was fucked.

The second time your lips met it was feverish and messy. All tongue and no air. The clothes that he handed you previously, now lay on the floor in a messy pile, your hands sliding around his neck. You both go tumbling down onto the couch.

He groaned quietly into your mouth – a sound as if the taste of you was something he craved his whole life. His hands dropped from your jaw, closing around your neck, as you felt him push your further into the couch cushion with the weight of his body.

“J’ai besoin de toi,” I need you.  You managed to slip the words out, your fingers trailing through his hair on the back of his head.

Before you had the chance to press your lips back together, he was pulling away, leaving you breathless and a little confused until his hands dropped to the waistband of your skirt. His fingers shoving their way in and pulling them down, your underwear being yanked off in the process. His gaze met yours once more, filled with anticipation and eagerness.

“Tu as l’air tellement putain de bien comme ça.” You look so fucking good like this.

Like this. Spread out and beneath him. Completely bare and whimpering for him. 

You could hear him curse to himself as he draped your leg over his shoulder, seeing how wet you already were. 

The first drag of his tongue on you was enough to make your back arch instantly. He groaned, his nose brushing against your clit as he dipped his tongue inside of you. Every dip of his tongue sent you bucking your hips harder against him. And he loved it. 

With every stoke of his tongue, your fingers fisted his hair tighter. You began to buck your hips, so close to reaching your orgasm, but he denied. His hands were quick to push your hips down onto the couch. He wanted to hear you beg. 

“Charles,” you sighed softly.

“Hm?” You didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smirking. His tongue was placing slow licks to your clit, light enough to keep you right on the edge.

“S’il te plaît.” Please.

Charles was back sucking on your clit in less than a second, his hands sliding up to your covered breasts, squeezing them. He moaned into your pussy, the sound enough to send you spiraling over the edge. You gripped onto anything that was near and placed it over your face, trying to cover the moans that were escaping your lips.

Your body shook as you pressed the pillow into your face. He licked you as you came down and didn’t stop until you were practically shoving him off.

His lips were glossy and puffy, coated with you. A smirk on his face as he stood up and looked down at you completely flushed on his couch, half bare. You looked at the bulge of his cock, pressing against the seams of his dress pants, and then back up at his eyes.

“Bedroom?”

[solxamber]

Tides of Affection - Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

You've chosen Azul!

Falling for Azul is gradual, yet natural, just like the ebb and flow of currents.

Prologue ; 1k Masterlist

You hold your phone for a moment, mentally preparing yourself for the call. After a lot of back and forth in your mind, you’ve finally decided to accept Azul’s date invitation. As much as you tried to play it cool, the thought of an exclusive dinner at Mostro Lounge had been lingering in your head all week.

The phone rings once, and you hear a professional but familiar voice. "This is Azul—"

"I’ll go on the date with you."

A loud crash echoes from the other end, followed by a distinct, undignified yelp. You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle the laugh that’s bubbling up. There’s a beat of awkward silence, then a very obvious sound of someone—likely Azul—scrambling to recover his composure.

"I-I mean, excellent! Yes, that sounds... wonderful," he continues, trying to adopt his usual smooth tone but failing miserably. You can almost see him pushing his glasses up, his face pink as he adds, "I'll pick you up tonight. Dress... appropriately."

That night, Azul shows up at Ramshackle looking like he’s spent hours meticulously choosing the perfect outfit. He’s wearing his best suit, his glasses polished to perfection. When you answer the door, he offers you his arm, clearly attempting to channel his inner gentleman.

The two of you walk toward Mostro Lounge in comfortable silence, and when you arrive, you’re stunned. The restaurant is completely empty, save for a beautifully set table in the middle, lit by soft candlelight. It’s a perfect mix of intimate and extravagant.

"Azul... this is amazing," you say, genuinely impressed.

Azul’s face lights up at your praise. "I’m glad you approve. I wanted tonight to be... memorable."

Before you can reply, Floyd suddenly appears out of nowhere, and your eyes widen. He's wearing his usual Mostro Lounge uniform but with a huge, fake mustache taped to his face. He walks over to the table, arms outstretched, and starts speaking in the worst French accent you’ve ever heard.

“Bonsoooiiiir, mes amiiiis!” Floyd exclaims, throwing in some exaggerated hand gestures for good measure. “Tonight, I will be your serrrrveur extraordinaire! What shall I bring ze beautiful couple to eet?"

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting out laughing, while Azul’s face looks like it’s seconds away from bursting into flames. He’s frantically signaling something to the side, mouthing at Floyd to cut it out.

Floyd, of course, ignores this entirely and leans in close, waggling his fake mustache. “Perhaps ze... escargot? Or ze finest lobstah?”

Azul is about five seconds from collapsing into the floor when Jade appears, ever the picture of calm, and gently steers Floyd away. “Floyd, I believe your expertise is required in the kitchen.”

Floyd whines loudly. “Awww, c’mon! I wanna see Azul embarrass himself! It’s funny watching him mess up in front of his little date!”

“I’m sure you’ll find another way to entertain yourself,” Jade says, completely unfazed, as he firmly guides his twin back into the kitchen.

Azul looks like he’s dying inside. “I deeply apologize for that,” he mutters, mortified beyond belief.

You can't help but laugh. “Honestly? I think it was hilarious. Floyd's got... quite the talent for making things interesting.”

Azul lets out a long, exhausted sigh, shaking his head. “Interesting is one way to put it.”

He reaches for his glass of water, but his hand is visibly trembling, and when he takes a sip, some of it dribbles down the side of the glass. You can’t help but notice how tense he is, his shoulders drawn tight and his eyes darting nervously between you and the table. It’s honestly... kind of adorable.

Feeling bold, you reach across the table and take his hand gently in yours.

Azul freezes, eyes widening in shock.

“You don’t need to be so nervous,” you say softly, giving his hand a light squeeze. “I’m here because I like you, Azul. You don’t need to impress me—I’m already impressed.”

Azul’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and when he finally speaks, his voice cracks. “You... you like me?”

Your expression softens. “Yeah, Azul. I do.”

He blinks, the gears in his head turning like he can’t quite process what you’re saying. Then, slowly, his body relaxes. His shoulders drop, his grip on your hand becomes less stiff, and though his face is still flushed, he gives you a small, genuine smile.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, the tension in his voice fading. “That... means more to me than you know.”

From that point on, the conversation flows more easily. You find yourselves chatting about your day, and you regale Azul with the latest disaster involving Sebek, Ace, and Deuce.

“So Sebek gets into this huge argument with Ace over who can jump higher, right? But in the middle of it, Deuce trips over a bucket and knocks down this entire stack of potions—"

Azul’s eyes widen in alarm. “Oh no...”

“Oh yeah,” you continue, grinning. “There were explosions everywhere. Sebek’s hair turned bright purple, Ace got covered in glitter, and Deuce? He’s been sneezing feathers for hours.”

Azul shakes his head, exasperated but clearly amused. “Your group is nothing if not... unpredictable.”

“You’re telling me. Poor Crewel had to ban us from the alchemy lab for the rest of the week.”

You both share a laugh, and by the time the food arrives—delivered by a very professional-looking Jade—the mood has lightened considerably. The food, as expected, is incredible, and you find yourself thoroughly enjoying the rest of the evening.

When the meal is done, Azul insists on walking you back to Ramshackle. The night air is cool and crisp, and there’s a comfortable silence between you as the two of you stroll back through the grounds.

As you reach the doorstep, Azul hesitates, looking like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. Before he can overthink it, you take his hand, raise it to your lips, and press a soft kiss to his knuckles.

Azul’s reaction is instantaneous. His entire body goes rigid, his face turning a deep shade of red. He stares at you like he’s short-circuiting, and for a moment, you genuinely wonder if you’ve broken him.

“G-Goodnight!” he squeaks, his voice a full octave higher than usual. Then, without warning, he practically flees from the scene, leaving you standing there, thoroughly amused.

You watch him disappear into the distance, shaking your head fondly. There’s no denying it—tonight was an absolute success.

It’s a typical PE day, which, for you, means sitting on the sidelines watching your classmates either struggle or excel at flying lessons. As someone with no magic, you’ve been mercifully excused from the torment of broom flying, so instead, you get to watch the chaos unfold.

Vargas is barking encouragement at the students, his voice booming across the field. "Come on, put your back into it! Fly like your life depends on it!"

You casually lean back, eyes scanning the group. Some are soaring confidently through the air like they've been born on a broomstick, while others—well, others are just... Azul.

You spot him hovering about an inch off the ground, his hands gripping the broom with the intensity of someone holding onto a cliff’s edge for dear life. His face is pale, and there's an unmistakable look of pure existential dread in his eyes.

"He's going to fall," you mutter under your breath.

Sure enough, his body wobbles, and he teeters dangerously to one side. Without thinking, you bolt across the field, reaching him just as his broom starts to tip. Your hands find their way to his waist, steadying him before disaster strikes.

Azul nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden contact. “W-what are you—"

“You were about to fall,” you say, shooting him a quick grin as you hold him in place.

Azul’s entire body trembles under your touch, and his usual calm façade cracks as he struggles to keep himself from spontaneously combusting. His grip on the broom tightens as he attempts to regain some sense of balance.

From behind you, Grim, who's been lounging nearby, rolls his eyes dramatically. “Seriously? He’s like a centimeter off the ground. He’s not gonna die if he falls.”

You shoot Grim a look but can’t help the snicker that escapes. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

Floyd, who’s been casually observing the scene from a distance, bursts into laughter. “Oh man, Shrimpy’s out here saving Azul from the ground! Classic!”

Jade, ever the composed twin, nods in agreement, though there's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Quite the heroic rescue, I must say.”

You stick your tongue out at them, ignoring their teasing as you turn your attention back to Azul. “You okay?”

He nods, though the pink flush creeping up his neck says otherwise. “I-I’m fine,” he stammers, clearly out of his element.

From Azul’s perspective, however, things are much more dire. He's not just being saved from an embarrassing fall—he's certain that he’s staring into the face of an angel. You haven’t taken your hands off his waist yet, and his mind is racing with the realization.

There are literal sparkles around you, he’s sure of it. His thoughts scatter in a million directions as he tries, and fails, to focus on anything other than the warmth of your hands still holding him steady.

Why are they still holding me like this? Do I smell like fish? No, wait, I don’t! Is this what people feel like before they combust?

Then, just as suddenly as you grabbed him, you pull your hands away, and Azul feels the loss immediately.

“Thanks,” he manages to choke out, though it comes out sounding more like a croak than anything remotely suave.

“You sure you're alright?” You eye him for a moment longer, clearly amused by his frazzled state.

Azul straightens his glasses, desperately trying to regain his composure. “Yes... perfectly fine. Though I believe I owe you for the timely intervention,” he says, his voice steadying with every word. “Perhaps another dinner, to... properly thank you?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Azul, are you asking me out on another date?”

He clears his throat, suddenly very focused on a non-existent speck of dust on his broom. “I—I suppose that’s one way to phrase it, yes.”

You smile, clearly amused. “Alright, I accept. But only because I saved you from a one-centimeter fall.”

Azul blushes furiously at that, but he nods. “Of course. You’re a true hero.”

As you walk back to your spot on the sidelines, Floyd and Jade exchange a look, clearly holding back more laughter.

“Man, Azul’s gonna lose his mind if this keeps up,” Floyd says, grinning ear to ear.

“Indeed,” Jade replies smoothly. “It seems they’ve found the perfect way to keep him grounded.”

It’s a relatively normal day at Night Raven College—by normal, of course, it means you’re trying to prevent Ramshackle from falling apart at the seams for the fifteenth time that week. You’re in the kitchen, battling yet another suspiciously leaky faucet when your phone buzzes with a message. Azul.

Your heart flutters, but then a mild sense of concern settles in—Azul doesn’t usually text you unless it’s something important. Maybe another business proposal? An invitation to the Mostro Lounge to try his latest ‘limited time’ seafood special? But no, when you open the message, it’s short and strange: "Be ready by 5 PM. Dress warm. See you soon."

Uh… What?

Now, Azul isn’t exactly the type to do spontaneous things, so this throws you off completely. But, intrigued and with no pressing emergencies (for now), you throw on a warm jacket, scarf, and gloves, wondering what he has planned.

Is it another attempt to woo you with his business acumen? A surprise study session? You’re equal parts curious and worried about what sort of ordeal this could lead to.

By 5 PM, you’re waiting outside, pacing in front of the creaky Ramshackle door when, sure enough, Azul arrives. He’s looking incredibly out of his element—wrapped up in an enormous winter coat, cheeks pink from the cold, a thick woolen scarf around his neck, and glasses fogging up slightly from his breath. Honestly, he looks like he’s just walked into a freezing wilderness.

"Azul, are we... going on an arctic expedition or something?" you tease, but you’re already grinning at how adorably overdressed he is for the mild chill.

Azul clears his throat, looking a bit embarrassed as he pushes his glasses up. “No, nothing of the sort. I merely wished to—ah—show you something. Follow me.”

Now you’re even more intrigued. "Okay, but if this turns into a surprise business venture, I reserve the right to mock you for the rest of time," you warn playfully, falling in step beside him as he leads you out of the Ramshackle courtyard and down the campus path.

As you walk, the usual hustle and bustle of the school fades into the background. It's quiet, and you notice that Azul keeps glancing at you like he’s checking to see if you’re still there, as though he’s afraid you’ll vanish into thin air.

Eventually, you reach the outskirts of campus where a small forest lies ahead. Azul stops and turns toward you with an almost... nervous look.

"I wanted to take you somewhere that I rarely show others," he admits, avoiding your eyes as he fidgets with the edge of his scarf. "It’s... personal."

You tilt your head, heart already beating a little faster at the way he’s looking so serious and vulnerable. This isn’t the Azul that deals in contracts and meticulous plans. This is Azul without the safety net.

"Personal?" you ask, softening your tone. "Lead the way."

The two of you trek through the trees, and you can’t help but notice how ridiculously over-prepared Azul seems for this—he’s walking carefully, as if he's bracing for quicksand, making sure not to slip on any imaginary hazards. It’s both sweet and hilarious at the same time.

Finally, after what feels like a mini hike, you break through a clearing, and your breath catches in your throat.

You’re standing at the edge of a frozen lake, its surface glimmering under the evening sky. Lanterns are strung along the trees surrounding the lake, casting a warm glow over the ice. There’s even a small blanket laid out with a thermos of what smells like hot cocoa, and a pair of ice skates placed neatly at the edge of the blanket.

Your eyes widen in disbelief. "Wait... are we—are we going ice skating?"

Azul, now looking a little sheepish, nods, refusing to meet your gaze. "I... thought it might be enjoyable," he says, his voice quieter than usual. "I know it’s not something I’d typically do, but I—well, I wanted to do something special for you."

Your heart practically melts on the spot. Azul is definitely not the ‘outdoorsy’ type, let alone someone who’d voluntarily ice skate. Yet, here he is, dragging himself far out of his comfort zone just to plan something this sweet.

He nervously adds, "I’ll admit, I’m not... terribly skilled at this activity. But I’ve—uh—practiced."

You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing at how ridiculously cute and nervous he sounds, though the image of Azul trying to practice ice skating in secret is now firmly lodged in your brain. "You did all of this for me?" you ask, warmth spreading through your chest.

Azul nods, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "I... wanted to show my appreciation. You’ve done a lot for me, and I thought... maybe this would be a pleasant way to repay you."

Your grin is unstoppable at this point. You don’t even care that it’s freezing or that you’ve never been the best skater. The fact that Azul has gone to this much trouble for you? You’re already swooning.

"Azul, this is..." You don’t know how to express how touched you are, so instead, you grab the skates and immediately start putting them on. "Come on, let’s skate!"

Azul seems startled by your enthusiasm but follows suit, albeit much more carefully. You can already tell he’s bracing for disaster as he edges toward the ice like he’s about to step onto a minefield.

The second he sets foot on the ice, you see why he’s so nervous. His legs immediately start wobbling like a newborn giraffe, and you barely suppress a giggle as he clutches at your arm for dear life.

"I-I told you I wasn’t very good at this," he mumbles, his face turning a bright shade of pink.

"It’s okay, I’ve got you," you reassure him, though the effort it takes not to laugh is almost painful. "Just hold onto me."

Together, you manage a few laps around the lake, though Azul’s feet continue to betray him, slipping and sliding more often than not. Every time he stumbles, you’re right there to steady him, which only seems to make him more flustered.

But the more you skate together, the more comfortable he becomes. And at some point, when he’s finally not wobbling like a newborn calf, you realize just how thoughtful and genuine his effort is. He did this for you.

By the time you’re sitting together on the blanket, sipping the hot cocoa, you’re grinning like an idiot, completely smitten. Azul is still embarrassed, probably replaying every awkward moment on the ice in his head, but you’re too busy falling for him to care.

"I can’t believe you did all of this," you murmur, leaning your head against his shoulder.

Azul swallows, his ears turning red, but he smiles shyly. "I’m glad you enjoyed it."

You glance up at him, and in that moment, you know you’ve completely fallen. Because here is Azul—stoic, business-minded Azul—going out of his way to make you smile, even if it means doing something as foreign to him as ice skating.

"I did," you say softly, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "More than you know."

The pipe in Ramshackle bursts with a violent hiss, and before you know it, water is everywhere—gushing from the ceiling, flooding the floor, and turning your already dilapidated home into a mini waterpark.

You’re ankle-deep in the chaos, trying desperately to block the spray with your hands like that’s going to do anything. Grim is perched on your shoulder, equally panicking but trying to maintain his usual bravado.

"Hey! Do somethin' before we drown, hench-human!" Grim barks, his little paws flailing as he attempts to swipe at the water like it’s something he can defeat with a few swats.

"I'm trying!" you shout back, grabbing a bucket and using it to… well, collect more water? Honestly, you’re not even sure what you’re doing at this point. The pipe is making noises like it’s laughing at your efforts, and you feel a wave of frustration welling up in your chest.

Just then, your phone rings, startling both you and Grim.

"Not now, Grim!" you yell, struggling to balance him while your other hand is busy with an already overflowing bucket.

"Uh, it's not me, hench-human!" Grim snaps, poking the phone with his tail until you fumble it into your hand.

You glance at the screen, only to see Azul calling you. Oh no, this is not how you imagined the day would go.

"Azul?" you answer, already sounding defeated. You don’t even get the chance to properly greet him before he’s asking, all smooth and casual, “Are you free for dinner tonight?”

And that’s when you lose it.

"Azul!" you practically sob into the phone. “Ramshackle is flooded! The kitchen’s drowning, Grim’s trying to help but he has paws, and I’m pretty sure I'm going to skewer Crowley when I see him next!”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end as you try not to full-on cry about the soggy state of your life.

Azul’s voice, calm as ever, replies, “Stay right there. I’ll take care of it.”

You barely have time to process his words when, not even 15 minutes later, there’s a knock at your door. You slosh through the water to answer it, only to find a team of professional-looking people standing there with equipment in hand.

"We’re here to fix your plumbing," one of them says, as if this is a perfectly normal emergency call on a late evening.

"What the—?" You step back, utterly baffled as they walk in like a squad of elite disaster-rescue plumbers. They immediately get to work, assessing the damage and patching up the burst pipe like it’s nothing more than a leaky faucet.

You stand there, shell-shocked, as they not only fix the pipe but also take a moment to reinforce some of the more concerning areas of Ramshackle.

Azul appears behind them, watching everything with a critical eye. He’s dressed as impeccably as ever, looking completely unbothered by the soggy mess you’re in the middle of.

“You…” you blink at him, at a loss for words. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Azul gives a small, graceful wave of his hand, like it’s no big deal. “It was the least I could do. I couldn’t very well let you stay in a house that was falling apart, could I?”

Overwhelmed by the gesture, you do the first thing that comes to mind. You hug him. You throw your arms around him and squeeze, feeling genuinely touched by how thoughtful he’s been.

Azul freezes, completely stiff in your embrace, his hands hovering awkwardly as though he’s forgotten how to function as a human being. But after a beat, he tentatively wraps his arms around you, his grip a little unsure, but warm nonetheless.

When you pull back, his cheeks are tinged pink, and he’s not quite meeting your eyes. “I-I hope the repairs were to your satisfaction.”

"They were more than that," you say, giving him a bright smile. “Thank you.”

With the pipe situation under control and Ramshackle’s kitchen looking more presentable than it’s ever been, you realize it’s far too late for the romantic dinner at Mostro Lounge. But there’s a solution for that.

“How about we get some fast food and watch a movie instead?” you suggest, figuring a more casual date would be the perfect end to this bizarre evening.

Azul, still looking mildly flustered from the hug, agrees. “That… sounds lovely.”

You both settle down on the couch with a pile of fast food, picking a movie to watch together. Azul, despite his earlier composure, is tense beside you—staring at the screen but clearly not paying any attention to what’s happening in the movie.

You try not to laugh at how rigid he is, and after a while, you give up on subtlety entirely. Casually, you wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into your side as you lean back against the couch.

His entire body tenses, but he doesn’t resist, instead leaning into you. His head rests lightly against your shoulder, and though you can feel him fidget every few minutes, he gradually relaxes.

You spend the rest of the evening like that, the warmth of the moment making the movie’s plot irrelevant.

The next morning, you wake up, still curled up on the couch with Azul half-draped across you, his head resting comfortably against your chest. You blink groggily at the morning light filtering through the window, then glance down at him.

Azul stirs, waking up and blinking in confusion before realizing the compromising position he’s in. His face goes crimson almost instantly, and he sits up way too fast, nearly knocking himself off the couch.

“I-I—” he starts, trying to find the words while adjusting his glasses, but he’s clearly too flustered to form a coherent sentence.

You, on the other hand, just grin at him, completely at ease. “I’d love to do this again,” you say, voice soft but sincere.

Azul freezes again, staring at you for a moment before a bashful smile slowly creeps onto his face. “I… I would like that too,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

And just like that, the two of you sit there, grinning at each other like lovestruck idiots, the events of the previous night already becoming a sweet memory you’ll both cherish.

It’s a sight to behold: Azul in his element, operating at full power, and you get to witness it firsthand. You’re sitting at one of the booths in the Mostro Lounge, ostensibly there to “visit” but really, you’re here to watch him work. And wow, does he work.

Azul is currently handling a group of students who are clearly way in over their heads, trying to negotiate terms for a favor.

The air is thick with desperation—and that’s just from the students. You watch, entranced, as he slips into full businessman mode, his smile sharp enough to cut through steel.

The poor students don’t stand a chance.

“So, gentlemen, if you sign this contract, I can guarantee that all of your, shall we say, academic concerns will be resolved by the end of the week.” Azul slides the contract across the table with a flourish. His voice is smooth, the kind that lures you in before you realize you’re already caught.

You’re impressed by how easily he manipulates the situation—he’s making them feel like they’re getting the best deal of their lives, but you know better. This is Azul. The house always wins.

One of the students glances at the contract and hesitates. “Uh, are you sure there aren’t any... you know... hidden clauses?”

Azul’s grin widens, eyes gleaming behind his glasses. “Hidden clauses? Why, I’m hurt you would even suggest such a thing.” He places a hand over his heart, like he’s truly wounded. “I run a perfectly legitimate business, I assure you. The terms are all there in black and white.”

You bite back a laugh, watching the students squirm under his gaze. It’s like watching a master at work, and you can't help but admire the way he plays this game so effortlessly. Even when they’re suspicious, he has them eating out of the palm of his hand within seconds.

Azul doesn’t just thrive in this environment—he owns it.

Suddenly, Floyd sidles up next to you, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “You’re drooling, you know.”

You roll your eyes. “Am not.”

“Are too~!” Floyd sing-songs, clearly enjoying your flustered expression. “But I get it. Watching Azul reel in his prey is like watching one of those nature documentaries—where the shark’s about to take down a baby seal. Brutal, but you can’t look away.”

You elbow him lightly. “You make it sound so predatory.”

Floyd just laughs. “Because it is. You’re watching Azul, right? Same thing.”

Across the room, Azul is wrapping up the deal. The students, clearly defeated, sign the contract with trembling hands. Azul’s smile never falters. “Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen. I look forward to seeing how your grades improve.”

They leave, looking like they’ve just sold their souls. Which, knowing Azul, might actually be the case. As soon as they’re out of sight, Azul turns and catches your gaze, his expression instantly softening.

Gone is the sharp businessman—now, he’s just Azul again. He walks over to you, adjusting his glasses with that trademark confidence.

“Well, how did I do?” he asks, though you can tell from the way he’s standing that he already knows the answer.

“Terrifying, as usual,” you reply, giving him an amused grin. “I think you might have scared them into improving their grades out of sheer survival instinct.”

Azul chuckles, sitting down beside you. “I prefer to think of it as... motivation. It’s important to give people a little push every now and then.”

Floyd, still lingering nearby, snickers. “A push, he says. More like you shoved them off a cliff and waved goodbye.”

Azul shoots Floyd a warning glance. “And you’re supposed to be working, not lurking.”

Floyd shrugs. “I’m watching you work. That counts.”

Azul sighs but doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he turns his attention back to you. “So? What do you think of my... business?”

“I think it’s impressive,” you admit, leaning forward slightly. “And also a little scary how easily you do this.”

Azul’s smile turns a bit sheepish, which is honestly adorable considering how confident he was just moments ago. “I just know how to handle people. It’s all about finding their... weak points and using them to negotiate.”

“Yeah, you’re a real charmer,” you tease. “But don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re a bit of a softie when it comes to me.”

Azul’s face flushes a light shade of pink, and he quickly adjusts his glasses again, clearly flustered. “Well, that’s... different. You’re—special.”

Floyd, ever the instigator, snorts. “Special, huh? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Floyd, out,” Azul mutters through gritted teeth, but you can’t help but laugh. The banter, the contrast between business-mode Azul and flustered, bashful Azul—it’s all incredibly endearing.

You lean back, still watching him, completely entranced by the way he balances his ruthless efficiency with these softer moments. He’s a force to be reckoned with, both in business and... well, with you. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You’re helping Sam with a delivery of books, stacking them in your arms and heading down the hallway like some kind of overly burdened delivery person.

It’s just your luck that today of all days, the stack of books you’re carrying makes it impossible to see ahead of you. But you’re used to this. After all, navigating life at this chaotic academy means half of it is spent balancing things you probably shouldn’t be holding while dodging all sorts of absurd situations.

You’re about to drop off the books at an empty classroom, or so you think. You shove open the door, barely catching a glimpse of something—or someone—just before you crash right into them.

There’s a moment of complete, cartoonish chaos as you both lose balance. The next thing you know, you’re flat on your back, books scattered everywhere, and the weight of someone is suddenly pinning you to the floor.

“Wh—” You’re about to shout something half-baked like "What the heck?" when you hear a choked gasp from above you.

You look up—and to your horror, you see Azul standing just outside the classroom door. His face is twisted into an expression so heartbroken, so dramatically devastated, that it looks like he’s witnessing the betrayal of the century.

Oh no.

You quickly realize how this must look: a mysterious person on top of you, you flat on the floor, books scattered everywhere. If this were one of those tragic romance novels Azul undoubtedly reads in secret, this would be the scene right before the misunderstood breakup.

Azul’s face is pale, his eyes wide behind his glasses, and you swear you can see the exact moment his heart shatters into tiny, irreparable pieces.

He opens his mouth, probably to say something cutting or deeply tragic, but instead, all that comes out is a strangled sound, and he abruptly turns on his heel, bolting down the hallway at a speed you didn’t even know he was capable of.

"Azul! Wait!" You panic, shoving the poor soul on top of you off with a quick, distracted apology. You barely hear them stammer out a confused “s-sorry” before you’re sprinting down the hall, books and all common sense abandoned in favor of chasing after Azul.

How is he so fast?! You didn’t know his legs could move this quickly, considering how calculated and leisurely his movements usually are. You half expect him to trip on his own dignity, but no, he’s moving like he’s being chased by a kraken.

“Azul!” You yell again, heart pounding as you finally manage to catch up to him. You grab his wrist and yank him into the nearest room, which, as luck would have it, is the tiniest broom closet you’ve ever seen.

The door slams shut behind you, plunging both of you into a cramped, dust-smelling room. The only sounds are the awkward shuffling of brooms and the frantic thudding of your heart.

Azul is rigid, avoiding your gaze like the floor is the most interesting thing in existence. His face is still a mess of hurt and confusion, and you’re absolutely not about to let him spiral into a misunderstanding-fueled melodrama.

“Azul.” You don’t give him time to wallow in whatever tragic narrative he’s cooked up in his head. You’re done with misunderstandings.

You have enough stress dealing with Crowley, and everything else in this cursed place and you're pretty sure that your life expectancy has halved since you came here—you’re not about to waste your remaining time on needless drama.

Without another word, you close the distance between you and kiss him. Hard.

Azul freezes for a moment, completely caught off guard, but then, just as desperately, he kisses you back. It’s clumsy and a little messy in the cramped space, but there’s no mistaking the way his hands cling to you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

When you finally pull back for air, both of you are breathless, and Azul looks like his entire world has been flipped upside down. “W-What was that?” he asks, voice shaky.

“That,” you say, still catching your breath, “was to stop you from jumping to conclusions.”

Azul blinks at you, clearly still processing everything, so you take the opportunity to explain what happened. “I was just delivering some books, I swear! I crashed into someone by accident, and they fell on top of me. That’s it. Nothing else. I was about to say sorry when you walked in.”

The tension in his shoulders visibly melts away, and his usual composed expression begins to return. Relief floods his features, and he even lets out a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle. “I… I see. I suppose I was being a bit… hasty in my assumptions.”

You raise an eyebrow. “A bit?”

“Alright, perhaps more than a bit,” he admits, looking slightly sheepish now. He pushes his glasses up his nose, his face still a bit flushed from the kiss. “I’m sorry for running away like that.”

You smile, feeling your heart lighten. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“I won’t,” Azul promises, and then, as if remembering something, he clears his throat awkwardly. “So… um… does this mean…?”

You grin at him, already knowing what he’s about to ask. “Azul, I want you to be mine.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks like he might pass out from sheer emotional overload. But then, a shy smile tugs at his lips, and he nods. “Only if you’ll be mine, too.”

“Deal.” You lean in and kiss him again, softer this time, but no less passionate. He kisses you back eagerly, his arms wrapping around you in the tight, confined space of the broom closet.

Then, just as you’re fully immersed in the moment, the door creaks open.

You both freeze mid-kiss, turning your heads in unison to see Sam standing there, leaning against the doorframe with a knowing grin on his face.

“Well, well,” he drawls, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So this is where you disappeared to, huh?”

You and Azul are both bright red, scrambling to separate yourselves from each other, but Sam just waves a hand casually. “Don’t mind me. Carry on, lovebirds.” He winks, giving you a conspiratorial look before closing the door behind him.

You’re left standing there, dumbfounded and flustered, while Azul stares at the now-closed door like he’s questioning every life choice that led to this moment.

“Well… that happened,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck.

Azul lets out a soft groan, burying his face in his hands. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

You laugh, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer. “Hey, at least we’re in this together, right?”

He peeks at you from between his fingers, and after a moment, he smiles, leaning into your embrace. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

The rumors have spread like wildfire. You and Azul—caught making out in a broom closet. Seriously? Of all the places! And you're pretty sure it's that guy who crashed into you earlier, seeking some petty revenge for toppling over you like a stack of books.

The first person to bring it up? Ace, of course.

“So, broom closet, huh? I always knew you were bold, but that’s next level!” he grins, nudging Deuce, who’s already fighting back laughter. Deuce tries to stay composed but fails miserably, snickering. “Dude, a broom closet?”

Azul, standing beside you, looks like he’s two seconds away from melting into a puddle. His face is redder than Riddle on an off day. “I… I don’t… this is...—"

Before he can finish, Floyd suddenly appears, draping his arm over your shoulder. “Whaaat? You didn’t invite me to the show? How rude!” His grin is practically splitting his face. “Azul, you dog! In a closet, huh?”

Jade, always the calm instigator, steps in, his expression innocent but his tone wicked. “How bold of you, Azul. One might expect a more... sophisticated venue, but I suppose a broom closet has its own appeal.”

Azul’s hands are trembling by now, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. He looks like he’s weighing the pros and cons of teleporting to another dimension. Meanwhile, you’re basking in the chaos. If they think they can make you flinch, they’re sorely mistaken.

“Oh, come on, guys,” you say with a smirk, wrapping an arm around Azul’s shoulders. “I mean, look at him. Who wouldn’t want a piece of this? I’d like to see you do better.”

Azul squeaks at your boldness, his body going rigid beside you, but you just give him a reassuring squeeze. “They’re just jealous. Right, dear?”

Ace nearly chokes on his own laughter. “Jealous? Of a broom closet make-out sesh? Sure, we all dream of that kind of luxury.”

Floyd, still howling, points a finger at Azul, “I never thought I’d see the day where you’d make the headlines for this.”

Azul buries his face in his hands. “This is… I can’t… Floyd, please stop.”

Jade chimes in, “I believe this is the first time I’ve seen you so… exposed, Azul.”

You shrug, completely unfazed. “What can I say? We’re just out here, living our best lives, making out in closets.” You give them all a casual salute. “Catch you later, losers!”

Grim, who's been sitting on your shoulder the whole time, pipes up, “I approve! Azul’s rich, and my henchhuman is happy, so I get premium tuna. Everybody wins!”

The teasing? Relentless. But you just wink at Azul and squeeze his hand before pulling him out of the mess. “C’mon, let’s leave these losers behind. They can’t handle us.”

As you walk away, hand in hand, Azul finally finds his voice, though it’s barely above a whisper. “I... I didn’t know you could turn something so mortifying into... whatever that was.”

You grin. “Stick with me, Azul. We’ll be the power couple everyone wishes they were.”

Azul, though still red-faced, can’t help but chuckle under his breath, squeezing your hand just a little tighter as the two of you stroll away, leaving the chaos—and the teasing—far behind.

1k Masterlist ; Main Masterlist

I had to edit this in a hurry because I was convinced Jamil was gonna win till Azul swept in the last few hours

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for Taz; “Billy and Damian and the whole soulmate thing”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“William. I would like to interject before the conversation potentially escalates into you choosing to exit the Watchtower and state that I would prefer we establish a method of communication independent of your League credentials,” Robin informs Billy as he slips in closer to him, and Billy–blinks, and then maybe, uh, turns just a little red. “When you have the opportunity, of course.” 

“Um, sure?” Billy tries, feeling flustered. He has no idea why he feels flustered by that, but like–he does, for some reason? Robin is standing a lot closer to him now, though. And also like . . . kind of leaning in, now? Like–towards him? 

Billy is feeling very flustered now. 

“I mean, I’m free right now, I don’t actually feel like hanging around to get lectured or anything,” he says, because he does not in fact feel like hanging around to get lectured or anything and also, like, right now he would cancel literally any plans that did not involve either an apocalypse or finding a decent place to sleep in a blizzard if Robin asked him to. Like–definitely he would, yeah. 

Possibly even the blizzard thing, really, he can always just crash at the Rock of Eternity for a few days if he’s gotta. 

“Excellent,” Robin says, pulling something out of–well, probably his utility belt, but with his cape in the way Billy can’t actually tell for sure. He holds it out towards him, and Billy peers down at his hand. It looks like a really, really small walkie-talkie or receiver or something, so he’s gonna assume it’s a communicator. Not an earbud-sized one like the Justice League’s field comms, but smaller than a compact mirror and not even big enough to cover Robin’s palm and with an obvious speaker and a couple of very tiny buttons on it. So like, it’s pretty obviously a communicator, he thinks. 

Well, as much as anything a Bat is holding is safe to consider as “obviously” being something, anyway, but yeah. Also, zero percent surprisingly, it’s totally bat-shaped. Like, ears and wings and all. 

Ugh, why is Batman so funny? It is so unfair for Batman to be so funny when Billy’s still trying to be mad at him. 

[tarabyte3]

I think it's fascinating that Perrin referred to marriage as Chandrila's greatest tradition. I think that says almost as much about him as the joy and pleasure parts of his speech. Especially when we consider that (on the outside and with very little knowledge of their past together) Perrin and Mon's marriage doesn't seem like a happy one. Undoubtedly they were both pressured into it by their families as very young teens, IF they were given a choice at all (unlikely). All season 1, they trade barbs intended to hurt, are begrudgingly in each other's company for appearance's sake, and seem like complete opposites in nearly every way, including their morals. She doesn't trust him. She throws him under the bus to save her own skin.

And yet, he ensures she's eaten breakfast. She steals his tea and takes a sip. And yet, they joke and smile at each other—genuine smiles. She makes sure she doesn't miss Perrin's speech and seems affected by the sentiment. And yet, he's clearly jealous of Tay. He was hurt when she seemed to believe he had been gambling again after he promised he wouldn't. And yet, he notices when she's crashing out on the dancefloor and it brings him to a stop.

Genevieve O'Reilly and Tony Gilroy have both hinted that we'll get a closer look at the two of them and their relationship, and I cannot wait. This show has already played with our expectations by presenting Perrin as the awful husband and Tay as the close friend who shares her morals and offers her the support she so desperately needs—the one we're rooting for because of course Mon deserves someone like him, instead, surely—only to pull the rug out from under us. Now Tay is showing his true colors and turning on her when things get difficult, and quickly too! He drops threats and puts her (and the rebellion) at risk, something Perrin, for all his faults and poor company, has never done. So I look forward to seeing what else we've been missing. To hopefully being able to understand Perrin enough to know what HE meant by "our greatest tradition."

(Plus, won't it be horrible and delicious if Perrin ends up being something more? An excellent day for tragedy enjoyers and a MUCH better story than "Mon just plays cutthroat politics and is a vehicle for plot the rest of the season.")

[berrryparfait]

Can o request college au with caleb and or sylus where they’ve been dating since high school and reader doesn’t go to college since she’s a freelance artist but sometimes go to her man’s courses to just be near them while she works. I like to imagine the teacher asking for a volunteer to answer a multiple choice question, and reader who picked up some information, raises her hand and answers it, and get is right

friendly competition . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: finance! sylus, engineering! caleb x artist! fem!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ word count: sylus – 1.1k | caleb – 1k

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: acting my age – the academic

✧ a/n: thank you so much for the request love! sorry this took a whole week TT... i really love writing college aus because the idea of the boys (alongside reader ofc) figuring out what they want in life and chasing their dreams is so heartwarming to me <3

You haven’t seen Sylus in, what, two weeks? The both of you have been so busy lately—him with his presentations on hedge funds and you with the flurry of commissions you’d just received—being in a relationship is beginning to feel like a part-time job.

I should probably go visit him… But when? He’s always in school… An idea strikes you then: crash one of his lectures and impress him with some economic knowledge of your own. I mean, hey, you’re well read and up to date on current affairs. You refuse to believe it would be impossible to outsmart a few students in that class—at least in a few select topics.

Besides, your main objective is to spend some quality time with him, anyway. You’ve been missing him so much lately it hurts, and nighttime video calls are only a temporary consolation. You’ll surprise him with your knowledge in class, take his breath away all over again, and remind him who’s really boss.

Game on.

…

The lecture hall is grander than you expected, with elaborate framework and likely the most sophisticated soundproofing you’ve ever seen. It’s an artistic marvel in itself, and your heart leaps at the sight of it. Anticipation pumps through your veins as you search the crowd of students for your boyfriend. Tall, white hair, red eyes… You simply can’t miss him.

There. He’s sitting next to a friend somewhere in the middle of the theater, sharp concentration written on his face. The class hasn’t even started and he’s already scribbling away on his textbook with a very familiar ballpoint pen. Aww, the one I gave him for his birthday…?

You have to remind yourself to breathe just looking at him in that black button-down, the hard edges of his jaw and cheekbones squeezing your heart like the first inversion of a rollercoaster ride. God, he’s gorgeous.

You find a seat a few rows up, closer to the right, giving you an unobstructed view of him from behind. Good, he hasn’t noticed me yet.

The professor walks in then, a lean, elegant lady wearing a gray suit and stilettos. She looks intimidating. Imposing. Ready to humble every single person sitting in this class. “Good morning, students. Today we’re starting on derivatives.” You can tell by the way the entire class falls silent that she’s someone who knows her stuff. The way she commands attention seems effortless. “Can anyone tell me what a derivative is?”

A hand goes up almost instantly, and you don’t have to look to know whose it is. A deep, rich voice echoes through the lecture hall, equally as commanding as the professor’s. “A derivative is an instrument of sorts, derived from the value of a stock, interest rate, bond…” He trails off, waving a hand as if to say the list goes on. “They’re like contracts. They protect you from risks, market fluctuations… Derivatives help you speculate on how something else moves.”

The professor’s satisfaction is obvious. She smiles and resumes her pacing. “Thank you, Sylus. An excellent answer.” You can tell he’s the star student here. “Now, would anyone like to share with the class an example of a derivative?”

Sylus answers again when no one else makes a move to, and once again his answer brings a grin to her face. You listen to his responses with rapt attention, trying to absorb as much as possible. You understand what’s being discussed. It’s…interesting.

“Another question. Give me an example of a real company using derivatives to hedge currency risk.”

This question, you just might be able to answer. You’d heard of an animation company based in Linkon using currency forwards to secure exchange rates. Here goes nothing.

You raise your hand at the same time Sylus does. Surprise flickers across the professor’s face, but she looks equally delighted to see a fresh face shoot their shot at contributing to the class. She gestures at you and beckons for you to answer.

“I have an example that hits close to home.” You go on about currency forwards and investor confidence and budgeting, using simpler phrases in place of technical terms where the gaps in your understanding lie. The professor nods at you in understanding, and you feel Sylus’ eyes under your skin as they slowly find their way to yours, equally shocked and impressed to see you in his lecture hall, challenging him to a death battle.

What are you doing here? he asks with his gaze. You raise a cheeky brow and give him a smirk to match his, shrugging your shoulders.

The professor doesn’t notice your blush as she commends your valiant effort, and the sudden academic validation makes you blush even harder.

You take turns answering the next few questions, correcting each other and adding on when the opportunity presents itself. Your heart and mind race in tandem as you let your competitive streak intertwine with his, and the feeling is indescribable.

In this theater, it’s just you, him, and the explosive crackle of flirtatious banter.

“O-Okay, you two! That’s enough!” The professor ends the pop quiz then, and you turn around to see the entire lecture hall staring at the two of you like you’ve both grown second heads.

The debate may have ended for now, but the devilish look on his face tells you you’re in for a whole lot more.

…

Everyone gets up to leave the moment class ends, but Sylus makes his way up the stairs to you. He’s grinning that devastating smile again, and you know you’re in trouble. “Missed me?”

You roll your eyes and struggle to fight a smile of your own. “You wish. I only came here to learn more about financial instruments.” You toss your hair proudly, looking down your nose at him despite his obvious height. “Which, it appears, I do not require much tutelage on.”

He squints at you, a cocky grin twisting his mouth. “Are there…other subjects in which you’re an expert?” He takes a step closer to you, the subtle scent of his cologne filling your nostrils. “I found that speech of yours on currency swaps very…intriguing.”

“Take a day off with me and find out. Consider it a business deal.”

“Done. You have my word that I’ll be investing a hundred percent into our mutual pleasure.”

“It can’t be that hard…” you tease, earning you an agitated grunt in response. You can’t help it—rage baiting Caleb is just too easy.

“Do you know how tough of a course mechanical engineering is? It’s rigorous, it’s complex, it’s—it’s…” he trails off then. “You’re joking, aren’t you,” he says flatly, realization taking its sweet time to kick in.

You giggle, holding the phone closer to your ear. You haven’t seen him in two weeks, and you miss him like crazy. Who else is going to remind you to take your meals, to drink enough water? Who else is going to hold you in the middle of the night when you have a bad dream? God, you hate this whole “college” arrangement. But you couldn’t be prouder of him for working towards his dreams.

“It’s late. Goodnight, Caleb.” A wave of sadness crashes into you, sobering you.

“Goodnight, Pips. See you in a week.”

He hangs up just as a crazy idea pops into your head. What if you didn’t have to wait a whole week to see him in the flesh? His college is a two-hour drive away from you. It isn’t impossible. It would be one hell of a date.

Gear up, engineer. I’m going to show you just how much I know.

…

The campus is vast and beautiful, autumn-colored trees sandwiched between every historical building and tower. You shouldn’t be this surprised, given its status as one of the most prestigious universities in the country. Is this where he goes to school everyday? Damn…

With great difficulty, you finally find the lecture hall he should be sitting in right now. You’re a good fifteen minutes late, but if you’re going to crash a college class, you might as well do it with a bang.

You push the large wooden doors open as discreetly as possible and try your best not to wince as you feel every single pair of eyes in the room fall on you. Sitting somewhere in the front is Caleb, whose blue and orange jacket you recognise instantly. He startles slightly at the sight of you, but his shock is quickly replaced with a smug curiosity. Come to lose? he taunts with a smirk, slender fingers tapping his pen on the table to a steady rhythm.

A casual, relaxed expression settles over your features. You wish, you smirk back, taking a seat across the row from him. Thankfully, the professor doesn’t seem to notice your presence as he scribbles annoyingly complex equations and formulas on the chalkboard.

He pivots suddenly, a fresh brightness lighting up his wrinkled face. It’s easy to understand why these students are so passionate about the subject. The old man is thrice their age, yet thrice as lively.

“Class,” he begins, his voice wobbly and unyielding at the same time, “we’re going to touch on stress-strain curves today, and I want everyone’s full and undivided attention. Now, can anyone tell me what a stress-strain curve is?”

Caleb’s hand shoots up like a laser. “It shows you how a material behaves under a load, and allows engineers to gauge how much that material can hold before it snaps.” He adds on, infuriatingly, “In layman’s terms.”

“Good,” the professor remarks. “Would anyone like to add on to that?”

Hell yeah, this is your chance to strike. You might not know much about the math behind it, but having lived in Linkon your whole life, heavy buildings are like trees to you.

You raise your hand. “Sir, many of the skyscrapers in Linkon’s financial district had been meticulously designed and constructed over the course of a decade. It wasn’t just the steel and concrete that required extensive stress-strain calculations, but the aesthetic elements as well. Not to mention the added element of inertia during periods of high winds.” You pause to glance over at Caleb, who looks like he wants to eat you. “That’s architecture and engineering in bed together, doing unspeakable things.”

That strange glint in his eye intensifies.

Fortunately, the lewd joke goes over the professor’s head. “What an interesting perspective. I don’t believe I’ve seen you in class before. Are you a transfer student, perhaps?”

You lean back in your seat and reply, “No, sir, I usually sit in the back of the hall.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?”

You turn to meet Caleb’s eye once more, and your skin flushes embarrassingly pink. “Let’s just say I’ve acquired a special interest in nuts and bolts recently.”

Now it’s Caleb’s turn to blush. “Someone hasn’t been paying attention in class.” You stick your tongue out at him, making him laugh.

For the remainder of the lesson, you both take turns answering the professor’s carefully crafted questions, with him tackling the technical aspects and you pointing out the practical. It’s a mentally stimulating back and forth that makes you wonder why you’ve never crashed one of his classes before. It’s so…fun.

…

By the time everyone is dismissed, you’ve gained a renewed thirst for knowledge that can only be quenched by one thing: going out for a meal with your boyfriend. That is—if he’d even look at you. His face is flushed and his throat has seemingly gone dry.

“Hope I didn’t make it too hard for you,” you muse as the last group of students leaves the hall.

He glares at you while taking a desperate sip of water from his bottle, his perfect lashes making your heart race all over again. “You wish. I went easy on you.”

“Oh, admit it. I bested you. No shame in that, you know.”

“Just you wait, Pips. You’ll be eating your words by the time I’m done with you tonight.”

Your mouth goes dry then and there, and you understand now why he had to take so many sips of water, “Am I being punished for crashing your class?”

“Let’s just say you’ll know what a real stress-strain curve looks like by tomorrow morning.”

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[vinjinssunglasses]

──────────✩₊˚.☪︎ ⁺₊✩─────────

✩ character: kim gitae ✩ summary: you were someone who’d be strict on herself, not letting her serious side falter. Until some cocky (ahem..) criminal in the rain you feel pity for makes you change your ways. ✩ cw : smut; p in v, fingering, oral (fem receiving), cunnilingus ✩ w/c: around 5k ✩ a/n: 2025, choibongpalsglasses back? not my best work, and excuse my mistakes 😭🙏

──────────✩₊˚.☪︎ ⁺₊✩──────────

As the big boss of a luxurious company, you’re known for your innovative ability to design products and market it to the public, incredible enough to make it seem as if there were no negative sides to said material. As a leader, you were notorious for your excellent creative and professional exterior, praised for your numerous awards. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say your company is one of the most known in the world.

And because of the abundance of positive feedback and an overall positive outlook, not even the press would even think for a second you’d be fucking around with a cartel in the background.

Tall and dangerous, your exact type. The thrill of having someone able to destroy you in a blink made your veins pop. Maybe that’s why you approached him that rainy night, even if you weren’t looking for a one night stand. He had dark circles with pitch black eyes, one that glistened under the flickering lamppost’s golden light, a tall stature and a grin that could have any lady fawn. Despite his situation, he was cocky and arrogant, constantly making offensive and playful remarks. From the way his gaze lowered from your face to your body when you spoke, you could tell he was also clearly infatuated with you. If only you could play with him one more time, let him sway you off your tiptoes with his smooth, classy voice, and kiss the back of your hand like a hopeless romantic one more time.

So you gave up on that dream. Hey, what’s the point of waiting if it’ll never come? Of course, you had better things to worry about, like your internal affairs and meetings, running your business is not exactly easy work. Anything to distract you off of that man’s siren-like aura and your depriving mental state. Money skyrocketed, stocks increasing while all your employees got a raise after what people thought would be the downfall of the company. No question you saved the millions you so rightfully earned.

Even after all of that, you didn’t forget his presence. For crying out loud, it was one night. He was riding his motorcycle, you presumed, and he’d crashed. Only managing to crawl his way to a lamppost because his knee had gotten injured from the crash, he rested there, no hope in sight.

Releasing a sigh, he rested his head back upon the thin pole, letting the heavy rain pour onto his face, trickling into his mouth. That night you were driving home slowly on the same street, going as slow as you pleased since there weren’t any cars behind you, and they could easily overtake you. Time seemed to move slow you watched the wiper blades drag across the windshields surface. Until you caught a strange man sitting against a pole in the rain, without an umbrella and wearing clothes not suitable. Feeling sympathy, one which you rarely felt, you quickly pulled over your car and rushed to the figure who rested there.

He looked up at you, taking in the sight of your face. Stern, serious yet bewitching, one that he couldn’t peel his eyes off of for a second.

“Sir? Are you..” You expected an answer, yet he only stared through his half-lidded eyes for a quick moment, maintaining eye contact. At the second ‘sir’, he snapped back into reality, running his hand through his soaked strands.

“It’s what it looks like. I’ve gotten into an accident. I’m glad a lovely lady like you has come to save me.” He smirked, looking up at you with eyes like a cheetah weighing down its prey.

“In your dreams.” You damn well knew your worth, maybe that’s why you were still single. Holding your ground, you scoffed, holding the umbrella nice his head, extending your hand.

“I have a leg injury from the crash. I can’t walk.” He intertwined his fingers into yours, licking his lips cheekily.

“Then why’d you take my hand?” Your lips curled up into a dumbfounded, slightly disgusted expression, your eyebrows raising at his stupid words.

“Your hands are sexy, why else? What man would ever reject such pretty hands like yours?”

“Be quiet. I can just drive off and leave you here if I wanted to.” He groaned, making a pouty face at you.

“Feisty.” Softly chuckling, he grabbed onto the dripping lamppost and tried to gain his balance, slipping and groaning. For a man in pain, he sounded oddly intimate. “Help me out, won’t ‘cha?”

You took his arm upon your shoulder, guiding him to the chair. Perhaps it was inevitable your recently done hair got drenched by the rain as well. To be expected, he was heavy; he was tall and quite muscular judging by the tear of his tank top under his biker’s jacket. Resting him into the passenger's seat with such effort, he passed you a wink before watching you walk to the driver's seat.

“So… Where do you live?”You turned your gaze to him. “Take me out to dinner first.” He threw his head back on the seat, blowing kissy faces as you. If he wasn’t injured, you probably would’ve punched him already. “In all honesty, I live very far from here, and I doubt you’d wanna drive that far.”

Heading that, you sighed, deadpanning at the stranger. Taking him to yours wouldn’t be that bad, I mean, what’s he do with a broken leg. “I’ll take you to mine, but no funny business or I’ll kick you out.”

“Yes ma’am.” He smiled, letting out a low chuckle. It was silent apart from the squeaking of the windscreen wipers trying to wash the rain away, yet it was no use. In a way, it felt like a reflection of your life. Rather you should be more worried about the man sitting next to you.

“Name. What’s your name?” You asked, your voice breaking the agonising lack of conversation. It’d be better off for you if you atleast know something about the man next to you.

“I’m yours.” A smug, flirty smirk came upon his lips, his sexiness making you steer the wheel inaccordingly. Clearing your throat, you retorted:

“Not funny, what’s your name?”

“Names Gitae, Kim Gitae.” Gitae clicked his tongue, hand wandering to your thigh, “And yours?”

“Be quiet.” Your eyes wanders themselves to his fingers which drummed upon your thigh. “What do you want?”

“Just wanna see what’s under this skirt, is that so illegal?” From his suggestive words, you bite your lip and smile. Your eyes lift to his seductive gaze. There’s no doubt the sexual energy is lingering between you two, and it seems he’s made the first move.

“You’re injured. And we’re nearly there.” You dismiss the chance to have a taste of him. It was the only excuse you could pull out the box anyway. Why didn’t you pull over and let him take the lead? Perhaps it’s because you’re not looking for connection, even if this is a rare find. He may be expecting more than just sex, and as your role as CEO prevents you from having time for a lover, you’d prefer not. Never would you ever give up such money and power for a person.

You walked —while he stumbled— Gitae up to your penthouse, entering the code and letting him in.

“An angel like you has an angelic place as well, huh? How luxurious. Can’t wait to see the bedroom.” Gitae winks, taking off his jacket, hanging it wherever he pleases like he owned the place. You always aspired to keep your place tidy, with vases full of fake flowers and the tiles left shiny. Your heels clacked against the marble floors, falling with a thud as you swept them off messily, following his stumbles to your living room. With a groan, Gitae slumped onto the comfortable sofa, breathing rapidly to try and distract himself from the pain. You hadn’t realised he’d been acting all cocky to bear the pain throbbing from his knee.

“You like wine?” You gazed up at him, the tension palpable between you as the room went silent. He nodded, and you dismissed the aura in the room while walking towards your kitchen. Gitae’s eyes followed the gentle sway of your hips, your confident stride and the final glance you took at him before finally leaving, saying a firm ‘don’t touch anything’.

You didn’t know what it is — you grasped your hand around a cup and one of your usual finest wines, it’s such a habit to impress after everything— but it’s something between the two of you. The way he turns his gaze to you; it’s magnetic, teasing and confident. And fuck, you love it.

To impress, you take the finest wines out of your cabinets, one you’ve been dying to take a sip of. Bringing the bottle and two wine glasses with you, he stood up to take them from you with a wink.

“Let me pour it, m’lady.” He softly spoke, licking the insides of his lips sensually. For some odd reason, that made a smile subconsciously spread over your lips, wondering what he could do with that tongue. Couldn’t lick your ear, gently nibbling on the tender skin? Gently drag his lips to your neck, leaving hickeys to claim you as his? Or travel down to your aching cunt, torturing your clit with his gentle flicks? Your throat bobbed as you swallowed back a breathy sigh, taking your freshly poured glass.

“Sit down here.” Gitae threw himself back against the couch, slapping his hand against his thigh provocatively. They looked so inviting, and the perfect seat right after his face. Taking a big gulp of your wine, you cleared all the worthless thoughts out of your mind and focused at the real task at hand — this tall stranger in your house.

He was unbelievablely handsome.

“Be quiet.” You scowled, taking a seat next to him instead, crossing your legs like you knew businsss. Every so often your gaze would travel up to meet his, to which Gitae smirked and winked, making your heart flutter. Now that you think about it, he’s unbelievably handsome. Even with that wound in his stomach and dripping wet hair, he still has that “bad boy” charm that you can’t get enough of. Taking another large sip of your wine, you panted as soon as the glass parted from your lips. Are you insane? You’re remarkable for your indecency and lack of tolerance for misbehaviour, romance and the sort. So why now, with some criminal looking bastard are you throwing it all away?

“Woah, easy there, princess. Got a lot on ya mind?” Gitae chuckled, easing up the atmosphere. You grit your teeth at him to which he laughed off, tangling his fingers in your strands, leaning in closer. “Don’t get drunk too quickly.”

“And why do you care? How strong is it?” Deadpanning with an arrogant tone, you grabbed the bottle and checked: 15% vol. Whatever, you’re no lightweight. As long as you don’t gauge down the whole bottle like you do most nights, hangover the next morning but dragging yourself surviving on a cup of coffee, you’d be fine.

“You’re cute.” Gitae took a gulp of his own glass, letting his arm rest on the armrest. “What about my injuries? I seek immediate attention. How cruel can you be?” He spoke in a teasing matter, acting if he’s been utterly betrayed.

But is it so right to leave an uninvited guest alone, without a clue about this bastard? He’s sitting there like he owns the place, wetting your floors and sofa but that’s the least of your concerns. Judging by his frame, he could possibly tip you over and throw you out the window, pull out a gun at any second — nonetheless find that secret safe of yours—

“Hey, sweetheart, finished daydreaming?” Gitae calls out, snapping you right back to reality. Again, you’re overthinking it, just like you always do. With a sigh, you stand up from where you were sat, the glass resting on a table with a soft clunk. His eyes followed each of your lousy moments, then trailed up to yours to where they both met.

“Wait here. Your leg is injured, right? Don’t do anything stupid.” You sighed, telling him off like a kid who’s had too many sweets. Walking off, you turned your back to face him to give him a glare to show your seriousness, to which he blew a kiss in response. It’s not as if that stupid wink and flirty attitude was actually getting to you, right? Or so you wanted to think. But what did Gitae think of you? In his eyes, you were utterly charming without even realising it. He could already tell a strong woman with priorities like you could rock his world, and your firm attitude only made him subconsciously fall for you even more. Gitae throws his head back and lets out a low chuckle, a satisfied grin washing over his face as he takes a deep breaths.

It’s odd he feels this way, as a drug lord he already knows what he has to do: murder, torture and distribute. There’s no room for personal feelings nor freedom in the world he’s surrounded himself in. He’s met all types of women: the poor ones that’d do anything for another snort of cocaine, the strong ones who wish they could fall out of this addiction, ones who’ve tried to stray him away from this scene. And none of them were like you.

Romance is long gone, anyway, he simply dispised the concept of him kissing, loving and caring for another too seriously. Would it be strange to say he can see a connection?

You grab the first aid kit, rushing back to see if he’s done anything preposterous. Instead he’s just sitting there, pulling out a cigarette, acting like he was disturbed by your entrance. Y’know, it’s not like you gave him permission to smoke in your penthouse. Usually you’d get angry and complain like an old hag, yet you didn’t have the energy to do so. He blinks at you, and you blink back at him, and he takes the signal to drop it.

“Caught red-handed.” Gitae puts both hands up as if he’s been caught by the cops, something he’s not too unfamiliar with.

“No time for your childish behaviour.” You walk up to him, throwing the first aid kit next to him. “I’m going to treat you, so just be quiet.”

Now that you look at it, the wound was deeper than you thought it was. Without going into the specifics, it was a crimson red color and a large scar over his right thigh and knee. It made you doubt whether he even had a license.

“How did this happen?” You mutter, wincing at the sight. Even though you were no doctor, you could tell this was more than it seemed it was. You took out gauze, cleansing wipes and the sort. Gently wiping around the wound, you cleaned any remaining blood that might’ve spilled. His eyes were fixated on the way you tucked your hair behind your ear, the way your eyelashes fluttered when you blinked and all the crazy little details that drove him mad. Gitae rested his hand upon the armrest, his head resting upon his lazy hand as he simply watched you at work. It wasn’t such a bad sight seeing you nestled between his legs.

At this point, you had no clue on what to do, so you wrapped bandages around said wounds, hoping for the best. The last thing you were going to do this late was read the instruction manual.

“I’m no doctor, so this’ll have to do.” A head of sweat ran down your forehead, yet you kept your voice steady. You expected a response, but the room remained silent after that moment of speech. Raising your head, he was simply staring — was it a look of mere interest, or could it hint at something more?

“Oh. Yeah, it’s fine.” Gitae finally realised his staring, clearing his throat as a hint of red spawned upon his cheeks. Without realising, he’d drop his flirty attitude, and you found that cute.

The room paused for a moment, the still air warm between you too. It definitely wasn’t uncomfortable; but the lack of conversation made this nervous feeling wash over you. Your eyes raised to look at him, and you could’ve sworn they were locked together. Gitae stood up, ignoring the stinging pain in his knee. Perhaps you tied it too tightly, but right now he didn’t care; nor did he tease you for it. Instead he took a step closer, his hand hesitating slightly before resting upon your waist. This time, you noticed he wasn't making eye contact with you, he was staring at your lips. They were so kissable and almost irresistible in his perspective, but would it be so illegal to kiss them?

With a sigh, he pulled you in, lips locking with a tenderness that couldn’t be described. The grip on your waist tightened, yet he kept it gentle. In a fit of shock, you pulled away, hand on his chest. He couldn’t bear to look at you, his face evident of the turmoil going on internally. You didn’t exactly hate the feeling of his lips on yours, and the warmth wasn’t exactly discomforting.

In a swift motion, you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him to you this time, squeezing your eyes shut. At first you roughly intertwined your lips, yet slowed down when he quickly reciprocated. He let both arms wrap around your waist, his hands resting on your ass. Resting your eyelids, you only opened them slightly to look at Gitae, who was looking right back at you.

Parting your lips, they felt cold without his warmth. Eye contact — he didn’t take your eyes off of you, switching between your sweet lips and your unreadable expression. For him it was almost obvious, an ‘I want you’, no, an ‘I need you’. Maybe it was that bittersweet look that drove him right into your body, his body sturdy between your divorced legs. Or was it those same hands that rested on your ass, now pushing your pencil skirt up your thigh. Those lips that now kiss your neck so tenderly, dragging down your stomach towards the part that ached the most.

Do you regret it? Your back definitely did the next day.

Now that it’s been ages since that night occurred, you could say you definitely did. What if you just ignored him? Drove past the aching figure, went upon your usual miserable days, chugging down wine and stressing the rest of your nights away.

Is that why when you woke up his number with a kiss on a piece of torn paper — to which you found out was from one of your crucial documents that were stashed away — was lying on your desk when you woke up? Should you even call that man back, or keep it a one night stand that everybody could forget about? Even now, as you're sitting upon the same bed he so roughly took you on, that note still resides in your drawer. Taking it out gently, you held your phone in the older hand. First, you weighed the pros and cons. Your endless years of education and expertise didn’t leave you an impulsive idiot. His personality left an impact on you, no, his whole presence and everything about him left your mind wandering way more than it should’ve.

Entering his number into your phone, you rang him. What were you even meant to say at this point? It had been quite a while since that previous encounter.

Before you knew it, he picked up.

“Been waiting for you to call.” Gitae sneers, immediately knowing it’s you despite the line being radio silent for a second.

“Gitae Kim.” His name rolls off of your tongue, unnervingly stern, and memories flood back. His voice is as smooth and raspy as then, like smooth jazz in a fancy restaurant. No need to say you didn’t miss it, as if someone as stubborn as you would ever admit that.

“Still remember the name, hm?” A gunshot rips through tge line, and a blood curdling scream that made your whole body shudder. “Sorry sweetheart, a little.. busy. I’ll meet up at your place tonight. 10pm? Like back then.”

Before you could even say a word, he hangs up. Like back then, he says? Gitae still remembers all of that the same you do, but to an extent you could never understand. In his own perspective, he’d also had you on his mind: distracting him from work and business deals, making him a tad gentler when everyone was so used to him being so harsh. Infact, it wouldn’t be far off to say he was slightly glad you took his number. Moreso extremely glad, as he’d had the thought of you and your mesmerising figure on his mind for too long now. It was long overdue that he heard your stern voice growl your name, and it was simply music to his ears.

10pm rolls around once more, and you hear the sound of knocking at your door. What baffled you is how he remembered your address from such a time ago. He opened the door, a bag in his hand all bloodied up, hand resting at the casing of your door. He offered a smile, blood dripping down his wet shirt which highlighted every nook and cranny of his abs that you could barely take your eyes off of.

“Eyes are up here.” Gitae scoffed, dusting his wet shoes off on the mat and stripping his biker's jacket off, throwing it upon his shoulder. His sturdy arms catch your attention, and you were bewildered. For a hot second, you stared and licked your lips, clearing your throat before talking.

“It’s been.. a long time.” You walked off, your voice echoing as you made your way to the living room where you first met.

“No doubt so.” He followed your every step, his eyes lingering on the gentle sway of your hips with each step. At this point, what was left to say? Neither of you wanted to gather up the courage to say anything, nothing about the lingering feeling ever since that one night stand. As an impatient individual, sitting around here isn’t doing anything productive. Yet the words won’t come out of your mouth. That yearning you went through — was it all for nothing. There’s no use pining for someone you can’t bare to have.

“L-Leg’s healed, huh?” You stutter, making conversation as you sat yourself on the couch, making your efforts to try and stop your mind from lingering. It was hard enough being face to face with him already, and the memories are already slapping you in the face one more.

“Mhm.”

“I should probably get us some wine, how about that?” You stood, trying to ease the air while you head towards the kitchen. Much to your delay, a tall figure stops you in his tracks, speaking lowly in your ear.

“I should be honest with you, shouldn’t I?” He mutters,conflicted on whether to truly express what he felt. Was he nervous you’d reject, shove him away, or afraid of the repercussions of you feeling the same?

“In all honesty, I can’t get my mind off of you.” This time he speaks louder, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. His hands run feverishly down your body to rest upon your hips, pulling you closer as he nibbles upon your ear, whispering in a hushed tone as if what was to come next were forbidden. “You’ve wrapped me around your finger without realising it. Care to take responsibility?”

For a second you don’t move, in complete shock at his sudden confession. He’s been thinking about you way too much; the way your hair sways and your lips curve into a smile, the way your eyelashes flutter when you blink — oh, it’s all too much for him to handle.

Should you take him within your sheets?

Too late to decide, because you’ve already intertwined your lips with his, your tongues eagerly brushing against each other. You’re already impossibly close, yet he wants to feel your body even closer, he wants to meld your bodies together until all you can feel is forbidden bliss.

“Take me to the bedroom, I’ll show you how much I need you.” He murmurs, breathing warm against your ear, making your whole body shiver. Without a moment's hesitation you drag him along to your bedroom, his eyes never leaving yours. The door opened with a creak and slammed against the wall as you couldn’t care anymore — it was a primal need that couldn’t be described with feeble use of language. Gitae laid your body gently open the sheets, his large hands trailing up your thighs as he placed his body between your legs. His fingers gripping onto the hem of your skirt, as if asking permission to pull them down.

With a nod, he pulls down your skirt, letting it dangle off of your right foot. He takes your legs upon his shoulders as he gently kisses up your inner thigh towards your core. He delves— practically smothers his nose against your pussy, using your thighs to squeeze his face. You let out a small whimper, and he shifts his focus to what’s hiding underneath your shirt.

Your spine shudders when you feel Gitae’s warm hands trailing up your hips, lifting your shirt up to reveal your heaving chest, all on display like being up for auction. And this excited winner didn’t take a moment's hesitation to pull it off of you, groping at the fabric covering his sacred prize. Small whimpers escape your throat followed by a gasp at the unclamping of your bra, and the sound of it falling against the floor. A smirk played upon his lips as he suckled on the mounds, other hand groping at the fat. Perking up, your nipples bathed in the feeling of his warm tongue swirling around the nubs, the teeth nibbling and the way they achingly parted with a wet pop. Gitae feverishly pulled back, looking at you with an intensity that burned. For a moment he didn’t say anything, and the air around you softly lifted.

You averted your gaze downwards towards your now eager center, then back up to his eyes with an unsatisfied snark.

Gitae chuckled, using his hand to throw his head back.

“All for your pleasure, huh?” His voice echoed throughout the room and he shifted back to his previous position, back into the valley between your legs where he belonged. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll show you the ride we’ve both been craving for.”

He pulls your pants down and tosses them to the other side of the room, focusing on the snack in front of him. His lips part as he delicately licks your folds, holding your legs apart. Your throat bobs as you take a deep gulp, waiting — and feeling — as he takes it to the next level, spreading them apart with his tongue and stroking the sensitive flesh with the tip of his tongue, deliberately teasing you. Gravitating towards his head, your hands hover in a decision between shoving his head down or letting him tease you however he pleases.

Suddenly, he incorporates the thicker part of his tongue, giving kitty-licks to the heat between your thighs. How cruel! Pouting, you nudge his head forward, and he takes the hint.

“You used to be so snappy and serious. Guess you aren’t the only thing that’s warmed up to me.” He murmurs against your cunt, and with a growl he delves his head into you, catching your whole body off guard with the sudden pleasure. With the buck of your hips and a twitch from your thighs, he grabs them and pins them down against your chest, slurping the juices you leak with a thirst that couldn’t be described. At all this you couldn’t help but throw your head back and helplessly moan, guttural groans emerging from your throat involuntarily. His tongue harshly circled over your entrance, letting your right thigh go as he replaced the circular motion with his finger. For crying out loud, you didn’t even know if you were ready to be fingered yet.

A small push was all he needed to get into your sweet hole, his finger instantly being met with the tightness of your walls squeezing upon him.

“Relax.” Gitae gently murmurs, and with his soft words you take deep breaths, watching him intently. Slowly, he’d push and pull out of you, and lean into kiss your thighs, trailing his tongue towards your heat. And it drove you crazy. All you wanted to do was grab his wrists and pull him deeper within you. Perhaps it was obvious based on the low chuckle he released, his finger scouring deeper within so suddenly, making you wince. Before you knew it, your g-spot was being poked with his long fingers, and then pressed gently at first. ‘Come hither’— that technique made your whole body writhe in pleasure although you were just getting started. By the look on his face, you could tell Gitae was utterly satisfied, but by lowering your gaze, his hard-on twitching in his pants said otherwise.

With a gasp he enters another naughty finger, and two fingers pressed up against your g-spot, and you shiver. Louder than it should’ve been, with an instant you covered your mouth, while he continued his rhythm. You suppressed moans, gasps and quiet whimpers. You watched as his fingers disappeared within you, reappearing back out with your sticky juices dripping upon his fingers.

“Don’t silence yourself, I want to hear you.” Low, his voice still captured his firmness as he used his other hand to gently pale off yours from your lips. In an instant his pace increased, like two sides of the same coin, making you whimper. The sudden increase made moans escape from your throat involuntary, your body convulsing under his touch. He kisses amongst your thighs, trailing down with hickeys. At this point you couldn’t control yourself — juices escaped you without even asking, and you couldn’t stop yourself from squirting all over his fingers as if your body was rebelling against your every command.

Pulling out his fingers, your hips buck to beg for the return of his bittersweet touch, as the juices flow out of your body onto the sheets. Below you was a puddle full of no your essence, warm against your trembling ass and spreading.

“No use for this jacket now, huh?” Without realising, his chin was dripping with your fluids as well as his shirt. It looked like he’d been scuba diving, as if you were the harsh riptide and he was an ‘innocent’ civilian.

“It’s karma.” You managed to mumble breathlessly, relaxing your legs.

“Karma?” He repeated, licking his lips for the trace of your sentence on his tongue.

“For.. For making me think about you so damn much. Just for us to rekindle like this.” Running your fingers through your hair, you ran your tongue over your teeth, looking into his eyes. Mission success — you caught him off guard; this was your opportunity right in front of you to grab.

In a blink of an eye you grabbed his wet shirt and flipped him over onto his back, your legs straddling his waist. Underneath you was his warm bulge twitching through the fabric of his pants, and you didn’t take a moment to pause before you started grinding upon him. A deep chuckle emerges from his lips as he watches you work on top of him, his hands gravitating to your hips as he guides you.

“This was your plan all along.. Was it not?” Gitae smirked, watching the way your hips bounced. He couldn’t help but wonder how you would bounce on his cock.

“It’s my turn.”

Your hands ran up his body, immersing yourself in the feeling of his hard abs heaving with each shaky breath he took, hands landing on his wide chest. Gently squeezing them, your thumbs brushed against his nipples, and a low groan escaped him. You leaned in to press kisses against his neck, and he took this chance to surprise you with a sharp spank that cut through the sound. Your whole body flinched and he sneered, groaning as you only continued.

Moving down to his belt, you sneakily unbuckled said belt and pulled down his pants, revealing his hardened member. The tip had been leaking precum down its length, now pooling on his stomach. Is that.. seriously the cock you took that night? It looks bigger, thicker, one that you could not actually take. Fluttering your eyelashes, you sat dazed for a good minute or so, Gitae’s expectant gaze fixated on you. That ‘thing’ twitched, eager for your touch only to be met with cold air instead of your warm palm — better yet, your little pussy.

“Something the matter?”

“No it’s just..” Words trailing off, you took a deep gulp as you wrapped your palm around his thickness, fingers struggling to meet around his circumference. Yeah, this was a bad idea. One that you don’t regret, anyhow.

“No need for your mouth, I support you’re wet enough. Your little cunt was throbbing against me and producing so much slick I doubt—“

“E-Enough talking.”

“I see, back to your little attitude. I promise I’ll..” He grabs our hips, flipping you back into missionary, his cock lined up against your hold. Your folds spread to sandwich his cock as he gently thrusts into the welcoming opening, the fat tip torturing your clit. “.. fuck each and every word out of you — I’ll make you so brain dead the only thing you can think about it’s how good my cock makes you feel.”

With a low growl, he feasts upon your neck, kissing up your jawline to your lips, to law a passionate kiss upon the soft skin. A minute or more, you pull his hair back to get his tongue away from yours as you pant for breath, watching his breath smirk with hooded lids. Surging through your veins to the fist grabbing his hair, the arousal brings a primal sense within you, and it makes you wish — no, crave for the desire for him to breed every last bit of your essence.

“Put it in,” You pout your lips as his tip probes at your hole, your hips bucking to feel his length inside of you. Gitae’s strong hands spread your legs apart, slowly pushing his length inside of you. Each inch stretched you further, your walls struggling to accommodate his girth. You could feel every stretch of your pussy, every twitch of his cock and it felt so surreal. Clenching your teeth, your hands search for anything to grip onto — the sheets, the pillow, but your eyes couldn’t help but feast on the view before it.

It felt as if you had already taken his full and like you were about to rip in half. Your hips trembled as he pushed himself deeper, your walls tightening.

“Relax, it’s just my cock, sweetheart.” Gitae grumbles as he feels his cock being squeezed. “Deep breathes, love.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders and his hips suddenly thrust into your warmth, causing you to shudder and choke a sob.

“What’d I tell you ‘bout relaxing, huh? Or are you just going to be screaming this whole night?”

Although those were simple, teasing words — but you really lived up to it. With every vigorous thrust, your fingers trembled yet held their firm grip on his raven hair, toes curling at the pleasure that slammed into your core repeatedly. The room was steamy, hot and it almost felt suffocating — not a negative feeling, rather one that you couldn’t get enough. Sex addicted? That wouldn’t be impossible since his fat cock pounds and slams into your g-spot over and over, yout velvety walls convulsing. It had been so long since you’ve been fucked this good, it almost made you mind break. However before you could completely let go of your sanity, he’d bring you back in with a tender, passionate kiss that was a sharp contrast to the ruthlessness down below.

…

..

.

Back aching, your eyes blinked awake first thing in the morning, ‘The bed next to you must be empty’ you figured, but the warmth next to you said otherwise. A sleeping, naked Gitae lay next to you, softly breathing in and out. You expected him to be gone, disappear, and never come back. Are you disappointed, upset, or relieved? Whatever, it’s not as if you wanted him here, you tell yourself, ignoring his presence. Yet your eyes still lingered in his unconscious form; he looked so peaceful, after all his berating and attitude.

Sitting up, all the memories flooded back into your mind. A part of you felt strangely glad; although things were unclear. That was one way to get a message across, or something – the way your heart rate increased, it told you something, Although illiterate and foreign in the language you spoke, it almost begged you to take a chance and get to know him. It wouldn't hurt to let him play around your heartstrings until he became tied to yours. Even if you end up getting played by this stud it surely couldn't be.. What are you thinking right now?

All of this is a mistake, all of it. From the night he mentioned meeting up once more up to the bed shared together – it's the most naive, braindead decision you've ever made. You thought you were better than this. This was a testament to the independence you built yourself upon.

“Let go of me. I, I’ve got to go.” Pushing off the duvet, the cold air hit your warm body like a step into the real world, like a slap across the face. Thinking it all was just a mistake was just your way of coping through your feelings.

Gitae pulled you in by your wrist into his strong arms which threatened not to let you go. He nuzzled his head upon your shoulder, breath warm against your bare skin.

“Don’t go. I haven't even been able to say I want you.” His voice sent vibrations through your skin, resonating within. “Please, at least let me talk first.”

Usually he seemed cocky and the classic arrogant guy who fools around constantly, yet this time he seemed softer, gentler, revealing a new side of him to you. Building up barriers has always been a sacred part of you that dwelled, and you never let that go. Not once. Image, reputation and things like that have always been imperative to you; everyone must witness you and talk about your presence positively or else you were afraid you'd crumble. So seeing him so vulnerable and weak-looking towards someone who he could've considered a one night stand, it's strange. It almost makes you jealous.

“What's this supposed to mean? Let me go.”

“At Least hear me out first.” He raises his lips to your ear, voice low and raspy as he gently nibbles upon the soft shell. Reluctantly, you nod; it's the least you could do anyway and he deserves it nonetheless.

“It’s not like me to be like this; to be so desperate for what i've never had. It isn't false that the only thing you know about me is my name but something in me wants to take a chance, somewhere further than whatever this complicated mess is. You know, I don't like loose ends.”

With a deep sigh, he finishes talking. The room falls to silence, apart from the sun do the bed sheets rustling as he now sits up, his feet meeting the coldness of the wooden floor.

“It was nice lifting that weight off my shoulders. If.. you have nothing to say, then i guess this is it. I won't bother you anymore.” Gitae clears his throat, unable to hide the troubledness within his voice. To hide everything he would be useless, but it was better than being dishonest.

Lowering your head, your body longed for his body heat mixing with yours, only to be left with disappointment. The more you thought about it the more you could feel a headache slowly coming along..

“Don't go, yet. I..” Trailing off your words, you debated whether to even say it or not; would I ruin everything? This could be an easy street to a smooth ending to all of this, ending it once and for all. Is this the first time ‘trust your gut’ is wrong? “Damn it, I want you too. Let's, uhm, give it a try.”

A smile spreads across his lips, and his soft scoff catches your attention. He throws your clothes over to you before declaring he was going to cook breakfast for the both of you, and fetch you with some painkillers.

More importantly, are you seriously going to let a cartel leader cause a fire in your kitchen…?