#i hope i characterized them well enough <3

[wheeboo]

hi (i love you) | xu minghao

SYNOPSIS. in which you take a trip through random glimpses of your growing relationship with minghao. PAIRING. xu minghao x gn!reader (ft. a mention of jihoon, and gyu and seokmin very briefly) GENRE. fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, established relationship, college au WARNINGS. hao is a year or two older than reader, drinking and reader getting drunk, kissing, terms of endearment at the end, the last scene is a lil suggestive WORD COUNT. 5.5k

notes: yes. this is literally just a compilation fic of them saying hi. ty zanna @slytherinshua for reading this over for me <3 there's like significant time skips between each section - just a lil sum to keep in mind cuz i dont wanna cause confusion or anything 😭😭😭 i find hao the hardest member to write for, so i hope i was able to characterize him well here!

i. "hi." (fallow is the colour of dryness to my mouth when your eyes met mine.)

There's no way in hell you're going to let yourself be lost on the first day of university.

It's embarrassing enough accidentally waking up past your alarm and having barely any time to freshen up as much as you would like, so right now, you couldn't afford another disaster.

Taking a deep breath, you double-check your schedule and the layout of the campus on your phone, trying to match it with the signs around you. The different buildings and hallways of the campus seem like a maze in of itself, and you can feel the slight panic course up your veins. A sea of students rush past you, seemingly confident in their strides towards their own classes. A defeated sigh leaves you.

All you had to do was find the stupid art hallway.

You clench your phone tighter, your iron grip practically burning a hole through the screen. The campus map app wasn't making any more sense now than it did a minute ago. Frustration stings painfully at your eyes, but begging the earth to swallow you whole wouldn't get you to class any faster, so you force yourself to scan the crowd. There's bound to be at least someone who knows where it is and is willing to help you.

And so, your eyes catch sight of the first figure appearing conveniently in your peripheral vision𑁋a boy, dressed in a casual fallow-coloured flannel with a backpack casually slung over one of his shoulders, earphones in his ears, and peering down at something on his phone just like you were doing minutes ago (though he seems to be having a much better time than you)𑁋which was somehow enough for your feet to bolt you towards as if it had a mind of its own.

You feel the root of your nerves creep up your legs and branch up to your neck as you approach him, realising at this point, there's no turning back now. You tap him lightly on the shoulder, bracing yourself for a possible eye roll or annoyed sigh.

His eyes widen in surprise before settling on you, and at that moment, something strikes hard at whatever rehearsed lines you had in your head. It was all gone in a simple snap, from a simple look from him𑁋soft yet sharp brown eyes framed by dark lashes peering at you with a hint of surprise, fluffy dark hair showering down his neck and forehead a little, a dainty pair of silver earrings glinting at his ears. His whole face seems to hold a warmth that somehow eases a bit of the knot in your chest, but certainly not the one in your throat.

You open your mouth, but all the words die on your tongue. The air hangs heavy with a sudden awkwardness, and you can practically feel your cheeks burning. Maybe you should just turn around and pretend this never happened.

But then, you notice the way his lips lift up just slightly, and it makes your stomach do a flip. He glances down at his phone for a second, takes off his earphones, then brings his attention back at you.

"Hi," is all he says, and maybe, just maybe, your heart stops a little bit. It's just a simple word, but the way he says it𑁋all soft, quiet, a tad bit hesitant𑁋makes the fabric of your shirt feel tight on your body.

You didn't notice you were clenching your fists until you force them to relax at your side, clearing your throat in the process.

"Hi," You manage back nervously, surprised at how breathless you sound. "Sorry, I-I don't mean to intrude. It's just... Do you happen to know where the art hallway is? I'm trying to find my photography class."

You watch the way he tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear, unveiling more of a view of his piercings. He gazes briefly behind you at the clusters of other students gradually spilling into different hallways, hushing the space where the two of you stood. Then he returns his attention back to you, his expression softening slightly.

"You're not that far off," he comments, seemingly amused. "I was just heading there myself too."

"Really? That's a relief. The campus map is awful and confusing, and I swear this place was designed on purpose for you to get lost in, you know? And being lost on the first day is just..." You quickly shut your mouth up from your rambling, letting your voice fade into an embarrassed chuckle instead.

Your gaze falls to the ground for a moment, and when you pick your head back up to look at him, you catch a glimpse of the small curve that he has at his lips, barely a hint of a smile playing there. It's a small detail, but suddenly it feels like the most important thing in the world, and it throws your train of thought completely off track. He doesn't seem bothered by your little habit of rambling (admittedly, because of nerves), thankfully. Instead, he lets out a soft laugh, the sound washing over you like a warm summer breeze.

You can't help but sheepishly grin back, feeling a certain lightness bloom within your chest that probably has nothing to do with the weight of your backpack suddenly seeming lighter as well.

"It's okay," he reassures, voice as quiet and gentle as his gaze. "Everyone gets lost here sometimes. I've been there."

He starts walking, and you hesitate for a second before falling into step beside him. There's a small part of you urging to get to know him, as if this was the only opportunity to do so, but all the words you want to say sound clumsy and loud compared to the easy peacefulness that surrounds him.

And honestly, it feels... nice.

The hallway he leads you in is perhaps more than just a simple art hallway, the intoxicating scent of oil paint and clay blend together in the air. Paintings by students and faculty of every style imaginable line the walls, some bursting with vibrant colours, others muted and contemplative. Sculptures poke out from odd corners, and bulletin boards are overflowed with announcements of upcoming exhibitions and workshops, even though the year just started.

"Welcome to the art hallway," he beckons you casually and welcomingly, as if only this portion of the campus was a separate entity than others.

You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding in. "Thank you so much. Wow, this place is, um..." You stop yourself from continuing on, zipping your mouth shut. "I owe you. Oh, I'm Y/N, by the way. If there's anything I can𑁋"

"There's no need." He waves a hand dismissively at your offer, and for a second you feel something inside you sink, but the small hint of a smile to his face chases that feeling away just a little. "And it's Minghao... yeah. I'll see you around."

Before you can say anything more, you watch as he turns himself around and swiftly enters inside the room standing right behind him. A painting class.

(You are eight minutes late to class when a near-clear picture on the wall catches your gaze. It looks like a picture of Minghao standing next to a particularly vibrant painting of abstract art, and your heart swells just a little bit more.)

ii. "hi." (laurel is the colour of the grass that you lay on with me, gazing up at the same sky together.)

There was a time during Minghao's first year of college where a friend of his𑁋Lee Jihoon is his name𑁋called him crazy and bonkers for spending majority of his day outdoors rather than inside. Obviously, Minghao didn't exactly care, nor was it insulting in the slightest knowing Jihoon's stubbornness and tendency to stay holed up in his room buried under piles of music textbooks.

But he would be lying if he said he didn't appreciate the outdoors more than anything else, like from the way the sun kisses upon his skin, the gentle breeze that caresses his face, and the colours of nature that found him at his lowest times. Minghao thinks that's how he got into painting and art in the first place, though he didn't dwell on it too much. It all just came natural to him. He likes to think it that way𑁋that it found him instead.

The scenery of the campus is his oasis. He can do his own thing while others are walking through their own lives. He can sit outside for as long as he wants until dusk settles in and paints the sky with hues of orange and pink, or until the stars twinkle above and remind him that he's just an utter speck in the universe.

Today is no different.

Minghao finds himself sprawled out on the grass near the art building, sketchbook propped up against his bent knees, brow furrowed in concentration as he tries to capture the way the afternoon sunlight filters through the leaves of a nearby tree in his line of sight.

A low breeze runs through the air, stirring a few strands of hair across his forehead. He brushes them back absentmindedly, just as a sound cracks into the quietness.

"Hi!"

Minghao shoots his eyes up, slightly startled from the unexpected greeting. He catches sight of you slowly approaching up to him, a hesitant smile gracing your lips as you stop a few feet away.

"Hi," he replies, voice soft as he notices the way you're fiddling with something behind your back. "Vending machine did its ol' thing again?"

"Can you always read my mind?" You murmur, teasing annoyance biting at your words, but you can't contain the smile to your face either way. Maybe he can read your mind, but he's just skimming over it instead. "I can take it if you prefer to die from dehydration."

Minghao chuckles lightly. He glances down at the water bottle in your hand, then back at you, lingering for a beat longer than necessary. There's a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes, but also a hint of something𑁋maybe surprise, mischief, or perhaps a touch of shyness.

(You don't catch the way he subconsciously pushes the other water bottle he had stashed earlier deeper into his backpack.)

"Thanks." He accepts the water bottle from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours for a second, and takes a quick sip to cool his slightly parched throat.

Then he sets the water bottle down beside him, patting the grass next to him invitingly.

Without a word, you take a deep breath and lower yourself down onto the grass next to him. You catch the scent of the fresh paint lingering on his clothes and blending with the earthy aroma of the grass beneath you. The sunlight catches on the side of his face, highlighting some strands of hair flying in the breeze and the silver earrings reflecting in his ears.

There's a small groan that leaves you when you get yourself to lay fully down on the grass, using your backpack as a makeshift pillow. Minghao just peers in your direction curiously, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watches you settle in.

"You know," You sigh, letting out a contented breath as you spread your arms out a little, fixing your eyes up towards the sky. "This is actually really nice, hanging outside and all, but I am so out of shape. You pick the worst spots."

Minghao's smile widens a fraction at your words. He shifts his own gaze to the sky, observing as the clouds drift lazily overhead, fingertips kneading at the laurel-coloured grass below. The soft yet vibrant green reminds him of a new set of paints he recently bought.

"I think you'll survive lying on a patch of grass, Y/N."

"Not if I get up and there's a goddamn earthworm crawling in my ear, Hao."

"Just don't fall asleep, and you'll live."

You let out a giggle, though you wouldn't be lying if you said that the warmth hitting your body was making you feel just the tiniest bit of drowsy. "No promises there."

The silence that lingers between you and Minghao isn't uncomfortable, but it's not exactly filled with chatter either. It's a comfortable silence, with the distant sounds of other students laughing like white noise and the occasional rustle of a breeze flying past your ears.

It's always like this when you're here together, a quiet that feels more familiar than the few months you've known him. Whether it's your little study sessions at the library, or when you hang out with him after hours in his painting class, it's familiar being around him. The thought settles around you like a well-worn blanket, a comfort you didn't know you craved until you found it here.

You glance over back at Minghao, who seems to be focused back on his sketchbook. He taps his pencil against his bottom lip in concentration. There's a small smudge of charcoal on his nose that you pinpoint, just hardly noticeable, but it makes you want to reach out and brush it away with your thumb.

The bold thought makes your stomach churn.

"Lay down with me, Hao."

The words leave you before you can stop them, surprising even yourself. A blush creeps up your neck, warming your cheeks as you continue watching Minghao. He's still focused on his sketchbook, but the tapping of his pencil against his lip has ceased. He looks down at you, eyes widening slightly in surprise before softening into a gentle smile.

"Lay down?" he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

"Y-Yeah," You stammer, suddenly wishing you'd phrased it differently. "I mean, if you want. The sky looks better from here, you know?"

Minghao just tilts his head to the side as if in contemplation, before closing his sketchbook and shifting his position. He tosses his backpack right next to yours, laying himself down on the grass and stretching his body in relief. The grass crinkles softly beneath him, his arm briefly brushing against yours, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body as he settles in, peering up at the sky with you.

He's painted the sky many times, but for some reason, it feels different looking at it right now, and he isn't entirely sure why.

"What's the weirdest colour you've painted with?"

The sudden question makes Minghao sit up slightly, leaning on his elbow to face you better. The corners of his lips are pulled up in the hint of a smirk.

"Goose turd green."

His eyes detail the way your face contorts in slight disgust, before nothing but laughter tumbles out of you, and Minghao thinks he'd never get tired of hearing that sound.

iii. "hi." (vermilion is the colour that seeps through my cheeks when the alcohol beats me and i think about you.)

"Y/N𑁋jeez, how much did they drink tonight?"

"I don't even know𑁋woah, hey! Hold them steady, wait..."

"I'll take them back to their place," Minghao tells the other two boys struggling to keep you from falling over in their hold.

Mingyu and Seokmin stare at him for a second, exchanging a glance with each other before guiding you into Minghao's hold carefully. Minghao secures an arm around your waist, loosely at first, before tightening instantly because you're just about to fall out of his grip. He bids the other guys goodbye, then sets off with you towards your dorm.

"Are you alright?" he asks, even though he knows the answer already. "I told you before that you should know your limits."

You giggle, a wobbly, off-key sound. "Oh, I feel peachy, thank you so much."

Minghao just sighs, shaking his head slightly as he adjusts his hold on you, making sure you're steady on your feet.

The walk back to your dorm is painfully slow. Streetlights cast an orange glow on the sidewalk, painting long shadows that seem to dance alongside you. You lean heavily against Minghao, head hanging down to the ground, your footsteps unsteady. The world seems to tilt and sway with every giggle that escapes you.

Your vision is a bit blurry when your dorm comes into sight. Relief washes over you, and you lean even heavier into Minghao, practically melting into him by the time you reach your door and it swings open.

He steps you inside, moving you past the shoe rack by the entrance and towards your bed, and you flop down on the plush mattress with a low groan, nearly dragging down Minghao on top of you.

He catches himself just in time, a hand landing on the mattress beside you with a soft thud, and suddenly he's hovering above you, his breath catching with the sudden closeness of his body pressed up against yours. However, it just makes a laugh bubble out of your throat from deep within your chest, and with half-lidded eyes, you find yourself staring dazedly up at him.

"Wow, hiiii, you're like..." You drawl your words and tap aimlessly at his shoulder. "You're like... so pretty, you know? Have I told you that before?"

Heat creeps up Minghao's neck. He blinks down at you, eyes trailing over your face and cheeks which were stained a soft shade of vermilion from all the alcohol earlier. A small, surprised airy laugh escapes his lips.

He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. And even after pulling away from you, you continue, voice thick with inebriation.

"And your smile? Oh, don't even get me started," You slur, a goofy grin plastered on your face. "Those big, cute eyes you have? They, like, make the whole world look... sparkly."

"Y/N, you need𑁋"

"And whenev... whenever you paint," You continue, voice trailing off away. The world seems to be spinning a little slower now, the grin to your face faltering for a moment, replaced by a furrowed brow as you try to focus on the thought. "Yeah, whenever you paint... you get this... this really focused look on your face. Like the world fades away and all that's left is the canvas. It's kind of... hot."

Minghao could simply only stare at you. He knows he should probably get you settled into bed and leave, but his feet seem rooted to the floor below. His gaze flickers up and down your face, then back up to your eyes, searching for any sign of what you just said being a joke. But all he sees is a genuine, albeit slightly hazy and inebriated, fondness.

"You think so?" he finally manages to ask.

"Yeah," You mumble knowingly as if instinctive, eyelids drooping closed a little further. "Makes you look, uh... determined. Like you could𑁋like you could paint the stars out of the sky or something."

Minghao cowers his head down for a second, before looking back up at you, crossing his arms together bemusedly. "Do you want me to paint the stars for you?"

You give a dreamy nod. In your cloudy mind, the idea sounds incredibly romantic, like something out of a dream.

"I think..." You start once again. "that would really make me like you even more."

Minghao feels his lips twitch, somewhat hopeful yet also reluctant, before letting out another sigh.

"You need to go to bed." He walks back over and helps pull the covers over you. "I'll leave you some water and meds to take in the morning, okay?"

A pang of disappointment shoots through you as he pulls away, a sleepy pout crossing over your features. You watch him with heavy eyelids, the room tilting ever so slightly with each passing beat of your heart.

"Wait," You murmur, grabbing weakly at his sleeve.

Minghao turns back around. You're looking at him, eyes a little more focused now, a hint of a playful smile on your lips, and shooting him a look that means business.

"Don't forget the stars, okay, mister?"

iv. "hi." (pewter is the colour of the clouds when the earth can't hold it in much longer, and the words burst all at once.)

It hits you on a random Wednesday near the end of the month during an exam on English Romanticism that you simply can't stand this anymore.

You're avoiding Minghao, purposely attending more study sessions that your classmates offer and taking up more shifts at the small café across from campus that you applied for a while ago to make some extra bucks. You know you're avoiding him, and he probably knows it too, and it's all your fault𑁋you're letting him get away and slip through the cracks between your fingers.

Minghao's art had been selected for a prestigious exhibition out of town, and he was set to leave at the end of the month for this internship just as summer is starting, and the thought of him being gone brings a hollow ache to your chest. It's becoming unbearable each passing day, each millisecond that passes knowing you've been so stupidly immature to push him away when he's quite literally been the best thing that has happened to you.

You may never understand how Xu Minghao𑁋this sophisticated, well-mannered, and endlessly talented artist𑁋had managed to wriggle his way into your heart so effortlessly, but there he was, occupying every crevice and corner with his gentle smiles and soft laughter that seem to flip the world over. He was just this sentient, living breathing form of peace that you can’t seem to let go of.

When another boom of thunder shatters outside, you think, screw this.

Screw avoiding him. This wasn't how this story was supposed to end.

You're quick to shove your belongings back in your bag the moment your class ends. The rain has calmed down a little when you step outside, which only seems to fuel the determination within you.

With a deep breath, you pull your jacket tighter against your body, and start to spring across campus. The rain might be getting heavier with each passing minute, but you don't care. All you care about is getting to Minghao before the storm within you bursts too.

Reaching his dorm building, you're merely a shivering mess, hair damp and plastered to your forehead and clothes clinging uncomfortably to your skin. You barely have the breath to push open the heavy doors, collapsing against them for a moment to catch your breath.

But just as you're about to push open the door, a figure blocks your way, and you peer up to see Minghao standing in front of you. There's an umbrella clutched in his hand, and a puzzled look etches across his features when he takes sight of your disheveled appearance in front of him. You could only gaze at him.

"Hi," You say breathlessly, as if you've been holding on to the singular word for dear life.

Minghao just blinks a few times, unsure if he's looking at you as if you were crazy or if he's just imagining you.

"Hi," he finally responds, voice all gentle and slightly hesitant.

You glance down at the umbrella in his hand. "Are you going somewhere?"

Minghao opens his mouth to respond, also looking down at the umbrella in his hands as if magically appeared there out of thin air, then a bashful look crosses his face.

"I forgot some supplies back in class, so I thought I'd grab them before the storm gets any worse," he explains somewhat lamely, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "But I𑁋Are you... are you okay?"

You give a loose nod, then shake your head dismissively right afterwards. Gosh, you're losing it.

Minghao clears his throat. "What are you doing out here in the rain? You're going to get sick𑁋"

"You know I-I like you, right?" The words stumble clumsily over your tongue, shattering whatever fragile tension was building up between you two. "And you probably knew that already, to be honest, because you always seem to know me better than I know myself. But the thought of you leaving just... scared me, and I panicked and pushed you away."

A lump forms in your throat. Minghao's expression is practically unreadable in front of you. There's a mix of surprise, a hint of something that could be hurt, and something else you can't exactly decipher.

You let out a dry chuckle, embarrassment crawling up your face but you try to ignore it as much as you can.

"I-I know I sound crazy right now," You say, forcing a smile that seems more like a grimace. "But I... I couldn't let you leave without knowing how I feel. So yeah. I like you. A lot. Maybe more than that. I don't know. It sort of scares me, honestly."

You wait a few moments, simply standing there in the falling rain while anticipating just anything from the boy standing in front of you as if the world had come to a pause. His silence stretches suffocatingly long, nothing but a cloud swirling in those beautiful eyes of his.

Then he looks down at the umbrella in his hand for a moment, then back at you, his gaze lingering on your soaked clothes and shivering form. And just before you can spiral into a wave of panic, Minghao steps forward close to you. Without a word, he unfurls the umbrella and holds it over your head, tilting it slightly to ensure you're fully covered from the rain.

"Let's get you out of this rain," he says finally, low and calm. "You're freezing."

"I..." You start, then stop, giving a muted nod. "Okay."

Minghao leads you back inside his dorm building and up to his room, the warmth seeping overwhelmingly into your bones. He ushers you into his space, the door swinging shut with a soft click behind you.

You've been inside Minghao's room before, but it feels different now, more intimate somehow. The air hangs heavy as you awkwardly perch yourself on the edge of his bed, careful not to let the water dripping off you land on his sheets, and you watch as he quietly makes his way to his closet and disappears behind the hanging clothes. A moment later, he emerges with a soft, oversized hoodie and a towel in hand.

"Here." He holds out the towel and hoodie towards you. "Dry yourself off and change out of those clothes."

The softness of the towel against your skin is the equivalent to luxury as you meticulously pat down your hair and face. You shoot glances at Minghao across the room, seeing him busy himself at his desk, back turned to you, a low hum escaping his lips.

You slip on the oversized hoodie, the familiar scent of Minghao washing over you and instantly relaxing your jittery nerves. The sleeves hang past your fingertips, the material engulfing you in a comforting warmth.

"Feeling a little better?" Minghao asks, turning around to face you after a few minutes. You hardly notice the way his gaze sweeps over your form, lingering on the way the hoodie basically swallows you.

A shy, self-conscious look crosses your features. "Yeah, um... Thanks."

Minghao returns the smile, though there's a hint of something else in his eyes𑁋perhaps relief or maybe even a touch of fondness. "Always."

That particular silence passes again as you both sit in his room, the only sound the soft patter of rain against the window. You fidget nervously with the sleeves of his hoodie.

Then, you let out a sigh. "Look, Hao𑁋"

"Do you want anything to drink?"

The offer zips your mouth back up, leaving your unfinished words hanging in the air. Is he... trying to brush away everything that has just happened in the last fifteen minutes? All just like that? You nearly want to scoff at the thought, but you bite at your bottom lip instead, a pang of disappointment settling in your chest.

"Honestly?" You lay your hands flat on your lap. "I'd kill for a hot chocolate right now."

Minghao just chuckles softly. "Okay," Then another long, considerable pause. "Are you working at the café later on?"

The thought of working right now makes you cringe internally. "No, thank goodness. My shift actually got swapped with someone else. Lucky break, I guess."

The corners of Minghao's mouth lift up subtly. He glances back out the window, seeing that the rain had become much lighter and cleared up significantly, revealing the sky in a palette of muted greys. His gaze returns to you, a thoughtful expression painting his features.

"Let's go then," he asserts firmly, rising up to his feet.

You raise an eyebrow at him. "What? Right now? To the café?"

"Mhm."

"But you can't𑁋we can't just𑁋"

"It's a date," Minghao affirms, cutting your words off promptly. "My treat."

His words catch you off-guard, and for a moment, you're at a loss for words. Your mouth hangs down to the ground, warmth crawling up the cheeks just like the hot chocolate you desperately crave right now. You can feel your heart pounding furiously out of your chest and whatever tension coiling in your stomach dissipating away.

"A... date?" You squeak out, voice coming out small and weak.

Minghao's lips purse together in a thin line. "Unless you have other plans𑁋"

"Oh no, no, no," You blurt out, finding yourself already breathless for no reason at all, struggling to keep the giddy grin forming on your face at bay. "A date sounds perfect, actually."

Relief floods over Minghao's features. He lets out a little giggle, the kind that always makes your insides do a little happy flip.

"Good," he responds simply. "I'm glad."

"Do I get to pay next time?" You ask teasingly as you stand up. "If there is a next time, at least."

Nothing but amusement dances in his eyes.

"We'll see about that."

v. "hi." (calamine is the colour staining your cheeks and your lips against my ear.)

Minghao's lips are on yours before you have the opportunity to breathe in the air of relief of the hotel room.

It's not hard for your body to melt into him instinctively, the kiss soft yet desperate, tender yet urgent. You find your fingers kneading at the silky material of the suit that he wore, and his hand coming to rest on your lower back. Both of your feet move in mere unison together before you feel the edge of the bed nudge the back of your knee.

When the two of you pull back for a minute to breathe, all you can do is faintly chuckle.

"You act like you haven't seen me in years," You tease, letting a hand come to toy with his tie. "Did you miss me that much?"

Minghao's gaze only flickers between your eyes, your lips, and down the outfit that seems to hug your body just perfectly, before settling back up to your face. His own face is close enough to yours that you swear you could pinpoint the flecks of stardust in his irises. He's simply staring at you with nothing but adoration, his gaze so intense like he's trying to memorise every little detail etched on your face, even if he's already done so many times. He's painted stars on your skin with his fingertips, lips, whispered words, and his heart.

And then he's kissing you again, more softly and slower this time, the weight of his body following your own as you fall back down on the bed behind.

Missing you is more than just an understatement. Being separated from you felt like this physical piece of him was missing from his chest. His art had been reaching the rightful hands of museums abroad just as he deserves, and you had gotten used to him travelling for days on end to attend exhibitions and workshops.

You jumped on the first opportunity to be able to visit him. And now, with you in his arms and your lips pressed against his, Minghao feels like he's finally whole again.

His mouth pulls away from the sweet spot to your neck, trailing a soft path back up to your lips, giving you a small kiss before pulling back to look at you. You hear the way his breath hitches in his throat, the feeling of his hand coming to interlock with yours at your side, the metal of the ring on his finger meeting your skin.

You peer up at him longingly, lovingly, a tiny smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"Hi," You whisper, a breathless laugh escaping you.

Minghao's gaze softens even further, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand as he leans back down.

"Hi, dearest," he murmurs back affectionately, adjusting himself so that his mouth is near your ear, barely grazing against the shell as he whispers, "You're beautiful."

You could only giggle as he retreats himself away slightly, but you tug him by the tie again to bring him back down. "Yeah? What else?"

There's a thoughtful look that crosses over his features, his cheeks painted an ethereal shade of calamine pink, mirroring the flush of warmth that spreads across your own face. You've always grown accustomed to Minghao's fairly quiet nature, however it doesn't take much to read over even the most imperceptible shifts in his expressions. Whenever words seem to be too shy or hesitant to come out, the stars in his eyes speak for him.

Minghao just lowers himself even more, the ghost of his lips hardly brushing back against yours.

"I love you."

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[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Cherry Bomb (pt. 3)

Remus Lupin x f!reader, James Potter x f!reader (mentioned), Sirius Black x f!reader (mentioned)

warnings: smut, p in v, i think it’s protected atp idk, fingering, underage smoking, very dom remus, long af but omg i’m so in love with it

summary: the last part of your plan is far harder to achieve than the first two and it’s far more complicated.

word count: 5k

a/n: ahhh here’s the last part (i think?) anyway sorry it’s long i got carried away but ugh i love remus so much. sorry if my characterization is off, ever since atyd i see him as sarcastic. yeah i love this, hope you guys do too :)

~~~

Out of all the marauders, Remus Lupin was by far the most liked. He was quiet, but not invisible. He was the most sensible out of all the boys and the most polite. Though he did tend to be witty and sarcastic, he was kind at heart. But he was also the hardest one to get close to. Quiet, reserved, beautiful Remus with his nose always stuck in a book. There was always something about him that made girls fall fast. But that was the thing. It was always so easy to fall in love with him. So, if one ever wanted to shag Remus Lupin, they would have to deal with the consequences of loving him. Because he was nothing like his mates. He didn’t shag just anyone. No. He had to choose you. And to be chosen by him was the biggest accomplishment and the biggest curse. Because once you get him, you will never want to let him go.

~~~

Avoiding two of the marauders is nearly impossible. Each corner you turn it seems you run into one of them, or both. And each time their eyes find you they show the same expressions. Confusion. Frustration. Perhaps even a bit of sadness. You debate throwing away the entire plan daily. It’s unfair, the way you’re playing with their minds. But the lingering knowledge that you’re so close to completing the plan entirely keeps you going. Because surely, all your hurt feelings can’t be for nothing.

Right?

You speak to James only once after your shag in the broom closet. It’s a week or two after, he’s been chasing you around, and you’ve been avoiding him. But you decide he deserves some amount of closure. Sweet, lovely, innocent James. You find him alone in the library and take your opportunity. The way he smiles when he sees you approaching makes your heart ache terribly and regret fills your stomach.

“Y/n I’ve been trying to catch you, how are you?” He asks once you’re close enough to hear his quiet tone.

He looks so happy, you feel sick.

“Yeah, I just you know… haven’t been feeling too great,” you lie.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Sit if you’d like, I’ve been attempting to study for the potions test. Aren’t you good with potions? Could you help me possibly?”

You inhale deeply. You could really use a cigarette right now. You’ve broken things off with guys before, but this feels different. In the other cases, you’ve had reasons. For this case though, you have none. James is innocent in all of this. It makes you nauseous.

“Listen, James,” you start, your voice soft. “What happened was great, I enjoyed it a lot, but it was a mistake. I like you, you’re very sweet, but I don’t think we should do anything else.”

Watching his face fall is by far the most horrid sight you’ve ever seen. All the happiness fades fast and leaves behind a bitter frown. He looks down at his papers, toying with his quill.

“I see…” He looks back up, a fake smile on his lips. “That’s alright, it was fun. I’m not really looking for anything serious like that either, so I understand.”

You swallow hard. “I really do like you James, believe me, but it’s just not the right time for this.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.”

“And...” You pause for a second. “You won’t tell anyone?”

He nods. “Not a soul. This will be our little secret.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“Well then, I’ll let you get back to your potions. Thanks for... everything.” You give him one last smile before turning on your heels and making your way out of the library.

You almost put an end to it right then and there, but then you see the tallest marauder walking down the hall with Peter. His hands are in his pockets, his book bag slung over one of his shoulders. For a split second his eyes meet yours as the two of you pass each other.

He gives you a small awkward smile.

Fuck.

~~~

To catch Remus Lupin alone you must take the risk of losing your house some points. You wait a week before making your move, for safety. After your conversation with James, the only marauder to pay attention to you is Sirius. He’s still set on telling everyone that the two of you shagged, but thankfully, not many people believe him. Not even his best mates.

It’s a very quiet night when you sneak out after curfew. A night you know one particular prefect is doing rounds on his own. You wander through the castle quietly, making sure to avoid the areas in which teachers lurk. Goosebumps form on your skin, you should’ve worn more than a tee-shirt and sweatpants, but you needed to look casual.

As you’re about to turn a corner, you spot Filch. Panic surfaces inside you and you quickly turn around and run as quietly as you can down the hall. You take a few turns and just as you’re about to relax, you hear a voice.

“It’s past curfew, what are you doing out here?”

Your heart stops for a completely different reason.

It’s him.

You turn to face him and shyly smile. You watch his face change as he recognizes you.

“Oh, it’s you.” He narrows his eyes. “Off to shag my mate again, are you?”

“I never shagged him,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. “And I’m out for a completely different reason.”

“What reason is that?”

You shrug. “Personal reason.”

“Ah well, hope it was worth losing your dear Ravenclaws ten points. Get back to your dorm before someone else catches you,” he says, turning away from you.

You watch as he walks down the hall, not giving you another thought. You would’ve replied sarcastically if you could speak for that matter. Once he disappears, all you can do is shamefully make your way back to your house's common room, now understanding why James likes being a chaser.

~~~

Some time passes before you get Remus alone. Each time you see him during the day, he’s accompanied by one of the marauders and you can’t sneak out during his rounds again because your fellow Ravenclaws were not pleased. You’re smoking behind the castle when you happen to finally catch him walking alone. You immediately take your chance.

“Lupin!” You call out to him. You get up from the bench you were sitting on and walk to him.

Thankfully, he stops walking and turns back to face you. “Y/l/n. Is there something I can help you with?”

You can tell from the tone of his voice he’s trying to be polite; it makes your insides warm.

“Yeah, actually there is. I was wondering if you could help me with my transfiguration essay. You’re the smartest lad in the year,” you answer, taking a small puff of your cigarette. You hold it up to offer him a hit, he shakes his head.

“Those things will kill you,” he says. “But I suppose I can help a bit. I assume you’re free right now?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Let me take a look.”

A smirk forms on your lips, and you let out a breath of smoke purposely into his face. “Take a girl to dinner first.”

He swats the air, fanning away the smoke. “Are you going to show me or not? I have things to take care of.”

“Sorry.” You hate the way your face burns. “Come see.”

The two of you make your way to the bench and you take out your essay. Truthfully, you are already finished with it, and you think your work is good. But much to your dismay, only a few seconds after he starts reading it, Remus takes out a muggle pen and begins crossing things off.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your spelling is shit, and you’ve contradicted your argument at least twice already and I’m only on the second paragraph,” he answers, his eyes glued to the paper. “Maybe if you spent more time studying than shagging and smoking, you’d have this information down. We reviewed it a few weeks ago.”

You scoff. “I have not been shagging.”

“Sure,” he mumbles, crossing off another sentence.

“I swear, Sirius is mistaken.” You lie.

He turns his head, his green eyes meeting yours. “Who said I was referring to Sirius?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you cough due to the smoke. Is he talking about James? Your heart rate increases, and anxiety flows throughout your body. Did James tell? You catch your breath, your eyes meeting his again. He looks unamused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t shagged anyone in months, not that it’s your business,” you say.

“You should really practice more on your lying; you are shit at it.” He hands your essay back to you and stands. “I left a few notes of some things you should change, but my biggest suggestion is that you reread the textbook, and perhaps find some more... enticing quotes. Is that all then? Like I said, I’ve got some other business to tend to.”

For a few seconds, all you can do is stare up at him, your mouth hung open ever so slightly. You previously thought Remus Lupin to be a timid boy who went along with the rest of the marauders because he couldn’t say no. Now though, you realize all those assumptions are wrong. He’s quiet, but not timid.

“What do you know?” You question.

“Quite a lot, thanks for the chat.”

Before you can even think of a response, he’s already walking away. You can’t let him slip away again.

“I’ll get it out of you Remus Lupin if it’s the last thing I do!”

He turns his head over his shoulder and chuckles, the sound sending warmth straight to your core. “We’ll see.”

And just like that, he’s gone, and you’re left flustered with rosy cheeks.

You did save the best for last.

~~~

Falling for the third marauder is easier than anything. Almost unconsciously, you begin to fail classes so that he can help you with work, you learn his route around the castle to see him at least once a day, and you sneak around the castle some nights, but he always ends up finding you somehow.

One night, a little over a month after you’ve started your game, something unexpected happens. You’re out after curfew once again, tiptoeing around the castle to see where the tallest prefect is when he appears from behind you. Like usual, he crosses his arms and clears his throat, making you quickly spin on your heels to face him. How does he always sneak up on you?

“How many times am I going to catch you before you start following the rules? I’m sure your fellow Ravenclaws aren’t too pleased with you,” he says. You look up at him, a genuine blush on your face. He narrows his eyes. “You want me to catch you, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You look away nervously. The plan never involved gaining real feelings for any of the marauders, yet here you were. Standing in your sleepwear after curfew with your heart racing in your chest at the mere sight of one of them. Though you try to deny it, you know deep down you’re crushing hard, and you know it will only end badly.

“I uh... I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m just on a little stroll back from a smoke that’s all,” you reply after a few seconds, your hands anxiously fiddling with one another.

He rolls his eyes. “Listen, I don’t know what your objective is or has been, but whatever it is it’s not going to happen.”

“Remus I-”

“Sirius, I understand, he would sleep with the giant squid if it had tits. But James, really? He may be more of an... active person than myself but he has far more feelings than you think.” He takes a step forward; he towers over you. You swear you can’t breathe. “You may have fooled them, but you don’t fool me. I can see right through you y/l/n and you’re sick.”

You move backward; he follows each step. “You... you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?”

Your back hits a wall, panic rises in you. Your eyes fall to his hands, and a bit of relief washes over you when you see he’s not holding his wand. But then another thought takes over. Is he going to hit you? When you look back up, he’s only inches away from you, his hazel eyes piercing down into yours. He places one of his hands on the wall next to your head. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, really. I’m sorry,” you mumble, your words genuine.

“So, what was your goal then? To shag all of us and take your pick of who’s best? Peter would’ve been far easier than James you know,” he replies.

“It was just a stupid idea, I don’t know. It didn’t mean anything deeper I swear.” You’re rambling now, the threat of tears evident in the burning of your eyes. You try your hardest to keep any from falling, you can’t cry in front of Remus.

He sighs. “You’re lucky Sirius is oblivious, and James is trusting. If they knew the truth, you’d have the whole school against you.”

“Wait, they don’t know?”

He rolls his eyes again. “Of course not. If they knew you’d be getting hexed almost all day every day.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I notice a lot more than people think. Did you honestly think no one saw you go up to our dorm with Sirius that night at the party? And did you honestly think none of us would notice James’s change in attitude? You think you know more than you actually do,” he explains.

For a few seconds, the two of you only stare at each other. You don’t know what to think. You should’ve known this would happen. Someone was going to catch on. You wish you had never done it. Any of it. Everything would be so much simpler if you’d simply stayed the quiet Ravenclaw girl who never interacted with the marauders. But you can’t go back, no matter how much you wish you could. You can only make it right moving forward.

“I’m sorry, truly Remus.” There’s so much more you want to say, but you can’t. You can’t fathom the words.

“If you’re truly sorry, stop. I won’t be the next pawn in your game,” he says, his voice slightly lower than before. You watch the way his eyes shift, the way he licks his lips, and moves his head down so he’s almost eye level with you. Your breath catches in your throat. “I suppose I pity you though because you and I both know this has become more than a game to you now.”

You turn your head, but he grabs your chin and forces you to look him in the eye.

“You fancy me.”

“I-”

“Don’t try to deny it. Like I said, I can see right through you.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s over now,” you whisper, a tear nearly escaping one of your eyes.

He inhales deeply and you notice his eyes trail over your body for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “You’re right. It is over now.”

He lets go of you and backs away and for the first time since encountering him tonight, you feel like you can breathe normally. You stay on the wall, silently catching your breath as he walks further down the hall. But just before he’s about to turn a corner, he looks back at you.

“Or perhaps it’s simply my turn to play with you. Oh, and that’s twenty points from Ravenclaw. Goodnight.”

You fall asleep with his words burning in the back of your mind, and an ache between your thighs.

~~~

After that night, everything is different. You try to avoid them all and go back to the way things were before, you really do. You scribble out the page in your journal with their names, you keep your head down in the halls, and you skip the parties they host. It’s Remus who’s begun playing. Somehow, he continues knowing where you are and appears at random times. Whether you’re studying in the library, and he just so happens to need a book from that section, or you’re out by the lake with your friends and he walks by. You know it’s intentional, but it still manages to leave you hot and bothered each time.

“I thought you said the plan was off?” Your friend says one particular day when the two of you are eating lunch.

You look at her, confused. “It is.”

“Then why has Lupin been staring at you this whole meal?”

Instinctively, you look across the Great Hall and immediately catch those all-too-familiar hazel eyes. He doesn’t look away, at least, not for a moment. He stares at you with no shame, and even from the distance you can sense something different from the look in his eyes. Before you can fully figure it out though, he turns his attention back to the other three marauders.

“Did you shag him?” Your friend asks.

“No, I told you what happened,” you answer, focusing your attention back on the food on your plate. “I wish he’d stop.”

Your friend laughs. “Nah, you don’t.”

You hate how she’s right.

~~~

Nearly two months have passed when you finally confront Remus.

You’re sitting in the astronomy tower, a cigarette between your lips, and a scowl on your face. You can’t take it any longer. Wasn’t he the one who told you off? Wasn’t he the one who told you to stop the games? He was. You know it. So, why has he kept it going? He had said that it was his turn, but that was many weeks ago. How long did he plan to keep this going? You let out a cloud of smoke, frustration taking over your body at the thoughts.

“How many points shall I take off tonight? Forty? Fifty?” You feel him sit next to you, but you refuse to look at him. “You haven’t been out after dark in a while though, I’ll give you that.”

“What do you want Lupin?” You ask, annoyed.

He chuckles. “What do any of us want really?”

You look at him with a straight face, hating the way butterflies take over your stomach at the sight of him so close to you. Despite the scars on his face, you find him more beautiful than any boy. More than James, even more than Sirius. There is something so extraordinary about Remus you can’t explain. You wish it would go away.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” You question after taking another drag from the cigarette.

“I haven’t spoken to you in over a month, I don’t know what-”

“Yes, you know what I mean.” You cut him off. You exhale your last breath of smoke and throw the cigarette off the tower. “I’m trying to leave this all in the past and move on like you said but you’ve made it quite difficult.”

“Seems you don’t like the taste of your medicine love. It’s hard, isn’t it? Trying to avoid someone when they always seem to end up exactly where you are. It gets rather annoying, doesn’t it? Especially when you secretly enjoy it,” he replies.

Your eyes meet again and that familiar trouble to breathe begins. He’s looking at you in a way you don’t know how to feel about. It’s not like Sirius’s drunken stare or James’s needy stare. No. This one, though the same lustful, is far deeper.

“Just tell me what you want Remus,” you eventually say, your voice lower than before. “What do you want?”

“I want you to get out of my head. I want to look at you and feel nothing. I want everything to go back to how it was before you decided to fuck with my friends and me,” he answers.

You swear your heart stops for a few beats. “Then let all of that happen.”

“You think I haven’t tried?”

You stay silent.

“I never wanted this, any of it.”

You look down. “I know.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Merlin, I give up, you win y/n. You bloody win.”

You’re about to ask what he exactly means, but he acts faster. In the blink of an eye, his lips are on yours. You can’t grasp it at first. You’re kissing Remus Lupin; Remus Lupin is kissing you. The boy who unintentionally caught your heart is kissing you. It’s unbelievable, it’s undeniable, and it’s far from underrated. You don’t hesitate to kiss him back, even through your initial shock.

His hands cup your cheeks, his thumbs stroke your skin ever so gently. You wrap your arms around his neck, one of your hands toying with the hair on the back of his head. He’s a good kisser, very good. That’s why when he parts your lips, you protest.

“Why did you-”

“If we’re going to do this, you have to promise me it’s not a game anymore y/n.”

Your head is fuzzy from how intently he’s looking at you. “I promise Remus, that game has been over for a while.”

“You swear it?”

“I do. Do you?”

“Of course.” There are a few seconds of silence before he sighs, one of his fingers now playing with a piece of your hair. “We have to keep it secret.”

“I know,” you say.

He brushes the piece of hair behind your ear, the intimate gesture sending tingles throughout your body. “I don’t want it to be a quick shag either,” he adds.

“What do you want it to be then?”

The smile he gives you makes your stomach flip. “More.”

~~~

More from Remus Lupin is everything.

After that night, the two of you begin something you don’t exactly know how to name. You would call it a secret relationship, but the thought of that gives you a stomachache. The two of you don’t interact during the day, at least not where anyone else can see. He passes you in the hall as if you’re a stranger, but the second he catches you around a corner in an empty hallway he showers you with affection. And at night when the two of you sneak off, he touches you in ways you never thought possible.

He shows you so many new places in the castle you never knew of. Secret passages, secret rooms, all of it. You never question how he knows all of it, you only hold his hand tighter as he guides you. When he suggests a more secluded place to meet, you of course agree. Though, you never expect that place to be the shrieking shack.

“There’s no way you’re serious,” you say. The two of you are outside, near the Whomping Willow. You make sure to stay out of its reach. “The shrieking shack? That place is haunted, the ghosts don’t even go there because of how scary it is.”

“Obviously I’m not Sirius love, you only shagged him once,” he sarcastically replies, rolling his eyes to emphasize his joke.

“Remus.”

“The shrieking shack is not haunted, believe me, that’s only a silly rumor made so that people won’t go to it. Me, James, Sirius, and Peter go all the time. It has a bed, and given our activities I say we utilize that,” he explains.

You bite your lip. “Are you positive?”

He moves a bit closer to you and places a hand on your shoulder, leaning down so he’s at eye level with you. “You know I would never let anything hurt you, you can trust me.”

“Alright, but how are we supposed to get there so late? It’s in Hogsmeade,” you question.

He chuckles. “Haven’t you learned by now the marauders have many secret ways?”

“Yes, but we’re not in the castle right now how are we to- Remus don’t go any closer you’re going to get hurt you-” You pause, your mouth hung open as you watch the whomping willow go completely still. “How did you...”

“Secrets love, now come, it’s getting late,” he says, holding a hand out to you.

You don’t hesitate to take his hand and follow him into the tree, nothing else is said.

Surprisingly, the walk isn’t too long. It’s dark, gloomy, and a bit cold, but it’s not terrible. At the end of the tunnel, there’s a door. Something in Remus’s posture shifts, almost as if he’s anxious. You squeeze his hand to try to reassure him of whatever he needs, he gives you a smile through the dark that makes your cheeks warm.

The shrieking shack isn’t big, not at all. It’s a simple building with a few rooms and a short staircase. Remus brings the two of you to what you presume is the bedroom though the only indicator is a mattress, blanket, and pillow on the floor. There’s a small fireplace in the room as well, shockingly full of wood and some candles placed near the mattress. The entire shack is creaky and dusty, but you don’t mind. As long as there’s no ghosts, it’s perfect. Remus lets go of your hand and moves to start a fire. You sit down on the mattress and light the candles around.

“What do you guys use this place for?” You ask.

“It’s just a place we come to sometimes when we don’t want to be around other people,” he answers. His back is still turned to you, you could stare at it all day. “Sirius was the first one to discover it wasn’t haunted.”

“Oh? How did he find that out?”

“He’s always been the bravest out of us, though I think he just wanted another rule to break.”

You chuckle. “That sounds like him.”

He finally stands and turns to face you, a bright fire burning behind him. “You would know, you shagged him.”

“Oh, shut up,” you say as you slide off your shoes.

He begins to walk to you. “Can I ask you a question?”

“This context doesn’t seem good, but yes you can,” you reply.

“Be completely honest, out of the three of us, who’s the best?”

He’s standing right in front of you now. You look up at him, a coy smile on your lips, and begin to untie his shoelaces. “You are of course.”

“For some reason, I think your answer is biased,” he says with a laugh.

You trail your hands up his legs after he steps out of his sneakers, stopping once you reach his belt buckle. It quickly gets undone. “What would make you say that?”

He laughs again. “Just a hunch I guess.”

Your moment of control is taken fast when he pushes you down on the mattress, his lips attacking yours. It isn’t a lie though; he is the best. Unlike with Sirius and James, you share such deeper feelings for Remus. Each time he touches you, you practically melt into the palm of his hand. He’s caring. He’s gentle, but rough when need be. Though the two of you argue sometimes, it always is resolved with a hug, a kiss, or a shag. So, in the simplest of words, Remus Lupin is the perfect boy in every way.

All your clothes are discarded quickly, his too. He kisses you deeply as he uses his fingers on you. Sometimes you wonder where he’s learned all his skills from, but even thinking about him with another girl has started to make your stomach hurt. Instead, you focus on how good two of his fingers feel inside you. They’re so long, so slender. More than once in class you’ve been completely distracted by the sight of his hands, specifically his fingers, even more specifically when he’s wearing rings on them. They feel just as you imagine, extraordinary.

When you cum, you’re moaning a mess into his mouth, your body shaking. He milks every last bit of your orgasm out of you before stopping. You watch through heavy lids as he sucks his fingers clean of your cum, the sight makes you audibly groan.

“I need you,” you whisper, running one of your hands through his hair.

“Do you?” There’s something in the tone of his voice mixed with the way he’s looking at you that makes your heart ache in your chest.

You nod. “In so many ways Rem.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

He moves inside you slowly at first, but he finds a decent pace after a few minutes. Because of his height, you weren’t at all surprised at the size of his cock. It’s by far the biggest you’ve ever encountered and the best. Though sometimes it leaves you sore, it always leaves you in a daze of dopamine.

Remus struggles to keep his head at your level as he fucks you. He presses soft kisses to your forehead, one of his hands intertwined with yours. You’ve never felt such intimacy in your life, it almost makes tears form in your eyes.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he says, his voice shaky. “Even if it’s not true.”

“I’m yours, Rem, completely,” you reply. His hips meet yours harder, and you moan. “All yours I’m all yours.”

Neither of you lasts much longer than that.

In the aftermath as the two of you hold each other, he rests his head on your chest. You run your fingers through his hair softly, the sound of his breathing like music to your ears. It’s at this moment you realize just how deeply you care for him. You hate what you did with that silly plan, but you don’t think you’d change it. If ending up in this moment only came from the plan, you’d do it over a million times.

“Is this real?” Remus asks after some time.

You sigh and press a kiss to the top of his head. “Yes. This is real.”

And so, it is.

[il-predestinato]

hello beautiful elle

since it is going to be a long 3 months without our boys could you please recommend some fics that you liked? cause i really like your writings and how realistic they are and i wanted to get some of you suggestions for the break!

love you loads

Thank you, lovely anon, for your very kind message! 🥺 I must admit I have fallen behind in reading fics. I am sure I am forgetting some excellent Lestappen fics/writers, but these are some of my all-time favourites!

Lestappen Fic Recs:

And in the end I will seek you out amongst the stars by mandzilkos (@geeeooorrrge) - rating: G, 22k words

Soulmate AU where you see in black and white until you meet your soulmate, and the world goes back to black and white after your soulmate dies. This is ALWAYS the first Lestappen fic that comes to mind whenever anyone asks for a recommendation, and it is probably my all-time favourite. The fic that inspired me to write Lestappen, if I'm honest.

getting half of you just ain't enough by shybear_styles - rating: E, 20k words

The friends with benefits story that spans the 2019 season. The only thing better than amazing smut is amazing smut with feels. For sure a top 5 fic in the Lestappen fandom for me. Also, this author is simply amazing in general and you should read all of her fics! I haven't given up hope that she will return one day and write more Lestappen. 🤧

you feel the mornin' feel by shybear_styles - rating: M, 3.3k words

Remember that time Sebastian Vettel asked Charles, "Is he [Max] pretty?" And we never got an answer because Charles descended into gay panic? Well, worry not! We get an answer in this fic.

Monaco Malaise by ProngsfootxJily (@cupidskissx) - rating: E, 8k words

Rivals with benefits, takes place after the 2021 Monaco Grand Prix. Yes, this one is delicious smut but also a character study. Both of them are written so well, and it leaves you begging for more. Don't forget to check out the equally amazing sequel! (Don't worry, I have been relentlessly harassing her to write the sequel's sequel.)

algorithm by Anney (@badboy-george) - rating: M, 17k words

In a world where F1 uses simulation-based compatibility tests, five times Max doesn't find the right partner and the one time he does. Black Mirror ("San Junipero" and "Hang the DJ") vibes in the best way. Another one of my absolute favourite fics. If you've read any Lestappen fics, you've probably read "Every Other Sunday." This one is simply a masterpiece by the immensely talented Anney; definitely check out her other fics!

panem et circenses by Anney - rating: E, 13.2k words

Wow - simply devastating, haunting, an ode to these two as drivers, set in a dystopian future AU. The world building is absolutely incredible, but at its heart is such a beautiful story of love and hope. This one doesn't get enough recognition. (TW: implied non-con, not between Lestappen.)

Unlearn by wantinghopingwriting (Tazza1993) (@lightsoutfullhearts) - NR, 45k words

This is another all-time favourite, a must-read. Fake/pretend relationship to lovers multi-chapter story that is ever so satisfying; both of them are so well characterized. Set in a parallel-ish 2022 season. I really cannot recommend this one enough.

the edge of what can be loved by Ledger_m (@the-last-jedis) - rating: T, 13k words

The third wheel fic from the perspective of Max and Charles' various "Steves." It's funny, heartwarming, and everyone on the grid is nosy as fuck.

Charles Leclerc vs Red Bull caps by Ledger_m - rating: T, 6.4k words

Charles is the hero we all need, as he goes on a mission to get rid of all of Max's stupid Red Bull caps. This is REQUIRED reading! Kami is a genius. Go read all of her fics.

If You Don't Play, You'll Never Win by antimonyandthyme (@antimonyandthyme) - rating: T, 4.1k

Post 2021 Monaco Grand Prix. Max wants to take their relationship further; Charles... doesn't. Oh my God, where do I begin to describe how much I love this fic. The language is beautiful, both of them are so well-written, and I feel punched in the gut over and over again in the best way. The ending (well, the whole thing) is so damn satisfying.

all's well that ends well (to end up with you) by stylestappen (@stylestappen) - rating: G, 3k words

Max has a meltdown in the cereal aisle (yes, the cereal aisle) at 3 am when he realizes he is in love with Charles despite the latter's questionable taste in cereal. Dani has an absolutely wicked sense of humour! (Although I don't understand what she has against cocoa puffs 😭.) She also wrote a banger of a Lestappen soon-to-be teammates fic, so make sure to check out her profile.

Max Verstappen: Spotify Extraordinaire by frnndtorres - rating: G, 26k words

Max makes Spotify playlists for the grid. Fluffy, funny, care-free, liberal use of nicknames, with a healthy dose of feels between Max and Charles. A really fun read.

i love the way your green eyes mix with that malibu indigo by altissimozucca (@altisssimozucca) - rating: G, 11k words

Max and Charles spend summer of 2020 together in Malibu and try not to fall in love. Spoiler alert: they fall in love. I feel the urge to explain something: When I first started reading Lestappen, there were less than 250 fics in their entire tag (yeah I know, we are currently close to 3000 fics, which is insane). From 2019-2021, we truly lived off crumbs. So trust me when I say that we owe so much to altissimozucca, who wrote something like 40% of the fics in the Lestappen tag and nearly single-handedly kept us fed in those days. It's so hard to pick one of her fics to recommend, so make sure you check out her profile for more!

#803442 by altissimozucca - rating: M, 1k words

Max and Charles celebrate the end of the 2019 season in a hotel room. So soft, so fluffy, so satisfying.

Bruises by eefiplier - rating: E, 5.1k words

I think of this one as THE Lestappen smut fic. Oh my God, it's 5k words of amazing established relationship smut with all the feels. A classic. I can read this one over and over again.

outside the box by playclock (@endowataru) - rating: M, 6.1k words

Max falls in love with Charles' driving... oh and Charles himself too. They are ultra competitive idiots who are madly in love. There aren't enough established relationship fics out there, but this one is simply amazing. And don't forget to check out this author's profile for additional Lestappen fics. I promise every single one is a banger!

i made it link by link by purpleglasseswrites (@f-ferrari-forever) - rating: M, 4.2k words

Charles and Max try to be kinky, but who are they kidding - they are far too vanilla for that stuff. 🤣 This one is so sweet, and don't forget to read the sequel!

One man's trash, another man's treasure by AzziNow (@track-terror-apologist) - rating: T, 4.2k words

Charles turns into a raccoon and terrorizes everyone except Max. (Well, he terrorizes Max too... slightly.)

Call it madness, call it love… by AzziNow - rating: M, 3.5k words

Ferrari auctions off Charles for charity. No angst, just fluff. Alpha!Max/Alpha!Charles. So I confess that I never read A/B/O fics. There's nothing wrong with it - just not my cup of tea. But I really enjoyed this one. Al has such a chaotic sense of humour.

it all reminds me of you by grandprix (@grandprix-ao3) - rating: E, 3k words

Secret relationship Lestappen with flashbacks. Oh the yearning, the desire, the smut - incredibly satisfying. I must put a plug-in for this author's other Lestappen fics as well. Never misses - make sure to check them out!

burning you into my mind by thightattoos - rating: E, 4.1k words

Porn with feels and possessiveness. You cannot ask for anything more. I must have read this one a dozen times.

an evil plan or two by witchee_writer - rating: T, 5.2k words

Max and Charles are roped into a plan to get Brocedes back together; they come to a few realizations along the way. The only thing better than a Lestappen fic? A Lestappen AND Brocedes fic!

Fine Line by empireoffclouds - rating: NR, 7k words

One of the more light-hearted enemies to friends to lovers fics. I absolutely adore their dynamic here - it's snarky, warm, but also so them. The incomplete sequel is also a super fun read.

Into Darkness Of Thought by flamingosarepink - rating: T, 1k words

After the 2019 Japanese Grand Prix, Charles thinks Max isn't coming back to their shared space.

steal softly under castle walls by untouchableocean - rating: G, 521 words

Max gets home late from Milton Keynes and Charles has already fallen asleep. Short, tooth-rooting fluff of the best kind.

Zoomies by greeny1710 (@maxlambiase) - rating: E, 2.2k words

This one is just hilarious. A (mostly) naked Max walks into Charles' team Zoom call during the COVID lockdown.

...and many, many more that I'm sure I have forgotten! 🙈 You can also check out my AO3 bookmarks (the first few pages are pretty much all Lestappen fics).

Please remember to leave kudos and comments for these amazing writers. The talent in this fandom is absolutely incredible. They all deserve so much recognition. Happy reading!

[ryndicate]

Seal It With a Kiss ⨳ Kishibe

"You want me to do this for you? Then tell me exactly what it is that you want."

notes: I came up with this idea for @akiniku back in like september when i was just beginning to sniff around the csm fandom for a favorite. Dom told me all about him and i fell in love and came up with this plot and *then* I read csm lol. 6+ months later, here we are T-T thanks to @cyancherub for reading through his characterization for me and for my past and future beta readers<3 (i know some of you havent gotten the chance i was just too excited) Idon’t know if i will ever be able to put as much love into a Kishibe fic ever again so lets try to appreciate this

warnings: female reader, longer than a drabble, alcohol, virginity loss + inexperienced reader, creampie, emotional manipulation, coercion but there's consent, age gap (like 30 years between them, fight me), trainee/mentor relationship, twisted savior complex, canonverse, piss (more about control than it is the kink)

Rules/BYF/DNI

Kishibe sighs. “That’s it for today.”

“Already?” You puff, sweat dripping down your temples, your blade lowering until the tip is pointing to the ground. “I could keep going.”

He sighs again, resisting the urge to rub the approaching headache from his temple. Kishibe will never understand the PSDH’s insistence of sending him all of their potentials. Their screening is usually decent enough to keep this type of student from beneath his weathered wings, but every now and then one will slip through. One like you. Earnest, hopeful, and far too willing to do the job. This ain’t the place for you, never will be. They set you loose on the streets and you’ll be some Devil’s next meal. 

But it’s not his place to care. Not supposed to be at least. Makima won’t even tell him which Devils you have contracts with—but again, he doesn't care.

Kishibe ignores your mumbled complaints about cutting your training short, sighing under his breath. “Gonna need’a drink after this.”

He’s unprepared for you to pop up at his side, tilting your head as you ask if you can come with him.

“Why?”

The question seems to put you off. “Isn’t it good manners to take your juniors out after a hard day?” 

Kishibe huffs at your coy tone, certain you’re just after a free meal. “That’s for juniors who’ve proven they earned it.”

That seems to put you off even more. “You don’t think I’ve earned it?”

“No.” His answer is short, clipped. Dark eyes watch intently as you deflate a little, that perpetually cheerful expression drooping into something he ultimately decides is an unsettling expression on a face like yours. He doesn’t care for it, unable to decide why. 

“How’s this?” He grunts, pulling a cigarette from his pack and lighting up. “I’ll give ya a week.”

“A week for what? You're not supposed to smoke inside, you know.” A sulky tone meets Kishibe’s ears, your eyes tracking his lips and the flare of the cherry as he inhales.

He ignores the snipe. “You get close enough to me to take one of these away—” a twitch of his fingers has flaky ash fluttering to the linoleum, “—and I’ll take you out for drinks. That’s how you earn it.”

The sparkle is back in your eyes in an instant. Your sword tips back into its sheath, coming up on his left to give him a smile. "You got it, sir! You'll never smoke again. Just watch."

Kishibe rolls a shoulder, suppressing a groan at your chipper attitude. I'm getting too old for this shit. "We'll see about that, sweetheart."

He's ignorant to the way the words make you pause, moving for the door, ready to get in his car and drive to his regular dive bar. He needs the silence of the drive before he drowns himself for the night. Well, not so much silence as the rattling heating unit, the rush of passing cars, and music so quiet one might question why it’s even on. It’s simply the beginning step of the ritual he’s come to find most comforting, or numbing, on this job. 

"See you tomorrow, sir?"

“Yeah.” He doesn’t even bother glancing back as the door closes behind him. 

The autumn air clears his head a little as he finally escapes the hallways of the office. A cold breeze whips at his hair, bringing old scars and memories to mind as it bites at his skin. Kishibe takes a final drag of his cigarette and lets it fall to the pavement. He doesn’t stub it out, pulling out the collar of his jacket to fight the chill as he disappears into the evening crowd.

“That is not how this works.”

“There’s no way this doesn’t count!”

“Give them back.”

“I said you’d never smoke again, didn’t I? I didn’t think you of all people would want me to go back on my word.”

Kishibe takes a careful inhale through his nose, closing his eyes for a beat and convincing himself he won’t kill any of his trainees. He’s sent you to infirmiry more times than he cares to count with these training sessions, to bring home the apparently wavering point on your young dumb invicibility complex, but he knows where the line is. So when he opens them, Kishibe fixes you with the same intent stare that usually gets his subordinates to straighten up, or clingy women out of his apartment. Dark, unimpressed, unwavering.

You are painfully undeterred.

“I had to get close enough to take them from you. That’s what you said.” You stand in front of him, at a regrettably smart distance, looking mighty proud of yourself as you clutch the worn white box carefully in your fist. After five straight days of utter and total defeat, you’d made your move on the car ride over this morning instead. 

“I said one, not the pack,” Kishibe drawls. “And you know damn well that ain’t the point here. Nickin' them from the car is not the same.”

You shrug, a familiar petulance beginning to saturate your tone. “Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You said that kills people.”

Unprepared for the—still a smartass answer but—wisdom of your words, some of the intensity dissolves from his eyes. As if he really needed that reminder. He still has his doubts. 

“No arguing that,” Kishibe sighs, scratching his neck. “Guess you get what you wanted. Drinks on me tonight.”

A triumphant smile brightens your face, but it doesn’t last. The barest moment later you find yourself flat on your back on the training facility’s floor, groaning at the impact. 

Kishibe flicks his lighter, sparking his cigarette and taking a grateful inhale of sweet nicotine as he stands over you, impassive.

“But I’m still gonna make you earn it, sweetheart. Getting overconfident and lettin’ down your guard also kills people. Get up and block me next time.”

“Yes, sir."

He might have been harsher on you today than entirely warranted as he watches you wince and shift, trying to get comfortable in the weathered booth of his usual bar. But really, to go any easier on you would do you a disservice if you really are this hellbent on working in public safety. Part of Kishibe is hoping one training session—and soon—he’ll find your limit and you’ll realize you aren’t making the cut. At the very least he’d like you to settle for the civilian sector. Hell, Kishibe despises paperwork but he'd write your damn recommendation.

You’re peering around the dimly lit space. It's hazy with smoke, with a scent to match. He probably could have taken you somewhere nicer, but he really didn’t want to stray too far from his own comfort zone, so what the hell. This was your own idea anyways. 

“Are you even old enough to be in here?” Kishibe asks suddenly, catching the eye of the bartender and tipping his head. 

“I came of age a couple months ago.”

Kishibe cringes inwardly at your prideful tone. Fucking great. He eyes you as the bartender begins to edge out from behind the counter, watching as you glance around a little frantically for a menu. Shoddy place like this doesn’t really have one. 

Kishibe gestures between the two of you before the man has to cross the bar completely. “My usual. Double for me.”

"What's your usual?" You ask curiously. 

"Whiskey. Nothing fancy, just cheap and strong." 

"Oh."

The glasses are placed in front of you and you give what Kishibe sees as an awkward smile at the bartender as your fingers wrap around the glass. He takes a grateful gulp, unable to help but notice you haven't made a move with your own. 

"Not to your taste?"

"I don't know," you answer plainly, tilting the short glass and letting the amber liquid catch the light. "Never had it."

"Never had whiskey?" Kishibe hums, bored, taking another drink. The double is going fast. The familiar warmth has already settled in his chest, an old comfort. 

"Never had alcohol."

Sucker punched with that information, Kishibe pauses and swallows the last of his glass before setting it down and signaling for a refill. He's far too practised to waste a drop of a drink he's paying for.

"Why are we here?" It's a shrewd question, a shrewd tone. "If you've never had alcohol, why were you so insistent on going out for drinks? Isn't that something you do with your friends?"

Your fingers tighten on the glass, a small pout forming on your lips. "Didn’t wanna do this with friends. Wanted my first drink to be with you, s-sir." Embarrassment coats your features as your words stumble off at the end, and you return to examining your still untouched drink.

Kishibe's refill arrives, another heaven sent double. He's getting the faint inkling that something else is happening here and he's far too tired to pick the answers out of you.

"Lemme get this straight," he drawls, leaning forward and jabbing a finger at you over the rim of his glass before bringing it to his lips. "You wanted your first drink out with a tired old man instead of your friends?"

"You're not tired!" 

Your tone is scandalized, pitch rising high enough that it catches the attention of some other men seated nearby. The last thing he needs.

Kishibe scoffs, scar twitching as he fights a sardonic smirk. "Beg to differ sweetheart."

"You're not, you…you're—" your volume is back to normal, seemingly struggling with your words, and it's amusing if not slightly endearing. 

"Lemme know when you think of something, I'll be here," Kishibe mumbles, drinking again, content to watch you squirm. "You gonna take that first drink? You got me here, like you wanted. Might as well."

That small smirk finally fights its way onto his lips as you give him the barest of glares. He usually doesn't see that look on you until you've gone an entire session without landing a single hit. It's cute. 

"You're you. Don't gotta 'splain myself to you," you grumble, timidly lifting the glass to your lips.

"No, you don't," Kishibe rumbles in agreement, watching as you take your first swallow. 

To your merit you don't splutter or cough, but a grimace splinters across your expression as you swallow and stare down at the glass in mild disbelief. 

"This sucks," you announce firmly.

Kishibe barks out a short laugh and finishes his second drink. "I'll order ya something else."

He's reaching for your glass when you snatch it away from him. 

"No, I'll finish it. This is what you usually get?"

"Yeah. But take it easy, that's a—" Kishibe stares, a little defeated as you down the glass. "Tha'sa sippin' whiskey."

"What's that mean?" You croak out, your face scrunching up despite your efforts.

"It means you're getting a glass of water before I get you anythin' else."

"Why?"

You'll thank me in the morning, Kishibe thinks grimly, not deigning to answer. Along with the next few rounds and the rounds after that, he also orders your water and some food, feeling abnormally generous. Maybe he just doesn’t want to deal with your grumbling tomorrow at training. 

He can’t stop thinking how strange this is. It’s strange. You’re here in his usual booth, humming an odd tune while drinking his usual whiskey, when he’s here each night, usually alone. Kishibe feels the deep disturbance all the way to his roots, gnarled and twisted as they are. 

Watching your face twist up at the taste again, Kishibe decides to slow down with some soju instead. Your eyes are getting blurry and your hands have settled into some kind of nervous habit, picking at the edge of the table as you try not to look at him. He doesn't understand your insistence here. Here at the bar, or anything else. 

"Why are you doin' this?" He asks again, quiet.

You glance at him, blinking slowly as your gaze struggles to focus. Then you force a smile, sweet and pure as a Devil's heart. It's damn near chilling to see. 

"'Cause I want to, sir."

"Bullshit." He's looked into you. Your family is alive, financially stable. You're not like most rookies joining up for the pay or the revenge. And from being around you he figures you aren't the type to do this for status. So it doesn't make sense. 

Your smile fades. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. You're not cut out for this shit, kiddo. An' I think ya know it, too."

"It's my first night out drinking, how can you tell?"

"Don't play coy with me."

You stand sharply, unsteady, a look crossing your face that Kishibe can't read. Before he can speak again, you're sliding into the booth on his side. 

"Then ask me directly, sir." You whisper, trying valiantly to meet his harsh stare, before eventually losing your nerve and fixing your gaze on the table. 

Like Kishibe has any problem being direct. Fine then. He sets his glass down and turns his body to face you. "Why're ya training so damn hard to become a Devil Hunter when it's just gonna get you killed?"

Cheeks warming, you don't look at him again. "Every Hunter has their reason, or else they wouldn't be here. We don't gotta share them unless we want to."

Your words are halting, and slurred. Kishibe pushes your drink out of reach. A fifth of whiskey and bottle of soju between you both for your first night out was an oversight on his part, even if he had more than you. 

"And you're not goin' to tell me?"

Head dropping into your palm, eyelashes fluttering, you peek up at him. "Not unless you can tell me why you care."

Kishibe pauses. He's got plenty of reasons, but he's not uncouth enough to say them to you. 'Cause he doesn't want to be wasting his time prepping meat for the chopping block. 'Cause booze is expensive and sleep is precious. He doesn't get enough as it is and he's sick at the idea of losing more. 'Cause every time one of his trainees dies, it feels like a new scar cracks its way across the already trampled fragments of his soul. 

There's plenty of reasons he drinks himself nearly dead every night. 

Your fuzzy eyes peer into his darkened ones and seemingly run into the wall that you know he's put up. "Then it's better you don't ask, sir. It’s important to me, that’s all you need’ta know."

So much for direct.

There's a silence at the table after Kishibe gruffly orders another drink, his mood for the night officially ruined. This is why he doesn't socialize with coworkers. Save people by day, check out at night. He lives for one fleeting peace; he'd rather be drowning in booze and laid up in the arms of whatever woman will put up with him.

And all he has right now is booze. He flags the barkeep. "Bottle for the road."

You shift to look at him. "Are we leaving already?"

"Yeah. You've had plenty."

There's no complaint, but there's no mistaking the look of disappointment on your face as he takes your arm and helps haul you to your wobbly feet.

"What's that look for?"

"I was having fun, sir."

"Stop calling me sir."

"Why?"

"Cause we're at a fucking bar. Sir is for work."

"Then what am I supposed to call you?"

"Just Kishibe."

He finally looks at you again and you're smiling and this time there's nothing to be unsettled about. "No honorific? You'll let me call you by name?"

"It's sir at work," Kishibe reminds, deadpan.

“And master in front of other hunters, I know,” you parrot cheekily, and Kishibe merely curls his lips in a temporary smirk.

“Damn right.”

"But not at work?" You prod, leaning into his frame heavily as the cold night air washes away the warmth of the bar.

"Then yeah, drop the honorific."

"Kishibe." His name leaves your lips as a wonder-filled giggle. The corner of his lip tugs further upward unwittingly in dry amusement. At least someone can salvage the mood for the night. 

You poke at the bottle held loosely in his grip. "Can I have some of that?"

He passes it to you. "You don't even like the stuff."

An impressive amount of the amber liquid disappears down your throat before you groan in disgust and pass it back to him. "Sometimes we do stuff we don't like 'cause we get something out of it."

Kishibe hums at that. "And what do you get out of it?"

"'S a secret."

"A secret, huh? You seem to have a lot of those." He drawls, keeping you upright when you almost fall again. Yeah, he needs to find you a taxi or something. Neither of you are driving tonight. It's a little annoying, he meant to stop at the convenience store to get another pack of cigs before going home tonight. The crumpled empty pack is still in his pocket—he hasn't had one since this morning and Kishibe can feel the irritation in his nerves. 

"What's your address kid?" He nudges you as the taxi pulls up, but your weight against his hip suddenly feels dead. "Are you—of course you are."

Kishibe's whole chest fills with his next sigh, and he quietly works to get you into the cab. The driver asks him where they're going and he actually has to think about it for a moment. He'd much rather prefer going back to his cozy little hideout, but it's a mess and much too small. Not to mention he absolutely does not want you knowing where it is.

Closing his eyes, Kishibe reluctantly mumbles out an address, and sinks even deeper into his bottle before the cab drops them off at the requested location.

He eyes you over as the elevator quietly ascends, one arm around your waist with yours around his shoulder to bear your weight. It's really no wonder you passed out, the scent of whiskey is just about crawling out of your pores. Between the two of you, Kishibe bets the elevator smells like a distillery.

The doors open into his “apartment”. 

He doesn't like sleeping here. The place is too big, ceilings too high, furniture too fancy. All those high windows and modern grays and whites. It's perfectly clean and perfectly lifeless, set up for him by the PSDH. He's sure some bright-eyed big shot hunter in it for the money and high living would get a kick out of the place, but for a man like him the space is just obnoxious. But since his studio isn't an option, and Kishibe can't be bothered with taking you to a hotel, he figures you'd rather prefer one of his guest rooms instead. 

Kishibe flinches and grumbles under his breath as the now empty bottle slips from his hand and clatters to the hardwood. You make a rather undignified snort as you startle to awareness. If one could call it that.

“Wha—” Your fingers cling to the sleeve of his jacket as you blink through the blur of your eyesight, struggling to find your footing. “Where’re we now?”

“My place.”

“You live here?” 

“Technically.”

He hauls you towards the kitchen, somewhat a struggle with your uninhibited desire to swivel your head and scan the place as thoroughly as you were presently capable of doing.

“Not what I pictured.” You wobble and right yourself, slumping against the marble countertop. Kishibe pauses, making sure you’re gonna make a dive for his floor before he turns to pull open the fridge.

“Yeah well, me neither.”

“It’s so clean.” That earns you a grunt. “And modern.”

“You tryin’ to say something, sweetheart?” He sends you a look that sends a hot wave of embarrassment across your face.

“No! ‘M just sayin’...”

“Yeah, whatever. Here.”

You take the water bottle he pushes into your hands and open it, halfheartedly taking a few sips to ease the simmer in your cheeks.

Kishibe snorts when you put it down. “Nuh uh, finish that.”

You take another sip, trying to placate him. “‘M not thirsty though.” 

Your eyes widen as he grumbles and steps closer, dark eyes narrowed. It’s impossible to muffle the noise of complaint on your lips as he tips the water bottle back, keeping your chin up with an uncompromising strength. "Tough. I said all of it."

The rough pads of his thumbs feel like fire on your jaw and he seems to have no idea how his proximity is setting you ablaze. You quickly swallow before you choke, or worse spill down your chin like a child. He doesn’t let go until you’ve finished the bottle—it’s impossible not to gasp for air as if you’ve breached the surface of a pool for the first time in minutes.

“Pretty good lungs.”

“I almost died—!” You wheeze, unappreciative of the joke, wiping your face with your arm.

“You were gonna be dead in the morning if you didn’t. Might as well get it over with.” Kishibe sets the empty bottle on the counter, unflappable.

“Hmph.”

You watch curiously as he grabs himself some water, noticing with a scowl that he doesn’t drink nearly as much as he forced on you. He reaches for a small bottle, rattling as he shakes a couple into his palm. “You’re not supposed to take those with alcohol.”

Kishibe gives you a dry look and pops the painkillers into his mouth. He can feel his head pounding already, his routine thoroughly interrupted. He can’t mentally check out with you still here, especially in this state. You look a little more solid now compared to your unconscious slump, but you’re still visibly swaying, blurred eyes drifting in and out of focus. Last thing he needs is for you to do something to yourself when he’s around. The paperwork for that would be the death of him.

He shrugs and nods for you to follow. “C’mon, sweetheart.”

You suddenly look nervous. “C’mon where?”

“Night’s over. Time for bed.”

You produce a shaky laugh. “What?”

Sweet fuck.

“You want a bed or the couch?” Kishibe takes applaudable effort to keep the exhaustion out of his tone. Honestly, you'd probably be better off with the couch, grateful for your mumbled little ‘doesn’t matter to me’. He's not sure of the state of any of the rooms, considering he's trashed them before. Whoever set the place up for him might have a cleaning service but he's never bothered to ask about it since he’s never here. “There’s blankets around here somewhere.”

Stepping into the living room he sees he’s right, a couple of soft looking throws draped over the back of a plush black sectional. You’re trailing close behind him, like you’ll get lost if you lose sight of him. 

“Sit.” Kishibe says tiredly as you circle around the edge of the sectional, looking around curiously.

You listen and he grabs the other blanket off the far arm of the couch, tossing it and one of the pillows towards where you’re sitting. The pillow lands at your side, the blanket haphazardly in your lap, are you’re just staring at him as he settles on the other side, shrugging out of his suit jacket and letting that fall to the floor.

“Get comfortable, go to sleep,” Kishibe grunts, closing his eyes.

“You’re staying in here?”

He doesn’t read into the tone of your voice, keeping his eyes shut. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t choke on your own puke in your sleep.”

“‘M not gonna puke,” you grumble under your breath.

Kishibe wills in a sigh, listening to the rustle of blankets and what he assumes is you settling down. Only to tense as the cushion near him dips under weight. He opens his eyes to see you sitting you next to him and his eyes sharpen.

You cut him off, seeming to sense whatever biting remark is coming. “I’m not tired. Not good at sleeping in new spaces.”

“Well you need’ta try.”

“Can we just talk for a bit?”

He sighs, but he doesn’t refute you, opening his eyes to give you a quiet stare. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

Relying heavily on the lingering alcohol in your veins to gather the nerve, you scooch closer to his position on the couch, dragging the blanket with you. “You’ve really never had anyone over here? But Himeno says you never spend your nights alone.”

Kishibe eyes you warily as you enter what he considers his field of personal space, your knees barely brushing against his thighs. “I don’t normally spend my nights here. And you can tell Himeno she’s got better things t’do than gossip about my personal life.”

“So you spend the night at their place then?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you really the womanizer everyone says you are?”

Kishibe glances up to see you even closer and shifts a little to give you a measured look, eyelids drooping in suspicion. “You really want the truth of that?”

“Yeah, ‘m hoping to hear something,” you murmur, heart racing as you place a hand on his abdomen. It stiffens under your touch, but he makes no move to stop you, so you toy with the button of his shirt. 

“And what’s that exactly?” Shock receding, his mind catches up and he grabs your hand, keeping it from tracing its upward path.

“There’s something I’m hoping you can help me with, sir.”

“Kishibe.”

“Kishibe,” you correct, cheeks warming as you finally raise your eyes from his chest to look into his own. He’s watching you so closely that you almost look away again, almost chickening out. 

His eyes are locked onto the way you’re chewing at your lip, waiting for you to say something more, hoping for anything that makes sense. When you don’t his patience thins enough to ask, “Well?”

“I-um,” you hesitate before your fingers curl into his shirt, mentally fortifying yourself, “I’ve never… I’m looking for someone experienced to- to help me. I want it to be you.”

There's a small pause as his whiskey-addled mind filters out the meaning of your words. Then, a small disbelieving smirk is half-formed on his lips when he scoffs out a laugh. “Ha, no, sweetheart. No, I don’t think so.”

He’s shifting to stand up off the couch when you panic. You’ve gotten this far! He has to hear you out, or you’ll never be able to look him in the eye again, let alone train under him. So before he can, you throw your thigh over his lap, straddling him. His hands flash to your arms in an iron grip, keeping your hands from wandering any further. He’s staring at you in muted disbelief, tense, as if he can’t quite believe you’re defying him. 

“Please wait,” your voice raises in pitch, but you’re almost whispering. “I can explain, please just listen.”

“What? Cute little student girl got the hots for teacher? Or are you desperately in love with me now, and can’t bear the thought of anyone else sullying your innocence?” he drawls out, the insanity of this situation finally allowing him to release the floodgates on all the ill manner he’s been attempting to keep back all night. 

Your face might as well be a space heater as you splutter in mortification at being seen through so easily, trying to find the words to refute him. “N-no! No, I wasn’t. That’s… That’s not…”

“You better clear this up real quick then, sweets, cause you don’t have long before I take it into my own hands,” Kishibe warns lowly, soft and dangerous, seconds from calling a cab to get you miles away from his apartment, and more importantly him. 

The hard-eyed stare he’s giving you now is nothing like the way he looks at you in training. Your heart sinks into your stomach at the thought that entertaining your feelings is enough to make him react this way, turning him into this colder version of himself that you barely recognize. This is not going the way you intended, but you can’t imagine that you’ll ever be in a situation like this ever again, so you take a deep breath and clear your expression of all deceit. “It’s not like that, but I really can’t think of anyone else to help me with this. It’s not for lack of trying.”

Kishibe eyes you, his grip on your arms not slacking. You glance down at him warily, and he’s like a bristling cat that’s making an attempt at trust. 

“So…? Will you help me?”

He mumbles eventually, still tense, “Why not Hayakawa? Or one of the other rookies, they’re probably better suited.”

You make a face. “The rookies are stupid, and Hayakawa-san is just too… stern.”

“I’m not stern?”

“That’s not the point!” You retort hotly. “Hayakawa just seems more like someone who isn’t interested in casual flings—”

“And that’s what you’re looking for here?” Kishibe cuts in drily, noting the way your mouth snaps shut. You shift awkwardly in his lap and he stoutly blames his nightly routine for the way his body is sluggishly perking to life. He might have the heart of a saint, but his mind is more like a devil’s… and he has eyes.

Oblivious to his internalizations, you grimace. You don't want casual anything so it's technically a point in Hayakawa's favor. But there's one big point in the younger man's (begrudgingly small) list of cons that can't be overlooked: he's not Kishibe.

“I’m looking for someone who knows what they’re doing,” you inform him, your voice softening. There’s a sort of vulnerability to you now that has the older man caving despite himself and listening more intently, watching you whiplash between assertive and shy for the nth time. “Someone I trust, who won’t take advantage of me. And… I don’t believe the whole sacred virginity schtick, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want my first time to be… I don’t know, special?”

Kishibe’s mouth runs dry, and this time he blames the alcohol. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Don’t say that,” you plead softly, leaning closer without thinking in your excitement. That wasn’t a refusal. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

He can feel your breath on his cheeks, his eyes bouncing between your lips and eyes for a moment before humming low. “No one else? A girl like you, having to settle for an old man like me?”

"No one has to know. Please, sir?" You plead quietly, with crystal notes of sincerity. It's a painfully sweet sound.

Kishibe reluctantly lets your arms slip from his hands and drops his own to loosely grip your waist, absently drawing a pattern on your hip with one finger. The heat of your body is filtering so thick through your clothes that he doesn't know how he didn't notice it until now. You shiver at his touch, and he tries to keep his expression neutral when you instinctively grab at his shoulders.

He shouldn't be considering this for even a second, but he is and he hates himself for it. You're a young pretty thing, and he's made a point to stop looking at young pretty things the way your touch is sparking him to, for going on years now. 

Carefully, one hand moves to rest on your stomach, caressing its way up over your covered chest, eliciting a soft gasp from you before it moves on and settles under your chin, firmly tugging it down to make sure you're looking at him. He's never cared for the way you can't look him in the eye, and he normally lets it go but he won't tolerate it tonight. If he goes through with this, that is.

Your eyes are wide, and glazed in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol for the first time tonight. Kishibe makes a low sound in his throat at the sight of it before speaking, a heavy, rumbling tone meant to ensure you're taking in every word. 

"You want me to do this for you?"

"Yes." Your breath catches as you damn near breathe the word out, your heart in your throat and a flutter in your stomach that makes you feel like you might fly away.

"Then tell me exactly what it is that you want." Fuck, he’s really doing this.

"I…" The hesitation must be clear on your face because his expression gets heated, a tiny smirk forming at the corner of his lips. You wouldn't have seen it at all if you weren't staring at them so hard. A quiet moan spills from your lips as he presses them to your jaw, not quite kissing, but dragging them up, warm breath tickling your ear. The center of your world quakes as he continues with that low, soul-quaking tone.

"Do you want me to treat you like a princess? Worship your body and make it all about you, take you to another world as I take you apart?" Kishibe marvels at the broken whimper you make as he grazes his teeth across your earlobe. "Or do you want me to be a little selfish? Show you pleasure as I know it, and change everything you think you know about carnal desire?" 

"Sir—"

"No," he warns severely, gripping your thigh in warning, pulling back to look you in the eye. 

"Kishibe," you correct yourself with a breathy whine that you hope doesn’t sound ridiculous. "Kishibe, I want you to choose."

"You want me to choose?"

"Th-that's why I chose you. You always- always know what's best."

That's so far from true, but in this realm of possibility, with you blinking those sweet little doe eyes down at him, Kishibe won't be the one to correct you. "...Alright."

"Then please take care of me." Please.

This time it's him who shudders. "Alright," he murmurs again, "Alright, sweetheart. I've got you."

He’s a little gentler this time as he tugs your chin down to him, meeting your lips in a delicate kiss that has all his nerves standing to attention in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. With other women, he has no reason to be slow or gentle. With other women, both parties know what they’re there for, but this isn’t like that. You aren’t like that. You’re young, and if you’re to be believed, untouched. Pure. And you’ve put yourself in his care, begging for him to remove that purity. He’s not sure he ever would have agreed to this if he were sober, so you lucked out. Or maybe this is what you wanted all along.

Kishibe groans softly as you timidly move to respond to his kiss, alcohol sweet on your breath. You at least seem to know what to do here, parting your lips and staying pliant as he learns how you taste, moving your tongue against his as he explores your mouth. He breaks for a moment, giving you a warning and enough time to stop him, tugging at the hem of your shirt. “I’m taking this off now.”

He waits, and when you do nothing but moan, he begins to pop the buttons of your shirt open, one by one from the bottom up, exposing your navel, and then the black cotton bra beneath. You kiss him deeper as he slides a hand up your spine, rocking your hips into his lap as he pulls at the clasp, undoing it in a practised move. The fabric falls loose, and he presses a hand to your sternum, forcing you to retreat.

Your lips are slick, a little swollen, but it’s the hazy look in your eyes that has all his attention. “You good, sweets? You even gonna remember this in the morning?”

“I will. I will, 'm promise. Please keep going,” you slur, not really giving him the best vote of confidence. 

“Take that off for me.” Kishibe tugs loosely at your bra, the cups hanging just low enough for him to get a peek at your areolas. His cock is straining in his slacks now, but he’s too invested for it to be uncomfortable yet. He meant it when he said he was going to take you apart, and he’s going to do it slowly.

You blink at him, and timidly slide the straps off your shoulders. Your movements are slow, but there’s less hesitance than he’s seen so far. It’s clear you’re more worried about his disapproval than any insecurities you might have. Good. 

“Good girl. Look at you,” Kishibe is quick to dole out the praise as soon as your tits are exposed, half for your confidence and half because they really are pretty tits. He’s reaching for them before even he can process what he’s doing. Your nipples are already hard, pulled taut and looking painfully neglected, either from your own arousal or the air. It could be cold in here for all Kishibe knows, but the air around him feels thick, heated and charged. He’d be suffocating if he weren’t so focused.

You take a shuddering breath as he holds them. His touch is so light, the pads of his fingers calloused and warm, stroking over the sensitive flesh. You want more, arching into his touch as much as you dare, still unable to shake the thought that he might change his mind and end this, but for now he doesn’t disappoint. Dazed, you realized the sharp gasp that bites the air is yours as he strokes the pads of his fingers over your nipples before tugging lightly, pleasure rippling hot under your skin.

Your head tosses back in a moan as he does it again, this time his lips brushing the curve of your breast as he pulls you forward, pressing your chest closer to his face. He sucks at the fat of your breasts, still gently tweaking your at your hardened nubs, working his way over, seemingly content to explore.

Pleasure moves hot and slow under your skin, but your mind keeps rocketing from one sensation to another, making it impossible to think beyond the man beneath you. His slick tongue moving against your skin, the heat and wet of it stroking over the edge of your areola, the rough pad of his thumb, the scrape of his blunt nail over the sensitive tip of your nipples, the same callouses gripping at your back, fingertips tickling the edge of your shoulder blade. 

“Quit it,” Kishibe grunts after a minute, and you realize you’ve twisted your hands into his hair, tugging him closer and trying to drag him to where it feels like he’s purposefully avoiding. 

“Please, Kishibe, please,” you moan, blissfully unaware of the minor tantrum you’re throwing at you grind down on his clothed erection. “Your mouth.”

“What about it?” He blinks at you lazily, taking the moment where you sit back to tug at the top few buttons of his own shirt, exposing the top of his chest and a peek of the dark hair that’s hidden beneath.

“Let… Let me feel it,” you breathe out after you’ve snapped your eyes away from that new detail.

The slow grin that spreads across his features feels like the first key in the series of locks that surrounds the man in front of you, a piece of him that he doesn’t share willingly. Something that has to be brought out, dragged out, a prisoner in a cage of its own making. 

“Be more specific, sweets.”

But he’s still the same man, he just exists in varying shades. You squirm for a moment, subject to self-consciousness, but the ache in your nipples, growing tighter in the continued neglect, wins out. You cup your own tits, pushing them out as you lean back down to him. “Want it here. Need to feel you suck on them.”

An appreciative gleam brightens dark eyes. “There’s a good girl.”

This time Kishibe leans in with intent, and you learn something else—your mentor is a goddamn tease. 

His tongue drags over your nipples before sucking, and your hands are tangled in his hair again before you can process it, a cry in a pitch you don’t even recognize torn from your mouth. The slick muscle flicks over the tip as his free hand comes up to roll the other between his fingers lightly. You’re shamelessly rutting into his lap now, senselessly chasing the pleasure boiling low in your stomach, and you can feel him moan against your skin at the friction.

You feel the scrape of his teeth, light and intentional, before he pops off and switches to the other. The treatment begins anew and you swear you might be able to come from this, the wet suction of his mouth, the tacky warmth as he tugs and twists at the nipple still covered in his spit. But Kishibe doesn’t let you, noting the frantic ruts of your body and beginning to slow his efforts, easing you back down.

“Wait—” Your complaint rears itself as your fingers twist into the shorter hair of his nape, trying to tug him closer the moment he pulls away.

“Easy, I’m not done with you,” he rasps, taking your wrists and gently detanging your fingers from his hair. 

You yelp as he grips your thighs and flips your back to the cushions, a strength you already knew he had from all the times he’s stomped you in training, but it surprises you regardless. There’s no time to pick through your thoughts at the display, because Kishibe is bullying between your thighs and capturing your lips in a kiss that puts the last one to shame. It’s possessive, it’s plundering; erasing any other thought from your mind except the way he feels against you. How immovable he feels, his hips keeping your thighs spread, his obvious arousal against your core, his weight against your torso—whatever isn’t supported by his forearm against the cushions, just what he chooses to give you—the scratch of his stubble against your face, the ones he lets overgrow because they shadow his jawline again in less than a day. 

You moan into his mouth as a hand slips between your bodies, pulling the button of your slacks and pushing a hand into your panties, the sound turning into a high keen as he drags his fingers through your slit. You know you’re wet, soaked even, but it’s still a shock to feel your own wetness as he pulls back out, slick against your mound before he’s free of your clothing, to see it shining on his fingers when he pulls back to give you a breath. You knew you wanted him, but to see how much would be mortifying if he knew the truth.

The glisten on his fingers goes unnoticed for a second as he catches sight of your wrecked expression, sitting back on his haunches.

“Oh sweets, look at you,” Kishibe chuckles, voice tight. “You’re a pretty sight right now, and you don’t even know. A sweet little mess. My sweet little mess, for tonight.”

Making a decision, he swipes his hands on the thighs of his pants and undoes his shirt, tossing it over the back of the couch, aware of the way you stare from beneath him. He's getting there in years, but the aches of this job refuse to let his body go soft. There's a thin layer of soft skin stretched across the muscles beneath, making the definition less pronounced, less assuming, but there's no denying the power behind them as he flexes subtly, smirking when your eyes track the movement. 

"Hips up," he orders firmly, his fingers already tugging at the waistband of your slacks.

Not needing to be told twice, you shift and raise your hips as he pulls them from your legs, panties and all. You're completely bare under him, and he's still wearing his pants, the button popped, looking like a god above you. His eyes are piercing, his expression set like marble. As he puts hot palms on your thighs, spreading them even further apart, you think about how attractive he looks when he smokes, almost wishing he had a cig hanging from his lips so you could see it. 

Kishibe is staring intently at your pussy, the hunger in him growing deeper as he watches the muscles twitch. "So no one's ever touched this, huh?" 

You shake your head, whimpering as he pulls your sticky lips apart. 

"You lying, sweetheart? Not even you?" 

Kishibe pulls back the hood of your poor swollen clit, stroking it lightly with the tip of his finger, dark eyes watching your face intently. 

The touch rips a gasp from your throat like ice had been poured down your back, tossing your pretty little head back into the pillows as your fingers twist at what little slack the cushions beneath you have. Kishibe feels the flames of hell crawl a little closer to his own flesh as his arousal flares dangerously at the sight. 

When you remain silent he prompts a little cruelly for an answer, slowly circling the throbbing bud. "Hmm?" 

"I've-yeah I've touched it. Sometimes." 

"Tell me." 

"Tell you?" You suck in a harsh breath as one of his digits teases your entrance, but pulls away. 

"Yeah, tell me how you touch your pussy at night. I wanna know how you play with yourself." His voice drones with detached amusement but his dark eyes are sharp, the sight making your skin prickle with elation to be the center of his attention.

“Usually slow,” you breathe out, moaning when he moves to your clit again. Two fingers press on the bundle of nerves and begin to rub back and forth in a steady tempo. 

“Like this?” Kishibe murmurs, watching you closely.

“Slower,” your voice breaks an octave higher as he increases the pressure just a little, readjusting to what you now realize are instructions for him. “Y-yes, mm, like that…”

“Good. How about your fingers, hmm? You do that slow too?” 

You can feel yourself dripping down to the couch as his voice drips across you like honey. “Yeah, at first.”

“One to start?” 

“Fuck!” A keen tears from your throat as he slides the first digit in, abandoning your clit, the thick, calloused digit pressing in to the hilt with zero resistance.

“Or do you start with two?” Kishibe watches raptly as his middle joins his pointer in the rippling warmth of your cunt, the broken sob leaving your lips sending a irresistible wave of want tearing through his body. The way your hips grind into his touch, chasing more of him is enough to let him know that you can take more, but he lets you stay here for a moment, using his free hand to stroke over his confined cock as you writhe beneath him. 

It’s not hard to find the right angle to stroke your slick walls, curling his fingers up into the spot that has you tossing your head back with what almost sounds like a mournful wail, as if you’re just realizing that you’ve never really given yourself real pleasure before. Kishibe isn’t sure if you have to be honest, you haven’t said, but he isn’t concerning himself with that. He’s too focused on the way you shy away from his touch when he presses his thumb to your clit again, as if you can’t take the combination.

“Oh?” It’s almost a coo, delight pulsing in his veins. “Not like that huh? That not how you do it?”

“I can’t, I can’t—it doesn’t, n-never like this!” It almost sounds like you’re pleading with him, your eyes wide as you stare at him, a thick haze of shock and bliss covering your irises that Kishibe is losing himself in, pumping his wrist, tempted to add a third finger just to see what sounds you’ll make.

“Told you I’d change everything you think you know about pleasure, sweetheart.” He pulls his digits from your pussy, relishing in the whine of protest. And if he’s being honest with himself, there’s a bit of a power complex rushing through him, to be able to control your pleasure whether you think you can handle it or not is too alluring. It’s the thought of making you scream, nothing barred, as he forces ecstasty on you that you don’t even know exists on that has him pushing off the couch which a groan to finally free his cock, shucking his pants off, the liquor leaving him a little unsteady. 

“Sit up for me.” 

You do as he says, confusion scrunching you expression as he settles between your legs, his knees protesting only a little as he shifts so that the plush carpet isn’t dragging uncomfortably against his skin. A little yelp stays in your throat as he tugs you to the edge, spreading your thighs wider and positioning your hips up to expose your pretty pussy. He’s only a breath away, the scent of you thick, kissing distance really, when you slur out some nonsense that sounds questioning, but he can’t say he actually catches any sense of syllables from you.

“I’m thicker than most so you need this,” Kishibe grumbles, nipping at your inner thigh as you squirm and glaring you into submission, “But even a man with a pencil dick better be doin’ this for ya, so don’t accept less.”

Before you can come to terms with him on your knees before you, your mind fizzles out as his tongue swipes through your folds, and his groan vibrates deep into your core. If not for his hands keeping your thighs spread, you would have wrapped them around his head. His nose nudges at your clit as his tongue presses into your clenching pussy, and you can’t stop the garbled sound of pleasure as he laps at your walls, your head tossing back against the couch cushions as he eats you like a meal. It’s surreal, it doesn’t make a lick of sense but oh god you don’t care. The sounds of him slurping at your cunt makes your cheeks burn and you force yourself past your self consciousness to look down at him, the skin of your knuckles stretched tight as you curl them into shaking fists, trying to wrap your mind around the sensations. 

Kishibe flattens his tongue over your clit, and meets your gaze with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he slips a finger into you, savoring the way you clamp down right away, giving a reedy mewl. He can’t help himself any longer, one hand closing around his dick and beginning to slowly stroke himself, trying to go slow, to ease some of the pressure and calm himself down. He adds another digit, and sits back as he begins to work you towards your finish. 

“Should’ve done this in a bed,” he mutters under his breath, the scent of your pleasure thick, feeling mildly guilty as you tremble through your long awaited awaited high. Even his first encounter had been in a bed, traditional.

Kishibe hisses into your thigh as your fingers twist so tight into his hair that he’d snap at you if he were anywhere but here. Here with his fingers sweeping over your clit, watching the way your muscles ripple and tense, an obscene amount of slick and cum dripping onto his couch, and damn it why are you so easy to spoil? Why is he letting you practically rip the hair from his head as your hips jolt and jump, pleasure taking every ounce of your control away from you. There’s a wet sound as he finally pulls his fingers from your cunt, and you slump against the cushions, a looking so beautifully fucked out that it’s a damn shame you haven’t actually been fucked yet.

But that’s what you came here for, and Kishibe will not be the one to disappoint. He pushes to his feet for a moment and drags your hips until you’re both on the couch comfortably, and lets himself sink between your legs, his dick hot and throbbing against your inner thigh. It’s weeping precome and there’s a shivering sense of relief to know that his patience is finally about to be rewarded. 

“You still with me, sweets?” Kishibe murmurs softly, leaning over you, letting his lips drag up your throat in a possessive trail of teeth marks and bruises. “You ready for me?”

The prickle of his overgrown stubble brings you back down a little, and you moan as his tongue swipes over the indentations left in your flesh. “That was—” you gasp at a sharp dig of his teeth under your jaw, hips arching towards him as you feel the weight of his dick between your slick folds, thoughts flying from your mind as the thick tip of him slides over your oversensitive clit. “Oh fuck, Kishibe please. I need y- I need it, oh god.” Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he really is going to ruin you. You can’t imagine anyone else ever making you feel this good, so overwhelmed but so hungry for it.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispers, and your body lights up as he shifts back a little, the head of his cock pressing against you and easing inside your desperate walls. He grins as your arms wrap around his shoulders, lips searching for his as your hips try to squirm deeper onto his cock. He meets you in a deep kiss, but he grips your hips firmly, sliding deeper into your clenching pussy at his own content pace, groaning into your mouth at how hot and wet you are. So tight, so so tight, that he can’t stop the juvenile thought about being sure you were a virgin from flitting through his mind, but he lets it go, not about to sully this experience for you with his own pussy drunk stupidity, closing his eyes and falling deeper into the kiss, forcing you to slow it and calm down for him, echoing your whimpers with tiny groans of encouragement.

His thrusts are as steady and measured as they can be with the way your walls suck him in, pussy lips stretched wide around the thicker middle of his shaft. Every time he pulls out he can feel the way your body is trying not to let him go, and every sink home is accompanied by a shaky little exhale from you that sets a fire so deep in his gut that Kishibe is sure the whiskey is the only reason he hasn’t fallen to pieces yet. You’re so pretty and needy sprawled about beneath him, so sunk to pleasure that you’ve resigned to just taking what he gives you and it’s addictive. His cock throbs as he listens to your mumbled little slurs about how good it feels, and he has to pause, breathing deep and hard as he wills down a sudden and fierce urge fill you with cum.

Kishibe chuckles as he sits up and you let out a whine of disapproval, but a slow roll of his hips changes your tune immediately. You’re sucking him in greedily, your clit swollen and damn near begging for attention. He brushes it gently with the back of his knuckles, hissing as you squeeze him in response, getting impossibly wetter around his length. “Doing so good for me, how are you feeling?”

“More, want more.” It’s barely intelligible with how breathless you are, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes down your temples. Your face is so sweet, so open, trusting and needy and suddenly Kishibe can’t find it in himself to draw it out on you any longer, is done handing out pleasure piece by piece, as if he were passing out candy to savor. He wants to pour pleasure over you, wants you to drown in it, to fall so deeply into it that there’s nowhere to surface to, lost in an endless sea.

One strong arm slides under your hips and pulls you up into a better position, fingers digging into your hip as Kishibe begins to fuck you in quick, steady strokes. His forehead is pressed to your chest, cheek in plush of your breast as he controls his groans, a dark satisfaction choking out the last tendrils of guilt as your fingers desperately weave their way back into his hair once more, cradling his head tightly to your chest. There’s no more irritation; the sharp sting feels like a fucking prize, knowing that the price is an overwhelming pleasure that he can feel through you. You feel so good around him, responding so well to his movements, angling your own hips and moving back into his thrusts, that he can’t stop a continuous stream of curses and praises from melting into your skin.

“You’re doing so fucking good for me sweetheart, so good. Squeezing me so tight, wrapped around me so perfect. You feel good? Everything you fucking wanted, hm?” He bites at the flesh of your chest as you tighten around his dick, goosebumps rising visibly across your skin.

You feel like a live current, so electric and buzzing with energy and it feels like there’s nowhere for it to go, zipping up and down your body only to return, shivering and sparking deep in your belly. You try to articulate that this is way more than you ever thought you could ask for, but all that comes out are bitten hiccups of his name and yes and please please please.

Kishibe is more than happy to oblige, grunting and groaning in his throat, way past the point of feeling guilty that you’re losing your virginity on a goddamn couch, too caught up in your drunken slurs, more from pleasure than whiskey.

He grins as your fingers clench around his bicep, scrabbling as you gasp out, "Ohh, nngh—Sir wait, wait! Please I'm gonna—" 

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Kishihe groans, feeling the rippling constrictions of your sweet pussy drag him closer to the edge.

"No, I'm—I'm gonna pee! Please." 

Kishibe’s s head picks up off your chest immediately, and his thrusts stuffer. "Yeah?" You watch panting as his eyes sharpen, hips coming to a full blessed stop. You feel a bare moment of relief before its ripped away and he's moving again, fucking you a little faster than before. "Then go ahead." 

You give a wordless cry, shame and pleasure clamoring in the shrill note, your head shaking back and forth in denial. You can't hold it, not if he does that. 

"No?" Kishibe feels like the Devil himself as he shifts his angle into a grind, still fast and controlled, watching your features twist as you keep fighting to hold it back. "Am I not making you feel good?" 

"Sir!" Your whine draws the title out, panicked, but your knees dig tightly into his hips, your body at least betraying you. Kishibe works a hand under one of your thighs and presses it towards your chest. One of his palms drags down over your tits, stroking down your stomach to put a gentle pressure over your pelvis. Your eyes fly wide and a moan is forced from your lips as the awful urgency thickens, bliss flooding close to the surface. 

"If I press here you won't be able to stop it." 

Kishibe's stare catches your glazed eyes, dark and hungry. His orgasm is approaching steadily now, pleasure whispering selfish instruction in his ear, and he's unable to help but listen. "You'll come so hard it won't matter anymore. What's a little mess for some pleasure, hm sweetheart? If you want it just tell me." 

Your breath catches. His dick keeps hitting that spot in you that makes it impossible to think rationally. He's making you feel so good, goading you in that voice of his that you've worshipped fervently night after night in your apartment, a pillow as your altar. 

The voice in your head is screaming no. It's pee. He'll think you're disgusting and you look up to him so much. You don't want him to associate you with something like this, to so thoroughly debase yourself. But he's making you feel amazing, his cock bullying all your softest parts with undefinable experience. You've heard the gossip about how your mentor likes to spend his nights, but how are you supposed to complain when he's making you feel like this? And he's the one saying you can p— 

"Get outta yer fucking head and come for me, girl." Kishibe growls through his teeth, palm pressing down firmly, calloused thumb spreading over your neglected clit. 

You shatter and cry out, clutching at him tightly, no room for apologies as you tear red lines down his back. Warmth gushes against his pelvis, but the hot shame holds no candle to the blistering pleasure crackling across all your nerves. Listening to Kishibe groan and curse, the feel of him breaking down into something more genuine as his hips snap roughly into yours in chase of the bliss you’re already neck deep in, you’ve never felt more satisfied. He finishes inside you with a deep grunt and your insides flutter again at the milky warmth, your leg curling tight around his ass because you want all of it, you don’t want it to end yet.

But finally, his cock twitches one last time inside you and begins to soften, and Kishibe collapses on top of you with a little puff. You’re damn near ready to purr in happiness at the full weight of him across your body. His cheek rests between your breasts, but you’re unbothered by the scratch of his stubble as his breathing gets deeper, steadier.

Both of you are covered in sweat, cum, and other unspeakables but you’ve never been so comfortable. His softened cock slips out of you, and one of his arms slips under your waist and you feel your heart thud unevenly as he moves to his side and pulls you closer. His head is still buried in your chest, your one leg tangled between his thighs and your other draped over his hip. His eyes are closed, breathing deep and you find it in yourself to cautiously run your fingers through his hair. Kishibe gives a soft, sleepy rumble of contentment and you glow.

The feel of his hair between your fingers is the last thing you remember before the most luxurious drag of sleep tempts you into its clutch of darkness.

You wake somewhere you don’t recognize, your head thick and pounding awfully. You blink slowly in the low lighting and try to sit up, but your head spins and the pain increases so you let yourself fall back with a low whimper.

You turn on your side, fingers curling into the soft covers over you. Last night had been amazing, but you’re certain you had passed out on on the couch, and as you peer around the curtain-darkened room, it’s easy to tell it’s not the same. You don’t remember being moved; you’d like to say you would have woken up if someone had, but even you can smell the alcohol seeping from your pores. 

Heart pounding unevenly, you try to calm yourself. You’d been dressed in a soft pair of boxer briefs and a tshirt far too large for you, and while you still feel a little bit sticky, you honestly had expected far worse—someone had tried to clean you up. Your heart starts to race now, fluttering and far too fast at the idea of Kishibe taking care of you. Those are a lot of extra steps to take for someone who preached respectable distance. 

“There’s painkillers on the nightstand.”

You finally manage to sit up at the promise of pain relief, seeing the foil tablets and a glass of water, and glance at Kishibe in the doorway, looking about as disheveled as you expect you do. He’s in a loose tshirt and a soft, worn looking pair of sleep pants, blinking sleep and liquor from his eyes as he peers in at you. 

“I’m gonna shower, you should too. There’s towels in the bathroom there.” He nods his head deeper into your room and you see another doorway, probably leading to the bathroom. “And you’re out of luck on breakfast. All the place has is coffee and water.”

Your stomach gives a displeased turn at that, desperate for something to offset last night’s alcohol. Before you can say anything, not even so much as a thank you, Kishibe turns and shuffles down the hall. 

Slowly, you ease out of the bed and gratefully swallow down half the water before even glancing at the pills, but your screaming head does make sure you toss them back as well, before you peek down the hallway your mentor had disappeared down. You hear the sound of running water and follow it, wandering through the doorway to the room he obviously slept in last night, the bed an unkempt mess of blankets. The door to the bathroom is closed, and there’s already steam filtering through the gaps.

Letting an uncharacteristic determination carry you forward, you open the door and begin stripping off your clothes.

“Get out, sweetheart.” Kishibe’s voice sounds tired and distant, filling you with nerves that you refuse to let show on your face as you ignore him slip into the shower.

He’s working soap through his hair, leveling you with a deeply unimpressed look that would have sent you skittering before last night, before he called you his sweet little mess, before he called you good fucking girl. You take a deep breath and speak your mind.

"I want that again." 

His response is flat, immediate. "Not gonna happen." 

"Why not? Was it not good?" You look embarrassed and distraught at the thought and Kishibe heaves a sigh. 

"How good it was has nothin’ to do with why we can't do this again." 

“So you regret it?”

Kishibe isn’t sure where he stands on that yet. “Didn’t say that.”

"But then..." 

"But what? I told you this was a bad idea didn't I? You should've chosen someone else. Anyone other than me." 

You get a little salty at that. "I might be younger than you," Kishibe gives a sardonic huff "—but I'm still old enough to make decisions for myself." 

"Old enough to make your own decisions, huh." 

You shift under the water as he gives you a tired stare, his gaze sharpening into something more contemplative, glinting dangerously. 

"So you're saying you want that again?" Kishibe questions calmly. 

"Yes," you whisper, uncaring if it makes you sound desperate. 

"If we do I've got some stipulations," he warns, voice low.

"Like what," your breath hitches as he leans closer, the water getting hotter against your back as he reaches past you to adjust the temperature. 

"Well for starters," he grumbles, "I don't have any interest in going to your place. It's here or nothing." 

"Fine." Your response is immediate, relief coloring your tone that you're not being immediately shut out. 

"And this arrangement will be temporary, no matter how long it goes on," Kishibe continues slowly, his fingers coming up to pinch your lips together, cutting off whatever you were opening your mouth to say. "I'm not the kind of man that would treat ya like you're nothin'. I'm gonna tell you you're sexy when I've got you under me and I'm gonna clean up whatever mess I make of you, so I need to know you're not going to confuse common decency and respect with love, got it?" 

You nod slowly, struggling to wrap your mind around the weight of his words. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, you just want more of whatever you can get. It's just a crush, maybe you'll figure out how to squash your feelings somewhere down the line. So you get a little hurt along the way, so what? You're not entirely sure how any of that is a problem and why he looks so serious.

"Anything else?" He hasn't spoken for a minute, but you can still see deep thought etched into his expression.

Kishibe glances at you, soap dripping from his hair down his neck. "Yeah, one more thing."

It's the most damning thing. Makima herself would be proud of him for this. This kind of thing is more her style, but he's already made it this far. 

"Ya have to join the civilian sector."

He senses more than feels you stiffen behind him, closing his eyes and beginning to rinse his hair out as he waits for you to speak first. He's not blind, not anymore—after last night he'd really have to be to not understand the way you've been looking at him, probably since the beginning. Kishibe doesn't know how he didn't see it sooner, probably willful ignorance. But his eyes have been opened and he can't unsee it; you're a brat; you wear your heart on your sleeve, and for whatever reason…its flag is flying his colors. So he's going to use that, and you can thank him when you survive the year.

"Join the civilian sector?" Your voice trembles.

Kishibe glances down to see you chewing your lower lip. "Or quit. Find a cozy desk job somewhere. Either works."

"Why?" Your demand is fierce but it's weak; you look like a scruffy little kitten that needs shelter but too scared to come out of the rain. Kishibe can see you crumbling already, making his final stab. Why you'd want him this bad is beyond him, but dirty tactics have never been beneath him. 

"If we're doin’ this, you're going to be available to me when I want you. Otherwise I can find others, like I've been doing. Finish up in here, and I'll make some coffee. Might as well go to the office together."

Despair crosses your features, and Kishibe lets the silence do the last of the work, stepping out of the stream and reaching for a towel. He makes quick work of drying off and getting dressed, bones aching for coffee. Curiosity pangs deep in his nerves as he wonders why killing yourself in Public Safety is even worth that expression, and why he’s equally as important as whatever it is. He tries to put it out of his mind and fails, fingers tapping on the expensive countertop.

As the coffee percolates, Kishibe hears the water shut off and the mental image of you stepping out of his shower flickers through his mind, ghosting along the memories of the way you felt beneath him last night. He tries and fails to admit to himself he’s not coming out entirely on top in this situation.

When you finally slip into his kitchen, dressed in your crumpled uniform from last night, you’re no longer wearing that brokenhearted little face, and Kishibe braces himself for whatever little pep talk you managed to give yourself while he was gone. He pushes a mug towards you and the sugar he somehow found while he was waiting. 

“I have my own stipulations,” you grumble finally, accepting the mug without looking at him, spooning sugar into it. He wants to wince at the shriek of metal on glass as you stir, but he doesn’t.

“If I have to quit the hunter society to be ‘available to you’, then you have to be available to me.” Your eyes are a little heated as they finally meet his, and Kishibe gives a noncommittal hum. “Meaning you don’t get to sleep around. Just with me.”

Ah. Makima would be proud of you too, Kishibe muses to himself. He decides to let you feel that victory and puts on a show, feigning annoyance. He drums his fingers on the counter and gives you a dry, measured look. “What, sweetheart, want me to get tested or something?”

You rise to his bait, snapping a little. “Maybe that’s a good idea.”

“Fine.” He shrugs and sips his coffee. “Maybe you should too, since you’re so worried about my health.”

Embarrassment burns your cheeks at the thought of making that appointment, but you push through it. “Fine, I will. I’ll be needing to get on birth control anyways.” The barest hint of shock flickers through his expression before he slams it back to its usual tired smirk.

“Anything else?” He asks, sarcasm barely kissing the edge of his tone.

Your thoughts scramble to all the things you’d listed to yourself in the shower but with him looking at you like that, bemused, confident, smug, you forget most of them. You latch onto one thing and give him a glare. “I get a key. And I can sleep here whenever I want. I’m not waiting outside in the cold to be your booty call.”

Kishibe gives you a look and starts to pull a pen out of his jacket but changes his mind. He watches all the bravado and irritation drain from your expression as he steps into your space, melting into something else, something expectant, electric. He pretends he doesn’t see it, pretends that his blood doesn’t pick up at the sight of it, and whispers the passcode to the apartment, so close to your ear that he could bite it. Could.

He pulls back and listens to your shuddering exhale, tilting your chin towards him. “That’s for you only. I don’t give people access to my personal space, got it?”

You nod dumbly, eyes wide and body hot as his dark eyes flicker to your lips.

“Then I guess we gott’a deal, sweetheart.”

[leviathans-watching]

Would you be willing to write how the brothers (any you decide but at least leviathan mammon and belphie) as well as any side characters (Raphael and barbatos perhaps?) would react to us/the reader telling them "you always were my favourite." ? Thank you even if you don't do my request I love how you characterize them. You write Raphael really well also [: - ⛓️

telling them they're your favorite

includes: older brothers, belphie, barbatos, raphael x/& gn!reader, luke & gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .7k | rated g | m.list

a/n: ught this was so fun to write and tysm!! i hope you enjoy! my inbox is open to chat, req, and leave feedback so come say hi &lt;3

reblogs plz =)

➳ lucifer flicks a glance over at you. “is that so?” he asks, brow raising. “i thought you didn’t have favorites.” “well, i would never admit it to the rest of them, but you just get me so well. and cause me the least number of headaches,” you reply, and he lets out a half-chuckle. “i wonder why you’re admitting it to me now,” lucifer ponders aloud. “it probably has nothing to do with the fact that i know you’re hungry and know i keep snacks hidden in my desk.”

➳ mammon loses his composure quickly, sputtering. you don’t think you’ve ever seen his cheeks get that red that fast. he recovers after a long moment, chest puffing out. “i always knew it,” he insists, pride heavy in his tone. “i mean, i am your first man an’ all. it’s only natural that you’d like me best, especially since i am the coolest and best-looking of all of us.” you laugh, and he goes on. “but ya should tell me. why exactly am i your favorite and what do you like about me best?”

➳ levi shakes his head. “no, you’re just saying that to cheer me up. there’s no way a gross, lonely, yucky otaku like me is your favorite!” “you shouldn’t say those things about yourself,” you insist, laying on the puppy-dog eyes for n extra guilt factor. “it makes me sad. and i hate seeing my favorite–or should i say my bias?–sad.” levi gives you a little half-smile, convincing clearly working, and you decide to go in for the kill, prey upon his envy. “but i suppose if you don’t want to be my favorite i can pick someone else…” wow, did that turn his mind around!

➳ belphie huffs out a laugh. “please, i know you wouldn’t actually ever admit it, even though it’s true. what is it you want?” even if you insist, you know he won’t believe you, or at least believe you’re actually admitting it like he said, so you just come clean. “well, i need a ride and mammon’s the only other one home but he always makes me give him gas money.” “i knew you wanted something,” belhie grumbles good-naturedly as he pulls himself out of bed. “fine, but only if i get payment of my own. don’t you think a kiss should be enough?” his eyes slant devilishly. “at least to start.”

➳ barbatos smirks. “i didn’t know my food was that good.” “are you kidding me?” you reply, grabbing another mini-cupcake. “these are so freaking good. barbatos, if you promised to bake for me every day i’d marry you in a heartbeat.” this gets a rare true smile out of him, one complete with crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “don’t let anyone else hear you saying that,” he warns, “or else you’re going to have a bunch of wannabe-bakers messing up the kitchen at the house of lamentation, and is that something you really want to deal with?”

➳ luke pumps his fist, vibrating with excitement. “i knew it! i knew it, i knew it, i knew it! of course you like me the most, especially compared to those mean demons!” wrapping his arms around your waist, he gives you a tight hug, looking up at you affectionately. “you’re my favorite too, mc! besides simeon of course, but no one will ever beat him.” you laugh, ruffling his hair, and even though it’s mean of you to think you’re sure if he were a puppy his tail would be wagging a million times a minute. “well, it is simeon so i suppose that’s fine.”

➳ raphael blinks uncomprehendingly. “me? i’m your favorite? but, we haven’t even known one another for that long and you seem so close with the brothers!” before he can fully spiral, you smile, knocking against his shoulder. “and? i really like you. you’re kind, smart, genuine, and a good mediator. why wouldn’t you be my favorite?” you leave then, but for the rest of the day note the small, bashful smile he wears, and the way he can’t make eye-contact for more than a few seconds at a time without looking away, ears turning the slightest bit red.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[naviavu]

Okay we all know this trope with Ayato and daughter of some Inazuman clan, but hear me out... Ayato and nymph from Chinju forest. He found you when he was coming from beetle fight with Itto, you were laying unconscious in this pretty, translucent dress. Of course, as a gentleman, he takes you to his manor, where you are treated properly. You can't remember who you are or what were you doing, but it's alright, he says, he will take care of you from now on 👀

WHAT GOES AROUND, COMES BACK AROUND 

PAIRINGS: yandere!ayato x nymph!reader

TAGS: noncon, abuse of power, somnophilia, implied fem!chubby!reader, manipulation, creampie, breeding, shy and insecure reader, kinda lore-y?, ayato is lovesick, gaslighting, ayato is a mastermind and now you’re his

WORDS: 5.6k // crossposted on ao3 // my masterlist

NOTES: after a whole ass year, guess who’s BACK. anon, thank you so much for giving me this wonderful idea and i hope you’re still around (no mentions of itto tho, sorry ☹) as usual, college got in the way but at least i’m getting an internship this year (yay! finally getting paid lol). oddly enough, this fic was the easiest and least stressful to write despite me procrastinating it the most. i hope you enjoy a darker twist in ayato’s characterization! may you have a blessed year, readers <3

The warmth swirling in his eyes is definitely from his mother, you muse. "Thank you for not letting the history between us stop you, Sir Ayato. I know things had been rocky between nymphs and your clan ever since…" your parents passed away, but the words died on your tongue.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up."

He chuckles, surprising you. "I’m just doing my job as the Yashiro Commissioner.” He scans over your body one last time. You shiver from his gaze. “I look forward to seeing you in a healthier state.”

His scent lingers even after he leaves.

Bathing in Chinju Forest alone at night wasn't the most excellent idea.

You curse as you look around, surrounded by clear waters and tall trees. The night flowers glow a faint blue, enough for you to see a path towards the nearby Torri gate. On the side, your sister’s potion cabin is empty. From here, you can still smell a whiff of whatever Danalise was brewing hours ago before she left.

After receiving news that there are members of the Shuumatsuban waiting for them by the nymph’s dwellings, your sisters have long left before sunset, leaving you alone to bask in the peaceful forest. By this time, they must be discussing affairs with your eldest sister, Danalise, the nymph’s village chief.

As the outcast, your presence isn’t needed. It's not like your sisters ever trusted you to handle political matters or tried to include you in civic discussions, anyway. It was enough for them that you stay out of their way and let smarter and more capable people take the reins. You weren’t talented as Adasia; that birds hum along when you sing. Or Phia, whose paintings and sculptures rival those in real life. Or as smart as your favorite sister Danalise, who’s made countless nymph medicines and healed dozens of the remaining few.

But you didn’t have to be this careless.

You relax when you see your nightgown still perched by the river’s rocks. There have been multiple accounts of perverts-- ordinary men, samurais, and nobility alike-- stealing your sisters’ garments while they bathe, putting you in unease. This wasn’t your first time bathing alone, but it was your first time accidentally staying until night.

Touching the amethyst pendant of your necklace, you silently thank the Archon that no one has attempted to do such a thing. You slip your clothes on.

Well… it’s further proof that even your beauty paled compared to your sisters.

You shake your head. You chose to be alone in the first place to erase negative thoughts that have been brewing for the past week, and it frustrates you how easily it returns.

No more than five steps into the forest, a small vial silently rolls.

It was too late when you hear the glass crack beneath your hard slippers.

You retch. Losing control of your body, you double over and cough violently.

Your body falls on a nearby tree. "Someone– please– help!" You're scared and confused and alone, senses overwhelmed by the foul scent.

Your head spins. The world turns dark, and the last thing you see is pale blue hair and purple eyes.

"--ord, she's awake!" A voice calls out, and your head pounds.

Everything feels too soft.

Where were your sisters?

Footsteps arrive near you. "Good. Ayaka worries too much, and she wasn't even the one who found this cute nymph passed out on the forest floor."

Ayaka? Lady Kamisato Ayaka?

You open your eyes and see Kamisato Ayato.

On his side is Thoma. Even though you’re not close, his familiar face brings you comfort. You’ve seen him talking with your sisters every once in a while.

You sigh in relief, before tensing up again. You were inside the residence of the Yashiro Commissioner himself!

The man beside you raises his gloved hand to touch your forehead. "How are you feeling– oh!"

You squeak and block him away. "Sorry, sorry! Sorry, Lord… Sir… Ayato." You turn red. So much for good impressions. What if your sisters find out that you embarrassed yourself in front of him?  "I'm really confused. Where am I?" You cringe internally. In the Kamisato Estate, of course!

He pays no mind, a shimmer of amusement in his eyes. He dismisses Thoma.

"In the Kamisato Estate, inside one of our guest rooms. You were out for a whole day," The shoji on the side of the room is open, letting in pleasant sunlight that warmed your skin. Inside your kimono is your nightgown from yesterday. Your necklace is still intact.

"I found you unconscious by the river when I was passing by Chinju Forest,” His brows furrow with concern, and you flush. You’ve heard rumors of his cold beauty, but nothing compares to seeing him up close. "I had to take you here to be treated immediately. Worry not, I already sent men to inform your sisters of your situation."

You bow, now feeling the ache of your sore body. "Thank you so much, my lord."

He shakes his head. "You need to be careful next time. Nymph or not, bathing alone in public places is dangerous."

It doesn’t help that the nymph's reputation has weakened over the past decades. We’re no longer the powerful creatures that we used to be. Your eyes remain on the pristine white sheets. “But I don’t blame you. The potion used on you was quite…”

"The potion?”

“The thing that knocked you out, (Y/N). Do you not remember?” Lord Kamisato reaches into his suit pocket and brings out what looks like a small perfume bottle, no bigger than three inches, decorated with intricate hearts on the front. "The bottle design suggests that whoever created this is from a foreign land. Sumerian, even. But I cannot be sure unless we get a hand on another sample of the liquid itself."

Your eyes widen. “You plan to catch whoever caused my… unconsciousness, my Lord?”

“Not just plan. I will catch them, (Y/N). I cannot let this happen again, and the fact that it did shows that I lacked vigilance in protecting my people.” You think it was too much effort for one simple case, but you suppress the urge to refute him and dare not interrupt. You can only be grateful for his initiative.

He puts the small bottle back in his pocket. “With that being said, I require you to stay in the Estate for a week to ensure your recovery and monitor you should there be any long-term effects.”

You freeze and the man gives you an apologetic smile. “It’s protocol, and for the best interests of all people in the community. I hope you understand, (Y/N).”

“O-Of course, my lord! I’m thankful for all of your efforts, and I’ll help your investigation as much as possible.” He smiles genuinely this time at your eagerness.

The warmth swirling in his eyes is definitely from his mother, you muse. "Thank you for not letting the history between us stop you, Sir Ayato. I know things had been rocky between nymphs and your clan ever since…" your parents passed away, but the words died on your tongue.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up."

He chuckles, surprising you. "I’m just doing my job as the Yashiro Commissioner, (Y/N).” He scans over your body one last time. You shiver. “I look forward to seeing you in a healthier state.”

His scent lingers even after he leaves.

Nobody arrived to pick you up one week later.

It is common knowledge to Inazumans that the nymphs from Chinju Forest have been under the Kamisatos protection since the dawn of time, as their ancestors helped each other to grow and survive through different eras. The nymphs gather resources from the forest that helped the Kamisatos grow in their administrative standing, and in exchange, the nymphs and their village are protected from invaders and political monopoly while letting them live a peaceful life. When the time came that the Kamisatos became one of the most powerful clans in the country, they never stopped supporting the nymph’s village.

It was inevitable that one of your sisters fell in love with a clan member. Whoever she was, she had long passed or had gone missing—and even your sisters who have lived longer than you refuse to talk about her.

Rumors say that the Kamisato patriarch was poisoned because a nymph had wanted his love, but he only loved his wife. And so follows the tragedy of losing both Kamisato heads that forced their children, Ayato and Ayaka, to take over their responsibilities and grow up too fast.

Hence your sisters’ fear of the Kamisatos. They have been nothing but kind during diplomatic talks, but you can’t blame them for being wary: the case was never solved, after all. When Danalise interrogated every sister to tears (including you, at such a young age) the night that the Kamisato patriarch’s death had spread around Inazuma, no one admitted anything.

As a safety net, everyone kept their distance: weekly meetings in the nymph’s village became monthly, your sisters avoided collecting food near the Estate, and the staff weren’t as friendly to them anymore.

No one from the Kamisato Estate questioned this change. The seed of distrust had already taken its root.

However, living with them proved you wrong.

Upon Lord Ayato’s absence because of the investigation, Lady Ayaka and Thoma frequently checked up on you. You couldn’t refuse when they first invited you to dinner since Thoma told you that Ayaka was often lonely, and it was rare for her to hang out and let loose with someone else. The staff had been accommodating during your stay, even going far to prevent you from doing simple chores.

You felt like a freeloader. When you insisted that you needed physical activity to speed up your recovery, the servants shook their heads politely. ‘The Commissioner’s order,’ they said.

When Ayato finally arrived home, you greeted him with utmost respect. He laughed and patted your head. “No need for the formalities, my dear. Or else I shall feel bashful that a beauty like you insist on calling me ‘sir’ or ‘my lord’.”

You can still hear his pleasant laughter in the hallways after you bolt to your room. Your scream is muffled on your pillow.

Curse your stupid crush on him.

An hour later, one of the servants knocked. “Lady (Y/N), Lord Ayato has called for you in his quarters.”

Against your will, you find yourself in front of his door. You knock twice. “Sir Ayato?”

Ayato opens the door, still wearing his travel clothes. “Come inside, (Y/N).”

As easy as breathing, you immediately recognize the woman behind him. “Dana!”

You waste no time and tackle her in a hug.

Your sister sighs and pries your arms away. "How have you been doing? Not being a burden to the Commissioner, I hope?" She’s clad in her formal garments, but something weighs down her usually confident stance.

The indifference in her eyes and cold words hurt you. You take a step back and wrap your arms around yourself.

You expected Dana to miss you as much as you did, since she was the only one who paid attention to you and cared for your well-being.

Nevertheless, her presence brought a smile to your face. It felt like home was near.

You shake your head. "No! I’ve been trying to help around the house, I promise!”

Silence encompasses the three of you. Outside, the busy staff continue working around the estate. Some are tasked to prepare a child’s room.

You bounce on your feet, oblivious to the tense atmosphere. “Sister, are we going to go home?”

"(Y/N)..." Ayato clears his throat. You look at him expectantly. "Upon consulting multiple Inazuman scholars, the potion you inhaled was reported to be a… potency potion for nymphs,” He stops, gauging your reaction.

Only the rapid beating of your heart betrays your calm façade. “What… what do you mean by that, my lord?” You ask, voice steady. You don’t want to know. You’ve had enough of potions and investigation. You just want to go home.

He briefly glances at Dana, silently asking for permission to proceed. Your sister, ever so helpful, refuses to look at both of you. Her glossy black hair covers her face as she looks down.

(Unbeknownst to you, she was seething with anger. Your sister cannot find the courage to look at you.)

Her unusual behavior puts you more on edge, like seconds before tittering off a cliff. “L-Lord Ayato,” Your voice breaks. “Please continue what you were saying.”

He takes a deep breath. “The strange potion puts you to sleep and makes your body more reactive to… stimulation. It’s highly likely that you’ve fallen victim to a person’s sinful desires.”

The whole world stops, and the room expands.

Like that night in the forest, you feel scared, confused, and alone.

You whisper. “I don’t understand.” But you do.

“It’s an aphrodisiac laced with a sleeping drug!” Dana yells, voice shrill. You visibly recoil, feeling her anger come off in waves. “It means that some scum has been planning to violate you.”

“What? I don’t…” The soreness between your thighs. Faint bruises on your wrists. A fading hickey on your neck near the back of it, one that you just noticed last night. Dana does nothing to comfort you, only glaring daggers at your shaking form. Tears well up in your eyes.

Your sister prances around the room, her heavy steps pounding your head. “I told you to go home before sundown! Why didn’t you listen to me?"

“Now, it’s highly improper to blame her,” Ayato interjects. Dana glares at him and clenches her fist.

He moves in front of you and grasps your hands.  "I don’t want to delay the investigation further. We decided you can't return to our village until we catch who did this. The situation has worsened now that we know the culprit’s intentions."

"But how long would that take!" You shout.

(You miss the split second of anger in his eyes.)

You plead. "I just want to go home, Dana, please. I didn’t mean for all of this to happen."

"You might endanger your sisters, (Y/N)! We are not leading a criminal inside our home just because of your selfishness," Her words felt like death sentence. The last time you saw your sister with a hopeless look in her eyes was after she failed to catch the culprit of the Kamisato patriarch’s death.

Your soft sobs pierce the silence. "I’ll… come back for you when the time comes."

(Ayato’s hand delicately trails on the back of your neck to soothe you.)

Dana’s eyes widen, and she looks away. You don’t hear her whisper, ‘this is for the greater good.’

You’re inconsolable when the door slams and she leaves. Ayato wraps you in his arms. You don’t care if your tears soak his perfectly-ironed coat.

You spend the rest of the day in his quarters, sitting beside him while he does paperwork. He gives you a glance every once in a while, a hand rubbing circles on your back when he notices you trying to stifle your cries. Your face glows a faint red, not because of your sadness but because of his intimate actions.

He’s too close. It’s all inappropriate. You tell yourself that Lord Kamisato is just being kind.

But he’s there when you needed comfort and safety the most.

That night, you fiddle with your necklace. You vaguely remember your sisters giving this to you on your birthday.

Betrayal burns through you. You want to break it from your neck.

(You don’t.

Instead of your past, the amethyst pendant starts to remind you of the Commissioner’s eyes.)

You lose track of time. A week with no news from Dana or any of your sisters felt like agonizing years.

You’ve become restless. Every day, you ask where Ayato is.

“He’s working hard to investigate your case, Lady (Y/N).” The staff says. Their eyes that once filled with joy upon seeing you are now laced with concern and pity. “We do not know when he’ll be back.”

Being the black sheep of the nymph village is something that you accepted long ago. Still, you thought that Danalise would still fight to take you back because you trusted her as your eldest sister and your leader.

You hate that she abandoned you. You also hate that you still longed for your sisters’ presence more than anything else.

Your footsteps patter on the freshly-cleaned wooden floor. "Sir Junichi, do you know where my necklace is? It’s been missing since last night."

“Good morning, (Y/N)." The old man sneezes. On his hand is a wedding dress, elegant but dusty. The colors are vibrant and the fabric has no frays despite the old and traditional style.

You remember one of the portraits hung by the dining room where the Kamisato siblings' mother wear the exact same dress. Why is he holding that?

"I’m not sure, but I think I saw one in Lord Kamisato's office."

A faint blush appears on your cheeks when you remember the day you spent with him. "Thank you."

There was no one inside Ayato’s room, despite him being home. On the table, the rare sight of his organized documents greeted you. Several letters and a freshly inked fountain pen rest by the windows. Souvenirs from Lady Ayaka are displayed on the shelves, all with no dust. A picture of him, Thoma, Taromaru, and Lady Ayaka together in a festival is delicately pinned on the corner of the makeshift bulletin board. The sight warms your heart.

Carefully looking around, your necklace glints whilst hung on the high cabinets. You tiptoe and pull. It barely budges. You reach out and swiftly grab the necklace that the cabinet doors open.

Dozens of empty bottles roll out and you shield yourself from the fall.

A familiar rotten smell invades your scent. Your heart sinks to your stomach.

You jump on your feet and run before colliding with a body. "(Y/N)? What are you doing here–"

"Thoma!" You shout as your voice shakes in fear. "He's lying! He violated me!"

"What– who violated you? Please, breathe and calm down."

"Ayato-- Lord Kamisato–" You gasp out, realizing that Thoma is Ayato’s closest friend. "There was no one else in that forest, just him, I saw him– and he said I was violated before he arrived, and that doesn't make sense because he was there before I blacked out! Thoma, please, I know I sound crazy, you have to believe me," You tremble.

In the midst of your frantic words, Thoma appears confused. "You're saying that… it was Lord Ayato who had violated you?" He whispers carefully, hesitant with his words. You nod urgently.

Your thoughts were racing, but you knew one thing: you must get out of this place now. Thoma have always been kind, patient, and understanding, so he will believe you–

"--don't think Thoma believes a word, don't you? Leave us, Thoma."

The housekeeper pulls away from your embrace, curtsied 'm'lord' before exiting and shutting the kanban behind him.

You freeze. You should have known where his loyalties lie.

Behind you, you hear Ayato pick up one bottle. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way, (Y/N)."

You grit your teeth. “Find out what.”

“Playing dumb now that I’ve arrived?” He laughs. It sounded melodious when you first heard it; now it twisted your guts. “Not the smartest move, (Y/N).”

“I want to hear you say it. Answer me, Ayato!"

You whimper as your chin is roughly grabbed from behind, forcing you to face him. “I get that you’re upset, but I don’t appreciate the disrespect, princess. Now, let’s start.” He clasps his hand around your arm firmly. “Took you roughly two weeks to find out. Guess there's no denying that now, huh?"  

"Please spare me your explanations, Lord Kamisato," You cried out, hurt and betrayal in your eyes. "I'll make sure that everyone in this Estate knows how much of a degenerate you are–let go of me!"

“The Estate," He whispers, voice a low rumble in your ear. "Is mine. Thoma continued his duties per usual after walking out. Ayaka is happy I finally found a fitting partner to continue our bloodline. My servants always kept an eye on you whenever I was gone. I watched your every move, darling."

"Your pathetic attempts to escape will be halted, and you'll end up in your room again. Worse, on mine," You pulled around and trashed, screaming and shouting and fighting before a bottle was opened, and you inhaled that scent again. "Breathe, my love.”

When you wake, your body was already in the throes of passion.

"Feeling good, love?" Ayato sighs, lost in the pleasure. He thrusts slowly inside you. "Look at us, spending the night in each other's arms like that day in the forest."

He leers at your panicked form, seeing your eyes go wide. He’s naked, and in the corner of your eye, you see his clothes discarded haphazardly in a pile mixed with yours. "Nymphs are easily swayed, aren't they? It only took a few threats to convince them to give you to me. They didn't even want money. They immediately agreed to leave you defenseless so I could finally make a move after all these years.”

You freeze and shut your eyes in response. He tuts and squeezes your neck, so you open your eyes again in fear. "Listen closely, (Y/N). You want to know the truth, right?”

“See your sister’s little cabin right there?” You squeal as Ayato grips your waist and sets you on his lap as if you weigh nothing. “That’s where she does her little experiments, no? Did she tell you what she was brewing that day they left you on the river?” You whimper in response, dreading whatever he will say next. You don’t want to believe it.

Ayato laughs, his hot breath ghosting your neck. You shiver in response. “That’s right. The aphrodisiac I’ve been pretending to ‘investigate’. I guess I still have to thank her.”

He embraces you closer, a hand snaking to cup your tits. You try to slap his hand away, but he grasps your wrists with his other hand. "Ah ah. You need to behave if you want me to tell you the whole story.”

“I have no use for your stupid stories,” You spat.

“Really now? Don’t you want to know what happened to your sister who wanted to seduce my father?”

You have no answer. All your life, you’ve always wondered if someone out there knew the truth.

He speaks before you say your answer. “Little one… no one poisoned my father.”

You stop. “What?”

Ayato hums. “It was an accident; he explored the woods one night and accidentally ventured too deep until he was lost, tired, and hungry. Fortunately, he saw a cabin. Your sister’s cabin. Unfortunately, your sister stupidly stored her toxic potions near the entrance door. With no light, he accidentally knocked down one strong enough to kill him. One small bottle was enough to take his life," He whispers. "It’s been ten years since then. Nobody knew but me… until I decided it was time for your clan to face the repercussions."

“That hag Danalise begged; you know. She asked that I spare the rest of you from punishment and take her instead. But I wanted nothing to do with that stupid wench.” He suddenly bites down your neck, and you yelp. He then caresses the hickey with his tongue to soothe the area. “But you, my dear (Y/N)…” He growls. “I wanted everything to do with you.”

You don’t want to believe it. Under the night sky, wetness dripped from your pussy to his thighs, reminding you that his thickness had been inside you twice without you knowing. This bewitching, powerful man is utterly, completely obsessed with you.

"So I became the sacrificial lamb?" You hiccupped. “Jokes on you, I’m the worst one. Any of my sisters could’ve been a better pick.” You press on. There’s nothing to lose anymore. Everyone you knew betrayed you.

"There’s that sad look on your face again." He gently takes your chin to face him. A look of adoration crosses his eyes and you look away, feeling vulnerable. “I picked you, (Y/N). Not any of them. You.”

"After my father's death, I was angry. I loathed your family. I instructed my people to watch out for you nymphs, especially those who dare go near our territory," He whispers, and you reel back. "Imagine my surprise when my people told me there was one naive enough to bathe alone in the forest. I had to go and see you for myself. Then I saw you… your body, naked as the night… your curves glistening in the moonlight."

“My decision was made from then on.” You don’t resist when his hand drops down to your pussy and starts to rub your folds. Your aching core is overstimulated and sensitive at the same time. “An eye for an eye. You shall be my wife, and I will do anything I can to ensure you’ll be mine.”

His hand stroking you, rubbing you in places that no one ever had, has your mind reeling from pleasure. In your calmer state, you’ve become less resistant to his touches, and your body starts to ache for more. Your face flushes at the sound of the slick between your thighs.

You hate him, you hate him, you hate him.

He grinds his palm to your aching clit, and you moan. “Ah—my lord!”

Ayato smirks and lets out a small laugh. “That’s a good girl. Feels good, doesn’t it?” He whispers, nibbling the shell of your ear. “I told you I won’t hurt you, sweetheart. Here, lie on the grass," He carefully puts you down on the cool land and spreads your legs.

You fluster at his ravenous gaze, staring intently at your dripping pussy. Laying bare in front of a man for the first time—your captor, no less—awakens something primal inside you. “Gods, look at you. Your pussy is pretty just like the rest of you. Couldn’t stop thinking about this every day for the past month since I first laid my eyes on it.”

Ayato presses his face flush against the inside of your thighs, face dangerously close to your core. You mewl– both in pleasure and shame of him seeing your intimate part up close. "Am I the first man to taste you, my love?"

When you refuse to look at him to answer, he chuckles lightheartedly, underneath, full of lust. "I would've known if you had lain with another, sweetheart. Anyone who attempted would’ve been executed and disappeared." You feel his arm tighten the grip around your waist, possessive and dominating. "Nymphs are famous for their sweet ambrosia, am I right?"

Ayato dived in and licked a strip of your core.

Your hands tighten on his pale blue tresses, unconsciously pulling him closer. "My lord, please stop! I don't want this– oh!"

"You taste exquisite, my darling," He growls. The man feels his chest emitting a growl, beastly and unlike anything he's felt before. "I could eat you up all night and never get tired. You’re the best meal I've ever had."

And he does, slurping and licking for what seems like forever while you moan and keel to his tongue. You're lost in the pleasure, unintendedly singing such beautiful high-pitched noises that sent arousal to his groin. His cock is painfully hard, and he wants to break you. He grips your thighs stronger and circles his tongue on your clit.

You feel a tightening coil inside your stomach. You pant. "My lord, please, I don't know what's happening,"

"Let go. Come," He says, and everything around you explodes in white-hot pleasure.

You were too dazed and disoriented to realize that you passed out for a few seconds because the next thing you know, you woke up to Ayato pressing soft kisses on your shoulders. "Stay awake, my love. We're not yet done."

Too exhausted to protest, your whole body relaxes. Ayato sighs and kisses your hair, fingers trailing down your strands.

He's proud of the mess he made you.

He cups your breasts and you gasp, body succumbing to his touch. You think it's dangerous that you slowly become familiar and yearn for his touch, but it's not so bad either.

With every touch, you feel appreciated and worthy of attention.

Above all, you feel loved.

You look at him again, naked and skin glistening in the moonlight. His pale blue hair is loose, draping around his shoulder like shiny ribbons.

He's as handsome as the day you first saw him in the Estate.

"Oh?" Ayato teases. "You're the beautiful one here, sweetheart. I am merely your worshipper tonight."

He positions your thighs, opening them once again. You whine when he strokes your tender folds. Between your legs and his is his cock, huge and throbbing with dripping beads of precum. He takes your hand and lets you grip it gently. "You feel that, baby? This is only for you."

It twitches on your hand. You tug it, and he moans.

"It’s—it’s big," He kisses your burning cheeks. "Darling, don’t worry. I would never hurt you. Come, put your arms around me," He places your languid arms around him. Your hold on him is tense. "It's okay, baby. You can scratch me if it's painful; I won't get mad." Your lips melt into his again; your breaths become fogs mingling. "Ready?"

He puts the tip in, and you feel stinging the stretch of his cock that you arch your back and shudder. Your nails leave marks on his back. Ayato hisses. "Archons, you're so tight… Princess, are you okay?"

"Y-Yes," You mutter. "I think so. A-ah… you're so big, my lord."

Pride swells in his chest. "You made it that way. Tell me when you've adjusted, okay? I'm not going to move unless you tell me to," His eyes brimmed with fondness and affection that it made your heart skip a beat. A glimpse of what Ayato truly felt for you; aside from his sick obsession, he was a man who truly adored you and is willing to serve all your desires. "Stay still, doll. Don't worry about me. Try to relax."

After a few moments of shifting, you’ve become accustomed to his size. He fits perfectly. "I-I'm okay. Please… take me."

Ayato goes in deep, fully sheaths himself inside you, and he feels as if everything he’s ever experienced was made for this moment. "Gods, thank you so much for allowing me to do this, sweet girl. I love you so much. Always have."

And so he lost himself between you, the stars, and the mysteries of Chinju forest. He thinks about when he first saw you and swore to himself that you would be by his side and how this was finally the culmination of his dream. He thrusts wild as if memorizing the spots with the most of your pleasure and ram himself like a man driven mad by passion and lust.

"Ah, I should take you back to the Estate after this, no?" Ayato grunts when he feels you tighten around his length. Your spongy walls feel like paradise. "Make you my wife. It won't be easy, but I could clear your name, and your sisters will live peacefully," He reaches out to toy with your breasts, letting them mold on his hand. "I'll give you the best life I have to offer, (Y/N). You'll be mine, and I'll be yours. Just say yes."

He continues, murmuring ramblings that you don't even understand because of the rapture you're in. You feel the coil building up again, and Ayato does too, as he fucks into you faster and almost losing his grip. "Please, let's cum together. Be with me, sweetheart."

Both of you slowly lose yourselves and– "Ah!"

The two of you explode in pleasure, and only the forest hears your loving cries. Your fine nails break his porcelain skin, leaving a trail of red behind. Ayato holds you closer, molding perfectly into each other as you both chase your highs under the night sky. He kisses you again, and you return his efforts this time, finding that his lips are far softer and less suffocating when he’s gentle. You think feel a stray tear from his eyes escape. “Lord Ayato… please take me home.”

"Ah, I love you so much," He whispers. He looks at your afterglow, all dopey and tranquil. He thinks about the necklace you left in the Estate. He’ll give you much, much more. "I'll make a future with you."

[die-die-mydarling-xx]

Hewo! Saw y’all are taking requests :3

What would the Sinclair Brothers, Brahms, and Billy Lenz do if they see their s/o being made fun of by someone? How would they react?

Thank you and have a good one!

Hi there! Sorry it took me a little while to get around to this

How They Would React to Seeing Their S/O Being Made Fun Of

SFW, GN!Reader (sort of implied to be female in Billy Lenz)

Vincent Sinclair

They're dead the minute they decided to make fun of you

He wouldn't be too aggressive in the moment, probably just glaring at them from across the room

Or he'd move to your side, the silent anger in his face enough to shut them up

Later on they will die slowly and painfully <3

Once he's done with them he would come to comfort you, holding you in his arms and making sure you know how perfect you are and that you're the best thing that ever happened to him

Bo Sinclair

Again, they're dead. Duh

He'd come over to give whoever was making fun of you a piece of his mind, you could see him getting quite worked up

These people were just passing through, and you could tell they wanted to leave after that altercation, but their car had broken down just outside of Ambrose and Bo was their only hope of fixing it

He'd tell them he had to order the part and let them know where to stay nearby

So he could catch them off guard later. He wouldn't prolong their suffering that much, his anger overriding that urge

He'd come find you once they're dead as well, holding you a little closer to him that night. He doesn't strike me as someone who would give a lot of verbal reassurance, but you still can tell he cares

Lester Sinclair

He's the only one of the three who wouldn't outright kill them. Maybe directs them to his brothers though

He'd definitely step in in the moment as well, but he's a little calmer than Bo: he would defend you and try to make the people making fun of you ashamed of their behaviour

Would be sooo comforting afterwards, giving you lots of physical affection and telling you everything he loves about you

Brahms Heelshire

I don't imagine there'd be a lot of times where he'd see this happening, so I think he'd be a lot more volatile in this situation

You're perfect in his eyes, he's literally obsessed with you, so seeing you being made fun of would make him very angry

Honestly I think he'd just kill them right then and there. 😶

Unless you told him not to but he'll still leave them injured

After they were gone he'd be holding you, stroking your hair, and giving you all kinds of compliments

Billy Lenz

If you were being made fun of by specific sorority sisters, they would immediately become his next targets

I don't think he'd want to really step in; he doesn't like leaving the attic, especially when there are people up and about

He would call the house phone to try and interrupt their taunting

When they pick up, he'd immediately go into a tirade of profanities and threatening them

The sisters would hang up, shaking their heads in disgust, and you just smiled to yourself, knowing that this was his way of defending you

Later, after everyone's asleep, you go into the attic to see him. Like Lester, he's going to be very physically affectionate, stroking your face, your hair, your body and telling you how pretty you are and how important you are to him

I hope this is okay! I definitely struggled with the characterization of some of them, especially Billy 😭

[doobea]

DAYTIME SHOOTING STAR - REO MIKAGE

synopsis: Being a college student sucks. Having a crush on your best friend also sucks. Your best friend having a crush on your other best friend is . . . kinda the worst. In which, Reo is hopelessly in love with you but you’re hard crushing on Nagi.

-> MASTERLIST. -> PLAYLIST.

contents: second lead syndrome feat. fem!reader & reo, heavy narration in the beginning as per usual whoops, also in an au where bluelock never happened LOL, grandparental meeting, reo x stardew valley vibes, of course y/n and reo get together duh, nagi's been shipping them together since high school word count: 3.9K a/n: FINAL PART OUT YAY :3 thank you for joining me on this journey hehe this was also my first time attempt of writing reo so hopefully his characterization went ok ;-;

VEGA -> prev.

You get the feeling that Nagi is up to something, after a while.

Well, Nagi is always up to something — gaming and dozing off, to be exact. This time, though, all of his attention seems to be fixated on you.

“That’s not your sweater,” he says, pointedly, one day, when you waltz into their apartment with a handful of pastries. You decided to make a detour trip to a local bakery earlier in the morning, carefully curating the palettes of the two males because —well— after that happened you felt like a small offering would be needed in a way. 

Like how many others delegate, the kiss was rather… confusing to all. Nagi doesn’t bring it up when you three all return back to festival grounds, nor does he bring it up to Reo when you finally go home. Reo’s been texting you like all things are normal, and you guess it’s because he doesn’t really know what to do either. Though, he’s been more endearing than usual over text, which you take as a sign that something is progressing.

Let’s just say that it’ll be weird for you to wake up without a ‘good morning, did you eat yet?’ text from a certain billionaire’s son.

Backstory aside, Nagi’s not lounging around for once. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in his hands from a brand you’re not familiar with. Judging by its fine print font and pastel color scheme, you assumed that Nana stopped by not too long ago. And his gaze isn’t leaving your sweater. Whatever, you’re probably not wearing it correctly anyway. Stupid rich people problems.

“It’s Reo’s,” you say, lightly, and scoot by him to place down the baked goods. “He accidentally gave me his sweater when he returned my things, that’s all.” 

It wasn’t an accident. Reo had made sure to spray that sweater with all the cologne he had. The sweater is warm, comfortable, and smells just like him. It’s nice.

Nagi gives you a look. It’s not a strong look, but it’s obvious enough to make your cheeks heat up. “Uh huh,” he deadpans before giving you a full up-down. “You’re wearing it, though.”

“Yeah, I am,” you shrug it off, trying to pretend that you don’t understand what the big deal was. 

Okay, yeah, your best friend suddenly kisses you and now you’re rethinking about your life choices since high school because you were so sure that you liked his other friend. And the fact that you kissed back? Was that supposed to happen? And you didn’t wear this sweater today in hopes of Reo seeing you, nope that’s not it. Reo doesn’t make you feel warm and fuzzy because this sweater does all of that. It’s a comfort thing and Reo doesn’t bring you comfort… right?

You apparently have some cheesy expression written all over your face, though, and that causes Nagi to pinch your cheek to snap you back to reality. “Suits you,” Nagi decides to end the topic before shifting to the main subject. “Reo’s out this morning.”

“I wasn’t trying to see him,” you grumble out, eyes narrowing as you fix yourself a latte and adding way too many shots of espresso to fight off your internal turmoil. You add a large serving of caramel syrup to balance out the bitterness and then top it off with a heavy serving of whipped cream, sighing happily as you get a mouthful of the sugary concoction within the first sip.

Nagi simply shakes his head and drains the rest of his drink in one go. “Well, he’s been talking about you nonstop, if that makes—” Nagi stops in his tracks when he watches your ears perk up. “—you happy…”

At this point, Nagi probably thinks everyone is in on a poorly executed inside joke, except for him. He doesn’t like it, but what can he do? His two best friends are now awkwardly pinning each other and neither of them are sparing him any details. Then again, he’s not sure if he wants all the details. So, instead of poking a dead fish around, he exits to the living room and throws on a weekly series that he’s been meaning to catch up on. These past two months have been quite tiring.

You eventually join him on the couch, body now running on full blast of caffeine and loads of caramel. “Sei, tell me everything that he’s said, please?” and you throw out your best attempt at puppy eyes because you know that Nagi has always been horrible at saying no to these kinds of things.

But maybe getting a girlfriend has changed him, somewhat.

“You’ll hear it from him, eventually,” Nagi simply answers, smiling.

Of course, regardless of how many times you repeat yourself, Nagi would spit back the same response. Since when did he start caring for Reo’s secrecy all of a sudden? Pretty lame. You zone out when an action sequence comes on the screen and begin texting Reo.

‘where are you’ You text over a character monologue in the background.

‘At some stores, picking up last minute gifts for later.’ Reo replies back with a series of emojis.

By ‘stores’, you would only guess it’s nothing but high-end designer stuff. ‘Gifts’ implying that he’s buying multiple for your family and relatives. ‘Later’ is when the two of you will depart on visiting your hometown for the weekend because it turns out Reo was actually serious about taking up your off-handed comment.

‘i told you not to get anything!!’ You send an angry emoji right after. 

Nagi is absolutely reading over your shoulder, too, and if looks could kill, you’re pretty sure you’d be in a million pieces, burning to bits on the floor. “Got a hot date with Reo, huh?”

“Well, you didn’t want to come and we’re not dating…” you huff before pushing him away. “And stop reading my texts!”

“Don’t text while I’m watching my show, it’s distracting.” Nagi shoots back, and you don’t really have an argument for that.

Though, you just glare at him until he eventually backs off and you go back to texting Reo, a bit more subtly, talking about various expensive gifts that he can get instead of showing up to your family doorsteps with diamonds and silk robes. You haven’t had anyone from the city come visit your hometown, so you’re a little nervous to say the least. Especially since someone accompanying you is several tax brackets ahead…though Reo wouldn’t judge you differently. Because he likes you, in more ways than one. Fuck.

You’re ignoring a lot of things happening right now, and bringing him over to meet your family is making you feel weird. Ugh, whatever.

In the end, Reo ends up returning half of his purchases because apparently designer bags and jewelry won't serve your grandparents that well in their everyday lives. So he opts to buy them expensive fruits instead. Fruits are already expensive in the country, so when Reo showed up with boxed grapes that costed more than your current outfit, you could've sworn your eyes were about to pop out of your sockets.

Reo should’ve known better than to wear anything remotely formal when he agreed to come visit your hometown. Tailored suits are expensive and difficult to replace and, from what he’s experienced within the past hour, the mud that’s been splattered all over his dress shoes and pants haven’t gone away no matter how much cleaning reagent he’s used so far. But complaints are off the table, no matter how much he absolutely wants to point out the sweltering heat and the lack of air conditioning in your home. 

The plane ride over wasn’t any better. You blatantly refused to use his credit card for first-class seating upgrades regardless how many times he’d begged you.

“It’ll only be a two hour flight, Reo. Plus, economy isn’t that bad.” You reasoned. 

Oh, but it was.

He’s a gentleman and gentlemen should always let others pick which seat they want first. Window seat was a non negotiable for you, and he didn’t really mind. What he did mind was the random stranger seated to his right.

Screen brightness — max.

Volume settings — max.

Chewing noises — sadly, also max.

It’s a miracle that he didn’t flag down an attendant and leave you for first class. Well, flight aside, landing happens and, inevitably, comes the next part.

“Are you enjoying your stay so far?”

Your grandmother comes into view, coming to Reo’s rescue with a sunhat and a bottle of water, and the basket next to her was already filled to the brim with all types of vegetable assortments from the garden. Reo graciously takes the hat and sips of the water before glancing down at his own basket, which is very much barren. He thought offering to help with harvesting will win him some brownie points, but he should’ve known how dirty it would get.

“It’s definitely different from what I’m used to, but it’s nice here.” He’s honest about the last part. 

The city doesn’t offer much in terms of parks and recreational activities and, despite the fact he’s pretty sure his button up is practically attached to his skin and that there’s probably a centipede (or two) crawling in his shoes, the whole nature thing is pretty serene. Your parents’ old home is a cozy cottage right off the side of the country road, surrounded by rice paddy fields with a wide range of mountains in the backdrop. Occasionally, Reo would see truck drivers making pit stops out in the front to either pick up a small shipment or make small talk with your grandfather — it’s completely foreign to him given that he’s so used to the stuffy business world. Seeing all of this makes Reo understand why some would enjoy a life of simple living and solitude. 

Your grandmother laughs. “We were afraid that you wouldn’t like it here.”

To this, Reo digs his hands back into the soil and pulls out a set of carrots in hands. “Sorry, did I give off that impression?” Says the boy who’s currently dressed head to toe in formal wear. Idiot. 

“Our granddaughter has been…” she trails off for a moment, finger pursed to her lips and head tilted, before finishing. “She’s been blowing up the family group chat about this trip for a while now. Safe to say she’s been worried.” 

Oh. That’s news.

Reo wipes off the puddle of sweat from his face and straightens his back. “It’s beautiful and peaceful here, you wouldn’t be able to get this back in the city. Everyone’s been really nice and the food,” he points down to the field. “You wouldn’t be able to get these without them costing an arm and a leg for the sake of being ‘organic’.”

“Sounds like you want to move here.”

And for the sake of earning those brownie points, “Yeah, I can see myself doing that one day.”

“Imagine that. Can’t stay away from our granddaughter, right?” she teases, and it causes him to do a double take.

“W-What?”

She ignores Reo’s stammering and hands him a pair of gloves and a metal bucket. “Once you finish picking the rest, come meet me by the farmhouse, the cows need some attention.”

Reo might have to rethink his career path after this trip.

“Can you tell your cousins to knock it off, please?” Your best friend is grumbling and hiding behind you for all things safety related.

One thing you forgot to mention, outside of the laborious work, is that your little cousins are an absolute menace to outsiders. The youngest one has been non stop terrorizing Reo around the house with a live grasshopper while the older one keeps throwing him glares and middle fingers. This has been going on right after dinner and Reo’s getting really sick of them and their chattering about how they hate seeing you with someone that needs ‘pampering’.

You huff and roll your eyes playfully. “You think I haven’t tried shutting them up?”

“Good point,” Reo groans from behind. He’s gripping your shoulders as if he’s on life support, shaking every time the youngest one raises the grasshopper closer. “Can’t you just give them an iPad or anything?”

“And what? So they can turn into those kids who stare at a screen all day? No thank you.” You tease, but you give your cousins a final stern look before getting to their eye level. 

Reo watches, silent but amused, as you pluck the insect out of the boy’s grasp and pinch his cheek with a light tug, not enough to shed tears but enough to cause him to yelp. You motion the older one over, who just grumbles under his breath but obeys anyway.

“Big sis, we swear we’re just playing together—” the older one starts, and you simply respond with a hard head shake.

“That’s not how we treat guests in our home. Last time I checked, you guys didn’t like it when I made you clean out the pig pen for fun,” you retort with a casual grin. “Time to head back to auntie’s place anyway, it’s way past your bedtimes.”

Both of them sigh in defeat, but that doesn’t stop them from throwing up a pair of middle fingers at Reo. Hey, down with the rich — they’re on the right track in life. And you know deep down they’re just looking out for you ever since your experience in high school, even if the hatred towards city folks is on the extreme side.

You’re stifling a laugh as the pair leave the house. Reo loosens his grip on your shoulders when they are out of ear shot and nudges your sides because you still have that damn grasshopper in your hands.

“Puke or cry in my house and I’m making you sleep with the cows tonight.” The threat is spoken casually, with a bit of affection to it, but Reo knows damn well it’s a valid threat.

“I’m not going to puke or cry,” he replies, haughtily. “And, for the record, I helped the cows earlier today so I’m practically their mother.”

“Oh yeah, thanks for that, you didn’t have to.” You gently toss the grasshopper out the kitchen window, making sure it landed on a patch of soft grass. “Grandma was constantly raving about you after you finished. Saying something about planning the next weekend trip together.”

“Yeah, might as well help around, you know?” Reo weakly chuckles and briefly looks down at his hands. What he doesn’t add is that his hands are going to be sore for the next few days and that maybe your grandparents think he’s going to move in with them in the future. Something of that sort.

“It’s not the worst idea,” You grin. The sun is down, and the stars in the sky are starting to poke through. You catch Reo trying to get a good look before an idea pops up. “My room has a pretty good view of everything, if you want to head up?” You would offer to lay outside but, considering that the ecosystem here offers much bigger bugs, you decided against it.

Unsurprisingly, Reo takes up on the suggestion.

Your old bedroom is sparsely furnished, and that’s intentional. Most of your personal belongings are currently at your college apartment. All that’s left is a full sized bed, an old boxy television with an equally old boxy stand, a couple of bookshelves stuffed full of children's books, and one of those large colorful beanbags by the window sill. 

It’s a nice bedroom, for all things considered. A lot more vibrant and has more character than Reo’s old bedroom growing up. From what he’s shown you before, his bedroom was almost a black and white minimalist’s wet dream. 

“It’s a bit dusty, hope you don’t mind.”

Your bedroom window has a nice view of the mountain side, and Reo’s quickly distracted by the swarm of fireflies and night stars as he quickly shoves his suitcase into the corner and settles on your bed without a second thought. 

“I like it,” He replies, in a careful, casual voice. And maybe it’s just your imagination, but you swear, your best friend sounds both anxious and excited, and maybe there’s a hint of nerves in there, too. Whatever it is, your stomach is back to doing those weird flips.

You try to think. You’re aware of several things right now. First, your best friend is making himself very comfortable in your bed. Second, he’s giving you a look, one that just screams some sort of smug superiority. Third, despite it being humid and warm in your room, you really just want to bury your face into his shoulder. Maybe you should climb in with him, look at the stars together, curled up and snuggling, maybe even run your fingers through his hair, and—

“So,” Reo interrupts and snaps you out of your strange reverie. “You’re sleeping on the floor, right?”

“Huh?” your voice is bleary, and your thoughts are kinda far off. Reo shuffles his way under your sheets and suddenly you put two and two together. “I saved you from those little demons and this is the thanks I get?” 

“I deserve it since I worked,” Reo sighs, dramatically, when you finally find the courage to sit down on the ends of the mattress. “Or did you want to share it together?” Tease oozes into his tone.

That last bit makes your heart skip a couple of beats. Alcohol wasn’t in the dinner mix and, even if it was, Reo would never be this bold in front of you. Perhaps there’s something floating in the summer air.

“Stop pretending that you live here,” but you eventually settle yourself underneath the blankets too, just on the other side to put some good inches in between.

Reo’s smiling, and that’s all that matters. It doesn’t bother you when he manages to hog all the blankets and the limited amount of pillows. He’s a gentleman, but also has his needy side that he’s not afraid of showing. Not to mention that he looks good in the dim lighting, even though he’s only been wearing one of your grandpa’s old t-shirts after working in the field. It finally makes the strange fluttering in your stomach calm into a steady, present warmth, and that’s maybe more problematic, but you don’t give it any real thought.

Reo speaks up after a few passing heartbeats. “Can I… say something?” 

You swallow thickly. “Go for it.”

It can’t be just your imagination, the way Reo’s mouth parts, just a little, the way his tongue is dating out to wet his lips. You’re leaning forward, hand reaching down between. You can’t stop looking at him. 

“I want…” Reo tries to say, but his throat is a giant lump.

“Reo,” You breathe out in response, head tipping, “If you keep looking at me like that, then…”

It comes in swift moments, with Reo pressed close, with both of your hips bumping together, with arms slung over the other’s shoulder. There’s been those moments of laughter, where it feels as if the whole world has faded away in a blur beyond the gaze of your best friend. It’s cliche and dumb, but you feel, in a way, that you’ve been looking at Reo for your life. And you have, really, because he’s always been there for you.

There’s a lot of things that Reo could say. They’re burning on his tongue, building in his throat, getting stuck there. He should just push them out, just say it. Or, maybe, he should say nothing at all, because that wonder and those answers are all reflected in your gaze.

Both of you are so close that he can make out every strand of your lashes. He can see the subtle shift of color in your eyes, the dark band increasing around your pupils, that slight nervous glimmer there. It’s got Reo’s heart pounding in his chest, hammering to be freed. He’s got one hand pressed into the small of your back, stroking there, slow and affectionate. His other hand is trembling, just a little, and he steadies himself bracing it against your cheek.

It’s got you shivering, and Reo realizes that you’re both a bit terrified.

“I want to be yours,” Reo might be nervous as hell, but he steels his voice, and brushes your lips together, he’s so close, when he talks. “I can’t think about anything else when I’m with you. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but—”

“Reo,” you take the initiative here, shifting closer, and settling your lips close to his neck. “It’s okay. I want you too.”

You take another inch forward and Reo allows it. Maybe you’re both getting more comfortable with each other. Maybe getting brave and feeling more grown up. Likely, it’s a combination of everything, and a good dose of ‘fuck it’s, from being young, and dumb, despite it all.

You’re not sure who leans in first but, before it even fully registers, his lips glide over yours. There’s some awkward teeth clacking involved, probably from the fact both of you are way too full of nerves over this, but Reo fixes it and begins to trace his tongue over the small opening of your lips. You move your hands straight to his locks, still damp from the earlier shower he took and the scent of lemongrass and citrus invades your nostrils.

Reo's kissing you as if he wants to swallow you whole. It's hungry, desperate, and intimate in a way that made your heart swell triple in size. The sounds of your beating chest floods your ears as he's pouring his emotions into the kiss, making sure that he's leaving behind evidence that his soul is yours to claim. The heat radiating off his body pulls you in, like an invitation, and you sink further into his touch.

After a moment, you pull back, hands still entangled in his hair.

“Your parents, aren’t you worried about—”

“I don’t pay mind to that type of stuff,” he presses a firm kiss on your forehead. “And you shouldn't have to either. That’s a future thing to worry about.”

That sounds good, you agree, but you’re growing too sleepy to voice it. Instead, you shut your eyes, reaching over blindly to find the edges of the blankets, tugging it up over you two. There’s really no way to move, without cramming at the edge of the mattress. You don’t care, and Reo doesn’t seem to, either.

“Hey, Reo?” You mumble as you both slip into silence.

“Yeah?” He’s tried, but awake enough to shake past the exhaustion, enough to form vague words. “What is it?”

You sit up, just a little, and it’s enough to inspire Reo to force his eyes open. You’re watching him, eyes intent, shining bright with emotion. It’s almost — just almost — enough to have Reo saying those three special little words. They’re right there, on the tip of his tongue, and only then he realizes that he’s terribly in love with you. He’s hopelessly in love. It’s way too early to say it, but he is.

You laugh, burying your face in Reo’s neck again, pressing a kiss there. “I’m glad that you’re here with me.”

Reo has hesitated a lot, during the past months. It’s taken him a while to get here. For once, though, awake or dreaming, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t hesitate. 

“I’m glad too,” he mumbles, and then, he’s dreaming, of endless what if’s and possibilities with you now in his life.

© 2023 DOOBEA. do not copy any of my writing and translate/repost.

additional note: idk why it took me over a month to pump this out LMAO but i hope you guys like the ending bc i was mulling over this chapter so many times before deciding to end it as such... anyways, I WILL BE BACK INTO MY BLLK FIC GROOVE HEHE gotta focus on my milestone fics + that ice skating rin series next :3 i love you guys and thanks again for being patient with me ;3

TAGLIST -CLOSED

@celestair @kitorin @popponn @yoisami @anurst @katsukiiishoe @yuzurins @vitaniangel-blog @kunikame @miwafei @astruoise @faeroow @wooasecret @limerence-lu @jaynawayna @iloveblogging2 @futuristicxie @rinlvr @au-ghosttype @wavetokio @yuusami @phtogravi @funnibunneh @idontevenknow129 @startaee @darthvada @livelaughloveisagiyoichi

[alessiathepirate]

Sherlock (BBC)

CROWN JEWELS: Jim Moriarty x fem!reader

Summary: Be careful what you say - especially around a man like Jim Moriarty.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.

I have been working on this since summer and now that it's finally done I think I'm ready to share it with you guys. I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you'll enjoy reading it.

Also a silent thank you for my friend who told me to keep going even after writer's block hit me hard. <3

Warnings: swearing

•••

Jim Moriarty likes to leave a lasting impression.

That was her first thought about him ever since she first met him - ever since she first heard him talk and saw his body language. The man talks with his whole body - especially when he's in an angry or mischievious mood -, expresses himself with his arms' and shoulders' movements and with his many different gestures. The words he uses and the way he builds up sentence after sentence makes one to stop and listen. And he can make all of that look elegant and strangely enough, gentleman-like.

No matter what he does or talks about, how many times you have already met him, he's someone who you can never get fully used to and that alone always burries that lasting impression. It causes many different feelings and thoughts about the man, making the brain work and think about him and his every little gesture and word long after he's left.

But how long can that impression last?

Long enough for her to remember their first meeting weeks after it had occurred. Long enough for her to build up a whole complicated characterization and profile of him. Long enough for her to be able to quote his words exactly as he had said them.

As she sat in her own armchair in 221B Baker Street, watching the news on the telly about Jim Moriarty himself; the remains of that well known charm of his being slowly built up the memories of their first meeting.

She was in the exact same position, sitting in her own armchair - what Sherlock and John thought she finally deserved, so she won't have to sit on the chouch or on the 'chair of shame' (as she liked to call that) when they have a case to solve -; but instead of watching the telly, she was reading, falling head first into the world of the book, enjoying the peace and quiet which occurred pretty rarely in 221B. But despite the fact that she was way too interested in whatever she was reading, she still noticed the noise of a door opening downstairs, followed by the noise of someone coming up the stairs.

She looked up from the book, picking up her bookmark as she listened to the quiet tapping as someone's shoes met with the steps. She has spent enough time in 221B to be able to differ everyone's steps: Sherlock's, John's, Mrs. Hudson's, even Lestrade's and potential clients' - but these steps didn't sound like any of those.

Sherlock was always quick as he came up, too excited about the cases he had to solve and way too happy to be free from boredom. John was either slow when he came up, looking through the letters they've got or quick and angry, done with Sherlock's new case or with the certain experiments he was doing in the flat. Mrs. Hudson's were always high pitched, Lestrade's quick and heavy as he ran upstairs and the clients' were slow, reluctant and quiet.

These steps were slow, that was true, but there was something unusual about them, about the sound when they met with the wooden staircase. These were slow and quiet, but confident and elegant - these were something new and not usual and boring.

She put her book down and looked at the door what was wide open - because no matter how many times either she or John closed it, Sherlock always left it open. They gave up pretty soon, accepting the fact that their only protection against a robbery is Mrs. Hudson and the door downstairs.

The stranger was soon standing in the doorway, looking around the flat so calmly it looked like he owned the place and he most definitely didn't even think about knocking.

He didn't look like a client. He was way too calm and confident, way too elegant to be one. No, he was something new and unique, someone who you immediately notice even in a room full of people because of the lingering elegance and confidence - because even the air changes when he steps in the room.

After looking around the flat his gaze stopped and he looked directly at her for the very first time. She held his gaze, not giving in on the sudden game, but her stomach tightened in fear, a fear she only felt when she was in a room with Sherlock Holmes, knowing he'll deduce her and know about the things she doesn't want him to know.

"Hi..." The greeting was so short and simple for a person like him, that she tilted her head a little in confusion. His voice was also slightly high pitched when he pronounced the 'I', but she quickly realized it was intentional.

"Sherlock isn't home... if he is who you are looking for." she said to him, thinking there was no way this man didn't come here to see Sherlock Holmes.

"I know. That's why I'm here."

For a moment she thought about telling him that John isn't home either, but then decided against it. He clearly isn't here to talk to John Watson. He's here to talk to her...

"I see." she looked away for a moment to think about what to do with him, but no idea came to mind. "Well then please have a seat. Although I wasn't expecting guests."

He accepted the invitation, taking a seat in Sherlock's armchair, while she tried to figure out who he was and what he wanted. Meanwhile the stranger leaned back and made himself comfortable, enjoying the situation and the fact that he is sitting in Sherlock's armchair.

He knows whose armchair he's sitting in - the realization hit her, only making the 'who is he' more interesting.

"Yes, you were." he spoke up so suddenly she had to shake her head a little.

"Excuse me?"

"You were expecting one guest or you were counting on one specific guest at least."

She looked at him again, pressuring her mind to think. He is someone important and he knows that as well. That was obvious. But important for who? Not for John. John wouldn't tolerate him at all - but Sherlock would. Sherlock would even appreciate all this act.

She tilted her head a little in realization.

"Moriarty? Good to know that now that name has a face." she noticed how his expression didn't change, even if he smiled at her realization - he was expecting it, for her to realize who he is. "May I know why you wanted to see me?"

"Just wanted to meet the ordinary people Sherlock keeps around."

"Ordinary?" she laughed. "You think ordinary people could live with Sherlock Holmes?"

"That doesn't make you less boring."

"Nor does it make you less annoying." she quickly answered, leaving the annoyance out of her voice. "Playing around with Sherlock, coming here uninvited. Next time send a message at least so I can prepare some tea."

His eyes shined up for a second as if for a short amount of time he was looking at something more interesting.

"Doesn't he annoy you? Keeping you from living on your boring, ordinary little life."

"Not really. I'm never bored at least. He keeps the boredom away."

"So loyal. Ordinary people can be so amusing, I should get myself one."

She just smiled at that.

"You really like to get under people's skin, don't you?"

"Of course I do, I mean that's the funniest part, isn't it?"

That's when she first noticed how he uses his body language when he's having fun - how his arms and shoulders are moving with him.

"I guess you're right. That can be funny, you should try it out more with Sherlock. It's enough if you play one note wrong on the violin."

But that wasn't his only memorable visit. No, all of his visits were more than memorable if she wanted to be honest. She could tell all of them apart, she could tell in which month they had accured...

He visited her many times, but he always sent her a message beforehand. A short one. Something like: 'I'm a street away dear.' or 'I hope the tea is ready.' But later on they became something more: 'I'd like to see you today.', 'I have a gift for you.' or 'You'll be out tonight.' She didn't dare to ask how he knows her number, how he knows so much about her - where she'll be, what she likes. It would've been unnecessary words and she wouldn't have gotten an answer.

So she kept her questions to herself - and she also kept their meetings for themselves. Even if Sherlock noticed the change in her behaviour and happily pointed it out, causing John to ask who she's meeting up with. Even if Mycroft pointed out that she had been out at night. Even if Mrs. Hudson nearly jumped out of her skin in happiness when both brothers accused her of dating someone.

But the most interesting one--

... the most interesting conversion they've ever had was special. Oh so very special.

He came without telling her about it beforehand, just like the first time they'd met. She was sitting in her armchair with her laptop in her lap, going through a victim's personal data to make a profile while Sherlock was too busy working on a much more interesting case. Apparently a triple suicide in one place isn't that interesting, at all.

She didn't hear him come in, but she noticed him standing in the doorway - because the door was once again, wide open. He just stood there in his Westwood suit, gloating in the fact that he had the element of surprise.

She looked up at him as she raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't call this time."

"I had business around here. I just decided to come in."

"Liar." she accused as she put the laptop aside and offered him Sherlock's armchair. "You knew they went out on a case, otherwise you wouldn't have come here. You enjoy working behind his back too much."

He took the offered seat and after he leaned back, he started to talk:

"Remember what I told you when we first met? About the loyal ordinary people?"

"Of course I do." she answered, half-offended that he thought so little of her. "You wanted to get yourself one."

"Yes, well you see dear, I changed my mind." once again, his body moved with his mood. "Maybe I shouldn't get myself an ordinary one, I mean they would bore me so easily. I think I'd be perfectly fine with a not so ordinary one."

She looked at him, trying to read him like she did so many times before that, but this time other than that smirk, she couldn't find out anything else. So she turned to examine his words, that's what was also interesting about Jim Moriarty, what he said and how he said it.

A not so ordinary one. How on Earth will he get one?

And then she realized that for Jim Moriarty, the hierarchy of the world is about ordinary and extraordinary people - and in that momemt he added the not so ordinary ones to the mix too. Even if he didn't like Sherlock, he accepted that he was like him - too clever, extraordinary. John was only, simply ordinary. Nothing more, maybe less. But he talked to her a lot. A whole lot without getting bored, without thinking about speaking to Sherlock directly so he could annoy him instead of her. He didn't gloat that he knew her and talked to her daily. For him she was middle class, she was that not so ordinary person.

She chuckled and stood up, deciding that she couldn't sit that through without moving.

"Oh no, you can't possibly think that I'd leave Sherlock for you." she shook her head in disbelief. "I mean I wouldn't be loyal, would I? What happened with loyality?"

"Ordinary people are loyal and loyality is boring." he leaned forward to pour some tea for himself, not really caring that Mrs. Hudson prepared that for John and Sherlock, and most definitely not him.

"Well then I must be really boring, because I won't just leave Baker Street."

"You don't have to leave to show you aren't loyal, darling, we've been talking for months without you telling about it to them." he leaned back again and took a sip from the tea.

"Yeah, well it's still a no thank you very much." she said as her chest rose and fell rapidly, her brain working as she thought about what he just said.

"No?"

"No. I mean why would I?" the question was left unanswered. "I'd only consider it if I'd-- own the fucking Crown Jewels."

She tried to think about something unrealistic to say, to show that her decision is unbreakable. But looking at him, she clearly chose the wrong thing.

Moriarty looked pleased instead of angry - and that grounded her into reality. She said something wrong. She could basically hear the cogs turn in his head.

"Well, in that case," he said as he got ready to leave. "I'll see you around, darling."

She was left there angry and sad, but the thing she didn't think about?

That a few days later she'd get a letter.

•••

"Goddamn it Sherlock, I told you to put the microscope away! I almost knocked it down and that's the only one we own!" she shouted as she put the said thing aside, saving it from a disaster.

"He's not home!" came the answer from John, who was sitting in his armchair watching the telly - or rather trying to find a channel worth watching.

"He's not?" she asked in disbelief. "And he went without either of us?"

"You know him. Once he wants to go somewhere he goes there with or without us."

She opened one of the cupboards to find two clean cups - the kind which hadn't met with blood, eyeballs or some kind of acid beforehand - and once she found some, she began to make some tea.

"Is the forest fruit one okay? We ran out of black tea."

"Yes, thank you."

"You owe me." she threatened jokingly. "Anything worth watching? We could watch some crime show now that Sherlock isn't here to spoil it." she offered.

"Good idea." came John's answer - she enjoyed watching shows and movies with him since he was the only normal person in the flat - him and maybe Mrs. Hudson, but even Mrs. Hudson's life was extraordinary. "One'll begin after the news."

"Fantastic." she said as she finished preparing the tea and walked into the living room with a silver tray.

And then John turned the news on - and she almost dropped the tray.

There he was. On the screen, in handcuffs as the officers took him away and he was smiling - more like grinning. It only took her a second to realize where he was - the Tower of London, where the damn Crown Jewels were kept.

God damn him. Both of them. Both Moriarty and Sherlock -- even John and Mycroft. All of them had to mess up her life and make it more exciting and interesting instead of boring. God damn her that she liked it.

The Crown Jewels. What did she say to him the last time they met? 'I'd only consider it if I'd own the fucking Crown Jewels.'

John looked surprised too. Not as much as she was, he didn't know she had been talking with the enemy. He didn't notice her shock thankfully and even if he did he must've thought it was a normal reaction.

"Moriarty-- that's Moriarty." he explained.

"I know." she said without thinking.

Before John could ask her how, she heard Mrs. Hudson call out her name from downstairs. She put the tray down quicker than usual, some tea was even spilt, and she was out of the flat in a heartbeat. She ran down the stairs, her heart beating fast.

"What is it, Mrs. Hudson? Did something happen?" she asked.

"Oh, not at all dear, it's just my hips. John was kind enough to give me some painkillers, but I couldn't really walk up the stairs right now." the woman explained with the usual enthusiasm. "But a letter arrived for you a few seconds ago. The postman must've forgotten about it in the morning."

And there it was, in Mrs. Hudson's hand. An envelope, a beige coloured one - the very elegant kind.

She took it from her quickly and just by the envelope itself she knew who sent it. The penmanship was perfect. Her name was written on it in black ink, the letters were slim and long.

"Who is it from dear?"

She tore it open, her fingers ripping the paper and she took the folded letter out. With uneven heartbeat, she began to read it:

'My dear,

I hope you'll enjoy the show I put on in the Tower, I know I'll most certainly do.

The diamonds in the envelope are from the Crown Jewels, forgive for not being able to give you the whole thing, but otherwise the police would be knocking on your door. Still, now you own parts of them. Nine diamonds to be exact, I sincerly hope all of them are in the envelope - otherwise I'll have to skin someone after my trial.

A promise is a promise. Now consider my offer. I'll pick you up at 7 p.m. as soon as I'm out.

- J. M.

P.S.: I hope I'll see you in court.'

John shouted her name from upstairs, wondering why she ran. She ignored him and looked inside the envelope.

Nine diamonds. Nine of them, some bigger than the others, were shining in it.

Mrs. Hudson saw them too and she gasped in surprise.

"Oh my, you didn't tell me you had found yourself a man dear."

"I didn't know it up until now either, Mrs. Hudson."

"What is it?" John was standing on top of the staircase, looking at them with confusion.

"She has a boyfriend." Mrs. Hudson said happily, clapping her hands together.

"She has a what?"

"I don't have a boyfriend." she argued, her eyes still on the diamonds.

"What is it then?"

She didn't know how to feel or what to feel.

Deep down she felt like a real woman. A woman someone, a very special someone, wants to court. A woman who's looked at as someone interesting, important and worth stealing for. She was flattered. Truly.

On the other hand she felt scared and confused. Jim Moriarty was still Jim Moriarty, and she was still the girl from Baker Street. With him she'll never feel completely at ease or safe, there'll always be a wall standing between them what they'll never be able to cross.

But still...

He was so interesting.

She looked up at John as she put the envelope in her pocket.

"I have a date."

Mrs. Hudson laughed in happiness.

She turned towards the stairs, her brain completely blocking John's voice out as it worked and worked, trying to figure Jim out.

Jim. He was already Jim in her head.

Then a strange question appeared in big letters in her mind like a neon sign:

Why nine?

[vaguely-concerned]

I have seen people question whether dios apate minor really needed to happen the way it did. it's the 'this could have been an email' of htn. 'augustine this did not have to be a threesome', I hear people saying. and boy do I have an obnoxious amount of things to say to protest this perfectly sensible assertion so here we go haha

1) yes it absolutely had to be like that. It says so on this piece of paper *hands you a piece of paper that says "because I said so and also it's narratively and thematically Sexy"* in my half-legible handwriting. seeing tamsyn muir describe harrow the ninth as a book about being a kid and realizing your parents probably had sex has given me such validation, I am unstoppable now. (to be serious for a moment, harrow the ninth is essentially a bildungsroman, and the threesome scene does a whole lot of thematic heavy lifting around harrow glimpsing elements of adulthood, relationships, and sexuality she clearly finds at the same time repulsive, bewildering and fascinating, and around opening her and especially our eyes to how much john is just a man with human longings still, under the god stuff. dios apate is crucial plot- and character-wise too -- it's a loadbearing threesome in terms of delivering the clues you need to piece together the mystery plot of the book, which is simply delightful -- but even more so thematically. and then the scene at the end where they confront john gives gideon some of that same opportunity to peek into adulthood and go '...well shit I guess', as a sort of mirror, just without the french kissing that time and more murder. the things magnus and abigail model for the girls about love and adulthood? mercy and augustine are providing the opposite-day batshit insane version of that fhdskjfa, you know, for contrast and spice)

2) listen... it gets lonely out there in deep space with your 'legendary unamorous' brother, two infant pathetic baby kitten sisters who you'll probably have to kill one day when you take another stab at god if they don't manage to get themselves killed along the way on their own, and the two people you've spent the last ten thousand years having separate yet connected married & divorced arcs with and also btw one of them is god... honestly a threesome over the dinner table is probably The most well-adjusted reaction one might hope for under those circumstances

3) on a characterization level I think Augustine is actually doing something incredibly deliberate with it: he's presenting John with yet another chance to admit what he did. which is notable especially since the deal he and mercy agree on as a condition for the threesome to happen at all seems to be that they're going to give the ol' godslaying another game try sooner rather than later. (I get the sense that it's not so much that he disagrees with her ultimate goal so much as that he thinks she's being dangerously indiscreet and hasty going about it, before. “though I think it will be the death of us,” huh.)

notice how he's structuring the whole thing: he's invoking the intimacy and love in their strange little threeway relationship and how long it's been by truly playing along with john's 'we're a happy family really when we're at home! :)' delusion (helped along by lowered inhibitions via enormous amounts of alcohol and what I've previously described as a joint mercy/augustine leyendecker themed thirst trap. ah, a classic). he brings up alecto and what happened to her -- or rather, he is clever enough to make john bring up alecto and how she is totally dead, right?? by seeming to make a careless statement that leads there and then acting contrite about it after. he (helped along by mercy, who I think realizes exactly what he's doing -- this is very much a two-man con) brings up how much they all loved their cavaliers, and wow funny how that's been haunting us for ten thousand years now huh :) wow, a lot of our other lyctor friends slash family sure are super dead in the name of some unknowable greater reason neither of us quite grasp and that you won't fucking tell us, aren't they. these are all the main grievances he and mercy confront john about at the end of the book, but put forth much more subtly and not phrased as an accusation -- he's baring his and mercy's vulnerabilities as bait, essentially. if john had, say, a conscience where his conscience should be instead of a black hole, it probably should have stirred something in him.

(also let me just say... the way augustine just takes a pneumatic drill to the TWO tender spots g1deon seems to have and then has the audacity to be like 'oh dear. did that upset him. ooof my bad *loooong dead-eyed slurp of his wine*' is just sooo... he's such a bitch!!! he's the only person who could ever have held their own in a ten-thousand-year bitch-off with mercy and I love him so much. well even if it wasn't all to get g1deon into murder range for harrow I think he wouldn't enjoy sticking around for the 'getting our tongues on god' part of the evening so maybe it's a kindness, really, and totally not pent-up aggression from the last twenty years or so breaking through)

he is all but shaking john by the lapels begging him to just... come clean about it already, to stop thinking he's still kidding everyone else along with himself. it's clear throughout the book that augustine knows exactly what john is at this point -- and all of the most cynical things he does say about it turn out to be distressingly right. john is always less sentimental than you'd think. john wouldn't forgive mercy, he will abandon in a heartbeat anything that isn’t necessary to him anymore, whether emotionally or in some other way. and still he seems to hold out some desperate absurd hope that the man he wants, the man he thought was there, is in there, somewhere deep deep down, if he just gives him the chance to show himself.

(mercy definitely has her own side of this whole thing, I'm just focusing more on augustine because this evening was like. his idea in the first place and I feel like we can Read Some Things into that fact lol. now that we have both ntn and htn to go from I sort of have this sense that the things augustine wants from john are more... personal? more interpersonal? they both love him equally, but mercy's love seems tinged slightly more towards the religious (augustine accuses her of knowing 'only worship without adoration', which like... also the eight house's entire Vibe lol) -- mercy at the end of that book is totally a person breaking up with GOD, not just with john -- while augustine's vibe is more like a man in the last not-with-a-bang-but-a-whimper days of a marriage that sort of felt like it could have been something real and good once but all your illusions about it have since been taken from you and trampled underfoot into the mud and you've had the divorce papers signed and ready in a drawer for over a year now, hell, as it turns out, is other people etc. lmao)

having a threesome over the dinner table with god is one thing, having a threesome over the dinner table centered on the one man and god who has yet again let you down in a way so fundamental it can barely fit into words and who you both still love in a way anyway, miserably, and also just reaffirmed your joint resolution to murder (all under the pretense that it gives your baby sisters the chance to murder your brother of ten thousand years yeah that's why this is happening no other underlying aching emotional motivations here haha)... listen mercy and augustine are simply on a different level, theologically. they've added horny shrimp colours to the religious spectrum. who else does it like them

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - A Lot Ended, Quite Bit Started, I got things to say about it all

Organized, in each category, by ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Nov 2023 Wk 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

My Dear Gangster Oppa (Thurs iQIYI) 3 of 8 - This is just a great BL. So fun with few frills and paced nicely. Thai talent + Korean story is proving very harmonious for narrative flow. I’m delighted. I love that they don’t shy away from letting Tew be an actual violent criminal who is just gone and mushy for this one geeky cutie. Also I appreciate it when a show hangs a lantern on its own plot failing. In this case, the main character being drunk as a plot devise 2x in subsequent eps.

Twins the series (Fri GaGa) ep 2 of 10 - Love it. Love Spite and his chronic guilt over his younger brother, the golden child. Love that he is driven to repair for a past that no longer exists. Evil mom who cares more for what her son can do than that son, let alone his brother. The volleyball well…. erm. I played varsity (setter) so this is amusing to me but I’m not mad about it. 

I agree that this Not Me just sports and pulp. 

Last Twilight (Fri YT) 1 of 12 - JimmySea are back and is this... good? Do I like this? I don't have faith, GMMTV has been doing us dirty lately. But I think I like it! Why The Little Prince AGAIN? Ugh. 

Middleman’s Love (Fri YT & iQIYI 1 of 8 - Domundi giving us an office comedy hyung romance staring TutorYim (Cutie Pie) with NetJames (Bed Friend) and LeoTai (Friend Forever) providing support. Lets hope they stick to only 8 eps. Buckle up, I got shit talking to type.

I warned ya out the gate that this is a Cheewin comedy, so tonally it could be very OFF, and boy howdy is it EVER off. There's a place this kind of show goes where it's so cringe it's visually rotten and this one went there out that gate. Also, I'm gonna say it because no one else has, Yim is not good in this role. Comedy is HARD to do and Cheewin isn't doing this green actor any favors. He's chewing the scenery like a woodchuck after a diet.

To be fair, Tutor isn't great either, but he's been given less rope to hang himself with. Mai is currently suffering from seme obscurity: the love interest's defining characterization being = tall and handsome. (Which is not characterization... agony... glares at Cdramas.) We will see if he gets a personality, but based on past work form this director and this writer, don't bank on it.

Frankly? I'm not convinced either of them are mature enough as a pair or as actors to carry something this abrasive and to stand up to Cheewin's visual abuse of our eyeballs. I think this is going to be a rocky ride. HOWEVER, because it has tropes I'm good with (as opposed to SCOY) I'm sticking with it for now but this is gonna be ROUGH going for everyone.

Backstory: This used to be a JimmyTommy vehicle before the pair split (also prev title Middle Love). Adapted from a Y-novel. I can actually see Tommy in this role very clearly and I suspect he may have been bettern(and I am more a TutorYim fan as a pair). Also I will likely be referencing SCOY a lot while watching this because SCOY is peak Cheewin nonsense comedy but with an incredibly strong lead pair, so comparisons will be drawn.

Absolute Zero (Weds iQIYI) ep 7 of 12 - Sigh. Linguistic negotiation but for sad reasons? It fascinating but it hurts. Look, the cast is very good I just don’t like the premise.

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) The Camp Fire ep 12 of 24 - Well that was extremely odd. I’m not sure how I feel about it. If it hadn’t had the strange framework and horror component and been just a simple BL story I probably would’ve enjoyed it. Why do the pulps always  squander their best pairs? 5/10 New installment (Friends Forever) looks terrible and not BL.

Beyond The Star (Weds iQIYI) qp 1 of 8 - House of Stars meets Boyband. I am not impressed. Thailand just needs to leave everything music related to Korea. I’m enacting a ban. The framework on this is truly awful. The talent is not talented in acting let alone dance or song. I thought about sticking with it a few more eps but i putting in on hold. It’s too wooden even for me.

@heretherebedork I depend on you to report back. This is the kind of thing only you can watch. It’s like Cupid 2023. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

A Breeze of Love (Korea iQIYI) 1-2 of 8 - previously know as Weather Forecast Love this one popped up in MDL's currently airing, and I was like, what what? Basically: Tsundere insomniac grump and his sunshine jock ex bestie (human sleeping pill) who now hates him. Basketball is involved and I love it.

It ended, are we sad? REVIEWS

Kiseki: Dear to Me (Taiwan Viki & Gaga)

Yes, we sad! Ai Di and his dumb oversized sweaters and flappy flappy sleeves are EVERYTHING.

Final ep? Nice that the elder gays got screen time, more of this please? Sides dominated this finale, matched outfits and all. Also I’m living for the Bless this Mess shirt. Finally Taiwan gave us lots of biting and a counter lift. It’s like they know me!

Quick pitch for KDTM?  

The plot is totally ridiculous and slightly unhinged, but that’s normal for Taiwan. It involves all the tropes under a very casual framework of gay mafia gangs + food = love. Absolutely every character is queer. There’s a gum-ball machine of cameos, elder gay rep, great chemistry from all pairs, and a KILLER side couple. As a result Kiseki is a poster child for Taiwanese BL, and I happen to love Taiwanese BL. Bonus? They also managed to END IT WELL, which we cannot expect from Taiwan. 9/10 HIGHLY RECOMMENDED 

Triggers for knife play, child abuse, lingering trauma. I found both platforms did not do a great job on subs, but I will give the edge to Viki for pure usability.

You Are Mine (Taiwan Viki & Gaga)

We are more disappointed than sad.

Far be it from me to extend this show, but we should’ve had 2 episodes of quality supportive boyfriends coping with family drama before the mom-confrontation climax and defense of the ESTABLISHED relationship. Baby's little speach had no power or impact coming where it did in this narrative, even though it was sweet. And while the make-out scenes were charming it mostly jsut felt like we'd squandered this pair. This last ep was good and rewatchable, but a series cannot be judged on its last ep alone.

Finally... could have used some side dishes. My vote? Lesbian secretaries!

Conclusion 

I am sorry Taiwan, you know I love you, but I have to say it: this show was a mess of terrible pacing. And not a hot mess, sadly. I should have liked everything about this: it’s an office drama, it’s mature characters, it’s grumpy/sunshine, it’s a strong power dynamic, and it’s Taiwan - which means good chemistry. YAM was all those things and yet… something went horribly wrong with the narrative structure. You tried dears, but not hard enough. 7/10 

Bump Up Business (Korea Gaga)

Well, poop. Don’t have them speak English. Also no playing drunk. Meanwhile, all the manipulative gay drama. No kiss of course.

How do I summate this?

An idol group did the best they could with a script tailored to idols but which they were not allowed to fully realize because they are active idols in the same group. Ultimately it felt a bit like OnlyOneOf were just doing one of those Kpop skits for a variety show were two of of them dresses in drag/gay/BL and "ha ha isn't it funny?" I don’t know, it was fine? 6/10

stop wasting my time, Korea

Mr Cinderella 2 (Vietnam YT)

DNF on the advice of several of my BL spies I will not be finishing this. Apparently it pretty much ends sad. Here's an explanation.

It's Airing But...

I Cannot Reach You AKA I Can't Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai (Japan Tues Netflix-Japan & ????) 8 eps - in classic JBL fashion, I Cannot Reach You could not be reached. I will try it when I have some time and access to my home computer.

One Room Angel (Japan Gaga) 6 eps - adaptation of Harada’s manga (which I did not like) about a clerk who's stabbed, nearly dies, and returns home to find an angel waiting for him. With only 5 eps and a good chance this won’t end happy, I'm gonna wait and let you tell me how it goes.

WAITING FOR VERDICT OR TO BINGE

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - I find this series more fun to binge, so I'm waiting until it completes its run.

SHADOW (Thai Gaga) 14eps - this is a horror BL with ghosts & paranormal elements in a boarding school setting. I'm not wild about Thai horror (or horror at all). It features Singto (who did paranormal BL He's Coming to Me) opposite Fluke N (who's done a couple horror's before). Also Fiat. Dan suffers from sleep paralysis, and in his dreams he sees a shadow that suffocates him. It gets worse when he transfers schools. I'm holding off on this one and if told it's good I'll binge watch.

Next Week Looks Like This

11/15 Let's Eat Together Aki and Haru AKA Aki wa Haru to Gohan wo (Japan Gaga) - this BL movie is coming to Gaga.

11/16 PLAYBOYY (Thurs ????) 10 eps - trailer here, high heat and it's helmed by Cheewin (shudder) with screenplay by Den (Only Friends) under Copy A Bangkok. It's gonna be a shizz show people. It's predicting Thai style "dark" (War of Y) one of my least favorites. Apparently there is a "plot" but when has Cheewin ever bothered with plot? A university kid who was involved with escorts, sex-trade, porn, online hook-ups, drugs, prostitution, blackmail, revenge, and so forth goes missing. His twin (sigh) and two friends look for him.

11/17 Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 1 of 14 - high heat teaser here, based on alittlebixth's omegaverse novel #พิษเบ๊บ’ set in the world of car racing (author says show will not be omegaverse). Charlie (fresh face), a young hot nerd, approaches his driver idol (Pavel "my love" 2 Moons 2) to borrow a racing car and win one for the team. Production house is new to BL but behind the Club Friday stuff. Show stars many known actors: Nut (Oxygen), Pop (Ram in La Cuisine), Pon (Phai in Gen Y, we LOVE him), Benz (twins in En of Love: This Is Love Story).

Thailand bring the November heat, I guess?

Upcoming November BL

11/19 Bake Me Please (Sun Gaga) ep 1 of 6 - trailer here, stars Ohm (of OhmFluke) opposite Guide (bestie from IFYLITA) and possibly also Poom (well known, but not for BL). This looks like an actually gay version of Antique Bakery (play it again, BL). Still, I'm intrigued, it looks HELLA pretty.

11/22 7 Days Before Valentine (Weds ????) ep 1 of 10 - trailer here, horror-esk. Adapted from y-novel of the same name, directed by Tu (180 Degree) stars Jet (Why You… Y Me?). When you want your old love again, but fate sends you a reaper instead. All he can do for you is kill people. I'll likely give this a pass and wait to binge if safe.

11/25 The Sign (Sat ????) ep 1 of 10 - trailer here, horror-esk, but with a suspense and adult characters. Special investigators who loved each other in previous lives reunite in new bodies. Stars Billy Patchanon (BillySeng) & Babe Tanatat (new). Includes other SCOY favorites as a special investigation team. I may give this a try because I'm into the non-horror bits.

11/26 The Whisperer (Sun ????) 1 of 10 - trailer here. Thai horror BL that ALSO involves cheating (what joy is mine). He has dimples (My Ride) but I don't think even that gives me the will. Maybe a binge for me.

11/26 Cooking Crush (Sun YT) 1 of 12 - OffGun are back, trailer here. Adapted from the novel “Love Course! เสื้อกาวน์รุกเสื้อกุ๊กรับ” by iJune4S this is about Prem who runs a not-so-popular restaurant with 2 friends. About to go on a cooking competition with a huge reward, Prem gets involved with Ten, a stressed-out med student who wants Prem to teach him to cook.

11/30 For Him (Thurs ????) ep 1 of 10 - high heat trailer, I suspect iQIYI will scoop this one up. From the people who brought us Unforgotten Night (please no) based on a y-novel, man nursing a heartbreak has a one-night stand, but the other boy didn't want it to end. It looks terribly trashy so I'm in! Maybe I'll do a trash watch?

VIP Only (Taiwan) - may be delayed/canceled

Wuju Bakery AKA Space Bakery (Korea) - this one may be DOA

A Breeze of Love (Korea) - I know less than nothing about this.

Nov 2023 line up with screen caps here. Not kept updated.

Original 2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED).

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

This is in the intro card of My Dear Gangster Oppa, I'm just amusing myself.

Thank you Keseki for givign this to us twice!

Also the tears! So pretty crying.

And, of course, my favorite the biting!

Have I mentioned recently how much I love Taiwanese BL?

(Last week)

[roidepoison]

Reo Mikage is Actually Great BPD Representation- Some Thoughts

So I had the extremely unfortunate experience of being exposed to Blue Lock (unfortunate because it's all my tiny pea brain can think about now), and while it is absolutely full of silly guys whose brains I want to pick, this little bugger really stood out to me. The second he came onto the screen, I KNEW I smelled the borderline on him. As I watched the series and read the manga, I noticed he is actually an incredibly well-written depiction of someone struggling with BPD. Reo is a super layered character and my favorite hobby is picking apart those layers and yapping incessantly about them, so here we are. I want to write this analysis for a few reasons:

1.) Too many people misunderstand Reo and categorize him as dramatic or childish without any elaboration and he deserves a proper character deep-dive. I think him being borderline explains a LOT of his reactions/choices throughout the story.

2.) Borderline representation is extremely important to me. I'm diagnosed borderline and have struggled with this disorder for around ten years now, so I get really excited when I spy BPD-coded characters (especially if they're likable people and not just ghoulish irredeemable villains or manic pixie dream girl characters). This disorder can be so isolating, especially when the majority of people will never even bother to research or understand it. I know that some people like to chalk Reo's emotional reactions up to him being a moody 17-year-old, but I think I have enough evidence to prove that this is undiagnosed BPD that's festering in his noggin. Not to mention, literally nobody else acts like this in the series. Reo is incredibly unique and distinct in the way he behaves through this narrative and I think it's way past the point of normal teenage angst. Regardless, believe what you want. He'll always be my borderline princess tho <3

3.) I have a master's degree in English and what good is that if I don't write long, painful, pointless essays on anime guys? Not that this is exceptionally well written, I just like to laugh at myself for getting a whole M.A and then this is the shit I publish online lmao

By the end of this, I hope I can shed some light on wtf is going on inside of Reo's silly little head. (I'm also obviously not a psychologist, don't use any of this to diagnose yourself pls I don't need the scandal)

If you want to read, buckle up, because this is gonna be a long one!

First, let me define BPD- It's a personality disorder characterized by a long-standing pattern of instability in mood, interpersonal relationships, and self-image. At its core, it is a disorder categorized by emotional dysregulation (the inability to regulate one's emotional responses) People with BPD feel everything EXTREMELY hard. That's important to keep in mind IMO, because while their reactions may seem dramatic or extreme, what they're feeling IS dramatic and extreme. Everything they're feeling is amplified, so their reactions are amplified. Obviously from the outside, people assume it's an overreaction since they can't see what's going on inside the borderline's head. When you sit down and dissect the thought process of someone like Reo, it becomes a lot easier to understand why they react the way that they do to certain situations.

(Also, I'm not going to reiterate more than once that an explanation is not an excuse to treat people poorly. I cannot read ANYTHING on BPD without hearing every 2 minutes how the disorder isn't an excuse to hurt other people. We get it!! I'm explaining it, not excusing it. This enter essay is an analysis of why someone acts the way they do, not whether or not it's excusable)

So then, what behaviors/signs does somebody need to exhibit to receive a borderline diagnosis? The 9 diagnostic criteria for BPD are as follows:

1. Fear of abandonment

2. Unstable or changing relationships

3. Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self

4. Impulsive or self-damaging behaviors

5. Suicidal behavior or self-injury

6. Varied or random mood swings

7. Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness

8. Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights

9. Stress-related paranoia or loss of contact with reality

Someone would only need 5 of these to receive a proper diagnosis. Just with the main story and the spin-off manga that is currently released, I think I have enough evidence to argue that Reo has 8 out of 9 criteria for a BPD diagnosis. For the sake of organization, I’m gonna group some of those together though, indicated by a + symbol. I also want to define a few important terms before I start yapping, so that y'all without BPD can understand wtf I'm even talking about.

Favorite Person (fp) - This is someone who holds massive significance in a borderline's life. They emotionally depend on this person a lot and to a certain extent, their worldview almost revolves around them.

Splitting- the change in perception of someone or something caused by black-or-white thinking or dichotomous thinking. It is the devaluation of someone who was once idealized and vice versa.

Mirroring (aka: the chameleon effect)- the constant, unconscious change in one's identity or sense of self by imitating another person’s behaviors, characteristics, or traits. It is common in people who have a vacant or distorted self-image which is a general symptom of BPD.

Now, time for me to break down the most prominent moments where Reo showcases borderline behavior. As I mentioned, I'm going to try and organize this under each criteria point (with some being grouped together)

Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self:

Before I delve into Reo's relationships, I want to start with his baseline sense of identity. It’s established early on that Reo is a very bored, empty, unsatisfied person. Nothing excites him, nothing motivates him, and everything is handed to him. He’s frustrated because his parents notoriously try and buy his affection even though he doesn't want anything. For most of his life up until the narrative starts, he's wandering through life empty and frustrated. That is, until he finally sets his sights on soccer and decides to dedicate his life to winning the World Cup:

The wording, 'proves my existence' is interesting here. I think this is the first instance Reo has felt alive. So far, the only notable thing about him has been his family and his money. He hasn't achieved anything exceptional for himself, but now he has that opportunity. With this goal, he can really build something up from nothing and make it his own. It's almost like he's clinging to this dream to prove that he has some purpose in his life other than being the family heir.

Now, this dream changes when he meets Nagi, of course. I'm not gonna focus too much on their relationship in this section, but I will mention that meeting Nagi shifted Reo's entire dream, and not for the better. Through the narrative, his dream went from:

Winning the World Cup

Winning the World Cup with Nagi

Proving to Nagi that leaving him behind was a mistake

Improving himself and becoming a good striker on his own

Being a tool for Nagi to become the best striker

Had Nagi not come in and ask for Reo to come back to him, I think Reo could have done a great job at establishing his own sense of identity without Nagi. But no matter how much he works on himself, with Nagi in the picture, he's never going to value himself more than Nagi. Reo lets Nagi cloud his identity to the point where Isagi calls him out and asks what he's even doing at Blue Lock in the first place, since he clearly can't survive on his own, he needs Nagi with him.

After dealing with the turmoil of being abandoned by Nagi, Reo goes through a few stages. He starts with wanting to become somebody worthy of being beside Nagi, somebody that Nagi would want to choose. Devoting himself to becoming stronger and more versatile, his end goal is to have Nagi realize he made a mistake by leaving him behind. After a few more matches, Reo starts to realize that he needs to grow and change and become a stronger, better version of himself for himself and not for other people.

He decides that the fight was all his fault to begin with, that he should have never forced Nagi to play soccer and now he is going to get back to what his dream was originally, combined with his new desire to be a stand-alone player (and person, for that matter). Reo accepts the mistakes that he made, admits that he shouldn't have forced his ideals onto Nagi, and resolves to become a better person for HIMSELF. That's excellent!

Of course, Reo can't be happy for TOO long. Nagi comes out of the woodwork saying that he can't beat Isagi on his own and asks for Reo's help. Reo does stand up for himself a bit, saying that Nagi is being inconsiderate of his feelings and mentioning how long it took for him to recover from Nagi leaving. Now, the BPD trait here is how Reo not only forgives Nagi and is jumping on him and hugging him THE NEXT PAGE, but he also just disregards everything he said in this sequence. In a matter of two minutes, he no longer wants to be a player that can fight on his own or improve for himself, he wants to improve for Nagi. He starts ruminating again about how hurt he was when Nagi left, but now he's saying all of it wasn't so that he could get stronger individually, it was so that he could be reunited with Nagi again. Nagi asking for his help and saying that now they can play together again motivate Reo more than anything we've seen so far. (Nagi notoriously throws Reo little affection crumbs like this that Reo eats up, but I'm not trying focus on that) Now, Reo's alright with being a tool for Nagi's success again. Everything that happened was supposed to make him stronger so he could be a better partner to Nagi, right? Reo also says as the chapter ends, to please let him be a part of Nagi's dream until Nagi becomes the world's best striker. That's literally so sad!

He's also immediately back to the 'our' 'we' 'us' talk as well. If he can master his chameleon style in order to keep Nagi above the rest of the players, he wont get left behind again. If he devotes his time and energy into being a solo striker like the rest of these guys, Reo knows that he wont be able to keep up. This was always supposed to be his role, right? Building Nagi up to his full potential! :*)

I also like the detail that Reo is back to hugging Nagi and holding him, but Nagi never really touches him back. I think Reo's love language is touch for sure, not that it's incredibly relevant, but I do think it shows that Reo is back to being 100% comfortable around Nagi as if their fight never happened. I hear a lot of fans asking how Reo could have forgiven Nagi so easily, and I say this with my entire chest, it's the BPD. The black-and-white thinking combined with Nagi being Reo's fp and the excruciating pain of being abandoned by him in the first place ?? Of course he's going to take him back. Also, I've seen people blame Reo for not saying no to Nagi when he asks for help and I have to say that is an absolutely insane take. How are we gonna look at a panel where Nagi asks for help and then blame Reo for helping him?? I'm not going to focus on it too much in this post but in my opinion, it is crazy how little accountability both the narrative + fans give Nagi. Reo is pegged as responsible for both of their downfalls and it's nuts tbh.

Currently in the story, I think Reo's identity is still centered around Nagi. It's really easy for borderlines to structure their entire lives and personalities around their favorite person, but I can only hope that these two keep having open and honest discussions with one another. Hopefully, Reo will eventually learn that he can exist without Nagi and that he's more than just 'his arms and legs'.

Unstable or Changing Relationships:

The most notable relationship in Reo's life is Nagi. They're both each other's first real friends, which already sets up a less-than-ideal dynamic. Nagi has no idea how to communicate and he has pretty weak emotional intelligence. On the other hand, Reo is great at communicating, but he isn't used to regulating his emotions. For a lot of borderlines, they can go a very long time without experiencing any symptoms when they don't have a favorite person. When you think about it, the bulk of the disorder is shown through those interactions with other people. If Reo has never had a real friend in his life, I don't think he'd be used to the emotional turmoil that comes with having a fp.

The minute Reo meets Nagi, he's attached. All his classmates notice it, too. They question why Reo is suddenly so obsessed with this random kid who has no interest in him. Reo is ignoring everybody that isnt Nagi.

Very quickly, Reo boils down his view of the world to being him and Nagi versus everybody else, and he makes that very clear. It also depicts something that I think is incredibly crucial to Reo’s character that a lot of people overlook; as Nagi develops to be Reo’s favorite person, Reo’s dream isnt ‘playing soccer’ anymore. It’s Nagi. It’s being with Nagi, playing soccer with Nagi, being useful to Nagi, taking care of Nagi, and being somebody important to Nagi. He doesnt teach Nagi the rules or how to actually play, he teaches Nagi how to play with him. He literally re-writes and re-structures the game so that it can center around him and Nagi. Nagi calls him out on this in the spin-off manga:

Reo doesnt care about the structure of the game, he cares about Nagi. The other people on the field don't matter. The other team doesn't matter. He also starts to unknowingly put Nagi up on a pedestal, which is another borderline trait. He starts reiterating that Nagi is special, he's different from everybody else, he's destined to achieve great things. The more he raises Nagi up, the more he isolates the two of them in his mind, reiterating the idea that it's them against everybody else. His language reflects this too: Reo exclusively talks with 'us' 'we' 'our', insinuating that they're going to do everything together.

When Ego says that there can't be two winners, Reo says that he'll make Nagi the best striker. His 'ego' will be making Nagi successful. Along with putting Nagi on this pedestal, Reo also very early on establishes the fact that he'd pick Nagi over himself any day of the week. He's the only person in Blue Lock who really couldn't care less about becoming a striker himself: his dream is to be a tool in Nagi's success. Or, in simpler terms, he wants to be useful and make Nagi happy.

These two were in trouble from the very beginning. Nagi is lazy as all hell, has 0 motivation to do anything, and his dream is to live a life of luxury and never have to work. Reo, being the borderline baddie that he is, is more than happy to do EVERYTHING for Nagi. Borderlines love extremely hard! It's one of our best traits and I think it's important to showcase that Reo is a massive sweetheart at his core. He clearly loves Nagi a lot and goes to extreme lengths to make sure he feels taken care of. To someone with BPD, NOTHING is too big of an ask for a person they love, especially if that person is their fp. I also disagree with the argument that Reo 'made' Nagi codependent. Nagi likes being taken care of, he says it all the time. If you ask me, I would actually argue that Nagi takes advantage of Reo a little bit because he knows that Reo will do anything for him. But regardless, I think that Reo starts to develop an unspoken expectation with Nagi that he'll provide him with everything he needs, and in turn, Nagi will stick around. I don't think he's doing this intentionally, nor do I think it's being done in a manipulative way. I just think that Reo has a dormant fear of being abandoned that he doesn't totally know he has yet.

It isn't just Nagi that Reo showcases having unstable relationships with, though. Zantetsu is another good example. Reo starts out disliking Zantetsu, he snaps at him a couple times, and calls him a moron more than once. He starts to warm up to him because Nagi tells him to. The favorite person has MASSIVE sway in the borderline's life. If Nagi likes someone, Reo likes them too. (This is, of course, on the condition that they aren't a threat, looking at you Isagi).

In the immediate next chapter, Reo is acting like they're all best friends. He's climbing on top of them in their big bed, saying that the three of them are gonna win their matches, being a little pookie. He goes from not liking this guy at all to considering him one of his close friends super fast. Also on the topic of Isagi, when they're making up the teams for the second selection, Nagi doesn't initially want to tell Reo that he wants Isagi on their team bc he's worried Reo will be upset. But, when he does finally say it, Reo is literally fine with it because like I said, who Nagi likes, Reo likes! On the condition that they don't replace Reo, which clearly happened soon after.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, Reo also shows how he can go from loving someone to despising him very quickly. After Chigiri and Kunigami tell him to get back up in the game post-Nagi's abandonment, we can literally see the switch flip in Reo's head:

Suddenly, he hates Nagi. Nagi's a jerk who abandoned him; he never cared about him, and he threw him away. Dude literally says "Let's kill the bastards that betrayed us". This act of unintentional devaluing is called splitting. What Reo's essentially doing is going from one extreme to the other: if Nagi isn't his perfect treasure, he's the devil that broke his heart. There's no room for a grey area. The reasoning behind borderline's developing this black-and-white mindset is rooted in self-defense. If Reo devalues Nagi into being nothing more than a traitor, then he's stripping away the power that Nagi has to hurt him. If he looks at him like a rival or a villain, it's protecting him from being hurt by Nagi again.

That doesn't mean that he genuinely believes any of this, more so, he's trying to convince himself that it's true. We see that at his core, the reason he's acting like this is because he's hurt. I'll go more into it later on, but he's constantly thinking, what does Isagi have that I don't? What do I have to do in order to win Nagi back? This black-and-white thinking is an automatic self-defense mechanism that I think he's doing subconsciously. Regardless, the shifting he's doing here can cause a little whiplash, which brings me to:

Varied or random mood swings + Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights:

I can’t think of a better way to describe Reo's temperament than the wiki, so let me quote it: "Generally, he seems to feel every emotion with full force and is extremely aware of his own faults and shortcomings, which is evident in several instances of painful breakdowns shown in the spin-off manga. Due to his high emotionality, he can even get violent when he loses his temper."

Reo is characterized as being emotionally unstable. When he's happy, he's elated! When he's sad, he's miserable. There are a ton of scenes between the manga and spin-off manga that show how fast his emotions can flip, but this one was one of my personal favorites:

In this scene, Reo has developed a little scheme in the dining hall where the guys are trading their side dishes. At face value, a throwaway moment. But, I think it's worth looking at because not only does this show Reo's emotional response being triggered in an opposite, semi-extreme direction, but the root cause for the reaction was that he felt rejected by Zantetsu. In his own weird way, he's asking Zantetsu to come over and hang out with him. He's not being exceptionally clear with that message, but I can still pick up on it. "You wanna join in, don't you?" He's extending the invite, making himself vulnerable, and Zantetsu shoots him down by saying nah, I'm fine with my noodles. Reo JUMPS on him like YOU KNOW WHAT? I TOOK THAT PERSONALLY! lol. Jokes aside, I think this moment is a great one to argue Reo's BPD tendencies because it's such a seemingly mundane interaction. Even Zantetsu is surprised by Reo's random outburst. This also sets up the fact that one of Reo's most obvious triggers is being rejected/abandoned/betrayed, an extremely common one between those of us with BPD.

Other instances of Reo having a bad temper are a lot more obvious. In the match against teams V and Z, Reo straight up elbows Raichi in the throat, and then tries to go throw hands with Kuon for hurting Nagi. He only stops because if he gets into any more fights, he’ll get thrown out of the game and won't be able to play with Nagi anymore. He’s visibly pissed though and calls Team Z a joke. Hell, even Reo himself can recognize on a certain level that he can't control his emotions: they control him. They cloud his judgment and make him react in ways that he wish he didn't.

He is constantly plagued by these extreme emotional reactions that are out of his control. Not to say that people with BPD are unable to ever control their emotions, because we can! It takes time and therapy and practice though, which Reo hasn't had. His lack of regulation is also why he has such a dramatic and extreme meltdown when Nagi abandons him.

Fear of Abandonment:

Reo's biggest trigger and the cause of his inner turmoil throughout Blue Lock is his fear of abandonment. I mentioned before that I think he's had this fear dormant inside of him for a while as so many borderlines do, since he hasn't had the chance to experience it before. He alludes to it early on when they first arrive at Blue Lock:

The thought of leaving Nagi for somebody else? Reo considers that heartless. They came together, after all. They're going to win the world cup together. Nagi could break both of his legs and Reo wouldn't leave him, because again, Reo isn't there to team up with the best player and become the best striker in the world: he's there to play with Nagi!! And, like I said, in Reo's mind it's him and Nagi vs everyone else-

Reo exhibits a lot of signs early on of being jealous while they're playing in Blue Lock. I mean, as we discussed, everything should be focused around him and Nagi. When Nagi passes to Zantetsu in the team V and Y match, Reo pulls up like 'hey, why didn't you pass it to me?? ):' There are a lot of little moments like that, but Reo's jealousy is a lot more relevant to my argument after he gets abandoned by Nagi.

Let's talk about that word: abandoned. It seems dramatic, right? Reo uses that term constantly and exclusively. Every time he brings that moment up, he uses the word 'abandoned', or he'll say 'betrayed' or 'chose'. These are very definitive words. He’s not saying Nagi ditched him or flaked on him or blew him off, no; he has abandoned him. That word choice may seem disproportionate to the situation, but that's Reo's reality. This was the ultimate betrayal to him. The constant use of that vocabulary reiterates that in Reo's mind, there is no grey area. Either Nagi chooses him, or he chooses someone else. In choosing someone else, he abandons Reo. Reo is paranoid that Nagi isn't ever going to come back to him and it's because of something that Reo is lacking. How can Nagi like Isagi more than him, anyway?

Now, I do fault Nagi a bit for not communicating better at that moment. I understand that he's bad at communication, but I don't think Reo could have been more obviously upset if he tried. The dude was in TEARS. Nagi saw him devastated and then expected everything to be fine when he met him in the bathhouse? Idk. I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he didn't realize it would upset Reo to such an extreme: maybe he thought that they would miss each other, but Reo wouldn't take it personally. I'm doing my best not to harp on Nagi since this is about Reo.

Abandonment is detrimental to people with BPD. It causes extreme inner turmoil that we see with Reo as the story progresses because it is the only thing he can think about. If he isn't trying to cover up his hurt feelings with this idea of revenge, he's self-destructing over being abandoned. He becomes obsessed with wondering why Nagi chose Isagi over him. Was there something wrong with him? Isagi isn't that impressive, why would Nagi rather be with him? These thoughts torture him endlessly and fuel his desire to 'steal' Nagi back. He literally says to Isagi, that he's going to steal Nagi back. Much to his dismay though, Reo starts to notice that Isagi is bringing out some positive traits in Nagi. Nagi's entire vibe is different with Isagi. Nagi is having fun playing soccer without Reo. In fact, he's having more fun. He's making plays he's never made before. His face is visibly different; he's more excited than before.

This is heartbreaking for Reo. Not only was he right that Isagi did have something to offer Nagi that he couldn't, but Reo is having a massive self-hate spiral during this point as well, so he's internalizing all of his flaws and mistakes while the thought is sitting in the back of his head: did Nagi actually have a good reason for abandoning me? Was I not enough to satisfy him? Did I only drag him down? This gets significantly worse the longer he watches Nagi and Isagi play:

Everything is falling apart. Nagi is doing completely fine without Reo, and Reo is an absolute mess. We're circling back to Reo's lack of identity here as well. He's watching firsthand that he's losing Nagi to Isagi: what does he do? What happens to him if he loses Nagi, who is he without Nagi? He's overwhelmed during this match and at one point Reo literally screams that he's going to tear apart their connection. Jealousy is consuming him, but it's also those feelings of inferiority and wondering if he really did deserve to be abandoned. If Nagi is so happy without him, maybe he really did have a reason. These are the thoughts that are circling around in Reo's head. Not to mention, he is constantly tortured by the flashbacks of Nagi leaving him, which I think is a great detail. Some readers might say it's just pointless recapping but I disagree, I think it's depicting how traumatic that was for Reo. As a borderline, being abandoned by your fp IS traumatic. Reo relives that moment so many times because so many things trigger it for him throughout Blue Lock. He can't even look at Chigiri and Kunigami without thinking about him and Nagi. It's a really devastating experience that quickly deteriorates him emotionally.

Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness + Suicidal behavior or self-injury:

One of my favorite things about Reo is the fact that he is self-aware that he's behaving somewhat irrationally, but he doesn't know how to stop. When we look at one of the several times that Reo is curled up crying over Nagi, he mentions how he really did want to tell Nagi to go and have fun, but he didn't. He couldn't. The visuals shift for this too:

Reo doesnt want to be acting this way, but he can't help it, and that's frustrating to him. It makes him start feeling ashamed of himself. His inner thoughts start to spiral and he feels weak and alone. He's reflecting here on what his true feelings really were at that moment, and how scared and lonely and weak he felt as a result of Nagi leaving him behind.

These feelings quickly evolve into Reo feeling worthless and falling into bouts of self-hatred. He's so ashamed of the way he's feeling and behaving but it feels so out of his control. He says, "maybe if I hadn't gone to Blue Lock in the first place, I wouldn't have to experience this feeling." As I said before, borderline's feel things EXTREMELY intensely; the disorder is described as living with third-degree burns all over your body. Everything hurts. His feelings are so intense and all-consuming right now, it's all he can think about:

I saw some posts in the fandom reddit asking why Reo is acting like this. One in particular reads: "I get that he is betrayed and stuff but he is acting like it’s the end of the world, is it explained later why he acts like this? Is it because he doesn’t think he can win without Nagi?" Not to call this person out, I just want to answer the question in this post-

It has nothing to do with winning; it was never about winning. It was always about Nagi.

If we're looking at Reo through the borderline lens, it IS the end of the world for him. Nagi was his world. What's worse, he's fully aware that he's not acting rationally and he doesn't know why, which is making him feel ashamed and weak and embarrassed. Now I know why he's acting like this, but there are no Blue Lock psychiatrists sitting around to wack him with the mood stabilizers or the DBT handbook, so he's gonna stay feeling like a monster.

He lets these thoughts, along with the resentment and anger from being abandoned in the first place, fuel him for the second selection match. As he's watching the game play out, as Nagi is about to score the winning goal, Reo's mind starts racing with intrusive, negative thoughts.

He's praying that Nagi fails, that he gives up, that he stops trying, anything to stop that solidifying moment where he scores the winning goal and proves once and for all that not only was Reo not strong enough to stop him, but Nagi doesn't need him anymore. He catches himself really quickly, because he realizes he's sounding just like his parents. Everything is spinning out of control so bad, Reo wants Nagi to end up in a vulnerable position so that he isn't the only one falling apart. As he catches himself thinking this, he's disgusted with himself. He calls himself 'utter trash', and as he watches Nagi score the winning goal, he falls to his knees, wishing he was dead.

As he sits there decomposing in emotional turmoil and suicidal ideation, Nagi's team chooses Chigiri to join them, and it's the nail in the coffin. This is probably Reo's lowest point in the entire story IMO. Nagi comes up to compliment him on his plays and Reo shows us another classic borderline move: he's anticipating how bad it's going to hurt to be abandoned by Nagi again, so he's trying to push him away before it can happen. We see the dichotomy of his spoken words and inner thoughts here, where he's talking big game to Nagi, saying things like 'you clearly don't care about me anymore, you're throwing me away, if you're going to abandon me just do it properly', while internally he's thinking 'I'm the worst, I wish I was dead, please take this bait and break my heart so that I can self destruct in peace'.

i LOVE the visuals during this moment. This is what Reo thinks is his last line of defense, the last thing he can do to preserve any part of his dignity is to make Nagi hate him so that he'll stop throwing these crumbs of affection at him. It's also really telling that despite his switch in behavior and the devaluing of Nagi, the root of all of that is STILL that he was so hurt by the abandonment.

I don't think I need to analyze the suicidal ideation because he just straight up says he wants to die like three times in this scene but, aside from that, the visual of his inner thoughts vs what he's actually saying is so powerful. Not to mention the chameleon imagery which i'll geek out about in a second, this is another example of his black and white thinking along with the reiteration that being abandoned was literally traumatic for Reo: he says they can never go back to what they were before. Speaking as a borderline, this is painfully true. When people break my trust even in a small way, I can never view them the same as I used to. I can forgive them and let it go, but I'll never be as open with them as I once was. In Reo's shoes, he had Nagi up on this pedestal that he was perfect and would never do anything to hurt him, but he did hurt him (in the worst way possible).

After Nagi tells him he's a pain in the ass and that he doesn't care anymore, Reo thanks him for 'finishing him off'. In his mind, they're done now and he can suffer in peace and quiet without dragging Nagi down anymore.

Bonus Point: The Chameleon Effect

I LOVE THE FACT THAT HIS THING IS CHAMELEONS AHHHH

The chameleon imagery with Reo makes me INSANE dude. As I mentioned towards the beginning of this post, a part of borderline that is seldom talked about is the tendency to take on 'the chameleon effect', or mirror the people around them. REO'S ENTIRE THING IS CHAMELEONS LIKE BFFR ?? That image where he was trying to get Nagi to hate him, was before he even started using his chameleon style, it was just something the authors thought was necessary to include during Reo's mental breakdown. Aside from the cool imagery, his chameleon style is a reflection of his relationship with Nagi. He gets called a jack of all trades and a master of none early on in reference to how when he’s without Nagi, hes not really exceptional at anything. He never really took the time to master one specific thing because he was always so concerned with helping Nagi. This rings my BPD bell for a couple reasons: first of all, when you have no sense of identity and you’re worried it means you have no real personality ?? Steal one!! Take the closest person to you and copy that one. That’s something us baddies know VERY well. Also, think there’s something about you that your fp doesn’t like? Change it! You can morph into anything they want as long as it means they won’t leave you !! :*) Before he makes up with Nagi, he copies moves in hopes that it'll make him stronger and appear more desirable to Nagi. After they make up, he copies whoever he has to so that he can get Nagi to that goal and make himself useful, make himself somebody that Nagi wants to have around. It is a literal direct metaphor for him changing anything and everything about himself for Nagi and graaaahhhh it’s so cool

Reonagi ?? Some thoughts-

I want to close this yap session with my thoughts on Reonagi as a ship. I do think that they can work and I want to make that clear. I'm not on board with the 'borderlines arent capable of having loving and fulfilling relationships' crap. That being said, they both have to put in a bit of effort. Reo has already recognized a lot of his own issues. He admits that he was wrong for pushing his ideals onto Nagi, that he needs to let Nagi grow and be his own person, etc. Nagi really hasn't accepted any fault. I stand by the fact that Nagi needs to be more sensitive with Reo. Way too often when a relationship like this fails, all the blame is put on the one with borderline. I'm gonna be the outlier here and say that if Nagi cares about Reo, he needs to learn about Reo's triggers and be mindful of them. I'm not saying that since Reo is sensitive to abandonment that Nagi should just isolate himself from everybody else, but what I am saying is that when he's going to do something that doesn't involve Reo, he needs to learn how to communicate that he still loves and values Reo. "I'm gonna go play soccer with this person right now, but I haven't forgotten about our promise. When I come back, we can play together. I still love you and I'm not going to leave you for whoever tf I'm playing with rn." (sneaking that 'i love you' in bc like..they're literally canon at this point asdfghjkll) But, I do think that Nagi loves Reo and cares about him in his own way. The two of them just have to keep working on their communication skills. Nagi has the potential to have a hot rich husband who will literally bend over backward for him and buy him all the robux he could ever want, he's gotta put in a shred of effort!

I also like to think that Nagi didn’t totally get the fact that Reo doesn’t gaf about just playing soccer. Nagi thinks soccer is what they do together, it’s what makes reo happy, right? He’s always pushing him to train harder and take the game more seriously because he likes the sport, RIGHT? It would make perfect sense to go play with isagi so that he can get better at soccer and come back to reo a more improved player. Maybe that’s why he was surprised when Reo was so mad in the bathhouse, bc he wasn’t making the connection that Reo cares more about him than soccer. That Reo puts all that energy into him playing soccer because he thinks it’s something that they can have as their own, and once Nagi notices how good he is, he’ll start enjoying it and the two of them can hold hands and run around the soccer pitch!! I think Nagi missed that part tbh, and I don’t think he know that even now in the story. Maybe Reo doesn’t even notice it.

Anyway, a shameless plug to my reonagi playlist if that's your thing (i cooked with this one, i fear) https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CsvSqmuI4cxOl1nTaV4GJ?si=737a0f21e0bd482a

Closing Thoughts:

Reo is a bpd baddie and I love him very much. I think he's a sensitive guy with a lot of feelings who would benefit from taking time to work through his trauma and his emotions. I hope that he eventually is able to build an identity for himself that doesn't involve Nagi, but baby steps, I suppose. I think Reo is a great balance of positive and negative borderline traits and he reads as a really believable and sympathetic character. He is, however, definitely that friend that you have to slap to stop them from running back to their ex.

Jokes aside though, BPD can be extremely hard to live with, even more so when it's undiagnosed and untreated. If someone you love has BPD, take the time to read up on it and do your best to understand them. I promise you, it will mean the world to them.

If you managed to get this far, thank you for reading! This was a messy stream of consciousness and I appreciate your support by listening.

[pareidoliazz]

Hello! Can I request imagines for a simultaneously kuudere yandere please? Like they act like they don't care about you, or maybe they are indifferent to you on the outside, but in reality they are stalking you and is totally crazy for you

Oh, of course:) this would be my first imagine, I hope you like it, pretty little person.

YANDERE WHO DOES NOT SHOW HIS FEELINGS (KUUDERE) X READER

It all started when he changed schools, now he was the new boy at school, although it wasn't a big deal because of his seriousness, there were still girls excited because in a way he was handsome.

Then... he saw you... You looked like a little bird, you didn't even realize what was happening around you, you just drew without paying attention.

Something in his chest began to accelerate when he saw you, on the inside, he was a mess, but on the outside he was simply serious, looking at you, until the teacher brought him out of his trance by telling him that he will sit in the seat behind you.

God, you looked so cute and focused drawing, you didn't even pay attention to him, but it didn't matter, he couldn't look desperate for your attention when he was just entering school.

He spent a few days simply admiring you, he wondered what was in you, in a way, you were like him, reserved, serious, but you were always in your world, happy.

He was dying to talk to you, to be your friend, but his lack of expression wouldn't let him.

It was until you spoke to him, in a way, well, while you were drawing you turned to him to show him your drawing of a cat with a tie.

He couldn't be more excited internally.

"Hey, don't you think you look alike?" you asked mockingly.

He just looked at the drawing and answered "I don't believe it."

But inside he burned, that silly interaction had been so meaningful to him.

Since then you began to talk more with him, with your strange attitude that characterized you, but for him it was like that of an angel.

You always made comments about how serious he was and the company of friends he was missing.

Friends? With you it's more than enough

"You need a girlfriend to warm your frozen heart," you said, laughing.

"How unnecessary," he replied coldly.

Yes, he only needs you

Despite what you made him feel, he didn't accept his feelings for you, obviously not, he doesn't like you, he had never felt that way, he had always been cold and distant.

The poor boy doesn't understand why you make his cheeks heat up and his heart beat hard :(

Because of how he treats you, you think that he simply sees you as another companion, but still, he is a good boy so you talk to him kindly, as if he were a great friend to you: D

He might deny his feelings for you, but his attitude was something else.

Always seeing you in class, following you home, memorizing everything you like, your list of friends... (Be careful, if they get too close to you... Soon your list will be reduced to just him ♡)

Your hugs, your details, your words, your touches, were like honey to him, although he loved them, he only received them with a serious face and a dry "thank you."

Those cute details that you give him like letters and drawings go to a special corner in his room <3

He was in everything, is your cat lost? Oh, don't be surprised if he knocks on your door with the adorable animal at his side.

"Don't be so stupid again and don't let him escape," he said indifferently.

-Yeah! "Thank you," you said amicably, taking the cat.

Lost pencils? Hair clips? Drawings? Even your toothbrush? Everything lost!

Obviously you thought you were clueless and lost everything, it wouldn't occur to you that your introverted friend is the cause of taking your possessions:3

-Hey you know? I really like you despite your cold attitude, in fact, I already consider you a friend ;) - you said naively.

-Oh really? "Maybe I already consider you a friend," he replied dryly.

He lies, for him you are his world, but he doesn't accept it and you don't know it...

[meanbossart]

DU drow asks time

Lore questions/sweet messages/stuff that made me laugh that's about DU drow specifically that I decided to compile in a single post!

First of all, "outraged to be used as a medium for old man gay divorce" is a hysterical sentence LOL

As for his thoughts on the Ansur debacle? Negative ones. He hates the emperor, he doesn't care about his third-time-twist real identity, he doesn't particularly care about Wyll either (well - he kind of finds him entertaining, he's kind of really frustrated by him, it's complicated) but he saved his dad on a whim to spite Mizora anyway. BUT HEY, all that trouble would have been worthwhile if he's about to get an ancient dragon fighting alongside him - this old duke sounds a little too confident in this fairy tale, but stranger things have happened, right?

Then the situation unfolds as it does, and if he wasn't eager enough to use that orphic hammer before, he certainly is now. There is very little that the Emperor does past Act 3 that DU drow doesn't find a way to twist into something that confirms his resolve against him. If he could have taken Ansur's side in that fight, he would have - not that he shed any tears over killing him either.

Sick sword though, that helped soothe his nerves a bit and I'm sure spared everyone a little bit of a tantrum at camp later.

HAHAHAHA I can't confirm nor deny because I see so few large body-type elves as it is (which is fair, elves aren't usually... That massive). I did set age to 50% because it does look a little weird when it's all smooth. Maybe that's the trick?

Though I guess if you find it unsettling, then... No wonder it suits him! however this just looks like an impressively handsome fella to me, to be honest. I insist on fucking him up further whenever I draw him for that reason.

Thank you so much for following along and for giving the fic a try!!! And no worries, english isn't my native tongue either so I've been there 😎👍

I do actually have a couple of very short comics planned that take place pre-tadpole, but my backlog of WIPs is... Massive. Not to mention the commission work I do (currently not taking any more). I have one that's about his first interaction with Orin and another about a business dinner with Gortash gone-wrong, but I have no clue when I'll be able to work on them. Hopefully soon though!

You know, I've always hoped that after I died I'd be remembered as the guy who inspired others to make their nipples card-swipe-able.

Joke's aside, thank you LOL I love that my guys' nips have taken up non-insignificant room in your mind, it's always comforting to know that you aren't the only one.

Piercings and the such aren't really his style though. While he finds his scar-work weirdly comforting, he isn't so interested in aesthetic results as much as he just enjoys having pain inflicted upon him in a controlled environment, by people that he loves - He doesn't recall this post-tadpole, but the scars were a result of a kind of... Recurring ritual between himself and Orin that served to replace normal intimacy, pretty much.

Since you touched on it though, I do like to believe that Astarion finds his cut-up body fun, both on the eyes and on the hands LOL.

I'm starting to think you guys are all in on this. It's like the fifth time someone catches me in the act - god damn it, is it that obvious that I wanna slide down Peter Steele's cold corpse like he's a a ride at the Magical Ice kingdom... Which is to say, yes, both the guy and his music are not-so-lowkey a big inspiration behind a lot of DU drow's characterization!

That's all for now folks, thank you so much for the asks!!! This isn't all of them but I try not to spam people's feeds when I can help it/space them out. I see all of your messages and I guarantee you that if I have an interesting answer for them, you will see a reply eventually!

[august-anon]

Dancing Away

Hello hello! Here is my @squealing-santa gift for the very cool @/wrestling!anon!!

I tried to pick out two of your prompts and did my best to hit them both, so I hope you enjoy! I also only went with two of the characters listed (Astarion and Wyll) because I feel like I can't quite grasp Gale's characterization yet, and I'm still only in Act 2 of my playthrough thanks to work so I have no idea what Halsin's deal is yet lol. I figured I'd write best with my own game's romance (Wyll) and the character I get the most spoilers for online (Astarion) lol. I hope my characterization works out well enough, and once again, I hope you (and other readers) enjoy!!

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Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3

Ship(s): Astarion/Wyll

Characters (lee/ler): Switch!Astarion/Switch!Wyll

Word Count: 2250 words

Summary: When Wyll asked Astarion to dance, he did not expect it to end in such a ticklish situation. He had no intentions of letting this go without a bit of revenge.

[ao3 link]

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Dancing, Astarion thought. How sickeningly sweet.

But of course, it was Wyll. Astarion wasn’t sure what else he had expected. He was rather the fairytale prince type, not really the kind you take for a quick romp in the forest. In fact, Astarion doubted Wyll would agree even if he suggested it. A younger man may have found it romantic, but Astarion only found it to be a hindrance. It tended to be much harder to manipulate people without sex involved, in his experience.

That is, if Astarion even wanted to keep going through with that plan. It was all so much easier before feelings got involved.

Of course, none of his plans meant that Astarion was willing to drop his snark entirely. “Tell me, does this actually work for you?”

Wyll raised an eyebrow at him and, of course being the cheeky little thing he was, suddenly pushed Astarion out into a wide spin before pulling him close once more. “You tell me. You’re the one who accepted the offer to dance.”

“Come now, darling. You can’t tell me that you don’t crave a bit more… physicality, hm? Intimacy?” He pulled Wyll even closer, adjusting his grip to be just this side of innocent.

Wyll laughed, his eyes cutting to the side to avoid Astarion’s. Astarion could hear his pulse quicken, could smell the blood rush beneath his skin.

“I’d say this is rather physical already,” Wyll said, “wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, you know what I meant.” 

Astarion snuck a few fingers beneath the hem of Wyll’s tempting little cropped shirt, sliding them up his side – only, he didn’t get very far. Wyll made a strange, strangled noise in the back of his throat as he buckled in on that side, now dancing away from Astarion instead of alongside him. Astarion froze in his tracks.

“Too far?”

Wyll stood up straight, rubbing at the back of his neck with that horribly endearing self-conscious chuckle of his. “No, no, sorry. You did nothing wrong.” He chuckled again. “Just a bit ticklish there, is all.”

A predatory grin spread across Astarion’s lips and he swept in close to Wyll once more, wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him flush. He watched Wyll’s throat bob. “So open with such sensitive information, my dear.” He tsked. “Seems a bit unwise, doesn’t it?”

Wyll rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Everyone’s at least a little ticklish somewhere – would do me no use in hiding it, now would it?” 

As he spoke, Wyll’s fingers snuck up Astarion’s own side, repeating the same motion that had Wyll dancing out of his arms. Astarion gasped at the sensation, wrenching himself from their embrace entirely on instinct. The sensation was unfamiliar and familiar all at once – something he knew he had to have felt before, but had no recollection of experiencing. He couldn’t help but stare down at his body as if it had betrayed him.

“See? Everyone’s ticklish somewhere.” Wyll paused, stepping closer. “Did– did you not know you were?”

“Trapped under control of my vampire master the past two hundred years – would you?” Astarion scoffed, refusing to meet his eyes. “Not exactly the time for warm fuzzies.”

“No. No, I suppose not.” After a moment, Wyll stepped closer again, lightly resting his hands against Astarion’s hips. “Never too late to find out, you know?”

Astarion couldn’t help but gape at him. “Are you suggesting I willingly allow you to exploit a weakness of mine for, what, your own enjoyment?” He smirked. “Why, Wyll, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Wyll laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Of course not – it’s just, you ought to know your own vulnerabilities, should you not?”

Astarion raised an eyebrow. Wyll’s grin turned sheepish – but only slightly.

“Alright. I am known to have a bit of a mischievous side.” His thumbs rubbed circles into the divots of Astarion’s hips, just the right amount of pressure to avoid a tickle. “But I would never take advantage of you in that way if you didn’t wish it.”

Astarion rolled his eyes, a fond smile spreading across his lips without his permission. “Gods, don’t be such a hero.”

The words were barely out of Astarion’s mouth before the soothing circles at Astarion’s hips became gentle squeezing. An undignified noise escaped him before he was able to seal his lips shut. He doubled over and scrabbled for Wyll’s wrists.

“I’m not hearing a ‘no,’” Wyll said, his voice filled with so much humor and fondness that it might’ve made Astarion feel ill if he hadn’t already been preoccupied.

“You ass,” Astarion replied instead.

Wyll clicked his tongue. “Maybe this will help teach you some manners.”

Astarion opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a rush of air as Wyll started wiggling his fingers up Astarion’s sides. While the squeezing had been gentle enough, the skittering of Wyll’s fingers was absurdly soft. The light touch was maddening in a way that Astarion couldn’t place, sending him squirming and lost to mortified giggles in mere moments. All of Cazadors horrible tortures, with his cold hands and rough grip, all of the people he’d lured back with his body, with their hungry touches and grasping hands, none of them could have prepared him for this – the delicate fingers of someone who cared for him (albeit through his own manipulation) picking him apart with such ease.

And the worst part was, Astarion found that he didn’t quite mind it. In fact, he actually rather liked it, as horribly embarrassing as it was. It was a kind of intimacy that he had never considered before, and one that wasn’t tainted with nearly so much history. And of course, the handsome smile spreading across Wyll’s face at Astarion’s ridiculous reactions was quite the bonus, even if it was at his expense.

Of course, it became much harder to think the longer Wyll took advantage of his sensitivities. Astarion had no idea that tickling could be so distracting, so consuming. He doubled over as those skittering fingers reached his ribcage, his hands coming up to try and muffle the laughter now escaping him. Wyll laughed along, and they both laughed harder when he managed to maneuver his hands up into Astarion’s underarms, causing him to stumble to the ground.

“Get out of there!” Astarion said, half-heartedly trying to shove Wyll away with one hand, while trying his hardest to shield his reactions with the other.

“If that’s really what you want!”

Astarion quickly learned that was the wrong choice, as Wyll shimmied his fingers out of Astarion’s underarms and swiftly set to poking and prodding around Astarion’s stomach. Through squinted eyes, Astarion could see Wyll watching his every jump and flinch, trying to catch his reactions through his fingers, no doubt cataloguing them to use exploit later.

“See, this isn’t quite so effective.” Wyll punctuated the sentence with a few playful squeezes to his sides.

“Seems plenty effective to me!” Astarion griped, trying to grasp for his hands.

Wyll cocked his head with a grin. “Oh, it certainly works, but you seem to do better with a… softer touch.”

With that, the skittering fingers were back, and a mortifyingly high-pitched noise burst from Astarion’s lips. It was absurd how much the method could change the intensity of the tickle, and even more absurd how badly a touch so soft could affect him. And of course, he was proved right in his previous hypothesis when Wyll seemed to focus particularly on the places he had made note of previously. All Astarion could do was roll around in the dirt and dead leaves, too uncoordinated to do anything to save himself even if he wanted to.

And then Wyll started jumping between certain areas of his upper body at random. His stomach, his ribs, his stomach again, his underarms, his hips, his sides – Astarion could barely keep track of the sensation. All he could do was laugh, no matter where it showed up next. His hips seemed to be particularly weak to this type of touch, and Wyll certainly enjoyed his time taking advantage of that. Even still, though all the playful torment, Astarion couldn’t say he exactly minded, though he would never let Wyll know.

And then Wyll’s fingers jumped up to Astarion’s neck, no warning at all. The tickle was still there, and certainly still effective, but Astarion’s breath caught in his throat. For the first time in all his squirming, he finally lurched away from the touch. One hand flew down to support himself as he tried to sit up, the other flying up to pry Wyll’s fingers away. 

Ever so attentive, Wyll pulled his hands away immediately. Instead, he moved to help Astarion sit up, rubbing his back as if to help him catch his breath despite the fact that Astarion didn’t really need to breathe anyways. It was a sweet gesture. Wyll was a fool. 

“No neck,” Wyll said. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

Astarion scoffed. “Please, as if there would be a next time in the first place. No, you’ve had your fun now, darling.”

Wyll only shook his head, a twinkle in his eyes. “Whatever you say, Astarion.”

“Speaking of fun–” Astarion ran a hand through his hair, trying to ruffle his curls back into place “– I believe it’s my turn.”

Wyll’s eyes went wide, but Astarion pulled him down to be flush with Astarion’s chest before he could make any moves. Though Wyll put up some semblance of a struggle, Astarion was easily able to roll them over, allowing him to loom over Wyll. It was almost endearing how little he was trying to actually fight back. Not to mention, few people would trust a vampire to put them on their back like this. If Astarion’s heart had still had a beat, he was worried it might’ve skipped one or two. As it was, he could hear Wyll’s heart give a stutter of its own.

Wyll gave him another one of those charming nervous chuckles. “Now Astarion, I’m sure we can talk about this.”

Astarion grinned, lowering his voice into a purr. “Oh my dear, you can talk all you wish. In fact, why don’t we start with whichever patch of skin is most likely to make you scream.”

“I’m no fool, Astarion. No man in his right mind would give up such sensitive information so willingly.”

Astarion leaned in closer, so his lips were brushing against Wyll’s ear. “Sensitive information indeed, hm?”

Wyll shivered, but at this point, Astarion was unable to tell if it was from pleasure or from ticklishness. Either way worked in his favor, so instead he set about his revenge. He started at Wyll’s hips, just as Wyll had begun with him, and started wiggling his fingers up Wyll’s sides and ribs. His giggles were music to Astarion’s ears as he shimmied back and forth beneath Astarion’s form. He tossed his head back with his giggling, baring his neck so temptingly, and Astarion couldn’t help but watch the way his throat bobbed with his laughter.

Still, Astarion wasn’t quite getting the reactions he desired. The giggles he garnered between Wyll’s hips and underarms were adorable, but it wasn’t what he was looking for. Astarion jumped down to Wyll’s sides again, giving them a few quick squeezes. He may have taken more than a few pointers from Wyll’s own attack, but it wasn’t as though he had much experience of his own to draw upon. Astarion felt his lips bloom into a devious grin at the flinch the touch garnered him and the louder laughter that followed.

“I see – you’re a bit opposite to me, then.”

Astarion could practically smell the blood as it rushed to Wyll’s cheeks, even if the blush didn’t show on his complexion. For the first time since Astarion began, Wyll started shoving at Astarion’s hands, though the laughter had clearly weakened him.

“Shut up!”

Astarion tsked. “Who knew the Blade of Frontiers was so easily embarrassed.”

He moved his prodding and squeezing inward, and finally Wyll shouted out a frantic, “Shit!” through his laughter. Wyll lurched up and tried to double over, not making it very far thanks to Astarion still looming over him. He scrambled for Astarion’s hands, fumbling blindly and ultimately making no difference to his torment.

“Ah – have I truly found my target so easily?”

“Yes!” Wyll shouted as he collapsed back into the dirt, his head thrown back once more as laughter wracked his body. “Yes, Astarion, please!”

Astarion slowed his fingers to a creeping spider, keeping Wyll in near-frantic giggles even with the light touch. He hummed thoughtfully. “But darling, how can I really be sure without completing my exploration? After all, most people would admit anything under torture.”

Wyll’s head tipped up and he stared at Astarion with wide eyes. Even still, he didn’t tell Astarion to stop. His blood may have been rushing, but it certainly wasn’t due to fear.

“Wait–” His voice was giggly and bright, his eyes clear from any distress.

Astarion hummed. “Condolences, but I believe I’m obligated to investigate further.” He leaned in close, their noses brushing. Astarion could almost taste Wyll’s giggles on his own lips, but he didn’t dare close the distance himself – he had to play this game at Wyll’s pace, after all. “Best prepare yourself for a long evening, my sweet.”

He certainly didn’t imagine the way Wyll’s heart sped up at those words.

[idyllic-affections]

hello! i’m relatively new to your blog but i stumbled across your muichiro and hasira mentor!reader and i fell in love (has been a brainrot of mine for a couple weeks now), i was wondering if you could write a scenario about muichiro getting back from one of his first solo missions and the reader just doting over him and helping him clean up minor wounds, despite knowing he’s capable of doing it himself. (i loved the way your characterized the two in your previous writings <3) thank you! hope you have a lovely day!

the first solo mission's aftermath.

summary. muichiro's first solo mission would be a tough time for both him and his mentor, but when he returns, they are there to dote endlessly on him.

trigger & content warnings. self-doubt, depictions of minor injury.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, comfort. muichiro tokito & hashira mentor!reader. 0.7k words. they/them pronouns for reader.

author's thoughts. this post is an expansion of out of all the clouds in the sky, you are my favorite. hello dear!! welcome to my blog, i hope to see you again in my ask box at some point <3 mui requests are always welcomed. hes my beloved son frfr. thank you so so much, any compliments about how i characterize canon characters are very much appreciated! thats one of the highest forms of praise i could get as a writer. it means a lot when people tell me they like the way i write certain characters, so i really do appreciate it!

tbh i think [name] would cry when seeing him off for the first time.

they would try to hold it together solely for muichiro's peace of mind, offering him a shaky smile and, in a trembling voice, wishing him well as he departs from their mansion.

there's no way seeing one's tsuguko off is an easy experience. each hashira surely has to wonder if their respective student will return or not, if they have taught their student well enough, if their first mission will be easy or go terribly wrong.

there's just... so, so many things that could go wrong.

while mui is gone, i think the cloud hashira would sit and nitpick everything they taught him. they'd worry that it wasn't enough. they know he is impossibly strong for his age, but...

strength does not inherently equal experience. a demon slayer can have all the biological advantages that they want, but if they don't have adequate experience, all that strength will mean absolutely nothing.

meanwhile, mui feels a distinct sense of discomfort and unrest after he leaves.

something about leaving doesn't sit well with him. he doesn't want to leave. he wants to go back, or he wants them to come along.

(he does not understand why at the time, but a few years later, he'll begin to understand that he simply didn't want to leave them on the brink of tears like that.)

in the end, though, muichiro returns after only a few days in one piece, completely unharmed except for a few minor scratches.

his face might not change when his beloved mentor immediately brings him into a tight embrace, but the way his body relaxes into their arms is telling enough.

"welcome back, tokito-kun," they'd whisper, cheek pressed to the top of his head.

"...i'm home, [surname]-sama."

home... the implications of that statement would make their heart burst. indeed, he is home if he's with his mentor. if he's with them. they squeeze him just a little tighter after that.

"[surname]-sama, i can't breathe."

"ah?! i'm sorry! sorry, i didn't mean it!"

mui honestly would just let them dote on him.

they'd gently brush his hair and pull it back into a braid, sending a distinct feeling of nostalgia through his foggy mind.

they'd clean his wounds, opting to take him to the butterfly estate if anything seemed wrong or infected.

they'd just dote on him.

he does enjoy the attention and he realizes that it helps them feel better, so... he just lets them do whatever they feel is necessary.

the attention is really comforting for him, though. he's so young. he shouldn't be fighting demons at this age, and yet, he is. [name] knows this.

to make up for it, they spoil him in all the attention someone so young would need to grow properly.

"So... how did your mission go? I suppose it must have gone rather well," they mused with a gentle smile, gingerly flushing a small yet somewhat deep scratch on his cheek with a saline solution that they'd borrowed from those at the Butterfly Estate. "You're hardly hurt."

"Yes. It went fine," he confirmed in a murmur, doing his best not to move in order not to disrupt their work. "...I thought I was fast enough."

"Hm?"

"I thought I was fast enough to avoid being scratched."

"You did your best," they chuckled, securing a small patch over the scratch to keep any bacteria out, "and believe me, this is nothing. The kinds of injuries you can get in this line of work... this is nothing, really. It's fine. Just make sure it doesn't get infected."

Backing away from his face, they looked over their work before nodding firmly. "Alright. I'm done."

Slowly, the boy raised a hand to his cheek, fingertips ghosting over the freshly-dressed wound. Some kind of foreign warmth spread through his chest. He shifted in place, timidly avoiding their eyes. "...Thank you."

"Hehe. Of course." Not a single thing got past them, it seemed. They brought no attention to his sudden embarrassment, however. "Anyways, are you hungry? Kanroji-san invited us to come out with her to this place a few towns over. I hear they're really good."

He simply listened to them ramble, nodding along absentmindedly when they asked for his input.

He liked their voice.

It was comforting.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!