#sure he can read people's intentions somewhat

[laserbread]

The 4am urge to write a story about IDW Soundwave falling for a multi level marketing scam

[dancingbirdie]

Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him. 

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.” 

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire. 

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way. 

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought. 

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously. 

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering. 

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought. 

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly. 

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence. 

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.” 

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it. 

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt. 

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him. 

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?” 

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder. 

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished. 

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.” 

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror. 

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed. 

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering. 

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed. 

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot. 

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes. 

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination. 

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master. 

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp. 

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain. 

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion. 

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling. 

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face. 

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand. 

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water. 

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand. 

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty. 

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off. 

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze. 

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try. 

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad. 

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her. 

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question. 

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well. 

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly. 

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her. 

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees. 

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far. 

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed. 

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind. 

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years. 

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare. 

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted. 

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight. 

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady. 

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.” 

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on. 

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession. 

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment. 

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face. 

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest. 

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly. 

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.” 

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much. 

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy. 

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her. 

She held his gaze, speechless. 

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation. 

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone. 

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him. 

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded. 

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.   

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer. 

“This… this is nice,” he whispered. 

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response. 

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next. 

[hxnbi]

⸻ ɞ how they would show their love ﹒﹒wind breaker boys

꒷꒦ pairings: haruka sakura, hajime umemiya, hayato suo, jo togame, toma hiragi, choji tomiyama, ren kaji, kyotaro sugishita x gn. reader (separate)

did i wound up going overboard with all the characters i like and proceed to write over 2k words? yes. am i going to stop? never

HARUKA SAKURA | 桜 遥 ─ ♬﹒♡

Attempting to flirt with a guy like SAKURA, or even show any kind of affection, is already beyond hopeless, for the second you approach him with the intention of initiating affection, regardless of what it is, his entire face goes crimson. The guy's flushed face is redder than a traffic light, you like to say, only to then get a mouthful from Sakura that he isn't blushing, and it's just that the weather feels hot. It’s not him. So stop looking at him like that!

Yeah, right. Hot in the middle of the damn winter.

Sakura loves and shows affection through his actions, most of them somewhat unintentional and subconscious. He might brush a stray hair from your face while you're eating together, make sure you're walking on the inside of the sidewalk, or quietly leave your favourite snacks where you can find them—only to then flush into a deep crimson when you bring up his romantic gestures. Because to him, he really doesn't think before he acts, and yet does so tenderly when with you and you only.

It's these small gestures that speak volumes about his feelings for you. And lord take mercy on anyone who decides to poke fun at you or comment on a singular "bad" thing about you. Whoever makes fun of you or even dares to comment on what he deems as poorly about you and your delightful character is in for a world of hurt. He can and he will throw hands. Sakura's protective side surfaces, and he will immediately start burning up like a wildfire you can't put out, ready to defend your honour at a moment's notice, even if that means firing back against his own gang members and friends.

HAJIME UMEMIYA | 梅宮 一  ─ ♬﹒♡

The physical manifestation of a lovebug. Hugs, kisses, cuddles, and more—you name it. Did I mention that he loves, loves, loves physical affection? UMEMIYA is all over you, to the point where you can hardly move whenever his arms encircle you, just like a little cuddly bear. It certainly gets more than a little awkward when the other Furin members are around, watching your and their leader's affectionate moments and PDA happen in real-time, but Umemiya doesn't care. If anything, he’s all for it! That just means that others will for sure know that you’re taken and you're his.

His love is open, unrestrained, unabashed, and utterly shameless, a stark contrast to his model demeanour as the leader of Furin. How this guy can act like this and also beat people half to death is beyond comprehension in their eyes. And as the leader of Furin, he's also like your protector. You would never need a bodyguard when you have your boyfriend by your side at all times of the day, one way or another. He's there from dawn to dusk, from sunrise to sunset. His presence may be both comforting and overbearing at times, yet you wouldn't trade his ceaseless companionship for the world, knowing he'll always be there, and likewise, you'll always be there for him. 

HAYATO SUO | 蘇枋 隼飛  ─ ♬﹒♡

SUO is calm and calculating, his sharp mind is always a step ahead of others, but most importantly, he's loyal to a fault. His ability to anticipate your needs and understand your emotions without you saying a word is both a blessing and a curse. Suo is intelligent but arguably one of the most mysterious guys in Furin. A complete "stick in the mud," Sakura would say with a peeved expression of distaste. He can read you like a book, which can be irritating at times—the way that he purposely acts like a know-it-all, all with the intention of pissing you off that day—all the while keeping his own thoughts private. While you appreciate his attentiveness, his tendency to withhold his own feelings can be frustrating, especially during the times when you need his emotional support the most. 

Despite this, Suo's actions speak volumes about his devotion. There was more in his mind than you originally thought of him. Suo might not verbalize his true feelings often, often masking them feom under his aloof facade and honeyed words, but his loyalty ultimately shines through in the little things he does for you. Because when it matters the most, Suo is there, all behind that expression of his. His faint, knowing smile and just the air that surrounds him only deepen your curiosity about what was behind that eyepatch of his. But only you could see the vulnerability hidden beneath his composed exterior, his silence often hiding a plethora of emotions that not even words could ever fully begin to express.

JO TOGAME | 十亀 条 ─ ♬﹒♡

If Umemiya is considered protective over you, TOGAME is even more so fiercely vigilant in his watch over you. At first glance, he appears stern and unapproachable—it certainly was to you—with his glasses covering the hearts in his eyes. However, once you got to know him, you discover a sensitive, caring guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. And that is precisely who Togame was.

His affections are subtle but deeply felt. He remembers the most minor details about you that many would either forget or deem as not important, but not to Togame. From your favourite book to the way you like your tea, he's always there to lend a hand or offer a quiet word of encouragement when you need it the most, and his protective nature means he's always looking out for potential threats, ensuring your safety without ever making a fuss about it. All your pretty little head needs to worry about is feeling cherished and loved.

TOMA HIRAGI | 柊登馬  ─ ♬﹒♡

If there's even a slight chance that someone or something even laid hands on you with the intention of hurting you, HIRAGI would never in his life let that happen, even if it meant using his own body as your shield. He knows that being in a gang attracts a lot of enemies, and through that, increases the possibility of putting you in danger. Because of that, Hiragi is always on high alert. And if he’s not around, he’ll either ask Sugishita, Umemiya or “Othello-kun” to help out and ensure your safety. Why they even bother to accept his request is beyond me, but his concern for you was always evident, and they knew that. Hiragi puts your safety above all. You hate that he puts himself at risk, but you can't deny the comfort his presence brings.

Hiragi’s anxiety manifests as hyper-vigilance, which can sometimes backfire when you become hyper-sensitive and worry about his health. Your love for each other goes deep, as, despite his protectiveness, there are times when Hiragi needs your comfort, too. He's practically a bundle of nerves all, for better or not worse, wound into a singular individual, partly due to Umemiya's constant nonchalance, which only heightens his anxiety. You often find yourself being the one to soothe him, reminding him to breathe and take it one step at a time. His commitment to your safety and peaceful life away from all the chaos he is entrenched in is firm as a rock, even if it means pushing his own limits to ensure that happens.

CHOJI TOMIYAMA | 兎耳山 丁子  ─ ♬﹒♡

His constant mood swings are something that you were well aware of when you started seeing the boy, for sure, but CHOJI's love for you is undeniable. No one could ever doubt that. Not even Togame, who witnessed firsthand how devoted Choji was whenever in your presence. It was refreshing, in a way, to see Choji like that. To be truly carefree and unburdened and not compelled by the turmoil in his own mind. He wasn't driven to seek solace in conflicts and fights or to find joy and his longing for “happiness.” For whenever he found himself in your company, happiness was not just a possibility but an inevitability.

He's always ensuring, whether you like it or not, that you are aware of his feelings and affection for you, even if it means drilling the same ramblings into your ears for hours on end. Despite his erratic moods, he's a sweet presence to have around. His ramblings often turn into heartfelt confessions and declarations of love, making you smile even on your worst days. Moreover, Choji has a knack for lightening the mood, and his energetic personality is a welcome contrast to the more serious members of your inner circle.

Did I already say that he's energetic? Well, Choji is a ball of exuberance, and he doesn't take no for an answer when it comes to making you feel loved. He's like a burst of sunshine, brightening your day with the infectious enthusiasm that can make anyone smile. No matter how anarchic his emotions get, his love for you, regardless of circumstance, will never change. 

REN KAJI | 梶蓮  ─ ♬﹒♡

KAJI is the kind of guy who silently stays by your side. It's a comfortable silence that you've grown to love and appreciate, with his quiet presence being a constant source of comfort. He's not one for grand gestures or flowery words of affection, and you're well aware of that, but his advice and insights are invaluable. Whenever you face a problem in your life, Kaji is there, offering a solution with a calm, measured approach, even if he does throw in a couple of swear words and cusses here and there when at times losing his cool. It's the thought that counts.

His silence is not a sign of indifference but of his thoughtful nature. He listens far more than he speaks, and his actions reflect his deep care for you far more than anybody else by a landslide. Even the man-child that is Umemiya notices. Though he may not be as outwardly affectionate as others, his loyalty and his presence alone at your side speak volumes about his love for you, nothing more. Kaji's quiet strength is a pillar you can always lean on, his love expressed through every considerate action, whether big or small. 

KYOTARO SUGISHITA | 杉下京太郎  ─ ♬﹒♡

Another one who cannot physically use words to communicate for the life of him. Everyone has seen SUGISHITA's loyalty to Umemiya, but how exactly would that loyalty manifest if it were directed towards you, his significant other, arguably the most important person in his life? He's fiercely protective, and that's putting it lightly. Whoever dares to harm you or speaks to you deplorably, there will be hell to pay. Quite literally.

Sugishita the definition of "actions speak louder than words." He's not a romantic, he's not a flirt, but what he is—more than what everybody else is—dependable to a fault. Any kind of affection will have this boy's brain reloading and scrambling. Sugishita is more similar to Sakura than most people may assume, something that Sakura will never admit to, not even on his deathbed. And the one time he did, using the nickname "baby" all the while saying all that with the unintentional expression of a homicidal maniac had not only Umemiya (the idiot who gave him the "advice" to try being romantic for once) bawling his eyes out in laughter but also made your face flush red in embarrassment, unable to utter a word.

...Was this really your boyfriend? 

His gestures, though subtle, are filled with meaning. Whether it's fixing something for you, helping to carry the heavier stuff for you, ensuring you have everything you need, or simply being there when you need him, Sugishita's actions are his way of showing he cares. Not even Umemiya could look and claim that he treated others, including himself, the same way he treated you. Sugishita’s not one for grand displays of affection—if he's even able to comprehend how to present that without having an expression that he's about to snap at any time—but his reliability and steadfastness are a comfort that Furin as a whole, and you, his one and only lover, appreciates greatly.

In a world of so much uncertainty, especially in such a gang-centric environment, Sugishita's consistent presence is a reassuring and refreshing constant. He's your silent guardian, always watching, always protecting his love—what was to you, an unspoken promise, but to him, a forever vow.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

[riizegasm]

Impure Intentions || L. CY (Anton)

❀ pairing: chaebol heir!anton x rival!reader, implied fem!reader

❀ genre: enemies to lovers (but not really), fluff, suggestive

❀ word count: ~6.7k

❀ warnings: explicit language, mentions of dysfunctional families, one heated kiss scene

❀ summary: From the day you were born, all you ever heard was, “don’t fall in love with Anton Lee.” A better heir to a multimillion dollar conglomerate would follow their family’s advice. But you…not so much.

❀ a/n: sheesh, talk about writer’s block. This work has taken me so long and so much effort, but i'm very proud of how it turned out! It may have even helped me out of my slump. Also, please don’t judge me too hard. I know nothing about business and corporate families!!! As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are strongly encouraged. Happy reading!

Your head aches. The lights in the banquet hall are too bright and the clink of gilded silverware is too loud. Polite chatter buzzes around you like a pesky fly evading a swatter. The air is suffocating, overly stuffy with high end perfumes and colognes clouding the space. This is torture; the Lee family banquets always are.

It would be better if you could enjoy the food or engage with the various guests like everyone else does, but this is enemy territory. Your family had made it abundantly clear that this was not an event for fun, but rather for scoping out the competition. Lectures about a corporate acquisition going south and details about poor contracting simply entered in one ear and left via the other. You didn’t care why you had to be there. The knowledge of your forced attendance did enough to damper your mood, especially once you were hit with all of the rules around your presence.

Sit still, look pretty, smile politely, eavesdrop on any corporate plans, and don’t talk to Anton Lee.

You never understood your family’s obsession with keeping you away from him, the prized son and heir of the Lee empire. Everyone made sure to fill your mind with negative opinions and baseless rumors about the young man, as if to deter you from even giving him a chance. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, however. You’ve never even seen the man, let alone had a conversation with him. Anton Lee was much more of a mythical being than he was a person, in your eyes. He was always whispered about, but never seen.

From what you gathered, he was around your age, tall, broad, and supposedly extremely handsome. He was known for his overly harsh demeanor, rumored to command a room with a simple word. His presence apparently spoke volumes, enough to speak to his blunt nature and bad intentions. It made sense, your parents would always say. After all, he is a Lee.

“Fix your face, honey,” your mother snaps with a forced smile. “You’ll give yourself wrinkles before you turn thirty if you keep scowling like that.”

It takes everything in you to fight an eye roll, biting back the string of expletives waiting on the tip of your tongue. “Sorry. I’m going to run to the powder room.”

You don’t bother to wait for her response before excusing yourself from the cocktail table, getting lost in the crowds of people as you head towards the bathroom. Away from your family, the air feels somewhat lighter, although it still reeks of entitlement. The throb in your head is insistent now, forcing you to escape to find relief.

You find yourself heading towards a set of grandiose double doors, hoping they will lead you anywhere but here. Luckily, your prayers are answered as you step through them onto a stone balcony. The crisp nighttime air does wonders to cool your heated skin, a slight breeze ruffling the loose fabric of your dress.

This is exactly what you needed, space and solace.

“Rough night?”

A soft voice makes you jump out of your skin, whipping your head around to find the source. Its owner leans up against the exterior wall, somewhat bathed in shadow. All you can make out is a glimmer of white teeth, reflecting the moonlight.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the figure apologizes, taking a small step forward into the light.

You feel your breath stutter in your chest as you take in the man. The first thing you notice is his sheer beauty, lips enticingly full and nose broad. His beauty is complemented by his tall stature, the height difference between you two becoming increasingly apparent as he approaches. Like this, bathed in the moonlight, it’s impossible not to notice the broadness of his shoulders and how they taper into a small waist. He fills out his all black suit beautifully, the garments clearly tailored to his every curve.

“Are you alright?” The man asks, stopping only a few feet away.

The concern in his tone is just enough to snap you out of your reverie.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just, um, needed some air.”

The man nods in understanding, leaning over to place his forearms against the balcony’s railing. You struggle not to eye the way his suit jacket stretches across an impossibly wide back. Instead, you mirror his stance, looking out at the beautiful gardens below, bathed in silvery moonlight. Just beyond the seemingly endless maze of hedges, you can make out what looks like a small lake, it’s surface rippling under the nighttime breeze. 

“It can be stuffy in there,” the man says softly. 

You find yourself hanging onto his every word, shocked that such a mild tone could come from such an intimidating man. “Yeah, it really can be.”

The man lets out a small chuckle, no doubt amused by your clear annoyance. “So I take it you’re not in the business.”

“No, I’m–,” you pause for a moment, not sure how much of your identity you should reveal to the stranger. “I’m related.”

He chuckles again, this time turning to look at you. “Hm, I guess I could say the same for me, then.”

A round of applause sounds from somewhere inside, and you curse under your breath, knowing your family will kill you for your absence. The man next to you seems unphased, as if he’s used to the party going on without him.

“I think I should get back.”

The man flashes you a smile, its brightness almost blinding in the dark. “That’s okay. It was nice chatting with you…”

“Y/N. And you are?”

“Anton,” he whispers. “I hope I can see you again, Y/N.”

An icy chill travels up your spine, momentarily freezing you in place. But you force yourself to remain composed, plastering a smile on your face. You silently thank your years of etiquette training and the countless social events you have had to smile for. With a slight nod of your head, you disappear back through the double doors, instantly choking on the scent of Chanel No. 5.

.        .        .

It’s easy to believe that your first encounter with Anton Lee would be your last, especially as the weeks pass without a single sign of him. It makes sense that he wouldn’t start making regular appearances at events after attending just once. He has managed to spend twenty years staying out of the spotlight, and you can’t imagine that changing now. 

But, for some reason, you can’t help but search for him in the crowd of every gala or at the tables of any grandiose banquet.

He would be easy to spot, with his overwhelming height and dazzling smile. Maybe his honey brown hair would be slicked back off his forehead this time, or maybe it would hang in front of his eyes to conceal his bright gaze. You’re sure that he would still talk in that overly soft tone of his, somehow managing to command a room without a change in volume. 

Even his absence begins to feel like a presence in and of itself, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You tell yourself that it’s simple intrigue and nothing more. The first time you had ever laid eyes on your supposed family nemesis had been on a balcony bathed in the moonlight. Where had he been all these years?

More importantly, why had he disappeared again?

The question runs through your mind as you accept a flute of champagne from a waiter, eyes flitting around the charity dinner in hopes of spotting a specific someone. Somewhere near the front of the banquet hall, the Lee family is seated at a table with a few other wealthy families, but their oldest son is nowhere to be found. 

You crane your neck to get a better look. Just to be sure, you tell yourself. But the contorting you force yourself to do has you leaning right back into a waiter, your elbow knocking into his empty tray. The sudden movement has your champagne flute slipping out of your grasp, icy bubbles splattering across your chest and down the front of your dress. You can practically feel the daggers that your mother is shooting you from across the table, always having scolded you about the embarrassment that comes along with being a klutz. Before she can part her lips to tell you off, you excuse yourself politely, dashing out to find a restroom to freshen up. 

You let your heeled feet carry you through a maze of hallways, side stepping waiters and party guests as you move further and further away from the event space. It’s only when you travel down a flight of stairs that you find yourself a seemingly private restroom, briefly stepping inside to clean yourself up. No matter how much you dab at the stain in the center of your bust, the wine doesn’t seem to budge. You thank the heavens that it was champagne instead of a red, saving you some degree of embarrassment.

After a few minutes in the restroom, you find yourself wandering around, ending up in a much more secluded lounge space, equipped with a couple of couches surrounding a coffee table. You immediately collapse onto one, sighing as the ache in your feet finally lifts. 

It’s only then that you feel your eyes begin to sting, a familiar rush of heat striking your face as a lump begins to form in your throat. The sticky sweet smell of champagne still clings to your body, your dress uncomfortable where the alcohol seeped into it. You’re sure that you look a mess, knowing that tear smudged makeup would be the last thing to complete your disheveled look. 

“Another rough night?”

The soft rasp of a voice instantly has you perking up, breath caught in your throat as you take in the tall figure approaching you. His crisply pressed suit hugs his broad shoulders and cinches at an impossibly small waist. His lips are quirked upwards into a small smirk, clearly teasing. Something about it is enticing, setting off a stampede in your stomach.

“How could you tell?” You mumble, trying not to stare as Anton settles into a lounge chair across from you.

The man’s smirk just deepens. “Wild guess. What happened?”

“I spilled champagne on myself and now I look a mess.”

“You don’t,” Anton states, smirk dropping from his face. “You could never look bad.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “How would you even know that? You’ve only seen me twice.”

Anton chuckles, finally relaxing into the plush of his chair. His legs separate ever so slightly at the action, allowing you to admire his mile-long legs. It’s almost frustrating, how perfect he looks. You imagine that if anyone never looks bad, it’s him.

“I’ve seen you way more than twice, Y/N.”

The simple statement has you turning your eyes away from his figure, meeting his open gaze. He seems so casual, so unbothered, as if that one sentence hasn’t turned your world upside down.

“Wait, what?” You find yourself tripping over your words in the rush to get them out. “Wh-what do you mean you’ve seen me more than twice? I only met you the first time at that contracting dinner a few weeks ago.”

Anton chuckles again, cocking his head in a puppy-like manner. “Yeah, that was the first time we’ve met, but I’ve seen you so many times. You and your family have been at every major event since we were kids. How could I not see you?”

“But, I’ve never–,”

“I know,” Anton interrupts. “I like to stay outside or in whatever lounge areas I can find. These things always make me really anxious.”

Wow, you didn’t expect such an honest admission from a man of Anton’s status. If anything, his candor makes him much more attractive, as if he could get even more perfect.

“You know we’re supposed to hate each other?” He asks, a small smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Apparently you’re my rival in the field, and I’m supposed to hate everything you say and do.”

Unfortunately, you know the feeling, causing you to let out a small giggle. “Oh trust me, I know. Do you, though?”

“Hate you?”

You nod, fighting a smile as Anton pretends to think.

“Nah,” he eventually answers. “My grandfather taught me from a very young age that I should never harbor negative feelings for beautiful women.”

The implication has heat rushing to your face, forcing you to struggle to keep your composure. “Well, my family has always told me that attractive men always have impure intentions.”

Anton chuckles, shaking his head slightly. He takes a beat before standing, letting his eyes rake over your still seated figure as he begins to retreat down the hallway. It’s impossible to decipher where the intensity of his gaze stems from. He eyes you as if he were hungry, trapping you against the couch with his stare alone.

“Then let me show you just how impure my intentions are.”

The man is gone with little more than a wink and a smile, leaving you with warm cheeks and the scent of champagne clouding your nose. 

.        .        .

You’re surprised to see Anton as soon as the next event, only three weeks later. It’s a simple charity ball for some rare disease research, but for some reason, Anton has decided not to hide in the shadows for this event. It’s interesting to watch how despite his supposed anxiety, he is clearly in his element. He greets everyone kindly, shooting various guests a charming smile as he is introduced to them. His father looks proud of him, a hand kept clapped over his shoulder the entire time. 

You wonder if he’s comfortable like this, with a blur of people and faces constantly passing by him. However, you are instantly snapped out of your wondering when a manicured hand grips your shoulder. The feeling of your mothers lips close to your ear sends a shiver down your spine, a perpetually bad omen. 

“Straighten up,” she scolds. “We’re going over to talk to the Lees. Their son is making a public appearance at an event like this for the first time. No funny business.”

You would laugh if not for the uncomfortable way her nails dig into your shoulder. It forces you to instantly fall in line behind your father, taking a deep breath as you get closer to the Lees. What is only a few seconds feels like hours until you finally stand face to face with your supposed rival. 

“Yoon Sang, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” your father greets, shaking the hands of the head of the Lee family. 

He even leans in to place a friendly kiss on Mrs. Lee’s cheek. You find yourself standing frozen in place as the parents exchange greetings, unable to do anything but stare at the man before you. He sports his signature charming smile, mouth full of perfectly white teeth on display. Not for the first time, you feel your face grow warm. 

“We thought it was about time for our Y/N to meet Anton. After all, they will be competitors when they take over the respective businesses, right?”

Your father’s comment snaps you back to attention. However, you are immediately distracted by the feeling of Anton’s large hand engulfing yours, his palm both warm and surprisingly soft to the touch. You have to glance upwards to meet his eyes, but it’s impossible to miss the amused glint in his stare. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I have heard so much about you.”

You force a smile on your face. “The pleasure is all mine.”

It’s easy to tune out the conversation after that, letting the adults blabber on while you reminisce about the feeling of Anton’s hand in yours. The man seems to be similarly distracted, clearly eyeing your figure. The silence between you speaks volumes, and you hope your parents are too deaf to hear it. 

“We would love to have Anton over at our headquarters sometime,” your mother suggests, her piercing voice rising above the noise of the ball. “I’m sure Y/N would be happy to show him around!”

You don’t even have time to process the full body panic that begins to overcome you before Anton’s family is readily agreeing. 

“I agree that it would be great for them to know the ins and outs of the business,” Mr. Lee replies with an overly saccharine smile. “We would love to have Y/N over for lunch at the estate as well. Who knows? Maybe they’ll find themselves to be friends.”

Your dad chuckles, obviously disgusted by the thought. “You’re so right. The two might even do a merger some day!”

As the group erupts into phony laughter, you feel the beginnings of a migraine tingling behind your left eye. Something about the cacophony of laughs and the dull classical music is making you ache, your stomach starting to swim with nausea. You dare a glance upward, fighting the pain that blooms in your head with the motion. 

Anton’s gaze is bright where it meets yours, a soft smile poised on his full lips. His cheeks are dusted with a slight blush, clearly flustered by the implications. There’s a slight fidget in his fingers, twirling expensive rings as a means of soothing himself. 

He’s cute, you realize, not for the first time. 

It’s only after a few more moments that the families say goodbye, the Lees promising to send a lunch invitation soon. Anton shoots you another smile before he follows behind his family, suddenly looking small despite his large stature. You can’t help but smile as you watch his departure, suddenly realizing that your migraine has disappeared. 

.         .         .

The Lee estate is just as gorgeous as you expected it to be, with tall stone gates and artfully placed landscaping. It looks impossibly large from where you’re seated in the car, causing nerves to begin to creep up your spine. You pass off the butterflies that begin to flutter in your core as obvious intimidation that comes with being on the property of your family’s biggest rivals. It surely has nothing to do with an overly soft voice, broad shoulders, and kind eyes. 

“Remember,” your mother had told you before sending you off. “This is business. Reveal nothing and absorb everything. And most importantly, remember that Anton Lee is not your friend.”

You take a step out onto the perfectly paved driveway, surprised to already see someone standing by the door. Anton seems to perk up when you lock eyes, shooting you a polite smile. His wave betrays his excitement, though. You imagine that if he were a puppy, his tail would be wagging. 

“Y/N, hey! I’m glad you actually came.”

“Please,” you shoot him a cheeky smile. “As if I could ever turn down an invitation from the Lee family.”

Anton lets out a slight groan. “Don’t remind me that this is ‘business.’”

“Well then what would you like for me to call it?”

Anton shrugs, turning to hold the front door open for you. It’s only when you pass through the threshold, Anton still standing behind you that he responds. 

“A lunch date.” Before you have the chance to respond, Anton is shutting the door behind you both. “Come this way. Food’s on the patio.”

It takes a few turns down intricate hallways to get to a set of double doors that lead to the patio. As promised, there’s an assortment of sandwiches and salad laid out on a round table, two seats set across from each other. You would be impressed, if not for the even more stunning view that lay before you. 

The patio looks out on sprawling gardens, tall bushes and blooming flowers swaying softly in the breeze. A little beyond the landscaping, a wooden dock leads out to a large pond, its greenish-blue water seemingly sparkling under the midday sun. 

“Wow, this is beautiful,” you breathe out, unable to take your eyes off the sight before you. 

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it? My parents have always had an affinity for water.”

You imagine that all of their properties have pools or lakes, much like this one. Meanwhile, your own family prefers the hustle and bustle of the concrete jungle, never expanding beyond brutalist modern penthouses in the tallest apartment buildings in the city. It must be nice, you imagine, to have a space that feels like a home and not just another office. 

Eventually, the two of you sit, settling into a comfortable silence as you distribute food amongst yourselves. It’s quite amusing to watch Anton as he eats, clearly possessing the hunger of a growing young man while forcing himself to take small bites and practice the etiquette of an heir. You wonder if you look the same, so obviously restrained while you want to let loose, if only for a bit. 

Despite the fact that you haven’t seen another person since you set foot in the Lee estate, you know that people must be somewhere. There are always eyes on you. 

“I’m surprised that your family was so adamant about having me over,” you begin, settling back in your chair. “I thought I was the enemy.”

Anton smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well you know what they say. Keep the enemy close and all that.”

“Is that what you want to do? Keep me close?”

You know you’re treading in dangerous waters. All it would take is one word about the obvious flirting to Anton’s parents for you to become your family’s disgrace. You can practically see the headline now: Conglomerate Heiress Gets Rejected By Rivals’ Son. Your family would disown you. And yet, as color begins to flood Anton’s cheeks, you can’t find it within yourself to care. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice coming out even softer than usual. “I think that is what I want to do.”

You duck your head, clearing your throat in an attempt to settle the flutter in your stomach. “I’d like that.”

A sudden interest in lunch leaves both of you munching away in silence. It’s peaceful, despite blushing cheeks and racing heartbeats. It allows you to realize that being around Anton is unlike being around anyone else in your family’s circle. Here, there’s no pressure to be prim and proper, no pressure to listen out for secret ins and outs of business. 

It’s odd to find comfort in the one person who is supposed to bring you anything but. And yet, with the warmth of the sun on your face and the pleasant fullness in your belly, you’ve never felt more at home. 

“You know,” Anton starts once you have both cleared your plates. “I think we’re supposed to be talking about business.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Can I be honest?”

Anton nods slightly, honey brown hair shifting across his forehead. 

“The business is the last thing I want to talk about.”

Anton smiles. “Trust me, I feel the same way.”

There’s a beat of silence, the two of you content to simply sit as the breeze ruffles the flowers that dot the landscape. When Anton speaks again, you watch his mouth, noting the way that his lips hold the same hue of the red tulips in the nearby flower bed. 

“Can I show you something?”

The simple question has your gaze flickering back upwards, trying to ignore the way your heart races when his eyes meet yours.

“Sure,” you whisper, words instantly carried away by the wind. 

Following behind Anton through the grass proves to be harder than you imagined, his long legs allowing him to move with a grace and speed that is difficult to match. He leads you in between a maze of flower beds, bringing you deeper into the garden until you’re surrounded by tall hedges on either side. From here, it’s impossible to see the house, so you just continue to follow behind Anton. You find yourself eyeing the broadness of his shoulders and the way his shirt shifts across the muscles of his back as he walks. It’s hypnotizing, so much so that you don’t realize that you have arrived at your destination. 

“This is my thinking spot,” Anton says with a little flutter of his arms, clearly trying to present the space to you. 

The hedge maze has opened up to a small central pocket, not housing much except for a small fountain and a stone bench. Anton is quick to take a seat, motioning for you to occupy the space next to him. It’s a bit of a squeeze, putting you and Anton close enough that you can feel the heat of his skin on your own. You dig your nails into the stone of the bench, hoping that it will steel your nerves. 

“I like to come out here when my parents get in my head about the business. It’s pretty peaceful.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, despite knowing that no one is within earshot. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it really is.”

There’s an airiness to Anton’s voice that has you turning to face him. You take in a sharp inhale when you notice that his eyes are already on you, the close proximity leaving your faces mere inches away from each other. The overwhelming rush of blood in your ears forces you to turn away, taking a deep breath to calm your thundering heartbeat. 

“You take all the girls here?” You aim for teasing, but the slight break in your voice makes it err more on the side of desperation. 

Anton shakes his head earnestly. “You’re the first person I’ve brought here who isn’t my family.”

The admission feels like a sucker punch to the gut. Except there’s no pain, just a rush of warmth that climbs up your throat like ivy. Anton is clearly surprised as well, his own words deepening the pretty flush that has taken hold on his cheeks. His bottom lip is trapped by his teeth, its plushness oh so enticing in the afternoon sun. 

“Y-you know,” you stutter out, swallowing thickly before continuing. “When you said you had impure intentions, I thought you were joking.”

“I don’t think I could joke about how bad I want you.”

It should feel like a corny line. It should feel like something he says to all the girls. After all, he’s Anton Lee. He could get anyone he wanted at the drop of a hat. So why does it feel so real when he says it to you? Why does it feel like those words are meant for you, and only you?

Anton’s gravity is pulling you closer, allowing you to lean further into his space. You’re close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your face, coming out in gentle puffs that reveal just how fast his heart is racing. He has released his bottom lip by now, leaving it glossy with saliva. It’s impossible not to anticipate the smooth glide of it against your own. 

A sudden vibration snaps you both out of your bubble, the two of you popping apart as if you were repelling magnets. It takes a few seconds for you to realize that the vibration is coming from your own phone, buzzing incessantly. You shoot Anton an apologetic look before stepping away to take the call. 

“We need you back home,” your mother rushes from the other side of the line, not bothering to waste time greeting you. “Your father wants to hear about your business with the Lees before he heads to his strategy meeting in an hour.”

“But the Lee house is thirty minutes away!”

You can practically hear your mother’s eye roll over the phone. “Then you better get going.”

.         .         .

Business meeting, my house at 4pm?

The text comes as both a surprise and the most expected invitation in the world. In your flurry to leave his house the week before, you had made sure to leave the man with your number. In turn, he smiled wide, promising to invite you over for another “business meeting” soon. 

Before you can inquire about how much business will actually be necessary to discuss, your phone buzzed again. 

My parents just left for a business trip to Milan. 

A flutter rushes through your stomach at the implications. It’s clear what that means, that the two of you will finally have a chance to act on your chemistry without the watchful eyes of competitive families. The two of you will finally get to exist as your own people, and not as rivals and heirs of major global conglomerates. 

The thought alone has you spending extra time on your appearance as you get ready. You make sure your hair sits just right and that your lips are perfectly glossy before pulling on a swimsuit and heading over. You try your best to remain as still as possible during the entire ride there, knowing that nerves in combination with the late summer heat will be enough to set you aflame. 

Your heart is slamming in your chest by the time you finally pull into Anton’s driveway. It’s accompanied by a soft flutter of affection when you spot Anton’s figure, waving at you from the doorway. The wide smile on his face alone is enough to melt you. But the relaxed fit of his muscle tee and the way his swim shorts sit low on his hips has your face flooding with heat. 

He greets you with a tight hug when you cross the threshold into the house. You try not to swoon at the firm pressure of his arms around your torso, ignoring the heat of his bare skin on your own. Anton had never touched you before, not beyond a simple handshake exchanged in front of parents, always respectful to a fault. For the first time, you find yourself grateful for that fact, knowing that now that you’ve had a taste of his touch, you will forever be addicted. 

“I’m so happy to see you,” Anton gushes. “My parents have been really getting on my nerves about business and competition lately.”

“So you decided to invite the competition over to chill?”

Anton smiles, cocking his head in a puppy-like manner. “No, I invited the competition over to swim!”

So that’s why he reminded you to wear a bathing suit mere minutes before you left for his house. It makes sense, from the minimal texts that the two of you exchanged. Anton was always excited about the balanced heat of late summer, citing it as the perfect time for a lakeside swim. You wouldn’t know, of course, never having the luxury of having a lake in your backyard.

“What about your staff?”

“I let everyone have the afternoon off,” Anton responds proudly before letting his smile sink into something softer, more private. “I just wanted us to have some time alone.”

The simple admission rings out loudly in the otherwise quiet house. It’s clear how badly Anton wants this, how bad he wants your company despite the taboo that comes with it. Unsurprisingly, you find yourself wanting it just as bad, if not more. You’ve never craved anyone’s presence the way you have craved Anton’s, despite him being the one person in the world that you supposedly need to keep your distance from.

A small nod on your end is enough for Anton’s smile to grow once again, pearly whites on full display as his eyes wrinkle at the corners. The sight alone has your heart beating a little harder in your chest, the minor flutter in your abdomen growing into a full stampede of emotions. The feeling only intensifies as Anton engulfs your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as he leads you out into the backyard.

The late afternoon sun sparkles against the water, illuminating everything in a blue-yellow glow. It’s the most captivating sight for miles, you’re sure, until Anton begins to take his shirt off. The way his muscles shift under his unblemished skin rivals the beautiful surface of the lake, sparkling in its own way. His shoulder blades dance across his back enticingly as he leans down to remove his socks and shoes.

He shoots you a smile over his shoulder before cannonballing right into the water.

It takes only a few seconds for the man to reemerge, slicking his honey brown hair off of his forehead. His biceps bulge with the movement before waving you into the water. It’s as clear of a signal as any, but you can’t help but hesitate, suddenly shy at the thought of stripping down to your bikini in the presence of such a man. But the delicate reflection of sunlight in his eyes and the easy smile on his face is enough to draw you in.

Before you know it, you’re discarding your clothes, taking a running head start to join Anton in the water.

Your skin is submerged in an icy chill, the water surprisingly cool for so late in the day. But soon the warmth of another body is nearing, making the cold that much more bearable. You resurface with a giggle, giddy from the feeling of swimming so long. Instantly, Anton is joining in, clearly happy seeing you filled with such glee. 

“Fuck, it’s cold!” You exclaim, shrieking when Anton splashes a bit of water your way. 

“It’ll get better,” Anton grins. “You just gotta keep swimming.”

It’s easy to do as told, letting your body relax as you continue to wade in the cool water. Eventually you let yourself fall into your back, feeling the contrast between the warm sun on your face and the cool water surrounding your body. It’s serene, allowing you to let your worries quite literally float away. However, the feeling of a chilled hand grazing your hip is enough to snap you out of your relaxation, scrambling to right yourself in panic. 

“Sorry!” Anton chuckles. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just getting bored without you.”

“It’s okay,” you soothe, finding that the pace of your heart is beginning to quicken for an entirely different reason. 

Anton looks especially beautiful like this, with his damp hair splayed messily across his head and drops of water dripping down his face. The sun has just begun to set, painting Anton’s skin with a beautiful golden hue. His eyes glisten just like the water, sunlight sparkling as it dances across the reflective surfaces. Like this, Anton seems so bright, so luminous, that hating him seems impossible. 

“I’m really glad you came today,” Anton says, his voice dropping to that soft shy tone he always uses in the presence of others. “I’m glad to have someone who gets what it's like.”

You can’t resist the smile that begins to tug on the corners of your mouth. “You’re not just saying this to get my family’s business secrets?”

Anton huffs out a laugh. “No. I’m saying this because I really like you. I like spending time with you, even though I’m supposed to hate it.”

With every word, you find yourself drifting closer to the man, his hand remaining steady on your hip as you tread lightly. Despite the obvious effort to keep your head above water, you feel like you’re drowning. But the slick feeling of Anton’s skin against yours reminds you that you won’t drown. Anton won’t let you. 

“I like you, too.”

The simple admission has Anton’s face flushing, the pretty rose color glistening orange in the light. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. You hate to dull his beauty in this moment, but you have to. 

“But what about our families? It’s not like the two of us can ever be anything.”

Anton sighs, his face dropping with realization. “I know, but…is it crazy to say that I don’t care?”

The hand on your hip tightens, pulling you even closer into Anton’s space. It’s close enough that the two of you end up bumping knees every so often, constantly moving to keep yourselves afloat. Here, in his space, you can see the way that his lashes cast subtle shadows on his cheeks. It’s easy to count the few moles that pepper his face and neck, sitting stark upon unblemished skin. 

When his eyes meet yours, it becomes clear what you wish to do. No, what you need to do. 

“Anton,” you whisper. “What did you mean when you said you had impure intentions?”

The man moves to open his mouth, but before he can get the first syllable out, you cut him off. 

“Don’t tell me,” you coo. “Show me.”

You would be lying if you said you never thought about the feeling of Anton’s plush lips on yours. In reality, you spent too many nights lying awake, thinking about the slick feel of his mouth on yours, of the way his large hands would feel clutching onto your body, of the feel of his soft brown strands underneath your fingertips. 

But dreams never compare to the real thing. 

Nothing could compare to the pure bliss of having Anton’s mouth slide against your own. He moves fervently, letting the kiss carry the twinge of desperation that you both have felt since you’ve met. It’s far from the polite way that you expected Anton Lee to kiss, but that makes it that much better. 

His nose grazes your cheek as he tilts his head, angling himself to kiss you deeper. His tongue is warm as it eases its way into your mouth, the warmth a welcome contrast to the chill of the lake. The hand that was once grasping your hip travels down to your backside and thigh, lifting you up to wrap yourself around his waist. It’s improper, at the very least, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when Anton sighs softly into your mouth. 

It feels like ages before the two of you part, chests heaving where they remain pressed together. You’re so close that you imagine that even water can’t exist between you two. Anton’s abdomen is solid where your core is pressed up against him, supporting your weight so that neither of you are at risk of sinking. 

“That,” Anton whispers, “is what I meant by impure intentions. 

You can’t help but giggle at the boy’s breathless tone, suddenly feeling giddy that you were the one to make him this way. You were the one to fluster the ever-perfect Anton Lee. It was you. It’s always been you. 

“Our parents…” you mutter reflexively, your mind a war zone. 

“Hey,” Anton coos, bringing a hand under your chin. 

With just a gentle tilt, you meet his eyes, instantly getting lost in the way his gaze bores into yours. As if he can’t help himself, Anton leans in to place a quick peck on your lips. When you part, a soft whine escapes your lips, mourning the loss of your lover’s kiss. 

“Y/N, we’ll figure it out. I won’t let this go south because of our parents.”

You nod nervously, trying your hardest to believe in the reassurance that Anton is trying to provide you. As if he could sense the residual nerves, Anton presses his lips against your forehead in a soft kiss. The sensation makes your eyes flutter shut, a content smile beginning to grown on your face. After a brief moment, Anton chuckles. 

“Who knows?” He mutters. “Maybe our parents will get that merger after all.”

.         .         .

[8 years later]

BREAKING NEWS: Lee Enterprises and TOTAL, Inc. have announced a historic merger to form one mega-corporation. This announcement comes one year after CEO and President of Lee Enterprises, Anton Lee, and Chairperson of TOTAL, Inc., Y/N Y/L/N, announced their marriage. The new multinational conglomerate will be known as Lakeside, LLC, and is said to have a current stock value of over five billion dollars.

.FIN.

[megaderping]

A while ago, I made a post going into parts of the missable Sae Palace arc text messages, such as these:

However, that post neglected to include a full transcript. I have since transcribed all of these texts, which occur on 10/30, 11/3, 11/7, and 11/11. You must not infiltrate Sae's Palace until after these dates in order to get these.

Transcripts below the cut! Crossposted to the P5 sub.

The first of these texts takes place on 10/30. You will miss this text if you infiltrate the Palace on the first available day.

--

Ryuji: Yo, Akechi.

Akechi: What is it?

Ryuji: You got any idea who the true culprit might be?

Futaba: Oh yeah! You said you saw a masked guy, right?

Haru: I wanted to ask about that too.

Futaba: Did you really see him? The masked guy's gotta be the true culprit, right?

Akechi: If this so-called true culprit is acting alone, then there can be no mistake about it.

Futaba: I see.

Yusuke: The next question is, who is that masked man?

Akechi: Unfortunately, I do not know that much.

Futaba: Ugh, you're useless.

Akechi: That is quite harsh.

Futaba: Aw, you're making me blush!

Ann: That wasn't a compliment...

Akechi: At this point, I have yet to even grasp any clues. But once this is dealt with, I will surely capture him. I promise you that.

We'll be counting on you.

Akechi: Perfect. Leave it to me. It may sound somewhat odd for me to say this, but I am an exceptional detective. I assure you, I will catch this culprit. Look forward to it.

Can you do it?

Akechi: Hm? Do you not trust me?

[The rest plays out the same as the other option.]

--

What's funny about this exchange is how the Thieves know Akechi's deal and are just playing along. It makes some of the reactions (especially from Haru and Futaba) read as comically passive aggressive. However, the more interesting texts start coming on 11/03, 11/07, and 11/11.

Starting with 11/03.

--

Ryuji: Goddamit. People're acting like we were the ones who killed 'em.

Yusuke: I have even heard them say we are assassins hired to deal with psychotic breakdown victims.

Ann: Ugh, that's obviously not what we're trying to do.

Akechi: This must be part of the plan to shift blame onto the Phantom Thieves. After all, the true culprit is the one killing the people on that ranking list.

This is unforgivable

Akechi: Indeed. I have no intentions of letting this slide.

This is total BS

Akechi: But that is the truth for the general public at the moment.

[Both lead to...]

Futaba: Man, this culprit guy really won't let up. I don't remember ever doing anything that'd make someone hate us THIS much.

Haru: He used my father as well...

Akechi: I cannot fathom what his motive may be... We will just have to capture and interrogate him.

Makoto: But before that, we need to change my sister's heart. That's our first step toward stopping him.

Akechi: I must agree. The true culprit will be caught, but before that we must deal with Sae-san. If ranking is being taken into consideration, perhaps I will be targeted too... Just kidding.

--

This tells us that Shido is deliberately having Akechi target high ranking targets on the PhanSite in order to terrify the public with abhorrent acts of violence, much like he did in April. It's a way to make people feel scared and more reliant on Shido to be the change that Japan needs. But if you secure the treasure as quickly as possible, you will miss this added information that really deepens how cruel he truly is by ordering hits just to paint a convenient narrative.

And this is definitely Shido's idea, because on 11/7 we get this gem...

--

Haru: Do you think the culprit could be someone at our school?

Yusuke: That seems somewhat sudden.

Haru: I mean, didn't they find a calling card in Principal Kobayakawa's office? I thought you had suggested that idea yourself, Yusuke.

Yusuke: That was just a generalization.

Haru: But if Mako-chan noticed what was going on with you guys, somebody else might have too.

Ann: So you think that "somebody else" is trying to frame us? What's gotten into you so suddenly?

Haru: Nothing has gotten into me. I just think there's a chance the culprit is related to Shujin...

You might be right. / There's no way.

[Both get the same response:]

Yusuke: What is all of this about? It's too soon to be jumping to conclusions like this.

Haru: Well, I was hoping to hear a professional opinion on the matter... What are your thoughts, Akechi-kun?

Akechi: The possibility is not zero, but it does seem a bit unlikely.

Haru: Why do you ask?

Akechi: A normal person would never do such a thing. They would have no reason to callously murder your principal.

Haru: And what if they weren't normal?

Akechi: Are you implying they kill for the sheer pleasure of it?

Haru: No, not like that. What I mean is, you need certain special abilities to navigate through that world, yes?

Akechi: Ah, so you're saying the culprit is a Persona-user.

Haru: Yes.

Akehci: I see... How perceptive. Truthfully, I was considering that possibility myself. But it is difficult to think they have ties to Shujin Academy.

Haru: Why?

Akechi: There would be no motive for them to carry out such a cruel plot. Clearly our culprit is acting behind the scenes to accomplish some grand objective. He likely has accomplices. It is even possible that he is being controlled by someone.

Makoto: Controlled? By whom?

Akechi: If I knew that, I do not think we would be in this much trouble.

Haru: I see... So even someone like you doesn't know, Akechi-kun.

Futaba: Looks like our genius detective's not so much of a genius after all.

Akechi: Haha, harsh as always. If there is one thing I know, it is that the culprit behind all of this is extremely shrewd. But don't worry. I will catch him, no matter what it takes.

I'm looking forward to that. / I wonder if you can do it.

Akechi: More importantly, we need to focus on changing Sae-san's heart for the time being. If we cannot do that, everything we have done will be for naught. We absolutely must succeed here.

--

There is so much to unpack here. By far, it's my favorite of these texts because of the light it sheds on Akechi's motivations and intentions. First, we have Haru pressing the subject. She clearly wants to squeeze answers out of Akechi. She's subtly putting him on the spot because she knows...

But Akechi lets slip that no, actually, he doesn't do this for pleasure. That actually, he is being controlled and that the true mastermind is someone shrewd that he intends to take down. Amidst all of Akechi's lies and platitudes during this part of the story, we see a crack in his perfectly prepared mask. In a way, this is the most honest we've seen Akechi outside of his Royal confidant and on 8/28 and 9/3. In a way, he's sharing little slivers of himself with the rest of the team (either begrudgingly or for reasons he doesn't fully understand) the way he already has with Joker.

And it actually explains a few things that happen later. Namely, the way he downplays the need to kill the other Phantom Thieves until after the election (keep in mind, he does intend to knock Shido down from his pedestal) as well as treating Morgana as "just a cat." Obviously, this doesn't absolve Akechi of his guilt, but it does make it clear that he isn't as remorseless as a lot of people believe, even if no amount of sunk cost fallacy is gonna undo the damage he's done.

Hell, when combined with his lamentation that he didn't meet Joker years ago in the engine room and his reaction to Morgana explaining changes of heart, these texts further solidify that his feelings toward both Joker and the Thieves are extremely complex and absurdly messy.

Plus we get Haru and Futaba both taking shots at him, which is fun and also extremely deserved. :p

Moving on, there's one final missable November text on 11/11. It goes as follows:

--

Akechi: So, about the investigation... It seems they have no evidence that can truly be called as such.

Ryuji: Well duh.

Akechi: However, it seems they have no intentions of changing their plans.

Ann: They're going to investigate at both Shujin Academy and Leblanc, right?

Akechi: Indeed.

Makoto: Hm. I can understand Shujin... But why Leblanc?

Akechi: The key is Wakaba Isshiki.

Futaba: Is it cause of my mom's research?

Akechi: Correct. Her study of cognitive psience is closely connected to this case. Of that, there can be no doubt.

Futaba: Then this guy's really the mastermind behind all of this?

Akechi: That would be the case. There can be no mistake... The one who erased cognitive psience from this world is surely the culprit behind everything.

Makoto: And getting rid of the research was the only way they could use its powers?

Akechi: How perceptive of you. Yes, that is the only logical conclusion. Both Sae-san and I were searching for clues about that research. But just as we were about to deepen our investigation, this commotion began. And to make things even more troublesome... There was only one person with strong connections to both Shujin Academy and Leblanc. And that person turned out to be the leader of the Phantom Thieves.

Yusuke: So the culprit had calculated all of this in advance?

Akechi: Heavens no. That would be impossible. This was a miracle created by the coinciding of multiple chance situations.

Ryuji: Dude, you hear that? He says you got miraculously bad luck. Don't that make you feel good?

I'm so lucky.

Ryuji: Y'know, shitty luck is still luck.

That's not funny.

Ryuji: C'mon, you gotta be able to laugh it off at this point.

Haru: Yes, your luck really is impressive.

Akechi: At any rate, that's the current state of things. And that's why we must obstruct the investigation at all costs.

Makoto: Yes, that's our intention.

--

Once again, we have Akechi laying it on thick that Shido is the one behind everything, as he was the one who ordered the hit on Wakaba, stole her research, and had his own research team develop it further. And keep in mind, Shido's own words, first on 11/21...

"Those who get in the way must be eliminated at times—that's the correct way to use the Metaverse."

And later, his Shadow states, "Moreover, it was thanks to me that Akechi was able to properly use his power to begin with."

So we know that even the idea of inducing mental shutdowns came from him, even if Akechi offered his Metaverse abilities as part of his stupid revenge plan.

What this shows is Akechi wants to hint that there is this bigger puppet master, even if he's going to betray the Thieves, and this is actually really consistent with his Royal confidant. In Rank 7, he uses a billiard games as a metaphor for the upcoming betrayal kill and gives Joker an out, even if he's much happier if you assert your rivalry instead. This makes his warnings about the connections to Wakaba carry a very similar feeling, and since these texts were in Vanilla, it's likely that the Royal confidant built on this foundation.

But then there's the fact that the Thieves are fully in the know that Akechi is going to betray them, so it recontextualizes all these texts where they are genuinely trying to squeeze as much info out of him as they can and likely having to restrain themselves hard (especially Futaba and Haru).

And all of this you will never see unless you delay the infiltration until 11/12. So, the next time you play Persona 5 Royal, it might be worthwhile to delay Sae's Palace to see these in-game! They're really cool and it's a shame they aren't scripted events.

[mizu0xox0]

Self aware! Hsr males learning that you simp for Aventurine (Dan Heng, Dr Ratio and Sunday)

Note: kinda crack ig? I mean it sounds like crack already, kinda ooc as I wrote this for fun

Self aware! Dan Heng does some research through the data bank to look at what qualities does Aventurine has that stands out much more then other characters that makes him so intriguing to you

Self aware! Dan Heng who silently judges you if you say anything involving you simping for Aventurine like he's not jealous but it kind of concerns him with the amount of phrases you can say about this certain subject

Self aware! Dan Heng who isn't easily ticked by anything but sometimes when he heard Aventurine boasting about being your ideal type or something around that well let's say Aventurine is knocked out by Dan Hengs spear

Self aware! Dan Heng who might crit more and might even do more damage then Aventurine no matter how bad his build is, just to try to impress you more

Self aware! Dan Heng who doesn't really mind you talking but maybe once in awhile switch the subject to something other then Aventurine but not like you knew he could hear you

Self aware! Dan Heng who really questions what you see in Aventurine, what stood out from the gambler more than the other characters was it his luck? His clothing? Or something else...

Self aware! Ratio who questions your idiocy sure you're a somewhat higher being then them even if you didn't know of it but of all the people you could've chosen to simp for why the damn gambler

Self aware! Ratio who is losing years and years of his life the more he hears you yap about Aventurine and when he hears a single down bad one believe me when I say the "Zero points! Get out!" voice line was intentional

Self aware! Ratio whose voice lines seem now scarily on point whenever you start talking about Aventurine and you swear you can feel him side eyeing you through the screen

Self aware! Ratio who doesn't hesitate to chuck chalk and hit Aventurine with his codex repeatedly if he starts boasting

Self aware! Ratio who starts to crit less and less if he hears you yap about Aventurine during battle and if Aventurine is in your team somehow he's taking damage despite having his shield active (Ratio is actively throwing chalk at him)

Self aware! Ratio who takes a look at what intrigued you so much about Aventurine maybe he could learn a few pointers or maybe not

Self aware! Sunday let's be honest during the one part of the story where he used the order on Aventurine well he makes it hurt more intentionally but he also feels bad since it's not something Aventurine could control

Self aware! Sunday who used his birds to spy on Aventurine to see what of Aventurine's mannerisms caught your eye to like him to this point

Self aware! Sunday who looks completely calm on the outside but on the inside he's questioning many things you've said about Aventurine

Self aware! Sunday who's boss seems to attack Aventurine more than your other team

Self aware! Sunday who covers his ears with his wings sometimes when your yapping starts getting down bad and very down bad by that

♡

Thank you for reading and I apologize if any of these were ooc and sorry for the lack of writing as I've been busy grinding wuwa and PGR as of late

[incidentallysunny]

Through The Skin

Real Uncle!Leon

Dead dove warning.

7k word count. Proof read lightly. Critique is welcomed and my skin is thick for it.

I'd like to appear in the tagz pls so here's a warning. My writing is not ever meant to be taken literally and is just for the sake of writing fxcked up content that I enjoy writing. If you do not wish to read this, please do not as my intentions are not to offend or make you intentionally uncomfortable but if you choose to read- don't be hateful. With that out of the way, extremely sensitive content and dead dove material ahead.

Specifically blood-related incest, smut, suicidal ideation, mentions of grotesque imagery, light mentions of gore in a hypothetical scenario, age-gap, overall just some disturbing topics.

As far as smut specifically: this includes talking of public sex, public female oral-recieving, Leon has dick piercings surprise, make and female oral, fingering, unprotected sex, cream-pie (wrap your willy irl pls) praise, dirty talk, spitting, any probably some other irrelevant shit I'm forgetting my bad.

PROCEED if you read the above, are okay with it, and are mentally unwell like I am. Happy reading, it's a long one.

To be quite frank, you didn’t give a shit about a single holiday party that your parents threw. Having to hug and touch on people you didn’t even know, putting on a fake smile and pretending as if you remembered them at all. Exhausting for a young woman to keep up this charade for so long. You’re sure your relatives noticed the dying spark in your eyes over time. Living Growing does that to a person. You spent all night fetching beers and other pre-packaged, alcoholic drinks- hoping he would show up every time you had to hand one out. Still one less face you’re can be enthralled to see.

You sat at the dining table, leaned onto an elbow with your face in your palm. Clearly a dejected and annoyed pose but everyone here was too cheery or already deep in the ‘special occasion’ wine bottle to even piece that together. Your other hand traced the ringed patterns in the wood surface, wondering how old it had been before it was chopped down ruthlessly by some hot guy with a chainsaw who was getting paid way too much to be fucking up nature left and right. All so that some college-aged girl could sit at the furniture it had been made into and sulk. God, an almost 40 year old tree. That’s pretty fucking old. You’re glad it lived a somewhat long life (in human years, not tree years.) ‘Cause some trees live a few hundred or even thousand years. So maybe it was taken too soon before it became the placeholder for your familial drunken talks. While you were distracted, annoyed, and pitying yourself, the table all erupted into ‘Hey, long time no see!’s , laughter, and other delightful sentiments that were jolly and deafening enough to make you jump. Loud noises weren’t your thing.

Before you could regain your composure and turn your torso in the hand-carved, deep-brown varnished chair- a hand graced the presence of your slumped shoulder.

“Hey, babydoll. Long time no see.” The voice greeted, husky and rough like a patch of concrete you’ve definitely scraped your knee on a time or two. Basically, it was familiar, which is what you’re getting at.

Uncle Leon.

You turned your full body now, swinging your legs to the side of the seat- a few laughs slopped from the table.

Everyone knew how much you loved and fawned over your Uncle- your dad rivaling how much you seemed to prefer his brother over him. Well duh, dad. It’s because he’s fun and you’re a hard-ass. And ugly to look at. Your poor, poor mom.

It had been years since you saw your uncle. Since you were freshly 18, to be exact. Your dad wasn’t too keen on having him around his barely-legal daughter- probably because he could practically smell it on you that you want your uncle to pop your cherry. You still remembered his few quirks, too. He was always sloppy yet casually drunk wherever he was, he hated fireworks (due to PTSD as your dad explained), and he had always been known to be grabby with people- probably because of the alcohol. He was a weird guy, but you loved him all the same. It broke the normalcy of your home and made things interesting to be around him. However- none of this was the focus. His stubble, dark-liquored bags under his eyes that almost resemble eyeliner, and dark-tinted hair were. And god, his chin. Could be a replacement for a Sybian, if you had one. All of that aside, he looks sexy. That’s so fucking weird to say about your dad’s brother, but calling it weird is also so outdated. Fucking your hot, middle-aged uncle is in; getting a boyfriend your age is out.

You stood up swiftly, hugging him tightly around the waist and almost toppling him. He chuckled, steadying himself with one arm around your back and the other on the table to catch himself. Once he felt he was steady enough, the other arm joined around you- the embrace squeezing you like a stress ball. You worried that your eyes might be a little more loose in your skull than before.

“Gotta be careful, kiddo. You’re gonna take down your uncle one of these days.” He teases, moving out of the hug and letting his hands explore their way down your back- resting on the small of it. Digits perched like a bird where your back starts to curve into your ass- not sweetly or gentle- but like one of those huge-taloned hawks that would rip your flesh off. You only say that because his hands are big and rough- and you’ve heard stories of what your uncle does for work (plus the alcohol is making him need to stabilize himself so he doesn’t crash you both into the nearby counter and cause any serious brain injury. At least then you could excuse the bubbling of strange feelings as TBI). Oh, and with how handsy he was known to be (Just ask your Aunt Claire on your mom’s side). But he had never been that way with you- not until now.

You see your dad eyeing him like the same kind of big-taloned hawk from across the table. They’re cut from the same feathers- except your dad must have been the one that never learned to fly. Pushed out of the nest by a sharp shove of a beak and bit every branch of the ugly tree on the way down. Cause he’s a lot weaker and uglier than your uncle. How he pulled your mom is a miracle and a mystery.

“Hey, uh. Honey. Come sit back down. No need in playing into your uncle’s fashionably late, drunken stupor.” He quips towards you while grilling Leon about being late, nursing his own drink with that ugly grin. You roll your eyes. Leon removes his hands from you- putting them up in defense of himself and leaving your back with an empty feeling.

“Hey, hey. Just hugging my beautiful niece.” He turned to address you again. “Been years since I’ve seen you, sweetheart. Look even better than your momma.” You feel a blush creep up at Leon’s words, but your dad clears his throat and your mom pays him no mind. Just an eye roll and sip of a wine cooler. To be honest, even she probably fucked your uncle. You couldn’t blame her if she did.

You huff and sit back down, crossing your arms. Your dad always had to ruin everything. If you fuck your uncle or kiss him or whatever and don’t like it, you can just go to therapy. Leon snickered behind you, patting your shoulder before leaning in next to your ear.

“Come join me out on the deck in a bit. I’m sure you’re tired of being smothered in here with the fun police.”

You feel muggy from his words. Like a Louisiana swamp type muggy. Is your hair sticking to you? Are there zika-virus bearing mosquitos pricking you or is that just undiagnosed anxiety?

You bounce your leg under the table while you hear the sliding door open and close in the distance. Minutes pass of you twiddling your thumbs- and you excuse yourself to sneak off- exiting out the same heavy sliding door that Leon used.

When you sealed it behind you- the smell of whiskey filled your nostrils- sizzling off any hairs that your nose so proudly grew for much needed germ-protection. A hand slapped itself gracelessly onto the glass above you in the dark, trapping you in place. Predictable uncle.

“Shit, sorry sweetheart. Lost my footing. Y’know how it is. I’m always taking spills here and there.” You felt giddy and blistered all over, speaking back to him.

“S’okay. Sorry about dad.” You excused, breathing in. Leon’s other hand patted you low on your hip as he chuckled into your ear- sending off more whiskey breath.

“It’s okay, sweet thing. Your dad can be that way. I’m not exactly safe to be around in his eyes. Besides, he’s just doing his job- looking out for his little girl.” He explains, not making any efforts to move. You predicted this- but it wasn’t unwelcome.

“Why’s that?” You dare to ask, sounding purposefully puzzled- but Leon knows better. And you know the answer.

“It’s ‘cause your Uncle likes ‘em young and pretty.” He mulls the information over you, the words sliding down you like a vibration that sets off a perfect sensation to your already throbbing clit. Because you’re always horny. The hand on your hip now kneads your ass under your skirt- somehow getting there without notice.

“O-oh.” You choke on the word like it’s quicksand in your throat- but only the quicksand is the prospect of having your uncle plow you until you develop early onset dementiaSo really, the quicksand isn’t bad in this instance. You jump into it face first for a good mouthful.

“Shouldn’t be wearing something so short when you know your dirty old uncle is coming over. Can’t keep my eyes where they’re supposed t’be.” He mutters low, leaning down to tickle the shell of your ear with his voice.

“Knew you were coming over. I wanted to look pretty for you.” Saying it makes your head spin, but like in the good way. The sound Leon makes is between a groan that says ‘good god, I’m going to bury my cock inside you right the fuck now’ and ‘I figured as much’. A simple cocktail of horniness and knowing.

“Mm, just want to kiss you everywhere, you know? Love it how sweet you are.” He murmurs into your scented hair, using the hand from the wall to push aside any strands that are in his way. He kisses the back of your neck and his breath scorches your skin. The affection is sloppy and leaves small bits of saliva behind, his barely-darting-out tongue making you ache even more.

“U-uncle.” You shuddered, a slight protest to your voice. Not ‘cause you don’t like it but because you’re worried someone will see. Or that you’ll never want off of his dick. He can be your personal IUD, all buried in your cervix.

Leon ignored the shared thought that someone could see because the way you referred to him made his dick jump in his jeans. Plus, the whole family knows he’s a sleeze. They’d see him balls deep in you and say ‘Ah, that’s Leon for you’ And look the other way until his next sexual prospect. One of the many reasons that Aunt Claire doesn't visit and Aunt Ada divorced his ass. Her loss. You’d happily share him if it were you. It’s only right to share a man that looks like a washed-up pornstar. His dick is great too. Not ‘cause you’re guessing- but because you saw it one time. Last time you saw him actually- the whole incident that left you wanting to see him again oh-so-badly. He had stumbled in the bathroom to piss- ignoring you at the sink. It’s whatever, he was totally wasted and probably didn’t see you. Nor did he probably see the fact you were gawking at his big dick. Or his nice ass, cause he had let his pants drop completely in his hazy state.

“Mm, what is it, babydoll? Hey- Think anyone’d notice if I fingered this sweet little pussy right now?” His voice cut through your memory and thick, long fingers teased the swell of your pussy lips through your underwear, making your hips contract with excitement. Your breath fans over the glass and smogs it.

“I don’t know- maybe.” You huff, trying to keep your composure. It sure is fucking hard when God’s gift to women is about to finger-fuck you at your parent’s house with 20 or so family members inside the property. You second guess yourself now. Maybe God's gift to women doesn’t go around playing with a pussy that belongs to their niece. Or maybe God was fed up with some girls missing out so he created sexually-attractive uncle’s to even any scores. You’ll be attending church this upcoming Sunday. Not because you’re going to follow through with blood-related fornication but because you want to thank the higher-ups properly for this fine piece of ass you’re about to receive from. Or maybe you shouldn’t step foot there, the whole ‘bursting into flames for egregious sinning’ type thing. Wait a minute- there’s literally daddy-daughter incest in the Book of Genesis, so you’ll happily sin away and tell god to fuck off while doing it. Okay maybe that’s a little uncalled for.

Leon tugged your panties to the side, breathing shakily.

“Fuck. I gotta see it, baby.” He mumbles, dropping to one knee with the other bent and still supporting the front of him. Underwear aside, he uses his hands to spread you out- taking in the sight of your damp folds. Damp is putting it lightly. His thumb collects some of your slick and he nearly cums right there.

“You save your first time for me?” He questions. In his mind, you’ve already had a dick or two. He can work with that. Those little guys your age don’t match up to him, but he’s blindsided when you whine about being a virgin, begging him to stick it in or something. Now, Leon’s not the greatest guy morally. At all. But if he’s going to pop your pussy like a soda cap for the first time, he’s going to do it in private cause he’s not stopping for anything. And privacy allows just that. Again- it’s not about it being special, just private. He’ll turn you out good and well.

“Sorry sweetheart. I wanna fuck this needy hole when it’s just us. Think you can wait?” He asks, before darting his tongue out to taste you and lapping up any of you that’s continuously dripping out from pent-up arousal. Your knees almost buckle and he puts his hands under the curve of your ass to hold you still. Your brain goes so mushy you almost forgot to respond.

“Y-yes, uncle Leon.” You whine like a pathetic puppy- begging for something that it didn’t need. But actually, you did need your uncle’s dick so badly. He laughs against your cunt, seemingly happy with that answer. Before you can properly nut like you want, you see your dad pass by in the distance of the sliding door. You tap the glass gently to alert Leon with a small series of clicks. He shoots his head up, yanking your panties back into place and using the sleeve of his leather jacket to wipe his mouth.

“Fuck- always such a blue-balling asshole for anyone, I swear. Sorry, pretty girl.” He smooths down your hair, making sure you look presentable. Well- besides your face that’s red enough to be used as a lit flare.

“Go inside. I’m sure he’s looking for you, babydoll.” He grabs you drunkenly by the upper arm, pulling you in to kiss you on the cheek.

“Come by mine sometime. I’ll be home, for once.” He mutters the last part, loosening his hold on you and starting down the steps of the deck.

“Okay. I’ll see you later, Uncle Leon.” You sound so disappointed and miserable. Pouty. Leon gets it.

“Later, babydoll.”

He heads down the path of the backyard and through the connecting gate that leads to the driveway, the sound of his motorcycle’s engine revving is the cue that he’s definitely headed off.

You let yourself back in, acting inconspicuous. But your dad is already waiting with crossed arms. Yuck.

“Did I not tell you several times about hanging around your uncle. He’s a weird guy. I don’t mind him coming over but, god.” He lays into you, mostly just insulting his brother. You roll your eyes as you normally do. You’ve never not had an attitude with your father. He was born to be shit on in your eyes- barely deserved your mom, as is. Besides, He had no backbone whatsoever.

“Just go upstairs.” He asked, cause he never told you to do anything. Just asked and hoped you’d listen. You were pleased enough to have gotten as much as your uncle tonguing your cunt, so you can comply a bit longer. You go upstairs to your room, shutting the door and lying down.

—

It’s a week later when you finally get to see your uncle. You managed to convince your dad to let you borrow his car, ‘cause you’re a broke college student and can’t afford that right now. Plus you’re spoiled but not enough for a car, apparently. Whoops. Probably because your dad knows as soon as he signs the papers, you’re going to drive to his brother’s house and impale yourself on his dick for life. He’d rather you go to college and get a train ran on you or something, at least.

You hoped you had remembered the right place at first, until Leon’s motorcycle was spotted in the lot. Good, he’s home. You still questioned your memory as you were walking up the flights of stairs in the apartment building, tugging down the back of your skirt when you felt it was airing out your ass too much (for any passerbys, not Leon). After reaching the 12th floor and navigating the scarily clean hallway (the few decorations in the area made it less horror-esque), you found the right (?) door. Your knock was soft because again, you weren’t entirely sure. Just going off of childhood memories.

After hearing a shuffle inside, it didn’t take long for it to swing open, Leon standing in the doorway shirtless with a pair of grey, thin sweatpants loose on his hipbones. His v-line was saying hello to you. Hello to you, too.

“Pretty girl! Hey! Thought you’d never come by. Sorry about the attire- been having a lazy day since I’m off work.” He moved aside for you to come in, the door shutting behind you when you accepted the unspoken invitation. His place was nice. A little cluttered with a half-packed suitcase; clothes messily thrown on top and some paperwork and a passport in a heap on the desk nearby, but still nice. Not to mention spacious. Thank god.

“It’s okay, really. You deserve some relaxation time, you know?” You try to be cool and collected- not getting to the main point of your visit. Even if you did have genuine interest in your uncle as a person.

“Isn’t that the truth? Want a drink?” He asked, already walking towards his kitchen. You don’t immediately reply because the sway of his ass is… something else, but you manage to snap yourself from the hypnotizing gaze of it. He’s got a whiskey glass and bottle already on the counter, waiting for a reply.

“Sure.” You tell him, knowing damn well you can’t handle your alcohol. You get all fucking lovey and touchy, and you’ve only drank like 3 times. And sure. You did come here to fuck him, but you were nervous. Okay, never mind. That gives a complete need for liquid courage.

He makes his way to the hallway- switching something on the AC control before sitting on the couch, adjacent from the chair you’re nestled in. You’re taking small sips of the whiskey, burning your throat, sinuses, and any nervousness down like a forest fire. Leon just sits, legs splayed apart like how men always sit. Except you can see his fat-ass dick print. God, kill me now. Or after I’ve sucked it, at least. You see, too, what looks like indents in the fabric- piercings maybe? Or the folds of the pants are sitting weird.

“Did you find the place okay?” He asks, coming off like he cares- which he does- but he’s mostly waiting to get you and himself sloppy for fucking so he’s just stalling now.

You nod, bottom lip tucked into your mouth- if you talk it’s going to be about his dick being huge or his dick being inside you. Leon allows you another deep sip, finishing off the liquid completely.

“I actually remembered how to get here just about perfectly.” You spoke, laughing a little. Yeah, you’d be gone completely in a few minutes. You already felt yourself slipping into a hazy, bubbly state. Leon could tell, too. Good for him. He loved when the girl was sloppier than the pussy attached to her.

“Smart girl. Always have been.” He took a long, heavy drink- finishing off his glass. You watched how his stomach twitched or moved even the slightest when he adjusted himself, the same with his arms. He was muscular yet lean- like he didn’t eat enough some days. Figures. Beauty isn’t easy and he looked good, and maybe that’s why he got plastered all the time so easily. No appetite=no tolerance. However, you were most certainly not afraid to look at the hard work. Even more so with alcohol brewing in your stomach acid and then liver.

Leon patted his leg, fingers drumming on the material of his sweatpants.

“Come sit. You can tell me more about it on your uncle’s lap.” Gross. Gross in the hot way. The gross-hot way you want him to fold and twist you like a pretzel. So no, you don’t abhor the idea of sitting in his lap.

You don’t even hesitate, standing and nearly falling over- realizing you forgot how wobbly your legs could get while inebriated. Leon reached forward to grab your hand and waist, letting you fall directly onto his lap, ass to crotch. Like a puzzle piece. An incestual puzzle piece- which ideally shouldn’t fit together but it just does.

You feel his cock twitch under you; he’s anticipated this, obviously. His hands slid up your thighs, and down again, then back up- like he’s appreciating them.

“Got the prettiest legs, baby. Want them on your uncle’s shoulders, don’t you?” He cooed, scooting you to the edge of his lap just enough to get his cock out of his bottoms. You turn to look behind you, twisting yourself a bit to get a look at it. Christ. One, he was big. The kind of dick that couldn’t stand ‘cause it was heavy and long. Two. It had a few piercings down the front of his shaft, gleaming in the light. So not only were you about to take your first dick, but a pierced one (like you had suspected). Okay…you didn’t remember seeing those the only other time you ever saw his dick by accident. New additions.

Leon stroked your hair with the hand that wasn’t holding his dick.

“Trust me, feels a lot better than it looks. I promise it doesn’t hurt. Even for virgins.” He adds, like he knows that for a fact. “Nothing you can’t handle for me.”

Okay, he’s right. You’d take his fist if it meant his approval, honestly. How bad could it be?

You move to spin yourself around on his lap, Leon’s amused at your eagerness. He holds his cock, spitting down onto it so he can stroke himself while he puts a hand onto your neck. You’re pulled by the hold into a slow, messy, spitty kiss. He’s definitely experienced, as you are not. His tongue makes its way against yours like he’s silently teaching you how to kiss him open mouthed. Not so hard, you think. He groans into your mouth as he handles himself, maneuvering his cock to brush against your underwear; prodding your clothed clit under your skirt.

You mewl against his lips which only spurs him to kiss you a little more rough now, assuming you’re ready for it. Which you definitely don’t mind. His hand squeezes the side of your neck affectionately, a thumb tracing the skin. You’re thankful you’re in his lap because your knees are weak and your head feels dizzy. It was an exchange of sighs and heavy breathing- no distance. Your hands tangled into his dark locks which is something that Leon loved; having his hair pulled (you could tell by his lusty growl and the shift of his hips). He truly was the epitome of a kinky, dirty old man. If pushing 40 was old. Well, to be fair, you did call the dead tree of a table at your parent’s house old, ‘cause it was 40.

He pulled off of you, your now un-joined mouths drippy with saliva.

“Get in between your Uncle’s legs. Wanna see that pretty mouth on this cock.” He urged, and you found yourself with your calves folded under you in between his parted thighs. He held his cock proudly, and to be honest, the piercings look daunting. How did you even expect yourself to suck on it like you’ve seen in porn? Maybe you should have spent more time watching guys with pierced dicks instead of the step category. You had a preference, clearly.

You snaked your hands up to him, holding his cock with a puzzled look clear on your face. Leon laughed, not like he was laughing at you but the way you laugh at someone when you think what they’re doing is cute.

“Don’t worry about them too much, gorgeous. Just do it how you think you would normally. But pay careful attention with your tongue. Won’t hurt me any, promise.” He reassures you thoroughly, chuckling through a sexually intense gaze. Okay, it seems…. easy enough. Didn’t know dirty old uncles could be so sweet about having their dick sucked.

You lean forward, Leon guiding the head to your mouth.

“Just go slow and focus on the tip. Don’t want my girl to be uncomfortable, now do I?” His girl? You liked the sound of that. Enjoyed it very much. You’d be his girl wherever and whenever. You took him past your lips- suckling on the tip softly and swirling your tongue around it.

“Just like that- fuck- you’re doing great, babydoll.”

The praise edged you on, and you managed enough confidence to glide your tongue down his shaft and over the piercings- flicking over them pornographically. You felt like it was just right. If fucking your uncle could be right in any way of the sense. Leon groaned and his head fell back onto the couch. A large hand found its way to your hair, holding it into a makeshift ponytail. You discovered that it wasn’t too daunting- it was possible to bob your head a little while keeping your tongue exploring the piercings in small swirls and flicks. Just makes your jaw a little tired faster. Besides, seems less scary than taking it inside you.

It’s an alternation of the previous movements and kitten licking up the front of him, and the adornments on his skin only seem to make everything feel much more stimulating. His breath deepens and he guides you now with your hair in hand- looking down at you through deep-brown bangs.

“Fuck- that’s it. Just look at you, dirty little niece I’ve got here, sucking her uncle’s cock like she was made for it. God- so damned pretty with your tongue on me.” His head falls back again for a moment, before he sits up- his labored panting evident.

“Christ. Okay- can’t take it anymore. C’mon, baby. Up.” He says, smacking your bottom when you stand in front of him. You’re feeling a bit ‘five seconds away from crashing into the coffee table and impaling yourself on the broken wood’ type of drunk now.

“Uncle Leon’s gonna pop that cherry, got it? Now sit down and let me lick that sweet pussy. Can still taste it after last time.” He’s speaking filthy things you should hear and run in the opposite direction from- but you don’t.

“My room. Remember where that is?” He mumbles, standing behind you now while he runs his hands down your sides- possessively grabbing at any fabric on you.

You shake your head no.

“Can’t remember. Need you to show me.” You whisper to him, putting your hands over his on your sides. He just muffles a laugh into the crook of your neck and shuffles you along in front of him, the two of you almost falling over multiple times on the way to his bedroom. You’re sure that something did get knocked off the wall at one point, but you literally do not care in any way.

Leon staggers you into the room and pushes you back onto the bed, shedding off his sweatpants. Naked, no boxers. Just full, thick cock and a trail of hair leading up to his belly-button that you haven’t let your eyes leave for however long you’ve been here. Oh, and muscled thighs. One of the greater parts of a man. His hands find their way to your thighs, tugging you to the edge of the bed before invading his thumbs into the waistband of your panties.

“Let’s get these off.” He grunts, pulling them down your legs and tossing them only for the undergarment to land in an unseen place. You go to tug off your skirt, until his hands pin yours to the bed.

“Want you to keep that on. Looks cute.” He says, retracting from you and sinking down at the edge of the bed. In no wasted time, his mouth is lazily lapping at your cunt- making your back bend in the reaction of immediate, overwhelming pleasure. You grabbed at the sheets until you remembered how his body responded when you pulled at his hair- so you found your hold there instead. Tugging his darkened strands with the pace he was eating you out at- stubble against your pussy and nose in your mound. His cheeks tickled your thighs, punching out a soft giggle and squirm from your body between the moaning. It makes him smile into you- reaching a hand up to knead your breast. Honestly, you hoped that the roof caved in right now and took you to your death because no moment would be better than this and that in itself made you suicidal.

You feel a finger slip past your hole, curling itself into that soft wall of fleshy, orgasmic sponge. The noise that left you was new, for sure and the muscle in his mouth jerked against your clit in tandem. It seemed Leon had the same deep feeling and worry you did about his dick even fitting, cause he added a second finger. Then tried to add a third but gave up because he actually wanted his dick to do that labor. He can be selfish, okay? It didn’t take long for you to cum either, duh. He was a skilled whore of a man and you’re a virgin. Or will be for only a few more minutes- probably less.

Your legs shake and tense, your heart thumps viciously, and your fingers threaten to tangle his hair into knots and make him start balding. Not happening no matter how hard you yank, though. His genes are too good for that. He was made for rough pulls to his mane. Made to take damage both mentally and physically. Made for splitting open cute, slutty nieces like you.

While you recovered, he licked his lips and fingers as clean as he could- missing the further parts of his stubbled cheeks. He stood up, hand on his lower back (‘cause duh, he’s old as dirt), and reached into the nightstand for a condom- which you gave him a look before he could open it. A look that told him ‘please, please, please don’t put it on! sure, fuck your blood-relative niece raw and possibly knock her up! Might not have to worry because you’re an alcoholic and your sperm quality is low, though.’ So fuck away.

He was a sucker for your big, glossy eyes and the slutty pout of your bottom lip. Not mentioning- he wouldn’t have worn a condom anyway. Would have just slipped it off before he stuck his dick in you. A virgin couldn’t tell the difference. What? You expected a man that fucks his own family to have morals for things lesser than that? No chance.

“Please, Uncle.” You begged softly, Leon knowing what you want without actually saying it. He’s great at reading people.

“Fucking hell. You’re something else. You want it that bad, huh?” He laughed, pleased by you beseeching him with so little words. You nodded, no objections about it. He tossed the unopened condom back in the drawer and shut it impatiently, making the lamp wobble.

“Changed my mind. Everything off. Gotta see that pretty set of tits.” The words were matter of fact and laced with a bit of erection-fueled urgency.

You reach your hands up to remove your shirt, then discard your bra and skirt. Left in the nude as naked as the day you were cut from your moms stomach. C-section baby and all that. Only this time there was no blood. Yet, anyways.

When you were stark naked, Leon pushed you firmly onto his bed again- folding you by the backs of your thighs, legs pressed to your chest and gifting your stomach with that cute roll thing it did. Leon liked that on a woman.

He grabbed his cock, positioning it against your slick that dribbled from your yet-to-be-abused hole. He was gonna change that. You could feel his one of the piercings resting against your skin down below- a tsunami of anxiety settling over your delicate village of a body.

“Might hurt a little, babydoll. Can’t promise I’m gonna be gentle with her.” He referred to your pussy, your hole fluttering when he talked. You gave a look of understanding and acknowledgement.

“God, want it so bad.” You whined under him, the position he had your legs in made you even crazier about having him in you, like, yesterday.

He didn’t savor the moment so that he could push into you, he just did it. The feeling of each piercing bumping your hole on the way in. It felt fucking good, but also his dick stretching you out was intense and stung like a papercut.

His hands held your thighs down into your stomach- giving you a novice contortionist experience, and you could see the veins in his forearm pop a little. Your mind raced with the following anxieties; ‘What if a piercing cuts my insides and I die from sepsis or something? What if a piercing ball comes off and is lost inside me forever? Maybe I should stretch more.’ The first two were irrational but maybe not so much so, or else you wouldn’t be thinking of them. You’re not the first woman to think any of it.

“Fuck- there we go. Shit. You feel incredible, baby.” He dropped the doll in favor of calling you baby this time, making you squeeze around him as he bottoms out, balls against your ass. Yep. A bruised cervix was in your future. Going to have to come up with an excuse for why you won’t be able to get out of bed for the next few days. You thought other girls were just exaggerating this whole time about feeling yourself be split open, what the hell was he trying to do? Dig out your uterus with his dick? Does he really have to be so deep? It’s, like, really hot and feels really fucking good, but also, slightly uncomfortable. Maybe it’s the position.

Either way, he’s feeding your ego.

You let your head relax onto the bed instead of continuing to hold it up, ‘cause doing that was much more painful.

“God.” You muttered, relieved to be full and get the virginity loss out of the way. You should be getting a cake and celebration for this, if it wasn’t your uncle. But still. Taking big, pierced dick deemed trophy worthy. Or maybe a plaque.

Leon gazed down at you through straight locks, shaking them out of his face a little. He pulled himself out, minus the tip, before pushing back in with a groan- his Adam’s Apple bobbing hypnotically. Your spine arched, lifting your back off the mattress and your hands dug into your own thighs, helping hold them in place.

“You like that, huh?” He asked, the difference between it being pure hormones and condescension was blurred. Could have been both. He doesn’t give that much of a timeframe to start dragging his cock in and out of you, slowly picking up speed and bottoming out each time- balls slapping against your bottom.

You babble nonsensically, the ribbed sensation of his piercings almost sending you into hysterics. Something about yes, yes. I love it. Need you to fuck me so hard that my dad disowns me because I’m wheelchair bound and he knows why.

“Feels good, baby. I know it. Bet it’s hitting places you didn’t even know you had.” If he wasn’t so fucking hot, you’d probably have the ick from how cocky he is. Or not, you’re fucked up.

He leaned forward over you more to tangle into your hair, guiding your head to more of an angle and exposing your neck. You were so overwhelmed from how hard and deep he’s fucking you, not to mention his dick feels like how you imagine a beginner level bad dragon dildo to feel. Or maybe a less monster-y version anyways. It just feels fucking good and that’s all you needed to care about. Soft, airy cries crawl their way from your throat and leave you between that and moaning. Uncle, please. Please, please, please, harder.

“Let it all out, that’s it. Uncle Leon’s gonna take good care of this pussy.”

You nod as much as you can with his hold on your hair, and he pants into your collarbone, sweaty and nasty on top of you. You feel like you’re almost being crushed under his weight but it’s only hotter, and gets even more when you feel his free hand slip between your damp bodies to thumb your aching and still-sensitive clit. You tighten around his cock in reaction- gasping.

“Take it, babydoll. Fuck. Show me how much you want your uncle to make you cum. Belong on my cock, you know it?”

Your brain is off somewhere in a hot air balloon, far from its preferred skull. Which is yours. He speaks in ways you didn’t imagine you’d ever get to be spoken to or even enjoy. But it’ll be the only thing that gets you off from now on, no doubt about it.

“Uh huh, belong on your dick forever. Never wanna take it out.” Yeah. You’re stupid for him.

“Fuck. That’s my girl. Keep talking like that and I’m not ever letting you go.”

You nod your head.

“Want that, want that so bad. ‘D let you fuck me whenever you want, uncle.”

His lips curl into a half-pressed grin before he’s panting again- a bead of sweat dripping onto him. You remember he did something with the AC. Yeah-to the heat in the apartment is frying you good and well. Guess he wanted the sex to be extra clammy and gross. You know, besides the incest.

“Christ. Fuck, yes.” He groans deep, throaty and carnal.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you. You’d be the prettiest little girlfriend. Sitting around waiting to get fucked all the time. I know how needy my baby is.” Christ. You’re going to the deepest abyss in hell. You’re sure whatever torment awaits is worth it though, so it’s not a big deal right now.

“Wanna be yours.” You choke, throat dry. Ah, you remember you’re intoxicated. That must be why you’re so loose at saying this stuff.

“Open up.” He huffs, almost face to face with you but still enough that his breath is hot on your features. You’re hasty to open your mouth like a whore, Leon dribbling his gathered spit down onto your tongue.

“Gotta keep you hydrated, baby. Can’t have that throat getting raw, can we?” You nod, there’s so many nasty things happening you can’t process it properly- unaware of everything as you cum a second time on his hand, squeezing his dick like a much softer and less dangerous guillotine.

His thrusts were a little more sloppy and erratic- alcohol fully set in for the both of you. Normally, he’d be able to hold off his orgasm a little longer- but combatting it wasn’t an option in this drunken state.

“Christ- so fucking pretty and tight when you cum on my dick. Gonna cum too, baby. Don’t think I can pull out right now.”

You shake your head no.

“Don’t pull out, please. Please uncle, ‘ll do whatever you want.”

He laughs brokenly, choked up from the moans that need to come out first.

“God, yes. Okay. Gonna fill this sweet pussy up, baby.”

He focuses a few more thrusts, hard enough to make it hurt a little and sloppy enough to still be just the right amount of perfect.

“Here it comes, baby. Need you to take i- shit.” He buried deep inside you as he came hard, rasped voice and all while he held his place firm. His hair is stuck to his face in some areas, his natural scent emanating off of the sweat droplets.

His dick spasms inside you, filling you with every bit of semen he’s got pent up in him. You could almost feel the way your cunt was full of his cum, having no room around his dick to go anywhere, really.

He relaxed a little, letting out a long, pleasurable groan. You yourself joined him in letting your body go limp as it could in this position. He grabbed your legs to straighten them out and let them wrap around his waist, making you realize they were folded too long and that they ache a bit.

He kissed your collarbone, picking up his head and kissing your cheek next.

“Mm. Did so great for me, babydoll. Not gonna be able to let you go now.” He teased, another peck to your mouth that you managed to reciprocate just in time.

“Then don’t.” You tell him, mumbling.

“I can manage that. Could easily be my girl. Would have to be our little secret, though.” He adds at the end, threading his fingers in your hair.

Yeah, you’re not turning down that offer.

[tenisperfection]

Paper trails (Bucktommy, post S7)

Read on ao3

Buck learns to let himself stay.

The first few times, Buck's careful never to leave behind a paper trail.

He's not sure when it developed into a habit. He thinks it began somewhere after Ali, where he lets people settle in and make themselves at home, but he doesn't allow himself the same. With Taylor, it was easy. Before she'd moved in, she came to him more than he ever slept over at her place; so the few times he did, he packed a bag with his toothbrush and his socks and a change of clothes, even when Taylor left him that first morning with a kiss and a bright red toothbrush still in its thin plastic wrapping.

Buck left the toothbrush in the drawer Taylor pulled it out off, and because Taylor is Taylor, she'd not said anything. She also stopped offering him a shelf in her closet or more toothbrushes after that first time even as his apartment slowly filled with berets and cologne he didn't wear and a hairbrush with bright red strands caught in it.

Buck didn't mind. He prefers it this way, where he can leave as cleanly as possible after the mess that was Abby, where he'd been building an empty home in an apartment that wasn't his, all to pack up what he thought was a life into a small duffel bag that was heartbreakingly light.

People have been leaving Buck all his life. Buck doesn't intend to get too comfortable because even with the best of intentions, he knows it's only a matter of time.

*

So the first few times at Tommy's, Buck packs a duffel. He doesn't know Tommy well enough yet, not really, but this already feels different, and Buck doesn't think it's just because he's dating a man for the first time. Buck feels different.

Buck feels hungry, and also like he's never known hunger before Tommy.

It’s strange. He’s kissed and fucked and slept with and besides more people that he cares to count, pressed himself into them and desperately begged for pieces he could keep, but he’s never been hungry. He’s never felt like he is allowed to ask for more, because he is Buck, and he is meant to only give, so he’s never let himself feel it and never lets himself ask for space. He’s taken the earliest pangs of hunger and viciously cut it until there’s nothing, and nothingness fills up.

Buck's never known hunger before Tommy, but he's not sure he's never known comfort either. Not in anyone else's space besides his sister's and Eddie's, not really in the loft which was always too cold and always too big, all the sunlight spilling through the big windows never quite enough. It had its moments, Eddie and Christopher sprawled all over the kitchen island watching Buck cook, Maddie drinking wine by the bottle, Buck coming home ever so often to find Eddie on his balcony, sipping the beer he helps himself to.

Tommy though. Tommy's cluttered, small, beautiful house makes Buck feel weird. It looks somewhat like Eddie's but without the traces of a teenager, feels like Maddie's in its warmth and like Bobby's and Athena's old home in the way it smells, turpentine and yeast and that one candle Tommy always lights up once a week that smells like jasmine even though he profuses to not be a big fan of candles.

“How does grilled cheese sound, and some tomato soup that I made too much of?”

“Perfect.”

It's here in this house that Tommy kisses Buck like he is starving, like he wants to crawl into Buck and study everything that makes him breathe. Sometimes they kiss and Buck thinks that Tommy is perhaps as hungry as he is, that he is being fed on as much as he is allowed to take. Like the first time Buck drove over to his house, duffel bag clutched tightly, Tommy didn’t just let him in but came out to greet Buck before he got out of his car, eye crinkles and all, and pressed himself into Buck warmly. Buck let Tommy lead him in, and he didn't let Tommy give him a toothbrush the day after, joking about his expensive electronic toothbrush that he can't live without, and then kissed Tommy with fresh minty breath and a heart that feels heavier for reasons Buck couldn't fathom.

"You need a t-shirt?" Tommy asks after the fifth time Buck spends the night. Buck gestures to his bag, makes a feeble joke about swimming in Tommy's clothes, and runs to the bathroom before Tommy can say anything else.

"I fixed this side table that was in the garage, you want to keep some of your stuff here?" Tommy asks two months into their relationship, and Buck points out that it would look so much better in Tommy's living room as a spillover for the plants Tommy can't stop growing.

"Do you want to leave that jacket here? It's really warmed up today but fake fall will be here soon enough."

"I was cleaning and cleared out this drawer. It's yours if you want it."

Buck waits for the offers to stop, for the other shoe to drop.

The mercury dips, Tommy flips the bed, and just like that, Buck realizes, it's been three months. He's technically been with Taylor longer, but Buck feels like he would claw his own skin off if he had to leave now. He packs his duffel and bites his toothbrush every morning, Tommy's increasingly creative offers still coming, Buck yearning, wishing, hoping for something he can't put into words.

It comes to a head on a Friday morning that they both have off. Buck wakes up freezing, his leg twitching.

"Tom," Buck mumbles, shifting to steal more of the comforter. Tommy, who always sleeps like he's in a coma, predictably doesn't budge. Buck shakes him until Tommy groans.

"What," he asks, yawning, eyes still closed, even as he sneaks out an arm to pull Buck in to his chest, warm and big and somehow Buck's favorite place on earth. "Shit, why is it so cold?"

"I think it dropped like twenty degrees," Buck murmurs against Tommy's mouth, because he can't be this close and not kiss him, and Tommy lets himself get distracted for another hour.

When Buck steps out of the shower, shivering slightly as he waits for the nascent heat in Tommy's apartment to kick in, he finds Tommy on the bed, holding a pair of slippers.

"What's that?" Buck asks, reaching for the hoodie he remembered to pack.

"I got these house shoes for you," Tommy offers. Buck swallows. It's the brand he usually wears, in the style he usually wears in the loft. The excuse though, always ready, is on the tip of his tongue when Tommy holds out the other hand.

"I got the insole too, for your left foot," Tommy clears his throat. "Eddie told me where to look."

"Eddie told you," Buck repeats. "Why?"

Tommy shrugs. "Because I asked him."

"You asked him what insole I wear," Buck echoes.

Tommy blinks. "Evan." It's the look on his face when Buck's being a brat, but it's not tinged with the ghost of a smile that usually paints Tommy's mouth. "You don't have to walk around this house like you're a visitor. I'm not running a hotel. You don't have to check under the bed for a stray sock every time you leave."

Buck doesn't know how Tommy manages to sound that gentle when those words out of someone else's mouth would've made Buck shrivel up.

He clears his throat. "I just like my things with me, I'm particular."

Tommy smiles slightly. "I am not actually sure that you are, Evan. I've seen how you are at your sister's. You have a change of clothes over at Eddie's. You slept on Ravi's couch when I was sick and Bobby and Athena were in your apartment and you stole his belt."

"It was a nice belt," Buck tries, but his chest expands as Tommy thrusts the shoes at him again.

"You can let your partner buy you shoes so your feet don't get cold and hurt in his drafty old house."

Buck's chest swoops like it does every time that Tommy calls them partners. He steps forward.

"Besides, it's not like I won't find traces of you here forever if you leave," Tommy says quietly, eyes downcast. Buck freezes.

"You have a side of the bed," Tommy continues, glancing up. His voice is still quiet, his lovely eyes tinged with traces of an emotion Buck's afraid to ask about. Too soon, he thinks, though he thinks he knows what it is. Too soon. "I've never been with anyone long enough that we had sides of the bed. You have a pillow for your head and a pillow for your knee and you ignore both of them to sleep on me when you're falling asleep. You bought those fancy laundry pods that one time and now it's the only kind I use. Your stupid duffel has a spot next to the side table." Tommy presses the shoes into Buck's hands. "The world's not going to end because you took up a drawer, Evan."

It's only when Buck lets Tommy pull him in that he realizes he's shaking, arms automatically going around Tommy's broad shoulders like they belong, trying to hide the tremors.

Tommy, because he's Tommy, notices, like he's been noticing and asking and begging Buck to make himself at home, to take up space.

Buck thinks he might. Buck thinks he has been, and the world hasn't ended, and it's four months going on five and tomorrow he's taking Tommy to Spirit Halloween to buy a costume for Jee for the first Halloween they'll be together for. It's been a whole season since that evening in the loft, and Buck thinks that he might be in love, and the world is most definitely carrying on.

"Stay," Tommy whispers into his mouth, shoes still clutched between them like a life raft as they stand barefoot in Tommy's cold house that Buck has grown to love.

Buck thinks he will.

[daisynik7]

I blinked and suddenly I had a Valentine

Author's Note: modern setting, no curses, high school setting. ~1.3k words. Divider credit to @/cafekitsune. Title from the song “Valentine” by Laufey. Rice bear bathing in Japanese curry looks something like this (reddit link). Part of the past lives vignettes series. Thank you for reading!

It’s almost the end of January and you’ve spent the past three weeks at your new school eating alone, either in the classroom or in the cafeteria. You’re too shy to socialize with your peers, who are already well-established in their own social circles. This is what happens when you transfer in with less than three months left of the schoolyear. No one wants to be friends with the new girl, right? 

Well, two people prove this theory wrong. 

Yu Haibara is the first to approach you in the cafeteria during lunchtime. “Hi there!” he greets, taking a seat across from you, a cheerful smile on his face. You can tell from his aura alone that this is someone easy to get along with. Jovial, optimistic, kind-hearted. You’d normally feel nervous interacting with someone you’ve never met before, but his welcoming presence immediately puts you at ease. 

He’s followed by a blonde boy, slightly taller, a bit lanky, and sulking behind him. His name is Kento Nanami. You recognize him from your homeroom, though you’ve never spoken before. Occasionally, he eats his meals there, usually in the back with his headphones in, listening to music, while you’re in the front, indulging in whatever homemade bento box you decide to make for yourself that day. It’s crossed your mind more than once to join him so that neither of you are alone, though you’ve chickened out each time, convinced that he’d rather remain that way than be bothered by a nobody. Unlike Haibara, his lips are pressed together in a natural frown. You don’t sense unhappiness or animosity from him; rather, it’s indifference, apathy. When he sits down next to his pal, he gives you a nod, acknowledging you. 

Haibara does the courtesy of introductions. You hold your hand out to him, doing the same. He takes it enthusiastically, beaming at you. “I know who you are. I’m a first-year too!”

It doesn’t strike you as odd that he’s already somewhat familiar with you. Instead, you’re relieved to finally be making friends in this cutthroat environment called high school. After this first meeting, the three of you are inseparable. You get on well with Haibara, who’s an expert at keeping the conversation flowing. Nanami doesn’t say much, though you notice his subtle mannerisms that speak volumes more than what his actual words do. You can tell he admires your homemade lunches each time you uncover them at the table. His eyes light up, marveling at whatever creation you’ve concocted the night before: yakisoba, onigiri, chicken stir-fry. He doesn’t say anything, relying on Haibara to do the complimenting. You appreciate how intently he listens to you, even if he doesn’t have much to contribute. In homeroom, you sneak glances at him when your teacher says something particularly ridiculous, to which you spot the faintest hint of a smile flitting on his lips. And you realize that every time you’re walking beside each other, he makes sure to switch his bag to his arm away from you. Part of you hopes the real reason behind this is to be closer to you, but you try to keep those lovelorn thoughts buried in the back of your mind, being certain that’s not the case.  

You eventually find out that Haibara has severe allergies, especially during the seasons of Winter and Spring. He explains how he has to take at least a few days off once a month, sometimes an entire week. Today, he dons a face mask, already anticipating it. “Don’t miss me too much,” he jokes, his bright smile noticeable even behind the mask. It’s February now; the three of you sit together at your regular spot in the cafeteria. Nanami eats his rice bowl in silence while you say to Haibara, “You’re going to miss Valentine’s Day.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, smirking. “I guess the two of you will have to be each other’s Valentines.”

At this, Nanami almost chokes on his food, face turning scarlet. He reaches for his water bottle, which is empty, still clearing his throat as he excuses himself to refill it. When you’re alone, you glare at Haibara, scolding him. “Why would you say that?!”

He shrugs innocently. “What’s the big deal? He likes you.”

Your jaw drops at his surprising statement. You’ve always thought that Nanami tolerates you, but you never truly believed he could ever like you. “What do you mean?”

Haibara blinks at you, as if the answer is so obvious. “He told me about you. Said how you always had the most amazing bento boxes for lunch. How cute your smile was whenever you’d take a bite. He was too shy to talk to you first, so he had me do it. You…didn’t know that?”

You stare at him, shaking your head slowly, stunned by this revelation. 

He laughs nervously, scratching his head. “Oops.”

Nanami returns, back to his normal self now, remaining quiet. There’s still the faint blush on his cheeks; you pretend not to notice it. Nothing else is mentioned about Valentine’s the rest of the day, though it lingers on your mind the remainder of the week.

Haibara is out sick February 13th, leaving you and Nanami alone together for the first time since you befriended them. You’re curious to see if the dynamic would change, if Nanami would actually speak up now that his buddy isn’t around to fill the void with his amicable chatter. But lunch ends up being a quiet affair. You do your best to ask questions, start conversation, but he’s even more tense than he usually is. When you mention Valentine’s Day tomorrow, the familiar rosy tint spreads across his face. You drop it, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, though you can’t help thinking how sweet he is for reacting that way.

He likes you. The words have been replaying in your head since you heard them. And the truth is: you like Nanami too.  Based on what Haibara said, he might be too shy to tell you. 

So, you take matters into your own hands. 

The next day, February 14th, you come to school carrying a box wrapped in red ribbon. Inside homeroom. You greet Nanami politely, catching the way his gaze drifts to your hands. You smile wider to yourself, excited to present it to him later. At your seat, you can smell the decadent scent of homemade chocolates and heart-shaped candies from the other girls in your class. You get increasingly nervous about the gift, wondering if he’ll receive it well. Still, it’s worth a shot.

When class is over and it’s time for lunch, Nanami waits for you near the door to walk to the cafeteria together. Ready to leave, you stop him, clearing your throat before you announce, “I have something for you.”

His eyes widen, his jaw clenches. It’s obvious he wasn’t expecting this. 

You don’t hand it to him, afraid he wouldn’t know what to do with it. Instead, you untie the ribbon yourself, uncovering it. Inside is the bento box you prepared special for him. “I made this for you. Happy Valentine’s Day, Nanami.”

He reaches inside, holding the bento in his hands like found treasure. He snaps the cover off slowly, revealing rice balls formed into a cute bear, bathing in Japanese curry. A sheet of seaweed cut into a heart is placed directly in the center. 

You watch him for his response, heart racing against your chest. He inspects it carefully, his expression softening to one of adoration. When he looks at you, he smiles, and you swear you’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Nanami Kento smiling. 

“Do you like it?” you ask, needing to hear it in his own words. 

He nods, still smiling. “I love it.”

You spend your lunch in the classroom, eating your matching bento boxes together while listening to his music on shared headphones. 

For the first time in his life, Nanami has a special Valentine.

[verysium]

bllk characters and what you think would be their type or what they find attractive in a girl?🙈💗💌

i mean... 🤔 do u want the truthful answer or do u want the ideal answer? cus i don't think any of the bllk boys (maybe with the exception of otoya and aiku) would have a type, much less let it be limited to a girl. but assuming they actually have a life outside of football, here are some traits they would find attractive in a person:

isagi would like someone he can see as a role model. throughout his life, he often finds figures that inspire him (eg. noel noa, ego, even rin if you squint hard enough). he doesn't idolize them, but he does find a way to incorporate their strengths into his playing style and actions. if you have a character trait he highly values, he will like you, and it's generally pretty easy to get him to like you. (unless of course, you're a massive dick like kaiser.)

i find that he gets along best with kurona and hiori. this is because (1) they can read his intentions well, and (2) they are quiet and level-headed. obviously, this would also apply to the romantic side of his life. isagi admires people who are similar to him but still have their own quirks and idiosyncrasies. for example, you subtly support him from behind the scenes and bring him snacks after practice and pack his bento every morning. he appreciates small gestures of kindness.

isagi is also someone very hot-headed as evidenced by his potty mouth. he likes someone who can match his energy and passion but is still calm enough to prevent him from doing anything rash. i picture him running up to you after a game, and the adrenaline causes him to pick you up from out of the stands and twirl you around in his arms.

canonically, isagi is unpopular with girls. he literally returned from valentine's day empty-handed. he tries to be nice most times, but truthfully, nothing except football really interests him. so if you can skip the small talk and start drafting football plays with him, i think he would be attracted to you. like very attracted.

unrelated but he likes someone with a pretty laugh.

bachira needs someone motherly. i feel like he never really got to be a child because everyone around him was constantly putting him down for being the "weird" kid. that's why his current personality is undeniably childish at times. it's the only way he can express the inner child he had before he grew up too fast. i think he'd like people who take care of him in a parental manner, whether that's scolding him for doing something stupid, wiping his chin cus he's a messy eater, or teaching him english every day.

i feel bachira is one of the most extroverted characters in blue lock. he genuinely thrives off his interactions with others. and for that reason, i think he'd be attracted to introverts because they differ so greatly from him. (he'd probably adopt them too.)

bachira has the most creative insults, and that's partially why he gets along so well with isagi. he's not afraid to get out of his comfort zone, nor is he afraid of pushing others to do the same. if this boy can hallucinate whole monsters, he can sure as hell rip his opponents into pieces. i feel like he'd have such a stark duality around you. he'd be beating the crap out of the other team, but the moment he sees you, he's all sunshine and rainbows and bounding over to ask you about your day and overshare about his.

ADHD. that's it. that's the quote. if you're hyperactive, then he's hyperactive, and you'll both be rocking the same boat. most people would assume he needs a grounding presence in his life, but i think post u-20 arc bachira is actually mature enough to process his own issues. now he just needs someone to let loose and have a little fun with.

rin needs a therapist. end of story. this boy is a whole case study. i don't think he's even mentally stable enough to have a romantic relationship. but if he were to date someone, i'd imagine that person is somewhat similar to isagi (and no, this is not a ship.)

isagi has something rin definitively lacks, and that is his strong, dynamic sense of self. when rin fails, he takes it heart. all solutions are linear and logical to him. if he missed a goal, it was because he didn't train hard enough. if he couldn't beat sae, it was because he just wasn't good enough.

but isagi completely changes his mindset every time he loses. (there's a reason why he's surrounded by puzzle pieces all the time.) analyzing is second nature to him. every failure is a catalyst for self-improvement, and he constantly breaks himself down in order to adapt and rebuild. rin needs someone like that in his life, someone who can teach him to be unafraid of change and embrace it instead.

rin also isn't immune to external influences. obviously, he is still learning to play football for himself. looking at the pxg version of him, he has had a significant change in mindset, but he still hasn't completely separated himself from this idea of "beating" someone in order to get to the top. according to his logic, if he surpasses both sae and isagi, he will finally be content. but the truth is, he won't be anywhere near content because his ego still isn't entirely his own. i think he would admire someone who refuses to let themselves be defined by others.

rin would also like someone who is patient because he clearly isn't. (boy was about to have a whole brain aneurysm when bachira threw that paper airplane at him.) honestly, you need to be both gentle and persistent with him. he hates it when people come on too strong, but he also finds his walls slowly crumbling when someone repeatedly goes out of their way to show that they care.

rin has a high level of emotional intelligence, as evidenced by sae's comments about his intuition. however, he can only work out a person's thought process about halfway before he starts to feel lost himself. for example, he can understand that sae dislikes losing, but he doesn't understand that it's innately tied to sae's self-worth and expectations as the eldest child/genius prodigy/role model. if he's going to romantically date anyone, then they need to be extremely skilled in the art of communication. otherwise, rin is going to easily misinterpret things.

finally, i think he'd like someone who knows how to comfort him. rin overthinks. like a lot. the cogs in his brain are constantly whirring. you need to lay him down on your lap and run your fingers through his hair and tell him that everything's going to be alright. (and it is going to be alright, because you're about to move both heaven and earth for him to make it stay that way.)

kaiser has no set type, but if he did, it would also be isagi (i'm sorry but yoichi is our harem princess for a reason.) kaiser oscillates between this superiority and inferiority complex. he even admits he was weak-hearted once.

any and all attraction is heightened for him because he gets obsessed easily. (like did you see his massive desktop displays of isagi? tell me that does not scream high-key yandere shit to you.)

however, more so than people, kaiser is fixated on ideals. he literally got a cheesy blue rose tattoo to remind himself that nothing is impossible, and he stands naked in front of his mirror every morning repeating the motto: "this is me." the self-esteem issues are glaringly obvious.

now, rather than completely shatter his entire worldview like isagi did, you need to be the one to gently (and i stress, gently) remind him that sometimes ideals aren't everything. kaiser is unpredictable, but the one thing that stays constant about him is the many masks he hides behind. everything is a role to him, and he takes center stage. but you need to convince him that none of this really matters. he doesn't need to bedazzle himself in tattoos and dye his hair and sport a mullet-rattail hybrid to be worthy of attention. sometimes his ugly bed head and dark circles are precisely the reason you love him.

second of all, you need to set firm boundaries (otherwise you'll end up like ness.) kaiser wants someone with a backbone, and he does not turn a blind eye to raw potential. victory is his end goal, and if you can bring him one step closer to that, he will stick to you. the only issue here is that you need to make sure he does not use you. and believe me, he will try. but if you draw a strong line between you two and stand your ground, he will start to see you in a new light. it can go both ways (love or hate), but either way you are someone important in his eyes.

lastly, i think he wants someone with a sense of humor. he's naturally cocky, and he needs someone to match his wit. ness already does that, but he doesn't give kaiser enough challenge. in my mind, i imagine kaiser trying to impress you with his german, but you give him a good run for his money when you already know how to speak it. things like that. he thinks it's hot when you can stand up to his level. but at the end of the day, your loyalty still lies with him, and you're not above/below him but rather the one standing beside him.

barou doesn't have a type. he is the type. you're lucky to have him.

otoya likes cute girls, even better when they have the standard fringe/bob cut look. he also lives for the height difference. teasing short girls by patting their heads is his signature move. he also likes it when girls wear lipgloss, like a sparkly candy pink shade, maybe even a spritz of perfume. he's also type to make fun of the little chubby pooch you get when you eat too much. he thinks it's adorable. personality-wise, it doesn't matter. he's going to cheat anyways. jk but on a more serious note, the person he's likely going to stay with forever is someone who can forgive his weaknesses and actually make the effort to understand him. instead of writing him off as an immature two-timer, he'd appreciate people who can actually hear him out. obviously, it doesn't excuse any of his actions, but it lets him know that you do indeed care.

aiku says he likes anyone who looks easy to break up with, but it's actually the opposite. he tends to go for older women who end up slapping him in the face. he's a womanizer, but he actually has a significant amount of character depth. generally, he's someone who goes with the flow, and nothing really upsets him. but to actually get to know him and his insecurities, you'd have to be someone really important to him. i think aiku is the type to be a serial dater before he finds someone he'll actually stick to. he's afraid of commitment, and it's for good reason. the authority figures in his life have failed him enough times to be considered unreliable. please be kind to him because the childhood trauma was not. i smell lots of emotional baggage here.

nagi likes the flame type because it has few weaknesses and helped him clear three levels in digimon. oh wait, you mean his ideal type? yeah, he does not know what that is, and he's too lazy to think of one. currently he's in the middle of fighting a custody battle for choki, and he's losing to a certain purple-haired freak. please come back later.

reo likes wine aunties lol. it's canon that he prefers older women, but i think it's just because they tend to know what they want. he likes people who have a set goal and are constantly working towards it. he himself diverts all his time and resources into football once he discovers that it is his calling.

i think he's the type to be extremely popular but not actually have any deep, long-lasting connections with any of his friends. he knows a lot of people, but he doesn't know them well. that's also why he gets so attached to nagi because nagi is the first person to really know him. in a way, i think that'd translate over to the people he loves as well. he likes people who don't beat around the bush. if they like him for who he is, they'll say it outright. he doesn't need to do any digging or engage in any form of the pretentious formalities he despises.

reo is rich, which is both a blessing and a curse. on one hand, he's all set for life, but on the other hand, it unfortunately makes many of his relationships conditional. he said it himself that people are often drawn to him because of his money. so i think he'd also like someone who isn't materialistic. he values honesty and genuine connection above all, so if you're ready to give him love regardless of his status, he'd sincerely love you too.

chigiri likes tomboys or any person with masculine characteristics. he's constantly getting mistaken for a girl at blue lock, so i think it'd just be funny to pair him up with someone who also shares the same androgynous plight. you two would bond over breaking gender norms.

he's a capricorn, and even if astrology is a pseudoscience, i still feel like the archetype fits him well. he refuses to let other people see him cry. he values his family a lot. he tends to be moody and intense at times. not to mention he is very goal-driven (excuse the pun.) based on that, i think he'd want someone calm and understanding. it's not that he needs someone else to work out his own problems for him. it's more so that he needs someone to remind him that he's still human sometimes. i feel like after his injury, he was sort of in this survival mode, constantly trying to prove himself and get back to the level he used to be at. but you need to remind him that he can relax once in a while. it's perfectly alright if he isn't as good as he used to be right now. progress comes at a different pace for everyone.

furthermore, chigiri tends to project a serious image most of the time, so i think it'd be nice if someone reminds him that he does have indeed an odd sense humor and his fair share of stupid moments, and that's totally okay too.

shidou likes anyone who doesn't like him, but this has to be done the right way. within blue lock, he's already sort of this outcast because no one understands his playing style (except maybe sae.) you need to show him that you value his eccentricities while also keeping him at an arm's length. he loves a challenge.

since he's someone unafraid to express himself, he likes to see that in another person. whether it's in your fashion sense, way of talking, body language, etc., he loves it when you act unapologetically yourself.

shidou is quite literally a dog kept on a leash, so you need to tug on that leash from time to time. he loves it when people attempt to tell him off and call him out for his bullshit. inhibition is a foreign concept to him, so he feels entertained when others try to teach it to him. he also thinks it's immensely sexy when you're angry at him. lord knows he is definitely going to slip that in mid-argument just so you can yell at him some more.

sae wouldn't even believe in the concept of a "type" in general because he thinks it's stupid to categorize people based on an ideal and fixed set of characteristics. (that's pretty rich coming from a guy who calls people who don't meet his standards lukewarm but we're just gonna ignore his hypocrisy.) either way, he has a non-traditional view of love and attraction.

i do think he likes people who are solid and reliable, and they can continuously yield quality results. he would also want someone who is as ambitious as him because i don't think he can realistically get along with someone who has no dreams or aspirations. it just doesn't fit well with his driven personality.

people who are empathetic and emotionally intuitive intrigue him since that's something he lacks. personally, i think he'd like someone who is mature (doesn't matter if they're older or younger.) if you can teach him something useful, he find you worthy of his time. and if you can read his feelings without him even telling you, he would consider you someone special.

sae needs someone who holds similar ideals to him but doesn't follow him blindly. (notice how he hated it when rin blindly relied on his assists when they were children.) he want someone who is independent because he is also highly independent. however, the difference is that they also actively make room in their life for other people, and that is something sae doesn't know how to do.

there's a point of growth somewhere in your relationship where you call out his mistakes and set him on the right path. sae struggles a lot with his definition of victory, and he finds it difficult to curb his greed. his ego is what sets him apart from everyone else, so failure is not an option in his books. unfortunately, this is also why he loses some of his original spark/motivation. you need to be someone who can tell him that failure is not a weakness, and sometimes the journey matters more than the ending.

also this poor boy needs someone to teach him social cues because i don’t really think he knows how to read the room. he’d probably unintentionally insult a chairman or investor, and you’ll be trailing after him with a sheepish smile as you bow and apologize for him. (i feel bad for his manager.)

[primofate]

A Shot in The Dark (Chapter 2) Wriothesley x fem!reader

Summary: As the upcoming Weapons Master of the town, you've started to take more responsibilities in your father's shop. Little did you know that taking up this job would cause you to get thrown into the messy world of criminals and the messy world of confusing feelings for the Duke of Meropide.

Warnings: blood and talks about the use of blood for something unconventional, some might find it disturbing.

Read other parts: Chapter 1

Wriothesley didn’t show up.

Not the day after, nor the day after that.

At first you wondered if he was thoroughly offended by you not remembering who he was, but on second thought, he didn’t really seem like the type of guy to be offended by someone—especially you—not remembering his name.

And so the days passed by normally, the usual number of customers, the usual number of people walking in and asking general questions about weapons and the like. No sign of Wriothesley, nor any other “celebrity”.

It was a week after meeting the Duke that the shop door nearly flew off its hinges and in came a man with a sword strapped on his back.

You took one look at him—scraggly beard, mid 40s, head of hair that was somewhat long, but tied back into a small tail—and was immediately transported to a conversation with your father.

“We usually don’t judge books by its covers, Y/N, but you’ll know when to deny service to someone,” your father exclaimed, magnifying glass in one hand, pointed at a piece of metal.

You purse your lips at the statement, watching him quietly, until you had to ask. “What do you mean? How would I know if they were good or bad people? There’s no way to tell in such a short amount of time,”

Your father muses a bit, a slight hum emanating from his chest. He puts the magnifying glass down and meets your gaze. “Sometimes, your instincts just know, my dear,” he smiles a tiny one. “Our talent of fixing any weapon in existence may be a mundane skill…but weapons are powerful things Y/N! There are times where we have to stop and think, will I be doing the right thing if I fix this?”

“Good afternoon,” the man speaks and you blink back to present day. He stands confident in front of the counter and pierces you with his gaze. There is nothing inherently wrong with how he looked, but you could tell he wasn’t from Fontaine, and there was a strange feeling of anxiety trying to surface from the bottom of your stomach.

Instinct, huh?

You smile at the man. “Good afternoon,” you reply, eyes darting up to the hilt of his sword, peeking behind his back. “How can I help you today?”

The man moved with a type of grace and fluidity that told you he was no ordinary citizen. He most likely had been wielding a sword for years. His hand came up to the hilt of his sword and he pulled at it until it came off its scabbard, revealing that the blade was a blood red colour.

You controlled a shiver that ran up your spine as the man laid the peculiar looking sword on the counter. On closer inspection, the hilt was a deep purple. And the blade was a natural red colour—for a moment you thought that it had been dipped in blood—it was, to your knowledge, a katana, and a very beautiful albeit uniquely coloured one. The wear and tear was visible and you knew that this weapon was most likely centuries old. You dare not to touch it.

“What’s wrong with it?” You simply ask, prying your eyes away from the weapon and towards the man.

The man doesn’t show any sign of disappointment nor worry. “It’s not as strong as it previously was,” he explained. “I assume it needs a bit of refinement,”

A bit, was an understatement. It needed A LOT of refinement. It was an old blade, anyone could see that, weapons master or not. Your hands hovered above it and you ask, just as you always do “May I?”

Your hand inched closer as the man nodded and you took time to run your hand over the entirety of the sword. It had…a lot of ill intent. How you could tell, you weren’t quite sure. It was not wholly about its colour, but its aura, and how heavy and tired it looked.

“…I’m sorry, I can’t fix this,”

It’s time for this blade to rest.

You never thought that you would decline someone of service, it just didn’t seem like something that would happen.

“Do you know of Dendrobium flowers?” The man’s voice is rather low, but still smooth and somewhat friendly.

You blink up at him, taken aback by the sudden topic change. “…I can’t say I do,”

He talks, and while he talks he tries to retrieve something from his rucksack. “Dendrobium. A rare and expensive plant, found in Inazuman soil,” he takes a small box and opens it, revealing a blood red flower that you’ve never seen in your life before. “Rumor has it that these plants are watered using blood,”

There’s a small pause. A moment for you to internalize the information he just shared, and you were sure now, that there was something strange going on with your customer.

“…Mmhmm,” you let out quietly with a small nod, not knowing what else to say, feeling the atmosphere in the shop grow colder.

“The bloodier and more brutal the battlefield, the more lovely the Dendrobium blooms,” he closes the box, and hands it over to you. “Consider it, a gift,” he takes his blade in his hand and stretches it out for you to see clearly. “This here, is Muramasa… and the only way to fix him…is to refine him with Dendrobium ore,” He sheathes the katana onto his back and levels his gaze back towards you. “…but, it’s been centuries, since anyone has seen a Dendrobium ore. People say that the Dendrobium flowers crystallize when it’s been watered with enough blood…and yet I haven’t seen a single Dendrobium ore in my life,”

You stay silent, merely letting him finish his story.

“Well then, ma’am, I’ll be on my way. My thanks, for taking a look at Muramasa,” he tips his head forward, turns, footsteps towards the door, pulls it open and he pulls it close again as he leaves.

You stand still, the flower box in your hand. You wait a few minutes before you can completely feel yourself relax back into your normal state—you hadn’t even realized that you had been tense the whole time—and your eyes drop back to the small black box.

…Does he know? I’ll have to tell father about this…

And just as you always do with your other customers, you try to replay the interaction back in your head, to see if you missed anything or if you said anything wrong. The next customer didn’t come in until lunch time, so you were thankful that you had time to unpack your interaction with the strange man whose name you didn’t get.

The more you thought about it, the stranger it had been, or perhaps he was merely an eccentric? Still, it was completely unnecessary to tell a long-winded story about the Dendrobium…what was his purpose?

“You look out of sorts today,” A smug, familiar voice echoes through the shop. Wriothesley is suddenly there, you hadn’t even heard the door open nor the bell ring.

“Oh, Wriothesley,” you absentmindedly let out, snapping out of thought, eyes adjusting to the view in front of you rather than staring off into space. “Welcome back,” you give a small smile, which has the man a little suspicious.

He thought you were just tired, and maybe hungry, it is lunch time after all, but on closer inspection Wriothesley was conscious of the deeper frown lines you wore. Something as subtle as that, he would notice. Having a good eye for detail was one of his job descriptions.

“Ah, she finally remembers my name,” He takes a jab at you, grin appearing on his features. You can’t help the upward tug of your lips, and refrain from rolling your eyes. You don’t get to retort back because he follows up almost immediately: “Something happen?” He has his gauntlets tucked under his arm yet again, his frame seems taller today, or perhaps you were just feeling small after your weird interaction with your earlier customer.

“…Nothing for you to worry about,” You give a real smile this time, eyes darting over to his gauntlets. “Just…mulling over some fixes,”

It was convincing to the normal person, but to Wriothesley, it was a good attempt at diverting his attention from the real problem. Nevertheless, he didn’t push it, and set his gauntlets down on the counter for you. “Brought these back… I would’ve been back earlier but things happened at the Fortress…” he chuckled under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck as if he had done something disappointing.

The sight made you raise an eyebrow in amusement, mouth turning up the slightest bit more. He seemed to have a talent for making people feel at ease. “That’s nothing to apologize for, it’s your job,” your hands rest on his gauntlets, remembering the exact fix that it needed. “I say I’ll be done with this in 3 hours. You can come back for it right around then,”

He made a sound of understanding watching you start to take tools out to finish up the work. Wriothesley seemed to pause for a moment, his weight shifting from his left to his right. “You’re not getting lunch?”

You shake your head no, “I tend not to get hungry when I’m busy…or I guess I get too occupied with things and forget to eat,”

He again indicated that he heard you with a slight hum, but adds “…Well I’m reminding you now. Café Lutece is just down the road from here,” he points his thumb behind him. You look up to blink at him, your mind blank for a moment.

Was he asking you to eat with him or was he telling you to eat by yourself? You weren’t quite sure and you were stuck about what to say, until he made it clearer to you.

“Come on, I haven’t eaten either.” He jerked his head towards the shop door, indicating that he was about to go, and it sounded like he wasn’t going to offer again.

“Mm…” You think aloud, loosening your hold on the screwdriver in your hand. “I…guess I could go,” you decide, and its as if he relaxes the slightest bit more, waiting for you to walk around the counter, then walking ahead to hold the shop door open for you.

As you lock the shop up for lunch, you turn to him when done, somehow completely forgetting about your strange customer earlier, pointing a finger up to make a point “Lunch break is one hour max, otherwise, I’m charging you a late fee!”

Wriothesley chuckles, “and I thought I was a hard worker,” as the two of you walk together towards the restaurant down the road.

[thedevilrisen]

Prompt Poll - Two

Quinn Hughes x Y/N

Prompt: "When you said you were sick I thought you meant a cold, not the freaking plague."

Description: Y/N got sick, Quinn wasn't expecting it to be this bad.

A/N: I hope you enjoy! Would be greatly appreciated if you could reblog. I love talking to people so say 'Hi' if you want to. Feel Free to send in requests as well. I'm happy to write for most hockey players.

Warnings: Sickness, swearing and thats proabably it! Please tell me if anything else should be added.

-Sincerely thedevilrisen.

-:-

Groaning and half-heartedly, blindly grappling in the general direction of the repeated vibrations of your phone against the wood side table, roused unceremoniously from your self-accredited worlds worst sleep. When you finally came in contact and stupidly turned the offending device straight into your face, hissing as the bright light kissed your sleep and sickness rumpled features, you vaguely registered a text from your boyfriend Quinn.

Hey Honey, how's the cold coming along?

Getting worse to be completely honest with you.

Aw no! Lucky I'll be home in a few hours to take care of you! We are just about to board the plane so I thought best to touch base. x

Thank you Quinny, have a safe flight. :) Read 9:58pm

Quinn POV:

Sneaking in quietly I made sure to gently close the door and be careful not to kick my shoes off into the wall as to make as little noise as possible.

My attempts were in vain however as I heard a very aggressive and horse-sounding coughing fit coming from the bedroom. Walking along the hallway and noticing the soft light bedside lamp flowing out of the room from under the door.

I opened the door to be met with what should be considered a biological war hazard. There was a ungodly mound of tissues on what was normally Quinn's side of the bed, a few soup bowls and coffee mugs stacked precariously on the side tables and a snuffling, moving lump with messy brown hair splayed in a way that would make Cousin It jealous.

"Quinn?" you rasped out.

"Jesus. When you said you were sick I thought you meant a cold, not the freaking plague!"

"I did sa-" you started to mumble but were cut off by a small coughing fit. "I did say before you boarded the plane that I was pretty sure it was getting worse."

"No shit!" the young man laughed scruffing a hand down his face.

"he-" you sneezed "hey, enough of the sass mister, im sick. take care of me."

"Nooo, your all yicky!" he playfully groaned

"But you promised!" you pouted and flopped back down into your warm fuzzy bed.

"I did, my love." he walked around your side of the bed and crouched to your height. "And I always keep my promises."

Kissing your head he walked into the ensuite and flicked on the light. He had ruffled through the mirror cabinets and pulled out the eucalyptus scent drops. Intent on putting some in the little over hot bath he was drawing for you.

When there was enough water in the tub he moved back into the bedroom to rouse you and bring you to the warm and hopefully somewhat rejuvenating bath.

"Honey, can you come hop in the tub?" he asked gently, rubbing your shoulders through his sleep warmed shirt you had obviously stolen earlier.

"mm-comfy." you whined grabbing onto your pillow and burrowing into it.

"Come on honey, it will make you feel better." he pleaded.

"No. Bed." you stated petulantly, to which Quinn sighed and reached in under the warm covers and dragged you protesting form into his arms.

Once he had wrangled you out of bed and into his grasp he soothed your aggressive mumbling and walked into the bathroom being careful not to bang your ankles on the door frame.

Placing you down on your feet he helped you strip out of your clothes and settle down into the warm tub. The sigh of relief you let out after you settled into the tub was worth having to drag you out of the bed for.

Placing a fleeting kiss on your forehead and a stern order not to fall asleep and drown he wandered out of the room leaving the door ajar so he could hear you if you called. Intent on making some tomato soup for you he pulled a saucepan out of the cupboard, found the can he required and and pulled a can opener out of the drawers. Cracking open the can and pouring the viscose red liquid into the heated saucepan, he stirred it and left it to simmer.

-

"How are you going honey?" he asked as he walked back into the bathroom.

"Mm, the eucalyptus helps with the headache." you mumbled, "but i'm getting pruny.

Quinn let out a hearty chuckle as you raised your hand for him to see your wrinkled skin.

"You ready to get out then?" he proposed, still leaning on the door frame.

"Yeah, I think so," you replied, opening your eyes and blearily looking at him.

"Alrighty, I'll get you some clothes." he smiled and wandered out of the room.

Unbeknownst to you he had cleaned the bedroom up, picked up the tissues, bowls and cups, changed the bed linen, placed a bed tray with fresh water, tea and the soup next to where he had pulled back the fresh sheets and stacked the pillows so you could watch the TV which he had turned on for you.

So when you waddled out, swaddled in a giant soft fluffy towel you were nearly brought to tears.

"Quinny," you sniffled wetly.

"Yeah honey?" he questioned walking from the closet with a pair of his sweat pants and a T-Shirt for you. He was startled when you walked over and wrapped him and a hug.

"Thank you." you mumbled into his shirt.

Smiling he kissed your head and said, "Your very welcome."

"What do you want to watch?" he asked, handing you the clothes to change into.

"Hmmm? OH! Gilmore Girls." you said with an evil smile settling into the bed.

"Fine, only because your sick." he conceded settling next to you smiling to himself as you started slurping on your soup, completely enamoured with the show in front of you.

-:-

I'm sorry if its bad! I myself have been sick, swamped with school and family stuff! However it's out! Please enjoy and don't be afraid to come into my inbox to have a chat!

[kitchenisking]

July Fic Rec

(K)Not Tonight by Fizzysodapopp - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 4,965, sterek)

❗️HEED THE TAGS, my lovely people! They are there or a reason and I do not have the intention to make anyone feel uncomfortable reading this.

Stiles had the very clever idea to go to his favourite place while in heat and during a full moon on top of that, his brain clearly having melted into a useless puddle.

He had never picked up the scent of another person, werewolf or human, here after all, so why should he start to worry now? Until he did pick up another scent after all. Everything went downhill from there.

The bites that changed everything by eruwenvalaeess - (Rating: Explicit, sterek)

Stiles was bitten a few days ago and now he's feeling hot, too hot. Neither him nor Lydia know what to do, but she can think of one person who may know: Derek.

Learn Your Place by orphan_account - (Rating: Mature, Words: 2,424, sterek)

A new student named Damon into town and tries to find his way into Stiles’ pants. Derek doesn’t like that.

Our Little Secret by lilmissdaydreamer - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,527, sterek)

The thing about Stiles and Derek’s relationship is that, while it’s still new and exciting, they’ve also been building up to this for a very long time. The two of them have been dancing around each other forever and honestly, the honeymoon phase is probably going to last at least triple the amount of time it took the two of them to pull their heads out of their asses. So they’ve taken to fucking just about any and everywhere as a way to “make up for lost time”. The only catch being: don’t get caught. 

Yet, Derek seems hellbent on getting them caught in the act.

Let It Burn Fast by RurouniHime - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 32,562, sterek)

“So.” Stiles rubs his thighs, snaps his fingers again restlessly and looks around. “Thoughts? Comments? Revisions you’d like to submit for consideration?”

Derek weighs it. “Stiles, are you asking me to have sex with you for the good of the pack?”

“I—yeah.” Stiles blinks a couple times, then smiles again. “Yeah, I guess I am. That is the thing that I am doing.” 

(or, the one where Stiles proposes no-strings-attached sex for Magical Reasons and Derek somewhat unwisely agrees.)

Finding His Home by OKDeanna - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 11,708, sterek)

Derek Hale was a lot of things, and none of them very good. Yet, the one thing he couldn't shake was the one thing he knew he shouldn't want. But when an unexpected late night call reveals Stiles Stilinski has been injured, he will stop at nothing to get to him. Even if it means opening himself up in ways he never has before...

Somewhere Between Then and Now by OKDeanna  - (Rating: Mature, Words: 3,008, sterek)

Derek finds himself in an unexpected position when Stiles turns up to confront him about his most recent lack of communication with the teen.

The Offer That Changed It All by OKDeanna - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 1,453, sterek)

Derek had known he was attracted to Stiles for a while, but it took someone else's interest in Stiles to make him realize just how much he wanted the teen for himself…

Is This Seat Taken? Only By My Delusions by SylvieW - (Rating: T, Words: 6,726, sterek)

An unknown werewolf and his mate move to Beacon Hills and the McCall pack isn’t sure what to expect from them. They discover that while Derek isn’t a problem, Stiles might be.

Beginnings I by sffan - (Rating: T, Words: 1,344, sterek)

Derek gets hurt protecting Stiles. Then there are feelings. And a kiss.

[gallusrostromegalus]

My drawing skills suck are very unpracticed but I have a mighty need to create fanart of the garbage tarot. I don't even know anything about the source material but I am in love with these idiots.

Actually... I do a lot more mixed-media than I do drawing........... Hmm...

As a Completely Unrelated Thought, what do you think Zaraki's handwriting would look like?

I'm glad you asked because there's na specific answer for AEIWAM fic! Zaraki!

(Note: in AEIWAM, Kakiyo was Tousen's adopted sister, not an unrequited crush, and she raised money to go to the academy by working as a travelling schoolteacher for a while)

---

The first time Yamamoto gets a report from Zaraki, it genuinely throws him for a loop. Its a thorough if somewhat gruesome report about the 11th dealing with a pack of hollows that had been attacking isolated villages. Nothing Yamamoto was not already used to, but reading descriptions of mutilated villagers is somehow more unsettling when the descriptions look like this:

(a stylistic example)

Yamamoto takes him to task next meeting.

(continued under the cut)

"I know you're still learning the job Zaraki, but you can't foist your paperwork off on Miss Kusajishi." Yamamoto growls.

"I... Didn't? What?" Zaraki looks extremely confused, but the Captain-General is not fooled.

"You mean to tell me THIS is your handwriting?" Yamamoto snaps, throwing the report on the table, sheets spilling out as it slid down the length of it, so everyone could see the bizarre cutesy hand it was written in.

Zaraki's face darkened, jaw clenched. "Yeah. What about it? You goin' blind as well as senile?" He growled.

"THIS IS THE HANDWRITING OF A LITTLE GIRL, ZARAKI, DO YOU HAVE THE SAME HANDWRITING AS YOUR DAUGHTER?" Yamamoto slammed his hand on the table, temperature sharply increasing around him.

Zaraki began to arch his back and crackle with Reiatsu as well, but was stopped by loud ringing chime and a hand on his arm.

Yamamoto blinked in surprise to see Tousen, of all people , holding the giant back. There was a click as Tousen fully re-sheathed his sword. Suzumushi's chime wouldn't effect either of them, but it redirected their attention very effectively.

"My apologies, Yamamoto-sama." He bowed his head before turning his ear up at Zaraki. "Kakiyo wrote about this to me. You could only afford for one of you to receive schooling, right?"

Zaraki huffed and shook himself before answering. "Yeah, I was a broke-ass bastard before this." He grumbled, scratching his neck in a de-escalation feature. "Yer sister was a fuckin' saint and a genius. Neither of you have any business tellin' the whole world though."

"I think it was an exceptionally brave and difficult thing you did." Tousen shrugged. "Even when she used that method, less than one in a hundred parents actually stuck to it, much less achieved what you have."

Zaraki started looking everywhere but at Tousen, thinking. "... wouldn't call it brave, it was just makin' sure she was doin' good in school." He muttered.

Tousen kept listening intently at Zaraki. May I tell Yamamoto-sama so he doesn't cause another scene?"

"You're going to tell me what you're muttering about whether you like it or not." Yamamoto menaced.

"My sister taught Zaraki-taicho and Miss Kusajishi how to read and write." Kaname sighed and took off his goggles to rub the bridge of his nose. "It's extremely common in the Rukongai to have to teach children whose parents have never had any kind of schooling. Many of the parents would like to go to school too, but can only afford to send their children- actually , usually only one child. It's not usually an issue of money, but time- the parents can't afford to miss fishing season, or spare any siblings because they're needed on the farm. But, when you have a parent who is as attentive and caring as Zaraki-"

"Tttch!" Zaraki huffed at Kaname, who pointedly ignored him.

"-You can get around the schooling fees and scheduling problems by telling the student that their homework is to teach their parents what they learned in school that day. The homework you give the students is for their parents to do after they pass the lesson on and grade them on how well they taught their family." Kaname explained, putting his goggles back on. "Kakiyo was in awe of Miss Kusajishi's dedication to teaching you, and immensely proud of your efforts."

Zaraki still refused to look at Tousen, but his ears were bright red.

"...ohhh." Ukitake realized. "Wow, that's... I thought it was impossible to learn how after a certain age, that's - well, I don't think it's something I could have done!"

"What?" Glared Yamamoto.

"Zaraki-taicho and Miss Kusajishi have the same handwriting because he learned how to read and write by learning her school lessons from her." Unohana translated. "-An exceptionally difficult way to learn, and commendable for even trying." She continued, arching an eyebrow at him as a warning.

"Yeah and with all due respect Yama-ji? You're not exactly in a position to be complaining about anyone else's handwriting-" added Shunsui. "Zaraki's handwriting is odd, but it's perfectly legible. Nanao-chan framed your last memo because she thought it was an abstract painting."

Yamamoto turned to Shunsui with an aggravated glare.

"I'm afraid I have to second Kyoraku-taicho." Tousen said, without an ounce of chagrin in his voice. "The kido spell on my glasses can translate nearly everyone's hand, but the only person in the ninth who can read your memos to me is third-seat Maegawa, and mostly because she's had several centuries practice."

"Wait, we were supposed to be getting memos?" Mayuri squawked. "Dammit! I thought that squiggly garbage was the fax machine breaking every other week! I disassembled that thing three times trying to fix it!"

"You can all shut up now." Yamamoto snarled, and everyone did, but there were still a lot of pointed looks around the table, and Unohana's eyebrow had not resumed it's usual curvature yet. "Please consider my complaint withdrawn."

Unohana's eyebrow arched further and she cracked her eye open to reveal a coal-black iris, going from Warning to Threat.

"...My apologies, Zaraki-taicho. That was. Inconsiderate of me." Yamamoto muttered.

"Ya gonna shut up about it now?" Zaraki asked, not quite facing Yamamoto, but back still arched.

"I will hold my judgment in check in the future." Yamamoto acquiesced, watching him.

"Sure." Zaraki grunted, shaking his shoulders to drop the subject. "Right, what the fuck were we doing?" He asked, returning to the agenda.

---

After the meeting, Tousen took a minute to stand in the late afternoon sun, exhaling and releasing the tension of the day, when someone grabbed one shoulder and plopped something heavy on the other.

"Yeh didn't have to do that." Zaraki grunted just behind Tousen's ear, his forehead resting on the small man's shoulder, half gratitude, half grumble.

"One of the responsibilities of a captain is to keep the general in check, and I had a particularly good opening to stop that nonsense for good." Kaname hummed, hand reflexively coming up to touch the giant's head on his shoulder, fingertips tracing over the scarred visage and peculiar hairstyle.

"Didn't read that in the employee handbook." Zaraki grunted, grin in his voice.

"Yamamoto wrote those handbooks, and he'd rather we let him do as he pleases. You have to learn how to read between the lines, Zaraki." Kaname teased.

Zaraki gave his strange, low clicking chuckle of amusement and affectionately mock-bit Kaname's ear before standing up, still holding his other shoulder.

"...Thanks. " he muttered, giving his arm a squeeze and stepping away. "Gotta go pick up Sensei, you talk to her if you think I need more tutoring!" Zaraki waved, striding off to collect Yachiru in completely the opposite direction from her school.

"ITS THE OTHER- oh, he'll figure it out." Kaname sighed.

The sun was low in the sky, but it was still warm, and the first Cricket of summer started chirping, startling him. Suzumushi chirped with it, singing her mournful loss of her original wielder, but not so despairing this time.

"Kaname?" Sajin asked, heard before he was felt as usual. The lieutenant's meeting must have wrapped up late.

Kaname smiled and put a finger up, indicating he should listen. Sajin did, helmet tipping slightly to hear.

"Crickets!" Sajin realized, and offered Kaname his gauntlets hand to lead him home. "...I miss Kakiyo too." He sighed.

"You're not really gone if some part of you lives on in someone else." Kaname hummed. "I realized she is not so far gone today."

"Oh?" Sajin asked. "Where does she live on?"

"Have you read any of Zaraki-taocho's reports yet?" Kaname grinned. "His hand is not his hand alone."

[jikookuntold]

What Is Like Crazy About?

Since the day "Like Crazy" was released, I wanted to post about it, but couldn't get the time to focus and do a comprehensive analysis. Finally, right before the first anniversary of this masterpiece, I got the time, and the post is ready now. Before starting off, I have to remind you of the fact that a work of art can be interpreted in many different ways, and none of those interpretations are necessarily right or wrong. Every work of art contains a message that is the artist’s main intention from that creation, but the artist doesn’t have to explain it to the audience because a true work of art speaks for itself, even though not all audiences can receive it thoroughly.

I know that in the past year, so many different types of analyses and theories were made by fans to explain this song, and most definitely, I couldn’t keep up with all of them. Therefore, I’m not claiming my analysis to be a breakthrough, and you might have read most parts of it somewhere else. In this post, we are going to discuss “Like Crazy” from a lyrical and conceptual point of view, trying to find out what message or messages Jimin wanted to convey by creating it.

About “Like Crazy”

“Like Crazy” as the title track for Jimin's first solo album, "FACE", stole the hearts of millions of fans and locals around the world, and inarguably became one of the most successful pop songs of the year 2023. I can talk for hours about how beautiful and successful “Like Crazy” is, and how it broke KPop boundaries and countless records. But, in this post, we are going to break to the surface and talk about the meanings and motivations behind this song and answer the questions like “How this song was made?” “What was Jimin's intention in writing these romantic lyrics?”

As I mentioned earlier, artists usually don’t directly address their main message and their intention in creating a form of art, but many of them speak about the motivations and inspirations that led them to the creation. Jimin hasn’t talked much about the sources of inspiration behind individual tracks of “FACE”, but I guess “Like Crazy” was an exception for him because he revealed on several occasions that he was inspired by “Like Crazy”, the movie. And this piece of information is the key to our analysis:

"I tried to express the feelings of that movie. You know, the somewhat complex, somewhat lonely, somewhat happy emotions. I tried to express all these ambiguous and subtle emotions in a slightly sexy way, but I’m not sure how it’ll end up being received by people.”

Like Crazy, The Movie

First of all, we need to keep in mind that “Like Crazy” is a completely original song, and Jimin has not used or sampled any songs, lines, or dialogues from the movie in his lyrical or visual concepts (even the intro and outro dialogues in the song were original and not from the movie). If Jimin had not stated his source of inspiration directly, the only hint that could have led us to it would be the title of the song, which duplicates the title of the movie since the title never appears in the lyrics.

So, Jimin chose this specific name for his song and announced his source of inspiration to make it clear that there is a straight and strong connection between the song and the movie. He made it clear that this connection is 100% conceptual and emotional, and if we want to know what “Like Crazy” is about, and what ambiguous and subtle feelings Jimin is talking about, we have to redirect the analysis to the concept of the movie, “Like Crazy”.

As we all know, “Like Crazy” is a romantic movie, and Drake Doremus directed it casting "Felicity Jones" and the late "Anton Yelchin" as the main characters, Anna and Jacob. Doremus based the storyline of this low-budget movie on his experience being in a long-distance relationship with his partner and developed it into a 90-minute-long movie, which was released in 2011 and became relatively successful.

Anna and Jacob

A few days before the release of “FACE”, I was informed that the title track, “Like Crazy” is based on a movie of the same name. After learning this fact, I had to re-watch it because I couldn’t remember anything after a decade, and I had some questions like: “What was in this movie that made it so special for Jimin?” “How would Jimin feel watching this?”. Having this mindset helped me to see the movie differently, but before explaining those new insights we need a short storyline of the movie:

Anna is a British exchange student in LA, where she falls in love with Jacob, an American student, and they start dating. Anna, blinded by her love for Jacob, overstays her student visa and consequently gets banned from re-entering the United States. After experiencing a forced LDR, Jacob flies to London to visit Anna, and her father suggests that getting married might resolve the issue, but they are not ready for this big step. Jacob goes back to LA and basically chooses his job over Anna, but after some time, they realize that they can’t be apart, and they decide to get married. Six months after the marriage, when the time for the appeal of Anna’s ban comes, it gets rejected, and they lose their last hope of being together. Again, they go back to their sad lives, but after some time, Anna is finally offered a visa, and she leaves everything behind to reunite with Jacob. The ending scene shows how this separation has damaged their relationship, and things will never be the same.

The movie portrays the hardships of a long-distance relationship and the damage the separation can do to two souls and their connection. I think the recent movie by "Celine Song" named "Past Lives" was partially similar to like crazy, but also there was a big difference; unlike Nora and Haesung in “Past Lives”, Anna and Jacob don’t leave it to fate, they don’t forget about each other and don’t settle down with others just because their love seemed difficult or impossible.

They found true happiness only next to each other and did everything against all odds (especially Anna) to take that back. Maybe if Anna and Jacob weren’t in love like crazy and were more mature and realistic, they would end up like Nora and Haesung (Sorry if this spoiled that movie for you), but they didn’t and made their own bittersweet ending.

Many people claim that “Like Crazy” is a breakup movie with a sad ending, therefore, Jimin’s song also must be a breakup song. But, first of all, the ending can somehow be considered an open ending. We don’t know what happens after the shower scene, but we see them together, in each other’s arms, and this is not a totally sad ending by any movie standards. Other than that, Anna and Jacob became separated a few times, but they don't officially break up by choice, their separation is the result of contractual rules and laws, made by society.

This movie, as its director explained, might be originally about a long-distance relationship, but also the main relationship in this movie can be seen as a relationship that gets strained by laws and regulations, it’s about the rules and imaginary borders that decide if two people can be together or ban them from it. It’s a story of the “love against law”.

A Heterosexual Love Story?

When “Like Crazy” was released in theatres back in 2011, it got positive reviews for good acting that made the movie feel sweet and intimate with mostly improvised dialogues. Meanwhile, the negative reviews were focused on the plotline of this drama, calling it far from reality. Other than the fact that Jacob could have easily resolved this issue by taking his job from LA to London, in reality, the couple wouldn’t have faced this much difficulty over the legal complications, especially after getting married.

The fact is, straight couples usually never face this kind of hardship, and governments take that easy on them otherwise, there wouldn’t be so many sham marriages around the world just to get citizenship. So, the idea of a couple getting separated by law is not common, and that’s why many people called this movie implausible. But, a queer person can familiarly receive this implausibility, like when they want to be with someone forever, but the laws don’t let them.

Could it be this feeling that made “Like Crazy” special and a source of inspiration for Jimin? Or was it something smaller like the Santa Monica beach scene? I have no answer, I only make theories, and I think it’s better to leave the movie here and start the lyrical interpretation to see how these words and feelings can get connected.

The Lyrics

[Intro]

(I think we could last forever (I'm afraid that everything will disappear Just trust me)

As I said earlier, this intro is not a dialogue from the movie, but the narrators were told to do it based on the audio from the movie that was sent to them. So, hypothetically, it’s Anna and Jacob having this conversation. He is afraid of losing everything, but Anna assures him that if he trusts her, they can last forever. In the MV, we see Jimin standing in the crowd, but the time goes in reverse, and through a transition into his eyes, we see him sitting alone. Weirdly, the outro of the song is playing in the background here, but we will figure out the reason later.

[Verse 1]

Korean Version, Translated

She's saying Baby, don't think about it There's not a bad thing here tonight Baby, it's fine if you leave Stay with me, just for today

English Version

She's saying, Baby, come and follow me There's not a bad thing here tonight Save your reasons all for later Stay with me a little while

Anna asks him to follow her and assures him that everything is fine, it’s fine if this is not going to last long. It’s not the time for reason and overthinking. The gendered pronoun here refers to Anna, but we will know more about her in the next verses. It is worth mentioning that in the primary handwritten lyrics by Jimin, there was no “She” and it was modified later considering the dialogues added to the intro. Anyway, we know Jimin didn’t release these drafts in his album for no reason.

In this part of the MV, we see Jimin sitting alone in a room, and with a flicker of lights, the room is filled with mud. Suddenly, a muddy hand of a girl grabs Jimin’s hand and leads him to a party. There are several symbols in this part, the lonely room is Jimin’s reality, and the party is his dream. The mud symbolizes dreams and desires that leave their trace on your life and soul.

[Verse 2]

Korean Version, Translated

Watch me go Drenching myself all night (Away) So that even the morning Gets drunk and doesn't arrive

English Version

Watch me go Now, I sink down, all alone away Where am I? A dark haze clouding up my eyes

From here, we don’t see the girl because Jimin and the girl became one. She was her reflection from the beginning, the side that leads him out of his loneliness, and allures him to his dreams and desires, tempts him to be careless and stop thinking too much. Some say she is Jimin’s Anima, but these lyrics never go to the deep levels of the subconscious to reach the Anima. She is his feminine side that is a tangible side of him, and Jimin’s asymmetric makeup gives it away. Also, the mirrored moves between Jimin and the female dancer in “Like Crazy’s” choreography made it clear that the feminine presence in this song is Jimin’s reflection.

[Pre-Chorus]

Korean Version, Translated

As the loud music I get faded out A cliché story like a drama I get used to it Have I come too far to find the me that you used to know Yeah, I know You know I know (Ooh)

English Version

I can hear the voices listening Don't know who they are Trying to take the pressure off Been reaching for the stars Tell me, will I find myself again? When I go too far? Yeah, I know You know, I know (Ooh)

Jimin enters the party and starts drinking, dancing, and having fun with the others. He laughs and enjoys himself in the crowd and trusts the supposed strangers, but the confusion doesn’t leave him alone. He feels lost, and as the lyrics say, he is worried about going too far and not finding himself again. The two opposite sides of him are conflicting. It’s the contradiction between "fear and desire", between "pain and numbness", between "loneliness and losing yourself", and between "reason and dream" that leaves him confused.

[Chorus and Post Chorus]

Korean Version, Translated

I'd rather be Lost in the lights, Lost in the lights I'm outta my mind Hold onto the end of the night Every night You spin me up high The moon with you in its arms Let me have a taste Give me a good ride (Oh, I'm fallin', I'm fallin', I'm fallin') Oh, it's gon' be a good night (Oh, I'm fallin') Forever, you and I

English Version

I'd rather be Lost in the lights, lost in the lights I'm outta my mind Can you help me numb the pain? Each night, you spin me up high Emotions on ice Let me have a taste Give me a good ride (Oh, I'm fallin', I'm fallin', I'm fallin') Oh, it's gon' be a good night (Oh, I'm fallin') Forever, you and I

In this part, he confesses which side he really wants to follow. He wants to go out of his mind, lose himself to the desire, and leave the reason behind. It’s the escapism that saves him from loneliness and the pain of real life. The chorus is the sexy and at the same time, the most poetic part of this song, especially where he is spinning up high in the arms of the moon.

The last line of the post-chorus, “Forever you and I” which also repeats in the last part of the interlude, is crucial because it declares that Jimin is not talking about vagrancy or promiscuity. He wants it all with his significant other, the only one who can help him numb the pain of real life and escape it. But this escapism has its consequences, and we see all that mud flush out of every corner symbolizing it. This scene artistically ends with Jimin facing his reflection in the crowd. The question is, is this reflection the same significant other, or is it Jimin himself? We will get the answer in the next part.

[Verse 3]

Korean Version, Translated

The me, reflected in the mirror Is going crazy endlessly I'm feelin' so alive, wasting time

English Version

All my reflections, I Can't even recognize I'm feelin' so alive, wasting time

His fear of losing himself was true, and it's happening now. This duality confuses him and makes him question his reality. Which side is the true Jimin? He doesn't care anymore because this escapism makes him feel alive.

Here in the MV, we see Jimin facing the reflection, and it immediately cuts to the restroom scene where he faces his literal reflection in the mirror and talks to him about not recognizing him anymore. Then, the restroom being dismantled symbolizes his state of mind. "The reflection of myself in an unfamiliar appearance" was the concept of "his "FACE" which was a whole album about Jimin himself.

[Outro]

This will break me This is gonna break me (Break me) No, don't you wake me (Wake me) I wanna stay in this dream, don't save me Don't you try to save me (Save me) I need a way we (Way we) I need a way we can dream on (On, on, on) (Alone again What's the point?)

Jimin knows the consequences of losing himself but embraces it. He knows it's gonna break him but doesn't want to wake up from his dream. He knows everything will collapse but doesn't need a savior. He wants to stay in that dream, but he knows it's impossible, and sooner or later, he will be dragged out of it.

Is there a way to cut all the connections to the real world of loneliness and stay in this dream forever? We get the answer in the MV, and it's not positive because suddenly, everything goes backward in speed, to where we started (remember the outro being played in the beginning? That was the clue).

He goes back to his lonely room with a muddy hand. Did his hand get dirty from a touch of his reflection, or was the muddy hand in the beginning his own hand? Is he trapped in a loop? Maybe. Maybe this wasn't his first or the last time coming back from that dreamland, and it was the reason for so much mud accumulated in his room. He is a regular in that dreamland and he can't quit.

Conclusion

It's understandable if this analysis of the movie, lyrics, and the MV didn't guide you in any direction, and maybe you are even more confused after reading it all. But don't blame yourself because Jimin already told us that, his emotions for this movie are complex. So, don't look for just one answer, maybe we are not supposed to end up with one conclusion, and this song also can have multiple interpretations and meanings. But what are these meanings?

If you pay attention to the lyrics and the MV you will realize that despite them being aligned and in sync, the lyrics have more connection to the movie. While filming the MV, Jimin mentioned that things (scenes of the MV) didn't happen like this in real life, which was an obvious fact, because this song is clearly not about being the life of the party and stuff like that, and has more internal meanings.

In "Like Crazy", Jimin talks about the loneliness of his real life, the isolation and limitations he experienced during the pandemic, and maybe other times. But Jimin finds an alternate reality, where he can be himself, be free and careless, and forget about the future. This alternate reality is rooted in two possibilities: The feminine side, and the significant other. The feminine side is what we face in the MV, and there are not many signs of it in the lyrics.

The feminine side appears as a muddy hand and a presence at the part that faces Jimin and becomes one with him as his reflection. The idea of "bigender" is nothing new in the concepts that Jimin has offered on different occasions, from his fake tattoos in ARMY-Zip 2019 to the performance of "Filter" in 2020 and his photopholio in 2022, he has expressed this fluidity in his work, and I think the visual concept of "Like Crazy" with his different makeup in the MV and the choreography was the epitome of it.

What about the significant other? As I mentioned in the analysis of chorus parts, "Forever You and I" Can only be interpreted as his exclusiveness to someone who is his significant other. This person is the one who saves Jimin from his loneliness and assures him about their happy ending. This person has no doubt in them lasting forever and only wants Jimin to trust him to take the lead and let that happen.

He keeps saying to his significant other that there is no future. They can't be together forever, this is just a temporary situation, and despite finding comfort in each other, they should not get attached because they will forced to be separated. It's not like Jimin doesn't believe in this love, he does and has the same wishes and dreams, but he keeps getting dragged to the real world where the rules govern.

This part is just a personal opinion as a Jikooker, but I did this analysis in my head last year when "Like Crazy" was newly released and had no intention of making a connection between this and Jikook, until "Seven" came out. We all know JK had no hand in making the sexy lyrics of "Seven", but after watching the MV (which had nothing to do with the lyrics), I couldn't unsee the fact that the concept of Seven's MV looked so much like a response to "Like Crazy's" lyrics. Still, we don't know if JK gave any ideas for the concept of the MV, but considering his record of working as an MV director, it's not impossible.

The End.

This is all I could say about "Like Crazy", a masterpiece that is still thriving in the charts and still touches people's hearts because it comes from real and deep emotions that Jimin had in his heart. That emotion got us the moment we listened to it for the first time, even though verbalizing it, is never easy, no matter how many analyses and reviews we write.

[yan-lorkai]

"Hello Lorkai! I've got an idea for a headcanon and would like to request it!

Yan!Idia (maybe with platonic Yan!Ortho too if you like) with an extroverted male reader who somehow gets placed in Ignihyde Dorm by the dark mirror (students from other dorms like to joking about the dark mirror putting him in the wrong dorm or something). The reader kinda becomes the mom friend of the dorm, always helping and taking care of everyone, assisting Idia with his Housewarden's work, you know, like the friend who orders food for their shy friends. Thank you very much <3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Uh... I've might misread the fact that you wanted headcanons. And so I did hcs and a few little drabble 🥺.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You are Ignyhide's mom figure, fixing everyone's hair and shirt. Everyone know that whoever is sorted into this dorm is somewhat of an introvert or ambivert. You, though, is an extrovert. You can talk freely, you know how to make friends and enjoy helping others around the campus. Yet, the others don't have this same capacity. And they need someone to take care of them, whence the title of mom, which was just a joke but slowly spread thought Ignyhide completely.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Idia was the most difficult person for you to get closer. He just seems to push away anyone that tried without even realizing but you persisted till you make friends with his brother and him. Taking care of Idia though... Sure, it's difficult sometimes.

"Let's go, Idiiiiiiia!” You tried to pull the antisocial Ignyhide dorm leader out of his bed, wanting to take him outside to sunbathe and eat in the canteen. You've been trying for a while now. Sometimes Idia was a lot like a younger brother to you. Stubborn, obstinate. His hair burning bright in a frightful color as you pulled him and he pushed you.

"Do you hate me, Yuu-shi? I didn't do anything wrong." Idia threw himself to the ground, a scream of pure terror escaping his throat as he struggled against you.

"Listen, either you walk out that door of your own free will or I'm going to throw you over my shoulders and we're going to leave the same way." You threatened him. You had tried every tactic you had on your sleeve today and still none of them were working. Regardless, he felt light enough for you to carry around.

"Yuu-shi wouldn't dare." Idia murmured back, he tried to sound confident and sure of what he is saying.

Yet he didn't stop you from pulling him to his feet this time, even though his legs were visibly tense and he had an annoying expression on his face. Idia knew that you meant what you said. And he wouldn't survive a day if someone saw you carrying him around. His shame would be too big to bear. He would be dead by the end of the night if that was to happen.

He gave you the best puppy dog eyes he could muster, but it was of little use. You opened the door for him and offered him a soft smile, trying to ease all the fear and anxiety he felt. Still, you had good intentions when trying to bring him out of his shell. There was tons of people you want him to meet, tons of things you wanted to do with him, outside from his room where you usually spent your free time. Without talking with him through a floating tablet.

You were working to make him realize that it was not healthy to stay cupped inside of his room all day. It was a slow process but in a few months, you know he'll be fine making phone calls and sending emails.

"C'mon, dude. We don't have all day." You teased him a little, watching him fumbling. He squeaked, hands founding yours to hold, to ground him, cold finger lacing with yours.

Idia didn't like this idea at all. There was so much that he could do at his room. Gaming, bing watching something, reading, studying. So why he have to abandon the comfort of his room?

He wanted to ask your intentions. But you are a mischievous guy, always so secretive, only the sevens may know what passed through your mind this week. Either way, Idia doubt that you would tell him where you're going or why. Sighed, he followed you outside.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ No matter how difficult he was, Idia was still your best friend. Your brother, if you will. Nobody could see one without the other nearby, even if most of the time it was just you and his floating tablet. It was a sweet friendship, most thought. And Idia deserved it. As did Ortho, the young robot was so funny to have around and he was as curious as a child, always asking you questions, even if he could have his answers with a snap of his fingers.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ While you make friends with Idia because you noticed how lonely he was, Ortho just latched onto you when he realized what you were trying to do, helping you in your mission to be Idia's friend. He was like a younger sibling, following you around, sometimes messing with your homework or phone for fun. He was mischievous. And you could never get angry at him because of his very cute puppy eyes. Often times, though, he includes you on his pranks.

"How things going, Yuu-shi?" Idia asked, voice tired and dark circles under his eyes as he stared at his computer. He knew it was you just by the sounds of your footsteps on the carpet.

Ortho programs are special, designed by Idia himself. They are not supposed to malfunction but sometimes errors happen and this is one of those times. Idia told you he would pull an all nighter so he could fix his brother and you, like the good friend you are, scold him for losing sleep. Yet, you brought with you some snacks and soft drinks, and you got to work with him.

The panel located on Ortho's chest glowed red, emitting a high-pitched sound that broke any and all silence that might exist, in addition to Idia's heavy breathing. You knew how to fix Ortho, you'd seen him do it a thousand times.

"I don't think that it's a systemic error, pass me the screwdriver so I can see something, Idia." Idia mumbled something, drinking one of your drinks as he lent you a screwdriver so you could taste your theory before turning back to his computer and start typing something again, running another bunch of tests.

"Be careful!" He advised. You huffed, of course, you were going to be careful.

You slowly began to unscrew the nails holding the panel in place, carefully placing it on the bed next to you. You observed all those wires and pieces, the fire on his chest burning even brighter now, you tried to remember for what which wire was for. Ignyhide was after all known to raise students to be the best in mechanics.

"Actually everything's normal," You murmured to Idia, there was nothing wrong with Ortho that you could see. Red light still emanating from somewhere below his artificial heart. "C'mere and help me, Idiaaa."

The older Shroud laughed at your tone but he complied, crouching down by your side. "Let's see..." Just as Idia reached out to inspect Ortho’s chest panel, the younger Shroud's eyes suddenly lit up, glowing a vivid yellow.

His previously limp body jerked upright and his voice, eerily robotic, boomed through the room: "Error 375, host unable to respond, initiating reboot sequence."

Idia yelped and practically jumped out of his skin, scrambling backward in a flurry of blue flames, his ears hurting from loud Ortho's announcement was. "W-what, error 375, what even is that? Ortho? What did you do?" He stammered, looking between you and Ortho in sheer disbelief, lost.

Then, just as suddenly, Ortho broke into his usual chipper grin. "Just kidding, Nii-san!" The younger Shroud chirped, a playful glint in his eyes. "Got you!"

Idia’s expression was a mix of shock and exasperation, his face and hair bright red from embarrassment. "You little—!"

Ortho giggled innocently, while you couldn’t help but burst into laughter. The prank had been a success.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Aside from moments like that, you also help them with simple things, helping Idia with his dorm leader's duties in general, and playing with Ortho, helping them with laundry and making breakfast. And when you three go out to buy things or something, you always team up with Ortho to tease Idia. It's funny.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You and Ortho incentives Idia to be more sociable, though that's still not possible so often you three just spend time on the gardens or somewhere more secluded. At least, Idia can leave his room if you and his brother are by his side the entire time. He still have a long way to go to overcome his shyness but you're proud of him and you let him know at every opportunity.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ It's common for you for you to order for you and Idia but if you're tired or unwell, Idia will crawl from his shell and stutter out your favorite order. It's the only time he'll try for real to overcome his fear of talking to other people.