#there should be modern aus where he makes perfumes for a living

[killjoy-prince]

This dialogue brought my attention to something that's obvious but I never thought about before until it was said out loud

[atinyjules]

This is my first time requesting for a Kdrama character. So I want some Lee rang x human reader in the modern time from 1st season. Where reader is a highschool or a uni student. Shes a bit introverted but she can be quite fun too.So how'd they meet and all?

UNDERSTAND - LEE RANG

Ofc! That'd be great! It's like 1 am in the morning right now but I stayed awake hoping someone would request a fic-🤧

Okay so my creative juices are working really good right now! So let's get started!

Thank you for Requesting (´∀｀)♡

Genre: Fluff, romance, strangers to friends to lovers trope, fantasy au, humor.

Pairings: Lee Rang x Human!reader (named)

Warnings: Swearing, violence, mentions of death, blood and Rang just being a misunderstood half demon who just wants to be loved.

Crap.

That's what you felt like as a second year uni student trying to survive the harsh summer heat with two assignments due in two days and continuous tests for the next 4 days. On top of that you were two months behind on paying your rent and one last warning away before you're eventually kicked out of your apartment. But what did you expect?

As an orphan who had no financial or emotional support, you had to support yourself but even after working three jobs a day it still barely covered your tuition fees for a year. Life was hard but you didn't have a choice. These days people looked for employees with excellent social skills and unfortunately being an introvert, speaking and conversing with clients was not your forte.

Which brings us to your second job of the day at a skincare boutique.

Noeul's

"Thank you for you're purchase ma'am, please come again." I said politely as my customer left, smile falling to a frown almost immediately.

"No amount of skincare products will fix that prideful ugly hag's face." I muttered under my breath as I took a deep breath in and looked at my reflection in the mirror.

"Gosh my face looks so tired and exhausted...don't tell me I've been tending to customers like this..." I mumbled as I took a break to freshen myself up.

As I fixed my makeup in the wash room I couldn't help but eavesdrop at my colleagues conversation.

"I heard that your boyfriend proposed!"

"Yes, he did! See!" she exclaimed flaunting her engagement ring.

I let out a sigh internally as their voices started fading away and my thoughts took my attention.

Everyone I know have their lives all figured out and here I am a broke uni student who could get evicted by next week.

I sighed as I felt my emotions skyrocket through the roof and finally crack as I felt my tears pour out after keeping everything bottled up inside me for a month. Fortunately there was no one in the wash room at that moment but I was sure that my colleagues were out gosipping about my melt down. But nonetheless I cried my heart out and by the time I came out my shift had already ended so I went towards the changing room to get out of my uncomfortable uniform.

As I made my way towards the changing room I couldn't help but stop and look at the commotion that was happening in the perfume aisle. I came infront to see a man in a red suit holding another man up in the air with his hands wrapped around his neck as the victim suffocated.

"Aish, people can't mind their own business these days can they?" he said as his eyes connected with mine and he scanned me from top to bottom.

"You work here?" he asked me as I nodded and he threw two perfume bottles towards me. Luckily I caught it and cleared my throat.

"Should I pack it for you, sir?" I asked as he nodded.

"Pack them separately while you're at it yeah?" he asked as I nodded and bowed lightly.

After I was done packing the perfumes he payed for it and took the bags but instead of leaving he leaned at the counter and brought his lips to my ears making me flustered as his warm breath fanned my skin.

"Switch the power off and get under the table when I tell you to...alright? Cause it'd be a shame if you die." he whispered, catching me off guard as I nodded.

He then turned towards the entrance door and locked it, turning around with a menacing smirk as he closed the blinds and put the perfumes in a corner.

"On the count of three." he said and looked at me with a smirk as I grazed my fingers over the switch.

"Three" he said and walked towards the sample section.

"Two....one." he said and I switched off the power and quickly got under the table. And just as I did a string of gunshots and screams began, all I could hear other than those noises were the sounds of furniture breaking and bodies being thrown around. Out of fear I covered my ears and screamed as a body suddenly collided to the table next to the one I was taking shelter in.

"There you are, come on." the man from before said and propped me up on my feet almost immediately and pulled me out of the store with the perfume in his hand.

"W-What are you?" I asked after I saw many bodies splayed across the destroyed boutique.

"Your knight in shining armour." he said and turned to look at me with a smirk as I gasped at the sight of his golden eye.

"W-Wait-" he cut me off my pulling me into an alleyway.

"Keep yourself out of trouble, let's meet again. But until then, try not to die." he said and handed me one of the perfume bottle and a bag.

"They have a really strong sense of smell so I suggest you change your clothes and spritz on a lot of this " he said and smirked at me and walked away.

"What just-wait!" I ran out of the alleyway towards the way he walked to only to see an empty street making me gasp as I quickly ran to the nearest public washroom and did as he said.

"Are these his clothes?" I asked myself as I wore the oversized sweater and shorts that were in the bag. After that I spritz a large amount of the perfume on myself and made my way home.

Two days later I found myself at the park eating a watermelon popsicle, watching as the kids played in the water sprinklers. I smiled and chuckled as I watched them intently wishing I could go back to my younger years at the orphanage I grew up in. Even though I wasn't adopted, my life in the orphanage was quite nice...we had a nice headmistress, good food, loving care takers and a comfortable and safe place to live in. I sighed as I finished up my popsicle, grinning when it read two free popsicles.

"Ah, you're alive." I looked up to see the guy from monday causing me to shriek and flinch.

"Y-You!" I exclaimed as he smirked and sat next to me on the bench.

"Oh, you won." he said looking at my popsicle stick.

As we ate our popsicle, I couldn't help but stare at him.

He was definitely handsome, without a doubt and strong...really strong which brought me to the conclusion that he probably was either not a human or an incredibly strong human, my bet was on the first choice as the grandma who would make our meals when I was little told me that spirits and demons of sorts existed among us.

"If you keep staring at me you're popsicle will melt." he said making me turn a dark shade of red as I quickly chewed my popsicle causing me to have extreme brain freeze.

"Ahhh-" I groaned and clutched my head as he looked at me with amused eyes.

"I've met a lot of humans but you must be the most interesting and amusing one yet." he said as I froze and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Humans? Does that mean..." I trailed as he looked at the bed of roses.

"You like flowers?" he asked me and before I could even respond he already had a bouquet of roses in his hand.

"Take these as a gift for helping me out that day." he said as I looked at the roses.

"I don't take flowers from a stranger." I mumbled as he chuckled.

"I like your personality, the name's Lee Rang but just call me Rang." he said as I looked at him and smiled softly.

"I'm Kang Noeul." I said and accepted the flowers as he stood up.

"Nice name, it suits you." he said as he put on his shades and brought his hand forward.

"Friends?" he asked as I nodded and shook his hand and once again in the blink of an eye he propped me up to my feet.

"A fox always repays kindness, so tell me what you want...anything you wish for I'll get it for you." He said as I thought for a while.

"I don't have friends so...can you be my friend ? Like, a real friend not just for the sake of repaying my kindness but my real friend?" I asked as he chuckled and ruffled my hair.

"I'm not one for befriending humans seriously, but you're an exception." he said and walked in front of me and stopped.

"Are you just gonna stand there? Come on, we have places to be." he said as I furrowed my brows.

"Where?" I asked not realising that the next few months would be filled with me regretting my decisions.

"Who's car was that?!" I exclaimed referring to the car we just trashed as we ran away.

"My elder brother's." he said completely chill as I gasped.

"The one who abandoned you?!" I exclaimed as I picked up my speed.

"Why are you running so fast?" he asked as I continued sprinting.

"I don't want to die in the hands of a pure Gumiho...if you, a half gumiho are that strong I can't imagine how strong he'll be." I said as he held my hand and stopped me.

"Who said I'd let him kill you hm?" he said as he started walking us in a slow pace.

I've been friends with Rang who is not only a Gumiho but also my roommate for about 2 and a half months now...and everyday is filled with us getting in bizarre adventures or causing mischief. Being friends with him somehow unlocked a new version of my self that I wasn't aware I had while still being myself.

Having him in my life not only changed my life but also my feelings for him compared to when we had first met. Sure he was bad, he did bad things and had a long standing grudge on his elder brother who he was currently planning on getting revenge from but nonetheless he made me feel safe, protected and loved...something I haven't felt in years.

"You'd be willing to protect me?" I asked, completely surprised as he scoffed.

"We've been living with each other for than two months and that was enough for me to know that you can't live without me." he said with a smug expression, he isn't completely wrong though.

"Yeah, yeah." I said as he suddenly sat down in a bench and left me standing as he made me stand between his legs and wrapped his arms around my waist and burried his face in my waist.

"You won't...abandon me too will you?" he asked through the fabric of my sweater, catching me off guard.

"Why would you think that?" I asked as he held me tighter.

"My intentions aren't good...I only want revenge and bloodshed." he said as I sighed and ran my fingers through his hair.

"Maybe you're not as good as most people but for me it doesn't matter...I won't make fun of you for that...nor will I judge. But I just want you to know that I won't abandon you and I hope that you won't abandon me too." I said as he chuckled.

"Never, you have my word." he said as I took a deep breath.

"Rang?...can I tell you something?" I asked as he smiled and kissed my forehead.

"I love you too idiot...I can assure you that cause a fox always stays loyal to his mate." he said catching me off guard.

"How did you know?" I asked as he pulled me into a real hug.

"You weren't good at hiding your feelings, I saw and felt the love you have for me enough to entrust you with my heart, I love You Kang Noeul." he said and leaned in making me close my eyes as he pressed a soft yet loving kiss to my lips under the orange skies created by the sun's rays as it set.

"I love you too, Rang-ah."

"Never thought that I'd find

That the one in my life would be so near

And now you're here

I got you, you got me

When it's us, babe, you make me feel complete

You're all I need."

_______________________

I am so sorry if the story doesn't reach your expectations but I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it ♡♡♡

Thank you for reading♡

[silkendandelion]

Million Dollar Baby, A One Piece fanfiction

ao3 link, Chapter 2

Pairing: Sir Crocodile x OC (male) Words: 42k Genre: Modern AU, romance, drama, humor, smut, fluff

Summary: A (very) loose adaptation of Pretty Woman (1990), where Crocodile and River (Mirage In The Desert) make a deal: six days, six-thousand dollars. Everything appears to be business as usual, but neither of them counted on love.

Rated Explicit for sexual content, strong language, and mild violence. The narrator is respectful of sex workers but the characters may not be. Reader discretion is advised. Historical references within include the real life occupation and socioeconomic state of Panama in the 80's and 90's.

Chapter 1

~*~

Summer on the coast is meant to be about sunshine, warm sand, and ice cold drinks. For the wealthiest among them, it means garden parties, and a meticulously trimmed courtyard dotted with round, catered tables for it’s matching socialites.

“What a beautiful view, Doffy,” said the woman beneath his arm, draped in a flimsy, floral dress.

He grinned at his woman of the week, reaching to pour her more sangria from the condensing pitcher in the middle of the crisp, white tablecloth. “There’s only a handful of properties on this hilltop. The city may be nice to visit, but you couldn’t pay me to live down there.”

The woman went on chatting pleasantly, bracelets jingling and perfume strong where she rubbed against his suit, but he barely heard her. His thoughts were far away, focused on the corner window of his boxy, white mansion, where he could see Crocodile taking a phone call. He had thrown this garden party for him after all, something worthy of the mild summer weather and the anticipation of another deal brokered—the entire reason Crocodile had even traveled to the area. And yet he had spent the majority of it inside, on that damned phone.

His teeth ground together despite his best efforts, and he tilted his glass back to finish it.

“Doffy!” came Giolla’s boisterous voice, appearing with Dellinger in tow. “Where’s your guest of honor? Everyone’s dying to hear about this deal of his.”

“You know how he is.” Doflamingo downplayed his embarrassment with a deflection. “Somebody should get the hard stuff out, he’ll turn up. Or maybe he’s already slipped away with one of the waiters and we’ll have to wait until he gets the check to find out how much it is.”

Even to his own ears, his laugh was too loud, and Giolla gave him a gentle, scolding ‘tsk’ as she motioned for Dellinger to join her in taking a seat.

“At least the party is nice,” the young man said, popping a wet strawberry in his mouth and smiling when Doflamingo gave him a genuine murmur of thanks.

Inside the house, Crocodile almost managed to drown out the chatter of the party, having moved to sit in the wing-back chair by the phone when one call became two, eventually more. He took the receiver from his ear to rub his brow with his good hand, hearing a monotonous chirp that must be the other line awaiting his answer.

“Yes, I’m still here... I’ve been waiting quite awhile. Either she can take my call, or she can have her staff inform me of—”

‘Crocodile.’ He stilled at the sound of a woman’s voice, as deep and refined as his was.

“Mother.”

‘You received my message. You’ve been on the line for some time.’

He winced when his knuckles creaked around the phone’s receiver, but steady enough to keep his voice completely level. Too plain, actually. “I had assumed this was an emergency, but I can see you—”

‘Your father has passed. Some time ago now, but a modest service will be held on our estate tomorrow. Can we expect your attendance?’

Of all the things he could have said, of which many crossed his mind in slow, dreamy succession, the only words that left his mouth, quiet and dry, were: “I am far away currently, on business.”

‘I see. It’s just as well, I suppose. Your presence is not required at the reading of his will. Take care, son, and good luck.’

The line clicks closed before he can give his own goodbye, louder somehow than the heartbeat in his ears, the unintelligible prattle of the party in the garden, and the faraway bustle of the staff in the kitchen.

Downstairs, Doflamingo looked up from his brutal stabbing of the ice block in the punch bowl that refused to melt in any way conducive to as many refills as his guests demanded. “Oh! You’ve finally decided to join us, Croco—”

“Give me my keys,” he insisted, with little room for argument in his eyes or outstretched palm.

“You’re not trying to leave, are you? This is all for you, you know.”

“I don’t recall ever asking you to throw a party—in fact, I believe my exact words were ‘Lunch sounds fine’.” He breathed in through his nose, absently patting his breast pocket to check he still had his cigars before extending his palm again. “My keys.”

Doflamingo just hummed, pleased as punch when his irritation dissolved to a smug smile. “They’re in the kitchen. Not that you could get out, anyway, the driveways blocked down to the street.”

“Then give me your keys.”

“Sit down, you stubborn reptile,” he tried again, sweeter despite his sarcastic words. “You’re clearly overworked, stressed, in need of a good meal and a better lay. We can take care of one of those needs right now. I’ll make sure the food is kept warm.”

“With who? You?” Crocodile raised a slender eyebrow, letting himself be placed into a chair, close enough to the other that their thighs brushed.

“If you insist.” Doflamingo chuckled, deep and dark. In the reflection of his obnoxiously pink sunglasses, Crocodile could see his own calculated simper, his sudden smile of triumph, and his hand that had slipped inside the other man’s suit jacket jingled quietly.

“You—,” Crocodile sighed suddenly, harsh and put out as he shook the foreign keys. “You changed vehicles again? Which one is yours then?”

He shoved his friend away and stomped off to the front of the house. There was no doubt he assumed Doflamingo would give chase, but he didn’t expect him to take so long to start calling after him, long enough Crocodile had tried the handles of all the cars along the driveway until one finally came free. Luckily, it wasn’t as flashy as Doflamingo’s usual white or pink monstrosities, instead a wide, sharp black thing that Crocodile hated to admit he might have picked for himself if given the opportunity.

“Be careful with that one, Croc, it’s a rental!” He called after him, waving as he weaved his tall body through all the landlocked vehicles.

“You didn’t get the insurance? And why are you renting a vehicle when you live here?” Crocodile growled back at him, and yanked open the door to stuff himself inside—rather easily, he discovered. He even had room to stretch out his legs.

His friend bent to fill the open window with his wide shoulders and his overbearing, sharp cologne. “I’m thinking of leasing it, I had to try it out first.”

“I’ll let you know how it runs,” replied Crocodile dryly as he leaned over his shoulder to back the long car out with an impatient scrape of the tires on the gravel driveway.

“Do you even know how to get back to Rain Dinners?” Doflamingo shouted, although his deep, sadistic chuckle implied he hadn’t any actual concern for his friend’s safety.

His tease received no answer, except the window rolling closed and the brake lights flashing when Crocodile finally found the controls for the headlights.

“Ha! The city is the other way!” His amusement rose to a laugh, cackling and satisfied that he could ruffle the other man so thoroughly as to go uphill to try to get off a mountain. Anywhere away from him, he supposed.

Splendid.

~*~

After what was an embarrassing about of time, including three missed exits and exactly two u-turns, one illegal, one away from a dead end street—he finally made it back to the city, turning onto a lively through street that was lined with neon-lit bars and crowded sidewalks for a Sunday night.

At the first red light, he took the opportunity to roll down the windows and gesture to the windbreaker-clad teenagers on the corner that stared at the polished car, clearly an outlier among the dented daily drivers crowding the dusty parking meters.

His good hand held up a crisp bill where the kids could see it. “I need to get back to Alabasta drive.”

One stepped off the sidewalk to grab at the bill, but he flicked it just out of their reach. “Directions first.”

The boy pointed to the next block, it’s corner lit up by a flickering “EZ Mart” sign in blue and red. “Turn right at the cornerstore, and take the left next to the laundromat. Don’t stop for anything but red lights, rich boy, there’s junkies and hookers all over the strip.”

Crocodile didn’t stop him as the boy snatched the bill from his hand. “Does your mother know you talk about adults that way?”

“She’s probably there right now. Thanks for the cigarette money, rich boy.” The boy hopped back onto the sidewalk with his friends, making his own twisted sneer when Crocodile clicked his teeth at him.

“Dude,” a second boy tapped his friend’s shoulder harder than he meant to, once the black car had turned the corner. “You can’t just give out bogus directions to people, what if he comes back all pissed? The guy looked like mafia or something.”

“Yeah,” said a third. “He’s gonna come back and kill us. Take us out to the desert and shoot us.”

“Then we just have to be gone by the time he circles the block.” The first boy pocketed the cash.

“… Ohh.” They all agreed in unison, truly a cohesive unit of deliberation.

The second boy elbowed his friend as they crossed the street towards another all-night general store, one with a handwritten sign in the window that read “No backpacks”.

“Dude. What if he picks up your mom?”

“SHUT UP!”

~*~

Meanwhile, a short drive away and tucked into bed among an heirloom blanket, another man was only just beginning to rise for the night. He bemoaned his alarm, slapping it off to stretch himself into a semblance of a functional human being, sleep-warm and scratching at the sheet mark on his bare hip.

Short, clean nails, long, tan limbs, and a wild bed-head of hair, such a dark shade of blue it shone black in the light of the TV he left on during the day, still droning on with the local late show. He flicked it off, dropping his underwear to the rug and wandering off to the shower, passed the couch that functioned less of a sitting area and more of a sorting table for his endless cycle of laundry. Having a private bathroom on this side of the city was a luxury, even with cracked, dated pink tile and a door that didn’t close completely.

Damp from the shower, he plucked a pair of black underwear from the pile, blow-drying his hair with the other hand where he was tied to the wall by the short cord. Once he had hidden his hair under a blonde wig and glossed his mouth with the tin from his suit jacket pocket, he was ready to go, but not before he checked the fire escape to see if his offering to the neighborhood stray had been accepted.

“You were hungry, weren’t you?” He smiled at the empty plate, licked clean, yet the skinny, spotted cat was nowhere to be seen.

Down the stairs, he side-stepped the other residents of the walk-up that always managed to loiter, even when they should be in bed or somewhere else trying to make money too. The first floor of the building belonged to the East Blue Grill, owned and operated by an older, mustached man who doubled as their landlord. And despite not living in any of the apartments above, his son spent as much time in the kitchen as he did.

At the sound of familiar footsteps, Sanji looked up from where he scribbled an order on his notepad. “Is it that time already? Have you eaten?”

“Mail, River,” Zeff interrupted him to vaguely point at the envelopes stacked beside the cash register.

“I haven’t, Sanji,” River said, half-listening. Coupons, so much junk mail, a letter from the immigration office, and a red envelope with his college’s name across the front, stamped with stark black letters: ‘FINAL NOTICE’.

The blonde cook slid a plate of food in front of him, seemingly unaware how his jaw clenched as he folded the letters neatly into his breast pocket.

“Sanji, I don’t think I have time to—”

“That isn’t what I asked,” he fired back gently. More than anything, River wanted to protest, but the pointed slide of silverware into his palm brokered no argument.

“Thank you, Sanji.” As he tucked into his food, the bell above the door beckoned the hostess to call out a friendly “Welcome in!”, met by the silhouette of a familiar beat cop with sharp eyes and outrageous mint-colored hair to compliment his tan complexion.

River pointedly glanced away, suddenly interested in the menu beside his elbow and an imperfection in the bar’s counter.

“Finish your food. You’re not bothering anyone,” said Sanji. “I’ll take care of the mosshead. Hey! Didn’t I tell you not to come in here if you’re only going to order booze?”

“HUH? That’s no way to treat a customer!” The cop fired back, and River slipped away from his empty plate after leaving some wrinkled cash under his cup. Away and out the side door, marked “emergency exit, alarm will sound” only to prevent employees from using it for smoke breaks—and ran straight into a sturdy chest.

“I’m so sorry!” He looked up, all the way up to yet another cop, this one with a hard-boiled stare, his white hair trimmed short on the sides in a way that could almost be called professional. At first glance, River assumed he was off-duty, deciding the buttoned polo and slacks under his trench-coat were reasonable enough to wear on his day off (if a little squarish), until he spotted the golden badge on his hip, and the pager clipped to his belt, blinking with a missed message.

“Somebody made detective.” A smirk escaped him, almost against his will. After all, River had never been accused of having too much common sense, equally perhaps because he knew enough about the now-detective to only be a little afraid of him.

“Off to work?” Smoker said, almost innocently.

“… Yeah.” He licked his lips. “I won’t be back until late.”

River toed carefully off the step, never taking his eyes off him, not that the detective intended to let him look away. In hindsight, the latter understood perfectly why they seemed incapable of having a normal conversation of more than a few words, when they stood on opposite sides of the caution tape.

Meeting River was impossible without remembering that first night, on the scene of a particularly difficult drug bust, all because of a noise complaint from a nosy neighbor about men fighting in the apartment above. Smoker recalled in technicolor detail the sight of River rinsing his split lip in the green sink, asking if he was going to be arrested too as pink water dribbled down his neck.

He recalled meeting his gaze in the bathroom mirror, from his reddened eyes, disheveled suit missing buttons, to the torn, foil-blue strip of condoms leaking lubricant onto the yellowed linoleum floor. When questioned by his partner, he simply said: “I’ve already taken his statement. He’s free to go.”

If only he knew River thought about it as often as he did, especially when he slinked away from him into the night while Smoker pursued his job in other areas.

“You’re late,” Zoro complained, already sipping a beer and halfway through his food (at the cook’s vehement demand).

“I’m not late, you’re early,” replied Smoker. “Just a coffee for me, thank you,” he told the waitress.

“So, what’s the plan?” Zoro asked from behind his napkin. “I’m not used to this neighborhood, but it seems pretty easy. I could close my eyes and fall into a collar if I needed to, there’s plenty of junkies and hookers around. Probably half of them are customers of each other.”

Smoker opened his mouth to fire back but the waitress was setting down his coffee, and he briefly broke his scowl to thank her. “Besides fixing your mouth, I want you to remember that I care about the drugs more than anything else. Leave the prostitutes alone if they’re just clocking in and out like us. I grew up in this neighborhood so I want it clean, and you will act right while this is your beat.”

By the time Smoker finished his speech, Zoro had cleaned his plate and was leaning back in his seat to study him fully. This wasn’t the Smoker he had heard about from the rest of the precinct, the “White Hunter” whose ruthless pursuit preceded him. Nevertheless, such conviction demanded he acquiesce—happily, in fact. It had been far too long since he found someone on the force he could say he respected without it being a lie.

“Yes, sir,” he said with a smirk.

[hymuk]

Brainstorming

Modern AU where Petra likes to write fanfiction — 1911 words

--

He stared into her light amber orbs, gazing fondly as he tried to memorize every curve and dip of her face—the freckles that sprinkled across her cheeks, the way her hair caught the light. She could feel her face growing warmer, acutely aware of the soft touch of his palm on her cheek. Her breath caught when he began to dip his face towards her, his lips brushing hers as she—

Petra pulled her earbuds out, frustrated by the pounding at the front door of her apartment. It was rare for her to  get in a few quiet hours to herself while living with Hanji, and in the moments she did have alone, she preferred to spend it holed up in bed, completing the next chapter of her fanfiction. It wasn’t everyday that the slow-burn piece she’d written for her ship gets to have their first kiss. 

Petra had been writing fanfiction since the start of high school. The struggle from trying to fit in was dulled when she got to spend free periods and lunch breaks diving into the fiery romance of her favorite characters instead of focusing on her next assignment for math class. Even as the years passed and she eventually found her place and her people, Petra found herself logging back onto AO3 after a long day. Between college applications and lame high school parties, Petra would dedicate time to crafting stories where her favorite pairing got a happy ending, instead of the—no spoilers—canon tragedy that awaited them. The stories she wrote always managed to feel more exciting than the life she was living, and focusing on their relationship was far better than her non-existent dating life. Chivalry was dead. 

When Petra got to college, it became harder to make time for her series. Instead of consistent posts and lengthy chapters, she would share apologetic notes to followers, explaining the chaos of life that prevented her from pushing her fics out. Living with Hanji made it all the more difficult—constant parties at the apartment, being dragged out to campus events, and a certain distracting friend that somehow always managed to keep Petra from going back to her room when he came over. 

So when Petra heard Levi’s voice accompanied by the loud knocks, she froze. 

“Hello? … Hello! … ”

Petra tried to calm her nerves, waiting to hear the usual creak of Hanji’s bedroom door opening to welcome him in— after which Petra would change her top, reapply perfume, then join them out in the living room. They both waited for a moment, but Hanji didn’t appear. 

Levi pounded on the door again, still convinced that Hanji was in the apartment. “Hanji? What the hell are you doing—I’m here.”

Petra felt dizzy. Even though Hanji was one for the spontaneous hang—and party—it wasn’t like her to not be home and forget to warn Petra that someone was coming over. Especially when that someone was Levi. Petra knew Hanji had started to suspect that she might have a thing for their brooding, short friend after the first few times he’d come over. She’d be eager to hang out with them and play Smash or hit a beer garden even though she sucked at Smash and hated beer. And sometimes, Hanji swore, did Petra run back to the bathroom to reapply perfume?

Even though it might’ve become clear that Petra was developing a crush on Levi, he showed no sign of noticing—or reciprocating those feelings. (Hanji knew that he was a tough nut to crack, but jeez, he could stand to lighten up and smile once in a while.)

It felt cruel to leave Levi standing out there, so she grabbed her laptop, telling herself that she would just go to inform him that Hanji wasn’t there, and that maybe he should come again next time (when Hanji was there to chaperone). 

Levi was about to give up and head out, ready to give Hanji a piece of his mind when he got home, but all thoughts of Hanji disappeared when Petra greeted him at the door. 

She stood there nervously, holding her laptop to her chest, wearing a pair of running shorts and a crop top. It wasn’t the first time Levi had noticed Petra’s body, but there was something about her in her pjs that made her look even better. 

Crap. Had he been staring?

Levi met her eyes then poked his head into the apartment, looking for Hanji. 

“Oh, hey Petra,” he said, trying to play off his initial surprise. “Sorry for the noise. Shitty Glasses told me she’d be here.”

Petra smiled, suddenly aware that this was the first time the two of them had ever been alone together. And they were standing outside of her apartment. A private place. Just the two of them. Her face became warmer at the thought.

“Um, well, I’m not sure, but maybe you can come back later? Hanji didn’t mention you were coming.” 

“Typical,” he scoffed. Levi looked past Petra again. The apartment was empty, no Hanji in sight.. Idiot, he thought. What a waste of time coming over here… Unless.

Levi glanced up at Petra, who he could tell seemed on edge. Levi felt his heart race when he thought about what to say next. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying not to seem too eager. “Well, is there a chance I could come in and hang with you while I waited?”

Oh. Oh no. 

“Um,” Petra squeaked. “Well, sorry, I was doing some work and—”

“I’ll be quiet,” Levi offered, worried he’d interrupted her too quickly. “I brought my laptop too so we can work together.”

Me. Levi. Alone. Working. My fanfiction. Shit. 

“Oh, sure!” Petra responded brightly. Idiot! Stupid, stupid, idiot!!!

Petra surprised herself when she held the door open and let Levi in, wondering what possessed her to do something like this. 

When she sat down on the couch, she tried to leave a healthy amount of space between the two of them. She pulled her laptop open, vaguely aware of him doing the same, and kept her gaze trained on her monitor. 

Levi had never done anything to suggest that he reciprocated her feelings, and she couldn’t imagine how embarrassing it would be if she let him know how she felt. She pictured him coming over, awkward from knowing that Petra was pining after him, while they played stupid Smash and drank disgusting beer and Hanji said something ridiculous and dumb. 

Thinking about how terrible this alternate reality was almost distracted her from the nerves she felt right now. 

Keep it together. Hanji will probably be back in like 20 minutes. She probably just went to grab more beers—or something. I don’t know. Oh God. 

Levi stared blankly at the crossword, letting the timer run, not fully thinking about the answers to the clues. He glanced at Petra out of the corner of his eye, trying to find an opening to say something. But everytime he looked over at her, she was deep in focus, reading something off of her laptop. Whatever it was, it looked dense and long. 

Levi wasn’t sure if Hanji was trying to throw a bone for him, or if she was just being her usual idiotic self. But she hadn’t made it a secret how cute she thought him and Petra would look together, and she’d even dropped hints that if he decided to make a move, Petra wouldn’t be opposed. 

Levi cleared his throat, and scooted over towards her, sliding his arm across the back of the couch so that his fingertips just grazed her shoulders. He felt her stiffen under his touch when he asked, “So, what are you working on?”

Petra froze. She didn’t show anyone her fanfiction writing. She could tell that he was beginning to read what was on the page, his eyes skimming over the words. 

“Is this for a writing class?” Levi asked, brows furrowing. He wondered if he’d said something wrong—Petra was usually bubbly and warm in her responses to him, but this time, she was silent. She looked back at him, suddenly noticing how close their faces were as he leaned over her shoulder to read the words on the page. The words that she had written. He looked even better up close and when he was deep in focus. 

“Oh,” Petra replied softly, hoping that her cheeks weren’t too red. “Well, not exactly.” She closed the flap of her laptop, her smile tight lipped. “It’s—it’s just a passion project.” 

“Oh, that’s cool.” Levi gave something close to a smile back. He tried to process what he had started reading, and realized whatever she was writing probably wasn’t for his eyes…

“Yeah,” Petra responded, her voice breathy. She was cute when she was nervous. She made no move to back away from him, and by now, the two of them were pressed up against one another at the other end of the couch. Petra had no idea how he made his way over without her noticing, but now, his arm was around her shoulders, his other hand brushing against her fingertips. 

“Was it fanfiction?” Something shy of a smile graced his lips. His lips. Why was Petra always noticing his lips. 

She turned red. “Oh, I—yeah, I guess.”

The edges of his mouth turned up, and his eyes flicked down to her lips then back up. “Nice,” he said. Did his voice get deeper? “Tell me what you’re writing about.”

Petra took a breath, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach. “Oh, it’s just—it’s a romance—”

“Romance?” Levi repeated. He had started to play with the tips of her hair, and he was sitting close enough that his chest was pressed up to her bare shoulder.  “And you’re a fan of romance, Petra?” Something about the way he said her name made her heart race. She could feel how hard his chest was through the fabric, and she remembered all the times Hanji told her that she was going to hit the gym with Levi and if she wanted to come. Now Petra wish she had, just so she could already know what was under his shirt. 

Petra nodded, too distracted to string together a sensible response. 

Levi smiled, his gaze shifting down from her eyes to her lips. “Maybe we can brainstorm some new material.” Before she could respond, she felt Levi’s lips part her own, surprising herself when she returned and deepened his kiss. Petra couldn’t help but smile as they kissed, fully aware of his one hand, warm on the back of her neck, while his other inched up her thigh.

Oh. This was nice. 

Petra melted into his touch, letting him tangle his fingers in her hair and slip his tongue into her mouth, running it along her bottom lip in a way that made her want to tear his shirt off. Her hands found their way onto his chest, and as she began to play with the collar of his shirt, she felt him slide his hands under her thighs—just below her ass—and lift her up into his lap. She almost let out a moan when he hooked his fingers under the waistband of her pants, grazing her bare hips. 

Petra felt the last of her anxiety melting away, grateful that Levi made the first move, letting her laptop fall to the side.  

This was way better than her fanfiction.

[eclipsecrowned]

fuck it. how my debede muses roll up to the masquerade function. just the muses that are mainverse to setting, may do my muses with AUs to setting later.

Steven: Gets to trade in his denim and madras for something a little silkier. It's a traditional late 19th-early 20th century suit for men, classic eveningwear all black jackets and accessories in a shade of blue that matches his eyes. It makes Steven look older, and he trades out the bow tie for a little bit of blue ribbon tied up elegantly. His golden curls are tamed and swept away from his face for once, as if gelled back. He's not wholly comfortably with realizing in the right clothes he can pass for a dinh's son, and seems uncharacteristically sheepish at the start of the event. However, he adjusts easily as the night wears on, and resumes his usual charming, devil-may-care demeanor quickly. His mask is that of the Muse of Comedy, noble and cheerful, though there is a pin of the Muse of Tragedy holding his ribbon together.

Charlotte: For one brief night, she gets to live in what should have been. The daughter of nobility and wealth in 17th century France, she's clad in the layers and frills of a highborn lady. Her puffed sleeves are lined with the finest lace, and though indigo might be the devil's color, it suits her fine. Pearls from the New World and rings from her grandmothers kiss what little exposed skin she has. She catches her mother's scent upon her when she moves, the heady scent of expensive perfume afforded only to the incredibly privileged. For this singular, ephemeral evening, she is the daughter of House Deshayes, and all the beauty that conveys. Honestly, she feels like she's tripping the entire evening, her stays a little too tight, her head swimming. This isn't her. She knows this isn't her. Her mask is half of a sharp-carved skull, carved of crystals that seem more like frost.

Victor: Victor never gets cosmetics. It is a truth universally acknowledged in the Fog that, at some point in your life, you will get attacked by a perpetually naked man with stunted development. But like Cendrillion in the old fairy tales, he has a loving patron -- or at least a fellow Killer who knows how to sew. Victor is in a surprisingly more modern ensemble than his sister, based solely on Bubba being a more modern seamstress. He's in a little suit jacket with tuxedo pants, made of a thick but soft fabric. Unfortunately, nothing could be found for a shirt, so he's just bare-chested under the jacket and fine with it. He's having a grand time at the function. He does, however, have a mask, and it is as ever the twin to his sisters, like two halves of a whole.

Bonus! Ferret has dealt me critical damage by saying 'Masquerade Event Makes Twins As They Could Have Been! Entity mocks their existence by sealing Charlotte's wound and making her 'normal' where Victor for one evening reflects what he would have been had he developed separate of Charlotte: A real boy!'

Max: He feels like he could be walking right into the Daily Planet in this suit. The lapels are pointy, the wool is soft, and the color is so vibrant. He doesn't have to run around in his grimy old clothes. He's somebody in this, like Clark Kent or the boy on TV's dad. The fabric is the color of happiness, of sunflowers, of something important. It makes him feel as warm and happy as he can be. The clothes make the man, and in this case, Max at least makes an effort to socialize more than usual, to try being something more tonight. It's not always easy, but it feels like he's in another secret identity. Maybe that's silly. Maybe he'll feel dumb in the morning, when he wakes up alone in the old farmhouse. But for tonight, he feels wonderful, and he wants to spread the sentiment around. God knows it's rare to find in this place. He's wearing a simple half-mask that beautifully complements his suit, cut so that everyone can see his smile.

Anna: No sarafan and kokoshnik for this lady. Kosovorotka, leggings, and an elegant kaftan in all the hues of the forest. She cuts an imposing but gorgeous figure, like autumn's king come down to preside over the masquerade. The image of her axes repeats along patterns at the edges of her clothes, along with a crowned hare to continue the motif of her power and regality at the event. Rich brown, soft golds, and rich deep reds truly make her look like something that crawled out of the forest instead of hell. Not the most social attendee, she keeps to the edges and the refreshments, still humming to herself and nodding firmly at hose who come upon her. Her mask is a more ornate, fierce-looking iteration of her girlhood rabbit mask.

Mary: For once, Gilead's last serving daughter gets to appear as she prefers. Stripped of the feminine, she has settled comfortably into an old black suit, a bolo around her neck clasped with a fine fat ruby. Her shirt is pristine white, lined with subtle rose patterns that are only visible from the right angles in the proper lighting. Her long jacket and slim-fit trousers are the same silky black, though of much firmer material. She keeps her long hair braided back in a single tight plait, almost as severe as her mouth. Yet she's not displeased to be at the Masquerade. In fact, it reminds her of finer evenings in her father's house, when palavering and politicking was surely necessary. The nostalgia doesn't hurt her. Her mask is largely the abdomen of a spider, with 8 fine chains clasping the golden mask securely to her face. The cephalothorax of the gilded spider is a free-hanging accessory that kisses down to her chest, easily disturbed by her breath or words and letting out a metallic whisper in answer.

[hana-the-ghostieee]

hey hey heyyy! not your typical yorushika post here but does involve them. as in elmy and ojisuma. anyways

sometimes i feel like my interests just bleed and blend into each other, unless they can't. (like i literally don't know how the same person that draws a butt ton of cats and likes to radiate positivity and enjoys kawaii culture and decora and happiness listens to songs about literally just living for music, and having no purpose once you literally can't create anymore, or about losing someone close to you and just having this hole. this hole in my heart they left behind. they used to be the one that could fill the void but now that they're gone i can't fill it, it's this hole that keeps spreading and spreading in the middle of my chest)

i mean let's be real i physically, mentally, emotionally or spiritually can't connect Perfume and this like danish pastel aesthetic. or Kyary Pamyu Pamyu with 8/31, the day Amy ran out of ink and oofed himself with the one gay ship i show my support on in the back of my notebooks. (those men. they can break up in front of my gravestone. and my spirit will float around. forever haunting this land. edit: i read The Moon That Breaks by TheHufflebean on AO3 and when i got to the breakup scene i lied on the floor and held my breath for like 5 minutes because well. i don't have a gravestone just lying around. but then i reread the tags and there was a make up scene (which WAS there thank whoever you'd like) and continued reading)

and before any of you people on the wolfstar tag yell at me for not putting any content related to them um click/tap Keep reading please thank you

thanks for wasting your time trying to read this! anyways

there's going to be so many more edits and tweaks and finetunes i can FEEL it

lemme take wolfstar for an example (though yorushika hasn't been bled through, thank whoever you'd like, i will list it as an example. edit: yorushika may have been bled through.)

edit: feel more than free to steal these ideas =w= i'd be a terrible writer, art is my strong suit (tho credit me i guess? idk do what you want i won't be mad if you just yoink it from wherever you see this)

japan? poof. modern au. they move to shinjuku niichome. (japan's lgbt city)

um what else what else what elseeeeeee (sorry brain is scrambled rn)

cats? poof. they adopt more cats than any reasonable person should have. (with minor disinterest from sirius but remus is just INTO IT LIKE HECK YES CATS OR I'M JUST PROJECTING IDK) bonus points if they end up running a cat cafe/cat library

yorushika?

poof.

(okay don't steal any ideas from this point on i'm working on a fic for this)

(go read Letters to Elma and Elma's Diary if you want to make sense of what's going on here! i'd recommend you listen to the full albums That's Why I Gave Up On Music and Elma first though. also trigger warning - the protag for Letters/That's Why oofs himself.)

(also please don't yell at me for making them not sound like themselves, i wrote this at like 1am, i probably suck at writing and i modeled them after the original elma and amy okay thankth)

elmy au, sirius is amy and remus is elma. both are also music creators, sirius suffers from depression, gets told by a seer (idk why. oh maybe remus has a seer friend he'd like sirius to see?? *shrugs*) he'd have less than a year left to live because of a "chronic issue", loses it and [insert Letters to Elma here]

so i'm thinking it's kind of a poa grim situation here, where a bunch of symbols saying he'd die within the year just appear out of nowhere, more frequent than before and then he gets a diagnosis for some heart disease and then above scene plays out

edit: don't know how i forgot this buttttt um in Diary 5/15 Elma says "Life surely has an expiration date. Those were the words I let leak out to him, a long time ago." (him being amy ofc) and im just imagining remus saying a bunch of poetic stuff cuz even though he doesn't do it often, he's a freaking good songwriter then this comes up and sirius just internalizes those words like no other

also i think i've moved on from my Kamisama no Dansu (dance of the gods) phase, on to Ame Haruru (after the rain) and i want to mention a few lines. "another summer without you is on it's way" - i'm assuming this is remus going welp. i guess no boyfriend. it's been a while. (back when they were in school they had summers apart but then they moved in together so they also spent the summers together but ofc now that sirius is somewhere in gotland/farosund/idk remus is just. i guess you won't be there this summer) "finally, the rain fell" - a reference as to how amy/sirius left town before writing what it's like after the rain. and it's counterpart, "finally, the rain stopped" - remus/elma experiencing what it's like, knowing he didn't

more edit: uhm completely forgot about the lycanthropy so assume remus found a forest or something (you know what. it's the forest referenced in the instrumental mori no kyoukai/church in the forest) all the while sirius is in the back (or well lord knows where in gotland) cursing himself for forgetting the thing he does w/ bf every. single month

back to 12am me :P

oh but instead of writing down all the letters and whatever and then getting a box and mailing it off, sirius sends remus letters like individually and consistently so remus also goes to sweden and hunts him down but remus doesn't have any spare paper on him so he can't respond in any way

don't ask me how he sends the letters and how he receives the letters

oh wait i got it nvm! um sirius sends the letters by owl (how could i forget) and remus has a diary (because Elma's Diary) but you know. he's not one of those people that rips pages out of their books (at least in this au that exists in the void that is my mind)

and then he chases after him. literally looking freaking everywhere. sometimes they're 3 days apart. sometimes they're so close you'd be sure they have dora the explorer eyesight but no they JUST miss each other like BARELY by a MILLISECOND like seriously remus can freaking SMELL him but thinks it's like a hallucination (cuz he has been getting those recently, see Diary 8/27) or yk becuz he stole some of sirius' clothes (though on 5/15 Elma also says she can't taste anything so rem can't either. also smell & taste are connected so he essentially just loses the function to smell anything. sign of severe depression =w=)

and then comes 8/31. (machIGAUTTERUNDAYO WAKATTERUNDA ANTARA NINGEN MO--)

sirius is on the pier, opening the bottle of Flower Verdigris/Paris Green/Emerald Green/take your pick.

remus stands at the base (?) (what do you call that part on a dock/pier where you just get on) of the pier. he could recognize that black hair anywhere.

okay googled it

oh wait no that's for a floating dock

i googled it again

...found nothing. anyways

he stands at the base of the pier, at the silhouette sitting on the edge. he could recognize that curly, dark hair from 50 miles away.

"SIRIUS ORION BLACK!!!"

sirius' head turns. he seems to be crying.

"re...?"

anyways remus runs up to him and [insert nautilus mv epic outro here but instead of the guitar it's sirius and instead of elma crying the liquid water out of her... being it's remus who is also crying the liquid water out of his being][...also nautilus is a wip until they get home][to clarify things remus does not pick sirius up like the guitar. they're hugging so hard you'd think a spine would break and they're maybe kissing and definitely crying]

edit: i sat down and thought about it so um sirius is sitting on the docks like one would sit on a bench (legs dangling off of the surface) and remus just runs to him and drops on the floor, kneeling position similar to the epic guitar/piano outro in the nautilus mv with the thrown papers and they're still crying and the sun is rising because even though amy oofed himself on the dock around the evening on 8/31 here sirius tries to oof himself at dawn, cuz the line "someday, the dawn will break, so try and open your sleepy eyes, because i've pictured them so many times" and then they stand up face each other and then collapse onto each other (like lean onto each other) and then cue passionate kissing (finally) (ooh as the sun rises and parts through the clouds. someday i will try my best to draw it. and um put it here. be prepared for the ultimate pathetic. something idk.)

and right now they're just gay sobbing messes :P

yet another edit: i'm thinking i can find a way to incorporate the lily/remus friendship. so you know the old lady that first appears in Diary 7/5, right? i'm thinking she's at least a representation of lily, though of course in this au she's swedish (along with the other peeps. yk james and peter and severus mhm) so remus understands. nothing. in this au they first meet because lily needed help w/ baggage ig? it's on the ferry to gotland and well her first husband/bf passed on (shown in Diary 7/22, elderly woman says "Man" and smiles, implying she looks back on the memories fondly, and we're expected to believe this was her husband. i'm thinking in this au maybe??? snape/lily was a thing. not sure. write some ship in the comments/rbs i guess) also i'm pretty sure she thought remus was straight and that he lost his gf/wife and is trying to move on too (in case you forgot, he's looking for a certain sirius, which is in fact alive, who is his bf) and on the ship home on 9/25 (i like to think they as in r/s stayed in sweden for a bit longer, taking more pics together and enjoying whatever they missed while looking for each other) they see lily/elderly woman again with her child harry supported by the man she loves, james (aww that would be sweet tho. fluffy jily and wolfstar stuff at the end) (in canon Diary, the elderly woman with her children and the new husband is kind of a symbol for Elma, saying she'll move on and heal and potentially find someone else)

okay i thought about it and sat a bit more. and. remember 8/27? (the blend of fantasy/reality whatever where Elma finds Amy's stuff?) uhm i'm thinking something like that would happen here on 8/31, but ofc with more intervention from miss nice old lady (represented by lily). so she's moved on from her grief and found another love (james) right? well turns out james is still an animagus in this au (how helpful =w=) and lily is just. unsure of what the heck happened. (tho she does get some "help i'm looking for my boyfriend" vibes) until she connects the dots. they're fronking looking for each other before sirius' life reaches it's "expiration date" (though let's be real. throwing away that life would be like yeeting a loaf of freshly baked bread into the bin) so she tells james the master plan. she thinks on the last day of his life, remus would go out and look for him again, unaware of the fact that his boyfriend is literally at the lowest point of his life. so she'd sent out james for remus to follow (under the pretense that that was sirius' shadow, before leading him to the docks where sirius would go like once every like two weeks since coming to gotland to regret whatever he did) and then cue the scene from "and then comes 8/31. (maCHIGAUTTERUNDAYO WAKATTERUNDA ANTARA NINGEN MO--)" it's basically just saaaaaaaaaaaayonaaaaaaaaaaaaaaraa no haYASA DE KAOO WO AGETE. ITSUKA YATTO YORU GA AKETARA, MOU, ME WO SAMASHITEEEEE, MITEEEEEEEE, NEBOKE MANAKO NO KIMI WO, NANDEDATTE EGAITEIRU KARA (yeah i put some lines from nautilus, your point is?) all the while jily are just watching the gay sobbing messes™ from afar, in the forest or hiding in a bush near the base, high-fiving and cheering or something idk

ohkayee back again to me from 1am

oh also remus does write the responses to the songs sirius sent him, and they show each other freakin all the songs they wrote (so sirius shows him the summer grass gets in my way and a loser doesn't need an encore in the "original" notebook Elma finds on 8/27 but again this is wolfstar. so rem runs to siri and then they go back and take all the other stuff. and then remus shows him the pre-8/27 but in this case pre-8/31 songs and then writes ame to kapuchiino/rain and cappucino, kokoro ni ana ga aita/a hole opened up in my heart, yuu ichijou/only sorrow and the wolfstar version of amy because well. he wrote responses to almost the entire album. so close yet so far. and sirius is in the back reading the lyrics remus wrote and is just crying the liquid water out of his body because did he really cause his boyfriend that much pain? IM SORRYBDJSJSBDB DJSJSHEHDHDHDHEVRHFIKSJSJSJEGEUDHSHRJRIDJX DNDJE DDKAJWBBDJDISJABSDN9W72URIROAQHENNSOAOWIWKSKSKWKWKKAAAALSOWKMRRFIUY)

also sirius moves to the inn/room where remus stays in while doing the looketh for boyfriend and songwriting thing. remus doesn't realize how salty his pillow smells until now. (one of the downsides of crying yourself to sleep =w=)

i do realize there are some continuity errors in the way the songs are written, like in this au everything's supposed to happen within the same year, whereas in canon elmy everything happens assumably in two consecutive years (it doesn't explicitly state) and because it's written under two consecutive years assumably the songs would have to be written and sent at different times (especially august, a certain place, moonlight and evening calm, a certain place, fireworks.)

edit: so i'm thinking before the events of any of these. sorry if this ruins continuity in this au or something but like before the events of this remus co-wrote the summer grass gets in my way and a loser doesn't need a encore's songs (the first two eps by yorushika), specifically the ones with music videos except for The Clouds and The Ghost (for the summer grass - Say It. & Fireworks Beneath My Shoes and for a loser doesn't need - Hitchcock, Just a Sunny Day For You & Semi-Transparent Boy) and then when he finds the notebook they sit down and review the non-mv vocal songs thus far (Cattleya, Blooming In That Summer, A Loser Doesn't Need An Encore, Compulsive Bomber & Hibernation and they're all bops)

alrighty back again to 12am me :|

moreeee editttttt: so about the song Dance of the Gods. (because i've been freaking obsessed with it since like August) um there are a bunch of lines i want to include so. in the song at the end of the choruses, there are variations of the line "I don't care, I'll go even further, to a place no one's ever heard of, searching for the moonlight" (being "I don't care, I'll go even further, to a place no one can see, and put up an imitation of living" and "That's right, I'll go even further, to a place no one knows of, searching for the moonlight") and i think that's Elma giving up on creating music to give it "value" and "a life of it's own", and creating music because well it's fun but in this au i think that's remus going I WILL FOLLOW BEEF TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH IF THAT'S WHERE HE IS (not sure why remus would call sirius moonlight tho cuz well he's moony) (okay you know what. sirius looks down upon his ability to compose while calling remus' songs his moonlight and that he was jealous of his skills. remus, being the self loathing person he is thinks it's like a light hearted joke or something. now that his boyfriend is gone he's trying to find this "moonlight" boyfriend saw that he couldn't see, wanting to live out his ideals)

and another edit: so the August, A Certain Place, Moonlight and Evening Calm, A Certain Place, Fireworks problem. the thing about the Elmy story is Elma's story takes place a year, i think, after Amy's, so all the songs would be written at completely different times, not necessarily within a few days of each other. i'm thinking sirius wrote August and sent it out to remus and then remus wrote Evening Calm because they sound similar and at first canon Elma imitated Amy before slowly moving on to her own style so these gay messes do too

same issue between Let's Dance and Dance of the Gods - but this time i think Dance of the Gods was written shortly after Let's Dance

and then they go back home which is in Sekimachi i guess (that's the town Elma met Amy so ??? i guess r/s lives there now??? they (elma and amy) met in the cafe (that has since closed down) shown in the rain and cappuccino mv which is allegedly in sekimachi) and live long enough for me not to be able to think about how their lives end because now that i ship them so bad, reading ootp and tdh again would practically (and effectively) traumatize me. i'd be scarred for life. it's like that one scene in nakineko where Kento says he hates Miyo and rejects her in front of the whole class and then she starts tearing up and runs out of the class and Yori follows her and then Miyo is just numb to the pain. she got hurt so bad she can't feel anything. flash forward to when she gets home. *face buried in pillow* [LOUD SOBBING NOISES]

more edit: i just realized. okay so on the last Letter (from 8/31, when Amy runs out of ink) Amy states he quit music once, but Elma brought him back into it, after she showed him some songs she wrote and sung and he described it as (wait lemme pull up the doc) "unerring, faultless light that can only illuminate the night. unimaginably soft, dazzling beyond my wildest dreams, pale moonlight" (ink fades away at the word moonlight) and um now i feel like that's what sirius would sometimes call remus (besides moons or moony)

like no. honey we're gon kill no one today. thank yu. (maybe this is why i read fanfics)

another edit: so you know how i listed here they go home and share the songs they wrote and whatevers?? um now im thinking. remus finishes writing the last 4 songs that in Elma's Diary were written after 8/27 (rain and cappuccino, a hole opened up in my heart, only sorrow and the wolfstar version of amy in case you forgot) and sirius shares his thoughts

so um here

(also i feel like the "still grieving" thing would be remus. just being scared about the fact that bf might just run out the door and disappear again? and feels a lot safer when he wakes up with bf in his arms)

rain and cappuccino:

[first verse] pretty innocent

[chorus] *voice shaking* wow, keeping in track with the theme i see

remus: to be fair, what i responded to had a similar message. ...as if i could let memories of you fade away (no literally like i can't even if i wanted to)

a hole opened up in my heart:

[first three lines] MOONLIGHT BABE STOP IT PLEASE I SWEAR ON THE EXISTENCE OF EVERYTHING I WILL NEVER HURT YOU AGAIN

(for context, the song sirius would've written is false night, whose main line is "I want to open a hole in you", and this song is the response to that, with the main (and first) line "That's why a hole has opened up in my heart")

[end of the song] *lying on the floor, indistinct but very loud sobbing noises*

remus: well i did have to capture what i felt then. more grieving and crying up ahead

(this is by far the most painful song ever it's like a knife stuck in your chest and you take the handle and keep twisting it deeper into yourself just AAAAAAAAA LET ME CRYYYYYYY)

only sorrow:

[reads title] do i bring out the tissues or...?

[first verse] okay wow this sounds nothing like the song i wrote pretty ironic since you tried to literally "live" my life but okay

remus: wait for it

[chorus] okay i sound about ready to cry

amy (or the wolfstar ver):

(before reading/listening) if this is another song about grief i swear im going to go cry alone for the next 5 hours

(after reading and/or listening) *5 second delay* *goes and hugs remus*

(amy as in the song is one of the sweetest songs yorushika has made like ever in their 8-ish years of existence. it responds to the song elma and was written when elma (the person) finally moves on from her grief and now looks fondly back to those days. when her lover oofed himself and she went through sweden crying and looking for him. ...yeah not that sweet but idk)

all the while remus is just writing this and showing it to him like how i do with my art when talking about it with my friends. just "alrightyyyyyyy i did a thing. here. *smacks paper down on table* any thoughts???"

and then [insert healing and fluffy romantic stuff here]

okay thats all for the edit continue reading the thing 12am me wrote

oh shoot now i can't unthink this why T^T

um oh well i guess? i'll probably forget this was a thing anyways

oh but since we're already hereeeeeeeeeee

poof.

ojisuma au

(okay you can steal this one)

(read the novel Plagiarism for context here! the album isn't as important here, it kind of serves as a background noise and also expresses oji-san's experience. oh also yes, the album takes melodies, beats and rhythms from actual songs (as well as their own, in the song plagiarism) so yeah go listen to the album too i guess :D)

sirius is oji-san and remus is tsuma but tsuma doesn't die and they also work together to produce music but what rem doesn't know is siri has been stealing???? all of these sounds??? for the songs he thought was original??? and eventually siri comes to the conclusion that the only original thing he can create is his downfall as a musical artist (essentially just goes through what oji-san does but no dead wife but this is a wolfstar au so no dead husband.) so he does. this is my pathetic replacement for the prank and them not trusting each other. and rem is not happy. (he no trust him no more) but siri then goes and creates the two songs night journey and ghost in a flower because i think oji-san wrote those songs after he destroyed his reputation cuz they sound so different from all the other songs in tousaku (or maybe it was because of nakineko. not complaining it is still my fav movie. there's CATS. there's drama. there's CATS. there's romance. there's CATS. there's magical island with cats. there's CATS. did i say CATS. anyways)

um society as a whole just hates on siri. honestly can't blame society as a whole.

and then he releases sousaku/creation without stealing a thing (applaud for him please. i cant hear you clapping CLAP HARDER) and then *cue redemption arc*

yet. another. edit. : um i feel like adding some stuff so sirius would've written the songs Ghost in a Flower and Spring Thief to celebrate the relationship he had (and will get back) with remus, Night Journey and The Lying Moon as the break-up (but not the like "I'M DONE GOODBYE D:<" kinda songs, more like the "I'll remain here, as you go to the other side" or the "Rain has fallen, flowers have scattered/I still think about your rosy cheeks/as I keep drinking love from a bottomless ladle/It's true, it's tasteless, this thirst that's never satisfied, but you can laugh all you want and say "Is that so?/but I'll be here, just waiting for you") um and the instrumental creation would be a filler, and Robbery and Bouquet would be an allusion to his past self with the plagiarism and the sound stealing and i'm not sure what Eat the Wind would be

and then they get back together ^.^

(ooh but hold on. i feel like making a plagiarist remus and a tsuma sirius)

if the ojisuma au didn't sound as in depth or something know that Dakara Boku wa Ongaku wo Yameta (basically elmy) is like the most iconic yorushika lore

therefore more people are more interested in that (and i am part of more people :P) (also there's more context in elmy than ojisuma)

wow how the hekk did i connect wolfstar. a fanon (that deserves to be canon) gay ship about two friends in a group at a wizarding school that end up being more with... yorushika. a band that constantly hurts me. as in it hurts GOOD. like go listen to yoru magai and then kokoro ni ana ga aita. (with translations cuz im pretty sure barely any of you guys on the wolfstar or sirius x remus tag know japanese) LIKE STOPPPPPP THAT SONG IS THE DEFINITION OF GRIEF AND PAIN AND I DON'T KNOW HOW N-BUNA, A PERSON THAT SAID HE WROTE SONGS LIKE THESE TO EXPRESS HIS VIEWS ON LIKE LIFE AND DEATH CREATE A SONG THIS PAINFUL. LIKE HOW DO YOU WRITE SONGS LIKE THESE???

edit: i didn't connect them i practically forced another universe onto them (also i may be one of the first people to do this idk i have no idea who else is a big yorushika fan and a wolfstar shipper)

okay that is all i think have a nice dayyyyyy/nighttttttt/timezoneeeeeeeee

wait WHAAA

okay im typing this on mobile and??? you can freaking DRAG PARAGRAPHS???

...why don't they make this with tags i had to use little asterisks when i posted that apparently bots keep following me thing

wow this is like the LONGEST post i've made ever what the hell

wow the amount of times i've edited this GOSH

uhm anyways *hand on hip* *thumbs up* woo! *collapses face-down on floor*

[jamiethetrans]

Taken (Modern AU) - Ch 6

Pairing: Alcina Dimitrescu x Fem!Reader Series: Taken (Modern AU) Taglist

AN: Hey everyone! Another chapter is up!

I’ve noticed some of you from the taglist can’t be tagged. I don’t know why, I’ve double checked for the third time today and I am sure I have written everything correct. If you find your name in the taglist but isn’t tagged, try and see if anything is out of the ordinary for you on your profile. I do apoligize for the inconvinience.

•

“You asked her out?!”, Daniela squeaked as she and her sisters along with their father sat in the living room, watching tv. Alcina had just mentioned she was going out Friday night. She hadn’t even mentioned where she was going or who she was going out with.

Alcina stared at her youngest for a moment before turning to Jeremy who held up his arms in defense. “Don’t look at me, I didn’t tell them anything”

“So it’s true then. You’re going out with her”, Bela said this time and Alcina could hear the protectiveness in her voice.

“Yes. Doctor y/l/n and I are going out Friday night. I hope you don’t mind”, she said, the last sentence with a pit of sarcasm.

“Of course not mama. We want you to be happy”, Cassandra said eyeing her sisters with a look making them both roll their eyes, but kept quiet. “But you’re still gonna come to my game Saturday right?”

Alcina smiled at Cassandra and nodded. “Of course darling”

Cassandra smiled wide and looked at her father. “Are you going too papa?”

That made everyone turn to the man and said man looked his daughter for a moment before turning to Alcina who already knew the answer. “Cass I–“

“Jeremy”, Alcina warned and Jeremy turned to her.

“Alcina I have work”

“This means everything to her!”

Jeremy eyed her before turning to Cassandra who sat with tears in her eyes. “Cassandra I–“, he was interrupted as she stood from the couch and ran out of the room and up the stairs.

Bela immediately stood as well, and walked after her. “Why are you always working?”, Daniela asked innocently and Jeremy turned to her.

“My boss is strict. Look I will try to make it okay? But I can’t make any promises” He turned to Alcina who eyed him knowingly. He wasn’t going to come and they both knew it.

•

“Ugh this dress is hideous!”, you hissed as you went through your wardrobe. On your bed sat Eli and Jane, watching you. You and Jane had planned to find a dress for your date with Alcina. But right now it did not seem possible. Somehow none of the dresses you owned were good enough.

“Y/n you look gorgeous in all of them”, she said, making you turn to her with a look. “Right Eli?”

The boy nodded silently and you gave him a smile making him blush. You turned back to you closet, looking through all of your dresses. A beeping sound was heard and Jane widened her eyes.

“Uh! The popcorns are done”, she said and half ran out of bedroom to the kitchen.

“Popcorn? Seriously?”, you commented turning back around, a frown covering your face. You turned to your son who smiled back at you. “Really?”

He smiled wider, letting out a small chuckle and you couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling yourself. Your son was just the cutest.

You walked over to him and kissed his forehead before crouching down in front of him. “Are you sure you’re okay with mommy going out?”, you asked for the third time that day and Eli actually rolled his eyes making you chuckle.

“Yeah mommy. Tall lady pretty”, he said making you smile.

“Yeah. She really is pretty isn’t she?”

Elijah nodded and you smiled, bringing him in for a hug. You closed your eyes, letting yourself savor the moment, smelling his smell that was all your wife. “I love you buddy”, you whispered and kissed his cheek making the boy chuckle.

“Love you mommy”

You smiled and kissed him again when you heard crunching in the background and looked over to see Jane standing in the door way, a bowl of popcorn in her hands, leaning against the doorframe.

“You’re so sweet”, she commented and you let out a chuckle shaking your head as you stood from the floor.

“Just help me please”

Jane smiled and walked back to her seat next to Elijah, placing the bowl on the boy’s lap, making him smile wide and take a popcorn into his mouth.

“Not too much buddy, okay?”, you told him sternly and Elijah nodded.

“Yes mommy”

Jane smiled at the boy, stroking his hair. She took a handful of popcorn before turning to you. “Alright hot shot. Show me what you got”

•

Bela sat in Cassandra’s bed watching tv while her sister slept next to her, her head on her shoulder. Daniela was sitting by Cassandra’s desk, writing on her MacBook. Whenever she had the time between school and work, she always wrote her stories.

“What are you writing about?”, Bela asked quietly and Daniela turned to her, staring back at her. And right there Bela knew what she was writing.

“You’re writing smut aren’t you?”

Daniela mumbled a ‘yeah’ before suddenly a knock was heard and they both turned to see Jeremy open the door. “Hey, may I come in?”

They both nodded, Daniela closing her MacBook while Bela turned off the tv. Jeremy walked in and sat on the end of the bed.

“Should I wake��“

“No, it’s okay, I’ll talk to her later, let her sleep”, he stopped his oldest and Bela nodded, letting her sister continue to sleep.

“I’m sorry I’m not here more often”, Jeremy started out. “And I know work isn’t an excuse. I’m your father. I should be here for you”

Bela and Daniela shared a look and Jeremy knew they were silently speaking to each other. They all did that. Alcina had told him about it a few years ago. It was something they had done ever since they could communicate with each other.

“But… work isn’t the only reason I’m not here”, he said and the girls turned to him. “I’m seeing this girl, and–“

“But I thought you loved mother”, Bela said as a matter of fact and that made both Jeremy and Daniela turned to her.

“How did you–“

“You’re not that hard to read father”, she said and Daniela still sat with widened eyes, turning to her father.

“You love mom?”

Jeremy sighed. There was no way denying it now. “I always have. But I know I’m not your mother’s type and I’ve respected and come to terms with that from the first time we met”

“But you still slept together. You still had us”, Daniela insisted and Jeremy turned to her.

“We were young and drunk. We didn’t exactly plan on having kids together, let alone sleeping with each other”

The two girls turned to each other again and Jeremy sighed turning to Cassandra who was still sleeping peacefully against Bela.

“But that doesn’t make me love you any less. I promised Alcina I would be here and I intend to keep that promise”, he continued making the girls turn back to him.

“I’m looking for houses here in New York. The moment something comes up, I’m moving”, he stated and that made them both smile wide.

“So you’ll live closer to us”, Daniela said and Jeremy nodded with a smile.

“Yes. I wanna see my three beautiful daughters grow up. I don’t wanna miss another second”

That made Daniela smile wide and stood from her seat, hugging her father tight. While they shared their moment Bela turned to the door and noticed her mother eyes in the small opening of the door.

Alcina knocked softly before opening the door further and Daniela and Jeremy turned to her. “Hey, everything alright in here?”

They all three nodded and Alcina met Jeremy’s eyes, the man smiling back at her with an assuring look. She turned and noticed Cassandra sleeping on the bed and smiled at the look. She walked over and carried the girl into her arms, holding her against her chest.

“I’m gonna lay her in the bedroom, while you three can spend some time together”, she whispered and they all three nodded watching her leave with Cassandra in her arms.

Despite the girls being teenagers now, they were still small for their age, and Alcina who had always been tall and muscular could easily still carry them if she wished to do so. That was secretly one of the things she loved most about her children.

Bela was the tallest, Daniella not far behind, while Cassandra was the smallest despite only being the second youngest.

“Have you told mother? About the moving?”, Bela asked once she knew her mother was gone and Jeremy turned to her.

“I have”

“And what did she say?”, Daniela then asked and Jeremy smiled at her.

“The most important thing to your mom is that you three are happy and receive all the love that she and I can give you”

The two girls stared back at him, clear understanding showing in their eyes. “You three and your mother are my greatest adventure. And I have missed more than any father should. I promise I will be better. Much better”

This time Bela moved from her spot on the bed and over to Jeremy, sitting next to him before hugging him tight. “I expect you to keep it”, she said before pulling back and standing from the bed, leaving the bedroom.

Jeremy sighed, knowing it was gonna take more than words to make Bela trust him again. “Don’t worry. You know how she is”

Jeremy smiled at his youngest and squeezed her arm. “Yeah. Now. Tell me about your latest story”, he decided to change the subject and that made Daniela suddenly freeze, a huge blush creeping on her face.

Jeremy frowned at her with confused eyes. “What?”

Unbeknownst to him, her latest story was nothing but pure smut between her two favorite characters; Kim Possible and Sheego.

•

Cassandra opened her eyes and immediately noticed she wasn’t in her own bed with Bela anymore. She could smell her mother’s perfume and saw her scar on her chest. She smiled and snuggled closer in her mother’s embrace.

“I see someone is awake”, Alcina commented as she watched tv on the couch and Cassandra hummed making the woman chuckle. She hugged her daughter closer and Cassandra smiled at the action. She’s always loved her mother’s hugs. They were always so filled with love and her touch filled with tender and care.

Her mother was just her everything. “Was it a good nap dear?”

Cassandra nodded and before Alcina could say anything more, the girl was fast asleep again. Alcina smiled and kissed her forehead. A few minutes later Jeremy came back and sat down next to her, watching the tv as well.

“How did it go?” Alcina asked and Jeremy turned to her. He looked down at Cassandra and stroked her hair softly before moving his hand down to hers, holding onto it.

“Daniela is happy I’m moving. They both are. Bela just…”, he trailed off and Alcina nodded in understanding.

“She just needs some time Jer”

“I know, I know. I just want to prove I can actually be there you know”

Alcina nodded and they sat in silence as Alcina watched the tv while Jeremy looked at Cassandra, feeling his heart burst with love.

“I’m so sorry Alci… I’ve been such a bad father to them and even a worse best friend to you”, he softly whispered and Alcina turned to him, looking into his eyes. “I wanna be better”

Alcina looked down his on Cassandra’s and placed her own hand on top of his. “You will be”

Jeremy looked down at their hands and smiled at the sight.

•

You stood in front of the mirror in your bedroom looking over the dress you had chosen to wear. It had taken you and Jane almost an hour to find a dress that you liked.

Eli had just sat and ate all the popcorn. Normally you would have stopped him earlier but you couldn’t get yourself to do so. He deserved the best.

“Mommy?”

You turned around and saw Elijah standing in the doorway, his hands behind his back. “Yes honey?”

“Are you… are you gon-gon leave me?”

You felt your heart break at his small and insecure voice. “What? No honey, of course not”, you assured him walking over and crouching in front of him. He looked down in sadness and you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Why was he feeling like this all of the sudden.

“But-but you gon love somebody else”, he said and you suddenly realized he was talking about Alcina.

“Oh honey”, you whispered and hugged him tight, which instantly made him cry and you felt your own eyes getting watery. “Eli I love you. I will never leave you, no matter who comes into our lives, okay?“

Elijah nodded but kept crying, holding onto you for dear life. “You’re my everything”, you whispered, kissing his temple softly.

---------------------------------------------

@lucina1998 @catswag22 @lel-s @multifandomlesbianic @madaraskitten @chocolatepartykidcookie @Second-daughter-of-clexa @noarawriteszr @LittleSideOfRice @marvelwomen-simp @lord6-6fandom @mmemalwa @cxpiddd

[donutloverxo]

A Royal Scandal 3

Modern Royal King!Steve au

(Image from Pinterest)

cowritten with @lizzygal​

Note - There will be no taglists for this. You can subscribe to the  ao3 story to receive updates!

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, mentions of previous domestic abuse, somnophilia.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 7k

Story masterlist

Sometimes Steven forgot that you weren’t that much younger than him. He forgot about a lot of things when it was only the two of you. You did that to him. You made him forget things that everyone else reminded him of constantly, intentional and not.

Early that morning was no different.

Long before his alarm went off, Steve found himself on his side watching you sleep. Feeling in every way equal to you, like there was not this huge ocean of things that he did not have in common with you, opposed to what the two of you shared.

Obviously, he was the son of kings and tyrants while you were the daughter of immigrants and a blue-collar family. You’d grown up in a house full of love and kindness and acceptance, he had not. You’d ended your teenage years going to college and then travelling and ending up here, where you chose to stay and work and travel and live a life that Steve could only dream of, his own had never been his own and never would be.

You had dreams and hopes, little things like aspirations. He didn’t.

Steve’s life was dictated by things like duty and obligations, expectations. Yours was not.

Maybe that was why he’d been so drawn to you?

Compared to all the royals around Europe and titled individuals, politicians, even old families, none of them interested him even a fraction of the amount that you interested him. To Steve you were exotic. You were a fascinating creature who might as well have come from Mars.

He couldn’t even say what it was or why.

For so long it had felt right to be alone. Considering the blood of monsters ran through his veins, Steve had been uninterested in any sort of companionship more than a brief encounter at a private location.

For Christ’s sake, he refused to sleep in the bedroom that his father had slept in.

Upon assuming the throne, he’d selected to take up older quarters in an unused part of the palace living complex. As if to ensure he was as far away from the rooms that his father and grandfather and great-grandfather had slept. Choosing to sleep in a bed untainted by any of those men, stored from when his land was ruled by an emperor. Hoping with the hopes of a young king that it would save him from their madness.

Beside him, you slept so peacefully, trustingly.

Steve had never brought anyone into his private apartment. Nor had his bed seen any carnal action since it’d gone into storage. Until you. He’d simply never been so inclined.

A rough sound from the growth on his cheek rubbing against his pillow. A pleasant reminder of that night that felt so long ago, yet also like only yesterday.

He’d had a beard back then he remembered.

A full bushy one.

One that had made you laugh softly at, roll your eyes and still manage to pull off an acceptable bow when you greeted him that late night.

“They beat Canada then Your Majesty?” You had inquired with good nature, setting down a whole stack of papers and folders onto the very modern conference table in a big room that could fit two dozen, more if the people were standing.

He’d beamed.

Steve remembered he’d been in a particularly good mood that night. Even if he was working late on the education push into the outer regions of his kingdom. A good amount was still very rural, many simple villages that lived as they had fifty or more years ago. Many parts of his kingdom were still deeply rooted in the past.

“Indeed. Eleven to four.”

He was beaming. Beaming! You were pretty sure you could see molars. It made you shake your head and begin to sort out all your work into piles to go over. Not that you’d ever admit to secretly being caught up in the hype of the team being so close to gold at the Winter Olympics. “So then the beard stays?”

“You of all people,” he admonished, coming over to help you. Picking up the well-marked up maps you’d spent hours annotating.

Making you roll your eyes.

On he went though, obviously needing to drive home the seriousness of this matter. “The beard stays until we win gold. Next we play Norway. I don’t think it needs to be said that we cannot risk it.”

He was serious. Really serious. If that full glorious beard was any indication.

More focused on the organizing task yourself.

Sorting your work by region, pile by pile, each had taken much work and effort and negotiation, endless phone calls and trips and emails to each area to get them to work not only with you, but one another. It was like herding cats. It had taken you months to get this all sorted out for Steve to see. His ideas weren’t even ready to be implemented. This was just the pre-gaming, the leadup, the work in preparation. You weren’t even on Step One. You were on Step Zero.

“Now that I know, I’ll be sure to grow a beard next Winter Olympics.”

And then you were rewarded with a rich hearty laugh from your king.

Well not your king, as you weren’t a citizen of this country. But you still liked to think of him as your king.

Watching you sleep was something he’d never tire of. Never get enough of. It was a luxury that he didn’t realize he wanted day in out.

The ability to wake up with you tangled up in blankets. Curled back against his front. Hogging pillows as you did. Allowing Steve to run his fingers up and down your bare thigh, along the curves of your body. Letting him lean forward to press his lips to your shoulder and see the peaceful rest of your face in his slowly lightening bedroom. Every last inch of you here for him.

Hungry.

That was what it was, he was hungry for you. Like a big bear that woke from hibernation after a long winter. At times he felt such a way. Never having felt this way about anyone prior.

In his own time, he slipped his fingers down along the round of your ass underneath the flesh of your hip. Warm. Soft. Smooth. Neither of you had left the bed since the late night bath in his tub.

Further down Steve allowed his fingers to trail.

Memorizing every last second to get him through his day. From how you felt pressed against the front of him, how your back moved against his chest with every steady breath you took. The way your legs tangled in his buttery sheets with his own, how the soft cheeks of your bottom pressed against his alert groin.

Most definitely though, how your skin tasted and felt beneath his mouth. Smelling like yourself from all your favorite bath products kept in his bathroom.

You’d smelled so good that night too.

You always smelled good.

It was something that he had noticed but hadn’t given any real thought to.

It seemed to be a mix of perfume and body lotion or cream. Cause Steve found the flowery smell would linger after you walked by in the way that perfume did, infusing the air and making his brain scream out that you were near. But also, when you shook his hand, it always had that sweet fresh clean smell afterwards.

Now, whenever Steve smelled it, all he could think about was you.

Those smells danced around him. Making the late hour bearable. Making the fact that the offices were empty but for the two of you, when you both should have been home in bed, not matter.

“Ok…” you were talking to him, pointing out places on the massive map that was his nation. Arms crossed. Legs spread. Standing beside you as you informed him with tones that indicated your happiness, your displeasure as well as your utter irritation. “…so I managed to get in touch with every Education Department in all nine of your territories.”

Though you were not looking at him, Steve nodded, laser focused on this project he’d tasked you with months ago.

“All of the department heads are on board with your desired overhaul to completely modernize the entire system. Unfortunately, they told me that I had to call all the district heads for all forty-six provinces to get their agreed participation too.”

Your tone went from pleased with yourself then skeptical and then annoyed.

You turned your head to look at him. “Which is what I spent the last three months doing. It was something of a thing.”

Steve could only imagine.

He was quiet though so you could go on. More than pleased with how well you worked in this position. He’d originally been skeptical with your being a foreigner. How dedicated would you be to a job in a country that was not your own? One hundred percent as it turned out.

Your hands flattened out dramatically on the table. Outrage surged from you. “I’m still waiting on two appointees because their predecessors apparently died during harvest season and no one could be bothered to replace the position. I literally had to fly out to the outer reaches of civilization to find this out. Cause all the government offices are closed during harvest season, fyi. But they’re literally filling the positions now.”

Such was the challenge of having a large kingdom with one foot in the future and one in the past. Such things led to the difficultly of keeping a Chief of Staff.

Steve’s previous Chief of Staff had come highly recommended and lasted a little over a month.

Whether it was from a lack of dedication, the obvious frustrations of the job or maybe he simply had not wanted to jump on a plane and fly six hours then ride by car five hours to remote areas in order to complete his work. Steve could not be sure. All he knew for sure was he’d keep you as long as humanly possible.

In his eyes, you were a saint.

“What’s with the question mark?”

Making you look to see which question mark you’d marked on the map full of stickers and marks and tabs. Hours had been spent working on the damn thing.

Seeing which question mark in question made your nose scrunch. “Oh…them, they refuse to even answer my calls until they are allowed to take their traditional name for their province. Which is way above my pay grade. Someone else is going to have to deal with them. I tried.”

Ah, Steve nodded, that was far from surprising. The far outer regions were notoriously independent or rebellious, depending on your stance.

He would deal with them accordingly. Not how his father did, but in his own way.

Steve’s attention was drawn to two nearby provinces. Each had a frowny face sticker. Without asking, he merely pointed.

A noise of pure disgusted frustration came from deep in your throat. Making you stand and look to him, brandishing your hands in all directions. “I tried my best with them. I really did. Both of those provinces absolutely refuse to take part in anything if the other is involved. Apparently, they’re still salty at one another over something that happened in fourteen-seventy-three and refer to me as the foreign she-devil. So…good luck with them Your Majesty.”

Soundly you slept.

Comfortable. Safe. At peace.

Making him feel like a true man. A provider able to care for you, protect you, satisfy you. As if he were stripped down to what nature intended. Instead of what society had dictated for you both.

Reaching down to that heavenly place between the V in your thighs, Steve pushed his fingers further to find your softness slippery, your skin slick with viscous arousal. In pushing his finger up further, running it around the edge of your slit to where the gateway to your body was hidden, he found you heavily aroused. Coating his fingers with a thick fluid that promised you would be able to take him now. Oozing into the cervices between his fingers and smearing thickly down his palm and over the back of his hand.

Unable to help himself, he brought his hand out from between your legs in order to look at your arousal. Merely the sight made his balls clench in eager anticipation. Tasting the bodily excretions had his hips moving against yours on their own.

A noise came from you. Though you were far from waking. Always one to enjoy your sleep.

On his tongue you were heady, ripe. Tasting like sin. Steve licked his fingers. Eyes closed so he could savor the taste, how you clung to his tongue and were thick, like a burst of brandy swirling with his saliva.

Awakened now from his deep sleep. Ravenous like a beast of the forest. He pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. Making you mumble. Making you wiggle in your sleep, causing you to reach your arm out for a pillow to pull close. Hooking your leg up higher too. Becoming more comfortable in the bed in addition to opening yourself up more to your king. As if your body had connected to his on a level your mind was unaware and encouraged him to take you.

Down he peered. Strands of hair fell across his forehead at the harsh angle. A soft lightening of the sun through drapes he never closed last night allowed the sight of moisture. Folds of bare skin sheened up at him. Tempting him with that webbing of goo that promised him you were ready.

Taking himself in hand, he caught sight of your name curled over his side. Reminding him of your absolute possession over him. Sending his hand low to pull his foreskin back in order to feed this hunger of you that consumed him.

Your signature was all swoops and swirls.

Recognizable above anyone else’s writing he came across on a daily basis.

All over paper and on the maps. In little corners. Highlighted. In different color pens. On stickie notes. Written on napkins or on the back of random pieces of paper.

At the time, he’d had no idea how far gone he really was.

Not even when he watched you take note after note with a purple inked pen, your hand flowing across paper like a swimmer cutting through the water. Taking down his every word, every command.

A incredibly distinctive feeling of being full woke you up from your glorious sleep, in a very singular sort of way that could be from only one thing. Only one thing on earth felt like that when waking you up.

Pulling you out of a warm blissful sleep only to wake you with the exquisite feeling of being stretched open, pushed into, filled up. Making your fingers clench bedding or pillows or whatever they could grab.

A low breathy moan came from you in the time between you were woken and awake, your face burrowing in a pillow was followed by a soft profanity. Weight slowly covered you. Weight pinned you down to the bed a little at a time. Skin and sheets and soft dustings of hair rubbed against you.

Only when you had fully woken did you feel pubes brush against your cheeks. A light tap of scrotum bumped you too.

Long arms wrapped around you. Wet lips mouthed along the curve of your neck.

This was a far superior way to wake up. Compared to your apartment, in bed alone, to your neighbors loud shrilling alarm clock through your paper-thin wall.

Groaning out at the feel of His Majesty’s cock stuffed safely up in your secret garden. You found yourself whining at Steve at whatever time it was in the early morning. “…fuuuuck…what’d I say about doing that…” A swivel, nay, a swivel with a pop of his pelvis followed, making you see stars, gasp deeply as if you’d been stabbed in the lungs and then add on for God and Country. “…My King…shit, My King…oh shit, My King.”

Though it may have been said in jest, his tone was hot enough to scald. “If memory serves me correctly…” another deep push of thick hips shoved you forward into the pillows. “…you say, not in my ass unless I’m awake.”

Stars.

So many bright and colorful stars.

Mmm.

Yes, that was something you had told him on many occasions and it still held very true. If Steve was going to put anything in your ass, forget that thing he claimed was a dick, you needed to be fully awake so you could both physically and emotionally prepare yourself.

Nothing at all could have prepared you for the drastic turn your life was about to take that night.

Nothing.

Everything had been so normal. It was so regular. Like many a long night working late hours at the palace before. Hours had been spent going over all your hard work contacting each and every head in each education department per province, as well as per territory. In addition to the national department of education, preparing to prep them for what the king wanted.

Like any other late night, Steve helped you put all of your paperwork back in the correct order you had it in. Like every other time, he requested a palace car take you to your apartment. Granted the apartment you shared with your best friend was walking distance away. It was late and simply not safe and you found were touched that Steve would think about your well-being.

For a king, he wasn’t that bad. When it was the two of you anyway.

Looks aside, which he had in spades, he could be very funny in a sarcastic sort of way. He was very well read and intelligent, quick on his feet. Although people seemed to think of him a certain type of way based on his father and his own kingship at a young age, when he really was his own person.

You’d noticed he had a definite interest in the classical masters and had on rare occasion seen him sketch out something on a flight or during a less than stimulating event. He had an artistic ability that would never come to anything due to his role.

His strong sense of duty paired with a disgusting moral obligation pretty much guaranteed his life would be spent in service to his country. Period.

You could see why people thought he was hot. The man had been blessed by the genetic gods. Plus he was a king. Who didn’t grow up dreaming about being a princess? Or think about a literal Prince Charming from fairy tales?

Having now had the benefit of working in a real life palace. You knew the realities of that fantasy.

You had two pages of notes that could attest to the reality of your childhood Disney Princess movies.

Reality was always so different.

Not for the first time, you found yourself repeating yourself. “…and let me say one more time. Thank you so much for talking with my parents. I know it was only ten minutes, but, I know how busy you are and it just completely topped off their visit. My mother has been telling everyone about how she met the king. You even have my father cheering for the hockey team.”

A smile came over Steve’s face that was real.

It wasn’t one of his practiced smiles. It was an actual smile. You could tell because it reached his eyes.

“Well,” Steve answered you with a shrug, sounding genuinely pleased even if he also sounded tired and like he wanted nothing more than to go off to his living quarters in the palace and crash into bed, before he had to get up to start a new day. Helping you stack the last of your papers up. “Anything to convert a soul to hockey. Technically, it is his team too.” And because he could not help himself, Steve added on, “Even if his grandparents fled from here for a cushy life in the west.”

Up your hand flew to your chest.

Your jaw dropped in mock pain. “Ouch, Sir! That one was painful.”

His smile grew at your over-the-top reaction.

Still though, he dipped his head and you noticed there was a little blush on his cheeks above where that magnificent beard grew. Chagrined, he quickly followed up with, “I apologize. That was a cheap shot.”

In a physical sort of way that his people were known to interact, personal space be damned, Steve reached over to touch your arm apologetically. Not something he did frequently. Although he had done it a handful of times. The press of his mouth to your cheek was new. The little kiss was brand new. Steve’s lips were gentle on your skin. His beard tickled your face.

Never in your life had your heart pounded as violently in your chest as it did at that gesture. Quickly, your head turned. Though you did not move back or say anything. Instead, you found yourself staring at Steve. Looking into those pools of blue that were looking at you with the same amount of surprise that you felt. His lips were right there, right there.

Blood roared in your ears, your heart pounded faster and faster and faster.

He kissed you.

Did he really though?

Was it a kiss or was it a kiss?

For a moment in time, you leaned in. Leaned closer. Leaned till you almost touched him because that was what your body wanted to do. Until you remembered that Steve was a king. A KING. Remembering that made your head command your body to lean backwards a bit. Allowing you to see that he had leant in to meet you.

He’d leaned closer to kiss you.

What were you doing? What in the hell were you doing? You had no business doing this, no business at all messing around with Steve.

Fingers moved along your arm, tracing up the back of it softly. That simple touch made goosebumps break out over your skin. It made your breath hitch. Your hands began to shake so you grabbed the fabric of your skirt.

However, you made no move to step away from Steve. Nor did he make any sort of move to step away from you.

Another attempt at a kiss was not made.

Fingers touched your face instead. Steve was close enough to you that you felt his legs brush yours. You felt his breath against your face. Fingertips ran across the swell of your cheekbone, down over your lips, tracing the bridge of your nose in what felt like a desire to memorize your face.

Steve was gentle. His fingertips felt like feathers on your skin. He made you shake like a leaf in terror because you wanted him to touch you more. You wanted to be touched. You wanted to feel his hands on you and the soft glide of his thumb along the line of your jaw was painfully insufficient.

Without thinking, you reached up with your hands until you remembered that he was the king.

Were you allowed to touch the king? You weren’t sure. He was touching you and it was fabulous but were you allowed to do the same? You wanted to. You so deeply wanted to. You just were not sure what was allowed in this situation. It had not exactly been covered in the Royal Protocol Guidebook you had.

Then came Steve’s voice. Harsh. Gravelly. Desperate.

“Touch me. It’s ok. I want you to.”

For only a heartbeat or two you remained still, observing him, making sure. Only after that did you reach up with your hands to cover his wrists. Rub along the fabric of his button-up shirt. In doing so, you not only felt the strength in his well-muscled wrists, or how warm the silky fabric was, but, you could feel him tremble. He was shaking about as much as you were.

A rush of air surged from his lungs as if you had burnt him.

Curious, you turned your head so you could place a single kiss on the inside of his hand touching your face, right at the base of his thumb. In doing so, you ripped a noise from deep within him. A noise that was both pained while also infused with wanting.

“This is ok?”

“Yes,” he croaked out, as if he were terrified you would stop.

Never would you have ever imagined he would be so responsive. Almost touch starved it felt.

Sometimes, Steve still felt as if he were a little touch starved to you. Sometimes it felt like he’d gone his entire life without having that physical connection between two people. As complicated of a man as he was with as complicated of a life as he had, you at times forgot that he was still a human being with human being needs that were essential to thriving.

And it wasn’t like you were complaining.

Far from it.

Not after the orgasm you just had, not from on top of him either. Lounged across the front of him. Loose limbed. Languid down to your marrow. Peppering the damp skin of his neck with slow wet kisses and scrapes of teeth. Long drags of your tongue collected drops of salt that tasted of him. Lazily. Heart to heart. Stomach to stomach.

There really were worse ways to wake up.

Like, for instance, in your apartment taking cold showers cause the building’s water heater was ancient. That wasn’t fun at all and usually had you shivering and hurrying through an icy shower. Straight up not a good time.

This? This was soooo much better.

Feeling Steve’s long legs wrapped up in your own, paired with his softening member filling you by virtue of sheer size not letting himself just pop out…this was a much better way to wake up. Far superior in every way.

Not that you were willing to waste precious time like this luxuriating in post-coital bliss. No, no. A burning question was hot on your mind that kept popping up after last night. After all, you were a modern woman and this was a serious relationship. You had every right to ask this question at any time you wanted. Even now. As your boyfriend, the king, fondled your breasts in his hands with such intensity that you would have thought he’d just broken out of Alcatraz after a decade of no nookie. Not that you were in the least bit complaining. Not one bit.

“Am I going to have to quit my job?”

It was something of a concern.

You loved your job. You loved working with Steve. You loved your life as it was and a big part of you suspected becoming queen would mean big changes.

Not that you lifted your head from his neck, or ceased your trek down towards his collarbone. Trail of your kisses never slowing or stopping. No hint of any sort of disruption came. Not for a moment or two. Not till your ravenous boyfriend squeezed your breasts possessively. Thumbed your nipples and finally opened his eyes, as if it were the biggest chore on earth.

His voice was rough. His tone felt like hot gooey honey that just got everywhere. “No…not yet…”

Leading you to make a noise. A pop followed when your mouth left the dark spot you’d been sucking on nearly at his collarbone. What with your name already etched on him. What else could you leave in a display of ownership over him? “Nothing else to add My King?” For added emphasis, perhaps you gave you vaginal muscles a clench knowing what that did to him.

A grunt came from beneath you.

Wrapped up in yours, Steve’s legs clenched in response to what you did. White teeth sank into his upper lip and you absolutely thrived at the sight and feel of him arching up against you, shifting around beneath you at the way your body squeezed him.

Those hands left your breasts only to reach down, run over your waist as they had so many times before, leading you to grab them. Snatch then right up. Press them down into the mattress over Steve’s head. Since the man was far larger than you, this sent you leaning downwards and ever closer to his face. “Steve? I asked you a question.”

How easy it would have been for him to get free. Yet, he seemed content where he found himself. Still wedged within you. Warm in bed. Body a sea of a complex cocktail of chemicals after physically releasing into you. A far better way to wake up than alone in a massive bed. Or worse, to his mother jabbing at him to urgently tell him something that was not urgent at all.

Feeling your breasts press against his chest. Lightly brushing over his skin, your nipples little points that sparked a definite interest in his dick.

God did he want you to be his queen.

“Not yet,” Steve ground out, nearly close to being overwhelmed by you. Each and every word was enunciated to utter perfection, as if it took all of his concentration and effort to get them out. “I’ll have the palace leave your name out of the official statement today. We can go slow. Ease you into things…ease you out of your job…” and to reward him for such a thoughtful statement, you clenched around him once more.

However, it seemed, there was more and even though his eyes rolled up into his head at the feel of your core squeezing his not entirely soft organ, he pushed on with the determination of his ancestors. Grunting. Arching back into the bed as the pillows had all wound up on the floor. Perfect teeth clenched together. “M-my people…will…love you…too.”

So, it was entirely possible, that you were feeling all kinds of powerful watching him writhe beneath you. Knowing exactly what sort of repercussions this could have to your morning. Which was still progressing on time. It was entirely possible that you may have intentionally pushed your own pelvis against his to reseat yourself.

“Oh yeah? How can you be so sure? You saw what happened with those two over in England. And that prince isn’t even next in line to the throne.”

Perhaps it was the seriousness of the direction in which your conversation had taken, Steve remained beneath you. Taking no action, even though you could quite literally feel his dick grow more interested in what your hips were doing.

A panted out, “…fuck…” escaped from him, before he opened his eyes to look at you seriously, if not also a little heatedly. “Quit obsessing over them. The King of Jordan married for love. Queen Rania was a commoner. If you must, focus on them.”

Sudden movement found you falling off Steve and onto the bed, shoved onto your back and in a flash, he was on top of you again. Over you. Hovering. Though he’d escaped out of your body, you could feel the king’s most delicious semi, slick from your previous copulation, squish between you both.

Admitting on an exhale, “Forgot about them.”

“Everyone does.” He agreed, surveying down, taking in the sight of you. “My country appreciates you. They’re fond of you. You’re in all the papers and they’ve given you a nickname.”

And that. That. Nearly killed the mood.

It sent your eyebrows together dubiously so.

Everytime you were in the press it was when your skirt had been blown up on a windy day, or if you’d accidentally gotten food on your shirt. Or that time a baby goat pooped on your shoes. Or when you’d tripped and fallen off a dock into a lake. Who could forget that time you’d accidentally called the Prime Minister of Canada a ‘moose fucking cannibal’ when you’d still been getting the hang of the language, your first year on the job?

You’d been affectionately dubbed, ‘the King’s Foreign Devil’ and it had stuck.

Hell, you still got asked about your thoughts on the Canadian Prime Minister whenever a member of the press was around.

“Most the time, you have a higher approval rating than I do,” he added. Much to the consternation of Maria Hill in PR. “Trust me. There is nothing my country loves more than a hard-working loyal servant of the people who talks shit about western leaders.”

Mood totally killed, you seethed and not for the first time, “That was an accident! I was trying to call him Canada’s Disney Prince.”

***

The note had been hand delivered to the palace and was now crumbled into a ball in the Queen Mother’s bedroom as she stormed off, once more, that early morning in a fury of rose satin and silk. Her perfume clouded around her, drifting behind her, much like the wake of a boat cutting through the water.

Thick carpets silenced her heels. Doors opened for her as she neared them, allowing her to not need to slow her step even for a second. Not a single moment wasted as she made her way through the private living quarters of the palace.

Down hallways and around corners, over to the rooms that her grown son had selected as his own.

It would have been so much easier if he would have just taken the rooms that his father had lived in.

Although, with the horrific memories attached to those rooms, how could she blame him when he elected not to? She had her own private rooms. The dead kings rooms were locked up tight and still not used. Abandoned like so much he’d done, started and accomplished in his life.

Upon coming to her only child’s rooms, those doors were held open for her and on she pressed on. Sailing through his rooms, one after another, until she got closer to his bedroom and could hear his shower which was the direction she headed.

A brief glance was made at the mess that was his bed.

A roll of her eyes was followed by a shake of her head.

Some things males never grew out of it seemed.

“Steven!” She called out in warning, should he be in the bathroom about to come out in the nude. Which was the last thing she wanted to see.

Not only was his bed a mess but his clothes from yesterday were all over the floor.

She had every intention of telling him that he needed to straighten up this mess before the cleaning staff came in his room. The last thing she wanted was for them to think he was messy and then tell their families and friends when they went home that the king had a messy bedroom and word would get out that her son was a slob. Ugh. No. She’d make sure that he straightened up.

Speaking of the devil.

As his shower ran, Steve peered out of the bathroom with a wet head. A midnight blue towel was wrapped around his waist. A toothbrush was in his hand. To Sarah, it was very clear that her grown son had not shaved yet either.

Seeing him in such a state that morning along with his messy room and the fact the shower was going wasting water. It did not make her mood any more agreeable.

Though her son was taller than her and considerably more muscular, she never feared him.

She knew he would never hurt her like his father had so many times. Towards the end, Steve had even defended her from his father’s physical attacks. Those days. They had been dark. Horrible. Terrible. When she noticed that her husband had begun to carry a knife to protect himself from his son. Well. What was she supposed to do?

Attacking her was one thing. Being violent towards her was one thing. There were some things that she learned to tolerate. It was unescapable. Their son though. To take a knife to their son? Her son? Sarah would never allow such a thing.

She was queen at the time.

It was not so difficult to get the drug that she put in her husband’s evening nightcap. She’d used all of it. Thrown the vial away the next day when she went to rouse the king as she did every morning, only to find him dead in his chair. Fireplace having long gone out. Slumped down. Cold. The coroner had said it was a heart attack. Exactly as she’d been told the drug would work. He’d been buried with no one the wiser. Not even Steve.

“Yes mother?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “You are not growing another beard. Last time you looked like some man that lives up in the mountains in a tiny shack.”

Just as her own father once did, Steve’s eyebrows rose in surprise and question.

No. That was not why she was here.

Sarah had a higher calling that morning and straightening her slim shoulders, she so informed him. “Hope and Janet are here in the city. They’ve come for a surprise visit and will arrive at the palace within the hour.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed at her in response to her information.

It was horrifying. It was outrageous. It was not what he wanted to hear that morning one bit. Not at all. Not one single bit.

Hope and Janet?

Those were two names he never wanted to hear with the additional words being, ‘on their way’. No. Just no.

All he could say that was remotely civil, after what the then Princess Hope van Dyne had done, came out in something of a tone. “I don’t want to see either of them. If you want to see them, that’s your choice. Keep them away from me.”

Considering what the now Duchess Hope had spewed to every reporter, journalist and whomever with a platform…Sarah was a little surprised that Steve was being so kind.

She’d expected a bit more of a reaction from her son.

Could she be holding a bigger grudge against her one-time closest friend’s daughter? After what had happened, Queen Janet van Dyne had become somewhat distant. Which was not surprising. Hope had not broken the engagement gracefully. Nor had she been anything less than opinionated afterwards.

“I suspect she is in trouble,” Sarah confessed. “Why else would they come here? Considering everything that Hope has said over the years.”

Steam continued to seep through the cracked door.

Sarah was about to say something about the shower. Steve was wasting a considerable amount of hot water. She herself was leading the Go Green Initiative in the country and as she stated constantly, it all began at home.

“Mother, don’t take this the wrong way, but, I wouldn’t shit in Hope’s mouth if she was starving.”

Ah.

Perhaps she’d been too quick to judge Steve’s current opinion on the wayward duchess?

Pondering his statement, Sarah found herself looking for any way to come back with a counter when she noticed that the shower turned off. Which was odd. Shower’s didn’t turn themselves off.

What was even more peculiar, Steve reached back behind himself to shut his bathroom door.

It clicked.

Like a light going off.

How could she not have noticed? How could it not have been obvious?

Blue eyes that were a little softer than her son’s narrowed. “You aren’t alone.”

Silence.

Quiet.

Her pink lips opened in surprised. A question hovered on her tongue.

“No mother.”

“But…”

“Mother,” he implored as only a son could. “Not now. She would not want the first time she officially meets you to be when you’re dressed for the day and she is not.”

And though her son’s words were true. They were right. They were exactly what she would have wanted him to say and because she had raised him well, she was even proud that he had made such a quick decision. It wasn’t fair.

Sarah wanted to find out who you were. She wanted to meet the woman that her son was involved with. Was that so wrong? Sarah wanted to meet the woman that her son was considering marrying. There was so much she wanted to say to you, so much to teach you, so much she wanted to learn about you. Perhaps her desperation showed because her son reached out to place a hand on her elbow.

“If you can chase Hope and Janet away, we could have lunch together. The three of us. If not, dinner? Or even tomorrow. I’m not doing anything with Hope under this roof. Not after she referred to our country as a third world plus hellhole full of war criminals and superstitious backwoods heathens.”

Ah, so he did remember.

Those words had been seared into her memory as well. Sometimes Sarah wondered, as Steve had never really given much indication that he cared one way or the other what Hope had said. It was only after she began to speak unflatteringly about their people that he grew irritated, much like herself.

Although, what irritated Sarah more, was the quiet that came from the royal house of van Dyne and Pym a few countries over. Never once had Janet spoke up. Never had Janet said anything about her daughters outrageous remarks or behavior. Nor had she apologized.

Knowing her son, Sarah knew that he would never court anyone who was not kind or compassionate. Steve would never pick a Hope as his queen.

Up came a hand that bore a lovely ring decorated with fresh water pearls from their own waters. “I’ll have them gone before lunch and then we will all sit down together so I can finally meet her.”

[ackerfics]

hange and their best friend (reader) "platonically" flirt with one another, they use pet names for each other, making others think they're together unintentionally. until reader finds an s/o, not knowing hange actually likes them

she — hange zoe

— hange zoe x female reader (modern au)

— warnings: angst ??? the stinging feeling you get when you see someone you love, love someone else

— summary: hange's best friend found love in the form of autumn while hange associates her with all of the seasons.

— word count: 2.5k

— notes: i love hange but i hate myself for writing something that hurts them :<<< they're my first love in aot and it pains me to imagine them hurting in any sort of way (which is probably the reason why i bawled my heart out in chap 132). this little fic hit too close at home for me bc it's exactly what i felt one time during high school. it's fucking traumatizing and istg, i don't want to relive falling in love with a friend again, it's like the most satisfying way to hurt, too. happy reading tho :<<<

reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

She embodies everything positive in Hange’s eyes.

She is spring — the bursting of blossoms under the tendrils of sunlight seeping between the spaces of the trees in the woods. Every time Hange closes their eyes, they are reminded of how she signifies every single flower they ever know. She makes them feel everything at once — see every color at once in a single frame. There is no space for artistic abilities in Hange’s calloused, mismatched hands but when it comes to her, they can create a myriad of paintings encapsulating her beauty at every stroke of a brush. Her laughs, her flowery perfume that doesn’t hurt their nose, her smiles that are as radiant as the early morning Sun — are ingrained in their brain. She brings forth the butterflies that Hange carefully imprisoned in their ribs, the monarchs’ wings already seeping through the cracks at every joke she makes, reaching to their heart until every beat swayed to the sound of her giggles.

“Hange, the love of my life, there you are!”

Hange turned around with a huge smile on their lips. Their conversation with Levi came to an abrupt stop, with the shorter man mumbling along the lines of ‘here we go again’. The small smile on his face spoke otherwise while watching two of his closest friends hug each other as if they didn’t live together in an apartment right outside of campus. It was such a mystery that Hange could be so comfortable around someone to the point of playfully kissing their neck in public, followed by their best friend’s melodious laughs soon after. However, Levi couldn’t be fooled. He knew the glint in the brown-haired person’s eyes. The downturn of their eyebrows when their best friend wasn’t looking. The longing was apparent when she was talking to someone across the room.

The idiot going by the name Hange Zoe was irrevocably in love with their best friend, [Name] [Last Name].

“What is it, baby?” Hange asked vibrantly, glasses reflecting the equally excited girl in their arms. “Didn’t know your class dismissed this early. What happened?”

“Nothing. Our professor announced that we should visit a museum for our finals.” She then mimicked the haughty tone of her Art History professor, straightening her back to make herself appear taller. “Choose a painting or a sculpture and trace down its history and attach your critique in the final output. If I see anyone half-assing this paper, I will not hesitate to give a failing grade that will make you retake this class. I know you lot don’t want to see me again for another semester and I don’t want to see you again, too. So, prove to me you’re worth your standing in this course.” She cleared her throat. “What he said.”

Hange whistled. “Dang, I’m happy that I didn’t follow you to the Arts Department. Your professor sounds like a complete asshole.” They chortled the next second. “Sounds like my mom, to be honest.”

“At least your mom makes a bomb bento box.”

“Yeah, I guess, you’re right.” Hange then nuzzled their face in her hair. “But your bento boxes taste much more delicious — I could eat them all day. Can I be your partner so that you’ll cook for me every day?”

“I’ve already taken the position of your wife the moment I agreed to be your roommate in university, sweetheart. And I cook for you every single day so you don’t have to ask to be my partner because you already are.”

Hange looked smug at her reply, the heat in their cheeks traveling to their ears. “That was a rhetorical question but hearing those words come out of your mouth, it’s making me feel things.”

“Oh? What are those things?”

The brown-haired person snickered under their breath, glancing at Levi who was now looking at the two of them in that lazy way of his that might come off as him being annoyed again. In reality, he was only waiting for the two to finally stop flirting to recognize he was there. His daily job of being a third-wheel should’ve started fifteen minutes ago but Hange wouldn’t let [Name] go. Hange turned back to the expectant girl. “I don’t want Levi to hear what I’m about to say. Just expect something back at the apartment,” they joked, a cheeky smile tugging at their lips.

[Name] laughed heartily. “I’m looking forward to that, gorgeous.”

“I’m still here, you know?” Levi dryly made himself known. He huffed and turned around in the direction of the university restaurant. “Come on, lovebirds, let’s have lunch. Oh, and [Name]?” When he heard her little hum of acknowledgment, Levi slightly turned around to meet his friend’s eyes with his jaded ones. “It’s your turn to buy me a drink. Make it a venti today.” She only blinked at him, giving him no choice but to resort to that dumb thing she always asked. “Please can I have a venti this time? I got you and Hange a venti last time so this makes us even.”

“Ooh, make mine a venti, too, baby!” Hange squeezed their best friend’s waist.

“Anything for my sweetheart.”

“Again, I’m right here, you know.”

Just the thought of that little scenario hurts Hange.

But as much as the pain comes in the package, she is still summer in their eyes.

The Sun can’t compare to the brilliance of her smile. Kind smiles and gentle touches under the warm rays of the summer heat. Her scent is yellow to Hange — so bright and warm that they don’t care how long they bask in her presence, never caring if they get burned because it feels so right to be within her orbit. She urges them to feel so loved and so special, tender caresses of her warmth cascading down every vein until it reaches their heart. The cerulean waters of the sea hold nothing against the beauty of her grins, brown eyes searching for her every time of the day no matter how ethereal the world painted itself to be. Viewing the sights with rose-colored glasses is what they may call it but for Hange, it’s simply her. Someone once said that summer brings forth a paradise where blue covers everything in its wake, the cry of the seagulls reverberating in the distance, and the scent of ice cream flickers in the breeze. For Hange, summer is in the form of pretty close-lipped smiles, of late-night movie marathons on a worn-out couch, of bento boxes filled with their favorites, of a scent so saccharine, and a loyal friend.

A friend.

Of course. No matter where Hange goes, that word haunts them. Hidden beneath their smiles, their jokes, their longing, and admiring stares. It’s a reminder of where they stand in this limbo they created. At one point, they thought that line had been crossed only for it to be established again in permanent ink. And before they know it, Hange is tumbling down in a spiral, along with a change of seasons.

Fall is where everything started.

The orange glow of the leaves created the perfect view as she sipped on her tall cup of warm coffee. The blissful sigh that came soon after warmed up Hange, even though they were seated in front of each other in the outside tables of the small cozy café where Levi was working at. The chill brought by the autumn wind caused both of them to shiver in their layered clothing. The way she nuzzled more into her scarf made Hange coo, reaching out to pinch her cheek affectionately. Autumn was both their favorite season, how it made them resort to the comfort and warmth their sweaters bring, or how they cuddle in each other’s beds with the air conditioner blasting despite the cold. It was also a season where Hange could admire her in their hoodie, a piece of clothing that swallows her whole because she’s so small compared to their lanky figure.

Hange remembered being called out here because she wanted to talk about something. Now that they thought about it, her cheeks appear to be glowing more than usual and she kept glancing inside the café where Levi was busy telling his coworker how to make the new drink. Hange even went as far as following her gaze but they didn’t find anything out of the ordinary other than Levi sighing in that stressful way of his that always made them snicker. They turned back to their Sun, who was once again in a daze while staring at the clear windows of the café. “So,” they prolonged the syllable, “how’s life going, darling? I know we’re living in the same apartment but I just can’t help but ask you this because it seems like you’re always in a daze these days.”

A pause made the breeze’s call known.

“Hey, Hange, have you ever been in love?”

That spread the chill even more inside Hange’s chest. She called them by their name. Not sweetheart nor big spoon. The reality washed over Hange like a pail of freezing water.

“W-What?” Damn, they couldn’t keep the stutter off their words.

She turned her head to them, eyes so soft and smile so beautiful that made Hange breathless for one second. The butterflies dwindled, losing their iridescent wings when they realized that look wasn’t reserved for them anymore. “I thought about it,” she murmured, rubbing her numbing fingertips on the warm cup. “I have never fallen in love with anyone before. Sure, I love you and all our friends but I’ve never stopped and thought about how someone can look like starlight in front of me. But recently,” again, that pretty smile that pierced Hange’s chest, “I never knew that it could hit me that unexpectedly.”

Hange grinned despite the pounding of her chest. “So, who’s the lucky person?”

She chuckled, going back to staring at the interior of the café. “I told Levi to lay off on scolding her but he never listens, says she’ll never grow a backbone if he’s being considerate on her.”

Now, they’re confused because the only people manning the counter as she spoke was Levi (and she would never fall in love with Levi, seeing as they grew up together like siblings rather than the childhood friends that they are) and a strawberry blonde who looked like Levi’s become their worst nightmare. It took Hange a full minute to process that the person she’s been staring at was never their mutual friend, but the strawberry blonde who looked up towards their direction and waved with a pretty blush on their cheeks. She waved back with the same shyness, leaving Hange dumbfounded. “Wait, the person you’re in love with is—”

“Yeah, it’s her.”

Suddenly, Hange understands why she’s starting to like autumn.

It reminds her of the girl’s hair, which she gushes about smelling like coconut. It reminds her of the girl’s preferred perfume, how it smells so much like cinnamon, something that she sometimes puts in her autumn drinks because in her words, ‘it’s the perfect season rather than winter’. It reminds her of the girl’s hugs, the way both of them fit with each other like lost puzzle pieces.

But as the seasons change, feelings of long-term pining will always be constant.

“Are you okay, though?” Erwin asked them, blue eyes reflecting their pathetic faux smile. He pushed the plate of pasta to them since Erwin had an idea that Hange wasn’t eating that much now. It also worried [Name].

“Yeah, four-eyes, I know you’re not doing that great and I’m saying this in the friendliest way possible because we’re worried now,” Levi reminded them, sipping on his tea with slightly narrowed eyes. “You always decline whenever we want to bring you to somewhere, to the point of leaving Nanaba on voicemail. You always answer at the first ring. Look here, shitty four-eyes,” the way Levi enunciated the nickname made Hange slowly turn their head to him, face void of the smile they were known for, “shouldn’t you be happy for her? [Name] gained the courage to confess and you’re here moping when you should’ve been supportive—”

“And what of my feelings, Levi?”

That made Levi blink and feel like an asshole.

Then, the dam broke.

“I’ve been with her all this time, you’ve seen that. You witnessed how this shy girl opened up to an extroverted idiot and became one of her best friends during high school. It feels like I can’t fucking breathe because I always thought we were meant to be. When she was lonely, I was there to comfort her. When she got a bad grade on an exam, I was the one who knows what flavors of ice cream she wants or how she eats them together like a fucking milkshake. Every day, I never expected her to look my way like she looks at her girlfriend right now. It fucking hurts. It feels so empty to know that I’m not the one she fell in love with. What did I lack? Should I be sweeter and gentler like that girl? Or dainty whenever I eat like she is? Be girly and dress up like a doll? Fuck, I can’t even bring myself to hate her girlfriend. She’s so nice and kind and sweet, anything I’m not.” Hange buried their hands in their hair, making it messier than it was.

“I just want [Name] to love me and make things wonderful. Why isn’t Fate on my side this time?

“Why didn’t she choose me?”

Tears were now drifting down like snowflakes.

“Hange,” Erwin murmured.

“Look, sunshine, it’s snowing!”

A voice catches their attention. A strawberry blonde cheers the words with glee painted in her eyes. Beside her is the subject of the trio’s conversation, the subject of a brown-haired person’s affections. Her eyes are taking in the beauty that is her girlfriend. She looks so pretty in love — how her eyes crinkled at the corners and how snow clung on her eyelashes as if she is a fairy straight from a fairy tale Hange loves when she was a kid. Her girlfriend takes her hand and pulls her to the restaurant where the trio is watching from the windows. Gray and blue irises slide over a somber bespectacled person, gauging their reaction though their face never gives anything away.

“I’m right behind you, Petra. I just took the time to admire you because you’re so pretty under the snow.”

“Stop it! You’re prettier!”

“Did you know that seeing the first snow of the year together with the person you love, your relationship will rival that of eternity?”

“Then, I’m happy I get to see this first snow with you, sunshine.”

“Me, too, angel.”

Hange smiles under a steady stream of tears. “I’m happy for her. I’m happy she found happiness even if it’s not with me.”

The chill blows inside the warm walls of the restaurant the moment the door opens, [Name]’s joyous greetings for her best friends bringing smiles to two of them. Her eyes drift to brown ones before turning to Petra to ask for a pack of tissues since Hange’s tears are still visible. Hange watches the commotion with a small smile, the chill spreading through them like a snowstorm.

Winter is here.

general taglist:

@angelofthorr

[bunny-hoodlum]

Asynchronous With You: Ch 5.5

ship: naruhina

rating: teen (references to much ecchi this chapter)

tags: Modern Day AU, Foster Siblings, Family, Angst, Unrequited Love, Poor Communication

summary: An awkward journey full of self-denial and missed moments between two foster siblings. Perhaps their love will find the right timing someday.

She can't stand herself right now, so she makes him feel like he's the untolerated one

She just wants to be alone.

Between the abandonment from her parents, the fact that she wronged Hanabi and will deserve the worst outcome for it, to the way Naruto skillfully fucks up her emotions without even trying, she just wants it all to stop.

It's all… so itchy.

These events and circumstances, they gravitate to her, they stick to her fly-trap skin and die. And she can't be rid of it.

It's all fated.

Her whole existence is one incurable allergy, and continued exposure will only lead to anaphylaxis.

However, if she closes her eyes and lays very still atop her covers, she can dream of a world where everything is as it should be.

One where her parents cherish her and she and Hanabi are one of the closest sisters you'll ever see.

A world where Neji didn't lose his parents, yet it would still feel like he's always lived with her in the same house.

A world where Naruto had never been orphaned, had grown up secure in the love of his parents so that he didn't have to inebriate himself on his vices.

She just can't stand being his sister, because it makes her feel depraved.

She can't stand all the ways that she wants to compete against those other girls.

She's got the home advantage.

Proximity is everything, or it should be.

She doubts he would hate it if he found the hole had grown bigger. She doubts he would hate testing it out.

She pictures it and pictures it, and it's exciting. Tingles shoot down into her belly, traveling lower and lower.

It's so wrong how much she wants to be claimed.

She knows he wouldn't dare.

She knows he would hate it if the one offering themselves on the other side was her.

She can't stand how she had wanted to be curled against his side on the train ride to Neji, how she wished his voice would tickle her ears again like when they were kids, giving her the reassurance that she needed.

She can't stand how she had conspired with Neji to make Naruto feel off-kilter, like he didn't know her at all, just to hand off this whole cosmic unfairness onto him.

Any effort on her part brings them closer together as foster siblings, so really, could anyone blame her for giving up at this point?

She's starting to feel itchy again.

Hinata sucks in a sharp breath as she wills her legs to work.

She needs to apologize to him.

She wobbles out of her room, then leans against his bedroom door. She knocks against the wood. Her efforts are weak at first, hesitant pauses punctuated between each knock. Then desperation finally takes hold, and her knocking picks up as much volume as intensity.

She knows what she's here to do.

It's not that hard.

But the hushed desires crowding the back of her mind, the clawing need to clear the air and put her anxieties down for good, these make it so hard for her to breathe.

These make her not trust herself to be alone with him.

The door handle rotates, the click hitting her ears like the cocking of a gun hammer.

Her heart seizes in a panic.

He greets her with an affronted frown, then tugs at his earbud wires. Thunderous drums and riotous electric guitars buzzed like industrial wasps from the earbuds. When he hit pause on his phone screen, the absence of noise made their home feel like a cave.

Cold and vast.

"I-I have things to say." Her nose wrinkled with embarrassment.

Naruto stepped away from the door, allowing her passage into his room.

It feels like it's been forever since she's stepped foot in here. The posters were all different, and there was an abundance of them plastered along his walls. To her shame, the ceiling over his bed was also well-decorated with the ripped out pages of Gravure models. They all had different looks, different shapes and sizes.

Did he really have no preference?

As she hovered awkwardly in the middle of his room, he took a seat on his bed and patted the empty spot beside him.

She stared, her skepticism all too open.

"Hinata…" His eyes implored her, but when she would still go no closer to him, he was reminded of a life he had thought long-forgotten, back when he was treated like a germ. He shut his mouth, and buried that pain down deep. He couldn't bring himself to say those words. It felt way too pathetic.

His eyes followed her as she headed for his desk and slid the chair out from it. But then she stood there, staring at it too, like it would infect her.

With a growl, he collapsed onto his bed. "You're not going to sit, you're not going to talk--"

"I am going to talk."

"So talk." He laced his fingers behind his head, staring at her pointedly.

She pushed the chair back, and turned towards him, her hands wringing themselves to the point of splintering bones.

"I'm sorry. Neither of us have had a choice in all of this. The only thing we can choose to do is be better to each other."

His pointed look evolved with a lifted eyebrow. "Yeah, we kind of decided that early on, didn't we? I made sure to get along with Neji, and I protected you. It's what I could do. The bullying you endured didn't just stop for no reason."

"I-I know. And what I'm saying is, I'm the-the one whose g-given up on--" Her stuttering caused him to sit up.

"Hey, Hinata? Hey, hey, hey," He stood up and walked over to her, his hands clasping over her strangled ones. "It's okay. C'mon, it's okay. Try to breathe," he extricated her hands from each other and squeezed each of them in his own, offering her strength. "Breathe. Breathe."

But that shaky breath she took caused a few tears to let loose, and for her to question her purpose here.

When he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her tight, her mouth smashed against his shoulder, the sobs wouldn't stop. The air was like pins in her throat and she felt so, so itchy.

His bedroom was caked in perfume and sex just as she had always imagined, and she wanted to wipe that all away.

"I c,c,can't be a g,good s,s,sister."

She wanted to love him fully.

He stroked her hair and shushed her.

"You'll be an amazing sister. That little brat already loves you. Hell, sometimes I think I won the lottery myself, y'know?"

She wanted to pound her fists against his chest. Instead she clawed the fabric of his lounge hoodie, because she may not be able to hold onto him like this for much longer.

I don't want to be your sister.

I don't want you for a brother.

These are the things she wishes she could say. With every intention of making it up to him, if he would have her.

Before she came here, she needed to gauge how badly he wanted to be part of this family. But now that he went and said something like that… she doesn't have the heart to take this away from him.

"I-I'll do better, Naruto-lun, I,I,I'll do better."

"Geez, you push yourself hard enough, don't you?" He teased.

In the world she dreams up when her eyes are closed, she's able to press her lips to his, all questions erased from both their minds as they melt into the rightness of each other's bodies.

In reality, this is as far as they can go.

AN: I didn't feel comfortable leaving them all passive-aggressive and whatnot, because I no longer like that part of my writing? I think in the past I was fascinated with the whole concept of 'this is what happens when you let things be', but lately it's not all that fascinating, it actually feels pretty dumb. So maybe this is just one of those stories where it's like, 'Yeah, this ain't working for this'. Also, I used to think communication, even if it's healthy, was boring no matter what. Like, 'Easily solved! There is no story!', but lately my mindset on that has evolved and maybe that's because of exposing myself to better stories and media. Anyways, another short one, unfortunately, but I hope you liked it! This chapter has allowed me to go back to advancing the plot with summaries, so I'm quite looking forward to speeding things up. IDK if there is actual NH juiciness up ahead, but we'll see the story allows. 😅 I really had imagined Hinata getting up to more bold 'hint-dropping hijinks' like she did with her shirt, but it seems like it wrote itself out. :( lesigh.

[morkleemelon]

off the ice || chapter 2: heading in

previous || m.list || playlist || next

pairing:  college hockey player! mark x college figure skater! reader

genre: fluff, humor, sports au, college au

warnings: swearing

word count: 7k

copyright morkleemelon all rights reserved

"And we can see here in the figure that the data currently suggests-"

Your pen flies across the notebook page, desperately trying to capture everything your economics professor said in multicolor vigor. Jotting down the figure frantically, your eyes dart back and forth between the powerpoint screen and your paper, high ponytail bouncing up and down from the motion.

Being on scholarship means that you can never let your grades fall past a certain point or else they'd give the money to someone else. As harsh as it is, without the financial aid, you would not be able to continue to go to school. One of the only things that motivates you to work harder than your sleeping peers, sometimes, is the looming fear of becoming a jobless dropout, never able to achieve your dreams. 

In a lot of ways, not having money is already bad enough, but the thought of not even being able to earn it in the future is even worse.

"Does anyone know how this company should manage production costs?," your professor asks the crowd of tired students.

You immediately shoot your hand in the air. You know it. This answer was in the textbook reading last night it's-

"Yes" Your professor points behind you.

You slowly set your hand down, disappointed, turning around to see who could've raised their hand before you did.

"They should modernize their marketing efforts with more affordable tools and focus on reducing supply costs," the boy answers expertly.

That's exactly what I was going to say.

Examining his face a little more, something about him seems a little familiar, but you can't quite put your finger on it. Looking around at who he was sitting with, you begin to piece it together.

"He must be one of the Lee's if he's sitting between Ten and Jeno" you ponder to yourself, taking one final look at the boy, "is he... Haechan?". Thinking back to last spring, one of your teammates had a huge crush on the one called 'Haechan'. She always gushed about his fluffy brown hair, handsome face, and how he asked to borrow her biology notes once. You weren't exactly well versed with the university's popular people and honestly, the fact that this school has an 'F4' called "the Lees" is pretty funny to you.

This boy's hair is blonde, though, brushed down into a fringe and slightly messy from, you're assuming, taking off the hood of his sweatshirt before class. Glancing down, you take notice of the mess of white bandages wrapped around his knuckles.

Right, they just had a hockey game. He doesn't have brown hair so this must be-

"That's exactly right, Mark. Nicely done" the professor praises.

Mark. You note the name to yourself, turning back to the board as the professor continues with the lecture.

"Dude she's looking at you," Ten whisper-yells to his younger friend, nudging him sharply in the ribs.

Mark doesn't dare look down at you yet, already feeling his cheeks grow warmer with each passing second. He feels your gaze pull away from him and finally frees the breath he was previously holding captive. Shoving back at the senior boy, his gaze flutters back to you like it usually does during this class, however much to his strong denial. 

You always sit in the first row, colored pens and highlighters arranged neatly upon your favorite desk. 

Mark watches the way your hair bobs back and forth as you move your head with keen eyes. The delicate gold glint of a necklace clasp at the nape of your neck fascinates the junior boy's attention more than the mundane lecture ever could.

Spotting the slight smile on the older boy's face and the direction of his gaze, Jeno laughs quietly to himself, happy that something interesting is finally happening during the boring lesson. Leaning over behind Mark's back, he gives Ten a silent high five.

"You're a simp" Jeno whispers in Mark's ear, eager to provoke him. Mark slaps the blue-haired boy's face away.

"Fuck off," Mark whispers harshly back as Jeno and Ten laugh to themselves in the lecture hall. He habitually glances back to your focused form. And this is nothing short of how class usually goes for them: Mark fawns over you 'secretly' whilst you haven't the slightest clue. On either side, his friends tease him endlessly for it.

"Yuna and I are planning something for you guys," Ten persists.

Mark's eyebrows scrunch in confusion at the older's ominous words. The professor's voice drones on in the background as his attention shifts to Ten.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't worry about it, man". Ten smirks, smacking a firm hand on the confused boy's shoulder.

"Don't do anything weird," Mark warns, recalling the time when the senior had planned on starting a fist fight outside of your dorm building last semester in hopes to gain your attention and provide an excuse for Mark to talk to you. Although the thought was there, no it wasn't.

The hour ticks by and exhausted students groan in relief as the professor wraps up the stale lesson on fundamental economics. A mass shuffle of notebook pages flipping closed and backpacks zipping up fills the hall as students make their way out, eager to do anything but be there.

The Lee's always gather for lunch at this time at the basketball courts, attracting an impressive crowd of envious guys and adoring girls at the sidelines. Although the place is fairly beaten down and otherwise unimpressive, the Lee's choose to be there which consequently deems the courts the coolest lunch spot on campus.

Putting his things away into his trusty black Jansport bag, Mark gets ready to head down to the courts to meet up with Haechan like they always do until he feels a hand unexpectedly grip his left shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

"Some people are gonna join us for lunch today," Ten discloses casually, keeping his gaze forward as the line of students in front of them slowly file their way out of the crowded room.

"Oh, who?" Mark questions. It's not like it's rare for other people come hang out with them, in fact, it's almost always the case. But the fact that Ten is specifically telling him beforehand feels suspicious. Another strong hand grips his other shoulder as Jeno's navy blue hair comes into view.

"Don't worry about it man. You got meal points left for this week? Lend me some," the younger boy expertly diverts.

"Yeah..."

"Let's hurry though, Haechan is probably there waiting already. I told the brat to get food for us early today". Ten ushers Mark forward and pushes his way through the herd of people.

"Aight," Mark sighs in confused defeat, picking up his pace to keep up with the senior. There's definitely something weird going on, but he doesn't have the energy to pry further. 

Then again, has he ever lived a day where his friends aren't doing some sort of weird shit?

"Thank you, professor," you smile and bow politely.

"Thank you, y/n, enjoy the rest of your day," the older man smiles back, waving you off as he packs up his lecture notes. It's small things like this that you always make sure to do to make others' lives a little better.

After all, the best thing to give-better than any monetary gift- is kindness. Right?

Your phone buzzes in the back pocket of your frayed denim shorts and you reach to check the notification.

Der sum hoez in this houz:

Yuna: guys!! Let's grab lunch somewhere new today! :DD

Hope: yassss ;););)

You: oh why? The caf has chicken nuggets today :(

This is definitely suspicious -you, Yuna, and your other friends, Lisa and Hope, always ate together at the round table in the university's better dining hall nicknamed "the caf". It's been your unbroken tradition since freshman year and the lunch lady at the caf even likes you enough to give you extra servings sometimes.

Yuna: we can still have the nuggets but Ten knows a cool place we can sit! He says he already got the food so we don't have to pay today ;)

Free food?

Your inner Mr.Krabs reveals himself as you perk immediately at the mention of her boyfriend paying for lunch. Neither guilt nor modesty had time to catch up as your thumbs rush to type a speedy reply.

You: I'm there. Where at?

Yuna: I'm coming to your classroom rn! We can walk together

Lisa: Hope and I are coming from bio :) excited

You: lol why does everyone know but me

You: is it gonna be weird with us third wheeling you yuna?

You: if y'all start kissy kissy touchy touchy I might puke just saying

Yuna: HAHAHA XD

Yuna: don't worry some of ten's friends might be there too

Oh. To be honest, you're caught off guard at your best friend's last message. Ten has been over to your shared dorm a few times and you've exchanged enough awkward greetings to call him an acquaintance at least. But generally, his friend group and yours stay separate.

Not that there is any actual beef there, but, no pun intended, nobody's tried to break the ice yet.

Closing the group chat as you reach the entrance of the economics building, you hold a hand up to block the glaring rays of summer sun from your eyes. The sudden brightness harshly contrasts the musty dark of the lecture hall, making you squint in discomfort.

"Y/n!" a familiar voice calls out. A flash of platinum blonde hair and Chanel perfume filled your senses as Yuna throws your smaller body into a crushing, sweaty hug.

"EWw!" you yelp, shoving the taller girl away from you half-playfully, catching the attention of a few concerned passer-bys.

You nod your head at them in a shy apology.

Yuna, seriously.

The guilty party laughs, the musical sound travelling through the humid air like a refreshing breeze. Your best friend sticks out her elbow for you to link your arm through.

Eyeing her with short-lived contempt, your lips break into a smile as you slip your forearm around hers, unable to be actually mad at your best friend.

"Where are we going?" you ask.

"You'll see. It's Ten's spot"

"Hi-his spot?!" You stop in your tracks, wondering why you were going to eat where Ten dealt weed.

Since when did he deal weed though?

"Not that kind of spot!," Yuna cries out, smacking a manicured hand over the top of her forehead as to not ruin her perfect foundation, "he's not like that!".

"Right good," you scoff.

The summer heat swelters as Yuna leads you down campus towards the sports center. It's early September and Seoul is notoriously hot.

Ice cream vendors with big, striped umbrellas litter the streets, calling out for business from sweaty pedestrians who crave a moment of sweet, cold relief. The sky tints a beautiful shade of blue with fluffy wisps of white clouds dotting its never-ending canvas. No matter how hot the weather is, the day is undeniably beautiful.

You don't ask Yuna more about where you're headed, accepting that your best friend likes to be spontaneous and that her boyfriend was paying for your food. This is more than enough for you to follow her down the sketchy alleyway shortcut to the basketball courts. Sometimes you wonder if you'd be really easy to kidnap...

The alley opens up to reveal a worn-out basketball court planted in the middle of a grassy area. Looking around, you noticed there are quite a few people there, most of them unfamiliar to you.

They scatter across the grass in groups, eating and chatting casually amongst their friends atop their patterned picnic blankets. You catch the gaze of a group of girls sitting at the edge of the court; they eye you up and down, taking you aback with their lack of subtlety.

Breaking the awkward eye-contact, you suddenly feel very out of place.

"Hey!" Yuna calls out, slipping her arm out of yours to wave at a group of people sitting at the other side of the court from the judgmental girls.

Her hand slips into yours, snapping you out of your uncomfortable dilemma, pulling you towards the group she waved to. A big willow tree stretches towards the sky and casts a precious spot of shade over the area. Immediately, you spot Hope and Lisa as they wave to you and you let out a breath of relief.

At least I'm not alone, maybe I won't be so awkward now.

You recognize Ten's face and you give him a smile and nod of acknowledgement. Scanning over the rest of the group carefully, you faintly recognize the other boys sitting under the tree.

The boy with the blue hair and the fitted white tee- that's Jeno.

Fluffy brown hair-definitely Haechan.

Your eyes flit to the next boy and you're taken aback when he's already staring at you. His ashy blonde fringe hair, almost grey, seems dearly familiar. His eyes widen before quickly looking away.

He's part of the Lee's... bandaged hands and that hair- that's Mark, the dude who stole your answer from earlier.

The little devil on your shoulder whispers to hold a small grudge. The little angel on the other argues that it was never your question and you shouldn't be so petty. Right, kindness is the best virtue. You will let it go.

You and Yuna reach the edge of their picnic blanket and your best friend immediately goes to sit by Ten who doesn't hesitate to pull her hips smoothly into his lap.

You look away in embarrassment. Good for her for finding love, but by golly are you painfully single.

Eyeing the space on the picnic blanket, Hope and Lisa are almost strategically sitting at the end chatting with Jeno so there is no reasonable way you could sit next to them. Setting down your bag awkwardly, you debate where you should sit, silently cursing at Hope and Lisa for not leaving a space for you. Maybe coming here was a mistake because you feel kind of left out-

"Oh, here," a small voice lets out. You look up to see Mark getting up and moving his stuff out of the way and clearing a space for you next to him.

"Ah, thank you!" You smile, kneeling down to sit in the empty space.

Thank God.

Glancing at his face, a blush even Maybelline would envy rests on his cheeks as his gaze remains glued to the food in his hands.

The first thing you notice is how handsome he is up close. You didn't get a good look at him in the lecture hall, but his face is a perfect mix of feminine and masculine beauty. His eyes are soft and round, but his jawline sharp and angled. The most chiseled cheekbones you've ever seen are handsomely defined under the mosaic of shadows and light created by the branches of the willow tree. A slight, shy smile graced his delicate, pink lips.

He's super cute. I take back everything I thought in lecture.

"Hey, welcome!," a sudden high-pitched voice rips your attention away from ogling the blonde boy. Turning your face, you see Haechan on your other side eagerly holding out a hand for you to shake. You take his hand and he shakes it vigorously, "I'm Haechan nice to meet you! What's your name?".

"I'm y/n," you reply with a smile. He's really outgoing, huh.

"Y/n what year are you?"

"Oh I'm a sophomore this year"

"Ayyy! Jeno and I are sophomores too," the friendly brunette slaps the other boy on the arm, "say hi, Jeno".

"Hey, I'm Jeno". He gives a heart-fluttering eye-smile and you could hear hushed gasps and coos ensue from the onlooking girls across the court.

"Hi, y/n," you respond shyly.

Dang, these guys are all so good-looking.

You always hear about the 'Lees' and their 'godly' visuals, but you never truly paid attention. Yet now that you're sitting with them at their cool-people-only hangout spot, you have no choice but to admit how exactly spot-on those descriptions were.

"Here, y/n" Haechan hands you a paper tray full of chicken nuggets.

"Nice! Thank you," you cheer, taking the food perhaps a little too excitedly. Working out and training nearly everyday means you're inevitably hungry most of the time. Not to mention, your stomach always rumbles at the sight of your all-time favorite food.

Digging into the free food reward, you turn back to Mark who hasn't said anything to you yet.

"What's your name?" you ask. Technically, you already know it, but you don't really know a better way to start a conversation.

Visibly surprised, Mark chokes on his chicken.

You let out a single note of laughter at his unexpected coughing before slapping a hand over your mouth to stop yourself.

"Are you okay?" you ask stupidly.

"Bruh," Haechan teases with a smirk, amused at his best friend's embarrassment.

Mark nods quickly with a hand covering his mouth as he continues coughing. Unsure of what to do, you reach over to pat him on the back firmly.

"Here, dude". Jeno tosses Mark a filled water bottle, the older boy accepting it gratefully, gulping down the water like his life depends on it (which it... actually does).

Gasping in relief as he sets the bottle down, Mark looks back at you with flushed cheeks and wet lips. You realize your hand is still on his back and you quickly snatch your hand away, suddenly flustered by the contact.

"I'm Mark," he finally answers, voice hoarse from the ordeal.

"Hi Mark, I'm y/n" you giggle.

He looks absolutely hilarious with water dribbling down his chin and cheeks as red as fire. There is something intensely endearing about him as he looks down, front teeth biting down on his bottom lip in embarrassment.

"What year are you?," you continue.

"Uh-I'm a Junior"

"Oh nice! What do you study?"

"Uh-business and sports management"

"Wow! Wait you're In Econ31 right?"

"Yeah I am," Mark smiles.

"I thought I recognized you! I'm in that class too," you exclaim. Usually, you aren't terribly sociable with people you just met, but there's something about the softness of his voice that makes him easy to talk to. That and the way he's just choked on a chicken nugget in front of you at your first meeting- you have little to nothing to lose.

"Oh yeah I-I've seen you around sometimes"

"Yeah we've seen you around sometimes," Ten calls out, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Yuna laughs and hits his chest in warning.

"Shut up!" Mark grabs a nugget from his tray and chucks it at the older boy. Like a slow-motion scene in a movie, Ten catches the piece of chicken between his teeth and flashes a wink back at the flustered junior.

You burst out in laughter at the interaction, slapping a hand onto your knee at the dumbfounded look on Mark's face.

Mark feels his heart clench at the sound of your bright laughter filling the air. You gasp with glee, one hand slapping your knee repeatedly and the other gripping your fork. Truth be told, he is freaking out inside. And this is not how he imagined you would meet. 

All thoughts about Ten abandoned, a wide smile spreads back onto his face as his eyes scan across your laughing form. You sport a casual outfit consisting of a grey t-shirt and denim shorts like you usually do. A simple gold chain hangs from your neck, tucked away under the collar of your shirt. Up close, Mark feels even more drawn to you than ever before.

Beautiful as ever.

"I-I can't breathe," you wheeze, "what just happened?"

"My talent," Ten states, moving his arms from around Yuna's waist to hold them up in a 'well duh' shrug.

"Nah bro, it was a good throw from me," Mark cuts in, holding up a hand to stop the gloating boy.

"Nah bro, it was a good catch from me," Ten sasses back, moving Yuna off his lap to kneel up. You meet Yuna's eyes and you both hold back laughter at the ridiculous argument.

"Nah bro" Mark moves onto his knees as well.

"Nah bro's," Haechan suddenly interjects, "It was me. I have telepathy and I moved the chicken". Haechan promptly stands up and does a body wave, posing with a finger gun pointed over the slope of his nose to his forehead.

You laugh silently between the three boys who are suddenly all standing as they argue over who was responsible for the nugget trick. You had just met these guys a few minutes ago, but you're more confused and intrigued at them than you've ever been with anyone.

Look at you go, making new friends and everything!

"Guys..." Jeno tries, but his low voice isn't nearly loud enough to be heard over the chaos.

The boys point accusing fingers at each other like in a Renaissance painting. You scooch your way over to the other girls to get out of their way, bringing your food with you.

"You're dating..." You gesture your fork at Ten who was is caught in a three-way head lock with Mark and Haechan.

"Yeah". Yuna's face remains expressionless as she nonchalantly pops another piece of chicken into her mouth. After dating Ten for almost five months now, she is well aware of what the expression 'boys will be boys' really means.

"Are they always like this?" Hope asks, bewildered. Lisa just laughs on the side, enjoying the spontaneous fight more than she should. Jeno gives up, laying down to stare at the sky and wonder why his friends are like this.

Click

Your ears perk at  strange noises coming from behind you. Turning around, you notice that several of the girls you saw earlier are now pulling large, fancy cameras out of their book bags. Baffled, you watch incredulously as they shamelessly snap photos of the tussling, oblivious boys.

"What the heck?," you gawk. You haven't been here but twenty minutes and it's already one surprise after the other.

"Tell me about it. Those weirdos are these guys' fans, the 'Lovelees' as they call themselves," Yuna explains, "You would not believe how crazy they can get. Remember when I had to put all my socials on private a few months ago? It's because they found out I was dating Ten".

"Right, I remember that" you nod your head sympathetically. Your eyes move between the unsuspecting boys and the audacious crowd of girls. Maybe you haven't known them for long, but the Lees seem like a regular group of guys. Admittedly, they are above average in the visual department (and in the strange department), but the existence of the Lovelees is really unnerving. Is it just you?

One particular girl at the forefront stares you down intently. Her hair is a mousy brown with two striking streaks of bright red down her bangs in a distasteful take on E-girl style hair. Too-light foundation is packed onto her skin and you winced internally at the severe creasing by her nose. Black eyebrows not matching her hair, her fake eyelashes bat at you threateningly.

"What's up with her?". You are genuinely confused. Why does she look like she wants to murder you?

"She's so scary," Hope's eyebrows knit in worry.

"Yeah, what's with her? She's staring at y/n," Lisa suddenly adds, attention turning to the concerning conversation.

"That's Hillary, the club president or something," Yuna confirms with a shudder, "she's super psycho about Mark. Definitely stay away from her".

"Gotcha... but why is she looking at me like that? Is it just me?"

Hillary's creepy stare never leaves your face and you feel chills run down your spine like a thousand invisible spiders. Generally speaking, you sometimes shy from even ordering food over the phone. Being under her flaming gaze makes you want to shrivel up like a raisin.

If someone could write a story about Seoul University campus life, you'd for sure be a background character. Attracting negative attention to yourself for no reason is surely a new feeling and unequivocally uncomfortable... perhaps because there is any attention on you at all?

"Well for one," Yuna smiles, poking an accusing finger into your side, "you seem to be getting along with these guys pretty well. Especially Mark". The blonde wiggles her perfectly threaded brows at you. Flustered, you shove a nugget in her mouth before she could say more.

"What are you even talking about, we literally just met". You fight to keep your voice steady and expression unaffected, but alas you can't stop the heat from spreading onto your unwilling cheeks. Admittedly, it's been a while since you've gone out with a guy. More honestly, you haven't really dated anyone since you came to campus last year. So needless to say, your single self is a little bit flustered to be thrown into the notion that you even have a chance to be with a super popular, charming guy like Mark.

You shake your head to clear the ridiculous thoughts.

Let's not err on the side of desperation today.

Peering back at the crazy fangirl who you now know as Hillary, you're relieved to find her piercing gaze has shifted from boring holes in your skull to her cell phone and she types away at lightning speed.

"I have a feeling that he likes you, y/n," Yuna presses. Hope and Lisa giggle and nod in agreement, exchanging knowing glances at each other. 

You don't have ample time to ponder more as your attention is ripped away by the fighting boys. They've shifted from the shade of the willow tree to the basketball court, disregarding all onlookers and fighting like their lives depended on it.

"Let's go. Rooftop. Right now!" Haechan screeches, taking a leap at Ten while Mark struggles to hold him back.

"Fight me here, bro," Ten taunts, "we all know I'm built different". The sass in his voice gives Haechan the strength to break away from Mark's grasp and tackle the senior boy. All eyes glue to the two boys rolling around on the hot pavement, screaming.

"Yuna, can you-" Jeno starts, eyes closed as he lay on the blanket listening to his friends beat each other up.

"Yeah," Yuna gives the tired boy an apologetic pat on the knee. "Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul".

Her boyfriend's entire body immediately freezes at the sound of his full name. Letting Haechan go from his chokehold, Ten scurries back over to his spot on the picnic blanket to kneel by an unamused Yuna like a scolded dog. "I'm sorry".

You suppress another laugh. This... this is what the cool kids are like? You were really nervous for nothing. Mark shuffles back next to you, supporting a limping Haechan who insists he's fine.

"Sorry girls. They're not... actually no, they are usually like this," Jeno apologizes, "Hope we didn't scare you away".

"No, actually. I think you guys are really... funny. It's cool how comfortable you all are". You smile at the hockey players. Weird as they may be, you don't feel uncomfortable.

"She thinks you're cool!" Haechan cries, slapping Mark on the back.

"Shut up!" Mark smacks the back of the younger's head, ready for another fight already.

"But don't you guys think it's weird we haven't met earlier? We always see the hockey team around our practices but I think this is our first time officially talking," Hope suddenly points out the elephant in the room.

"Yeah I guess that's true," Haechan ponders, "to be honest, we didn't think you guys liked us very much... or let me rephrase that- we were kinda scared to approach you".

"YOU were scared to approach US," Lisa exclaims in shock, "did you forget that you four are, like, the most popular guys on campus or what?".

The four boys look amongst each other blankly. "No, but we thought...," Haechan starts.

"... that figure skaters hated hockey players," Mark finishes. Silent glances are exchanged between all parties as this new information is revealed.

At the sheer awkwardness of the situation, you decide to interrupt the silence with light laughter. "Why would we hate you?"

"You- agh," Haechan's reasoning is cut off by a sharp jab to the ribs from Mark. No way is he going to let the blabbermouth sophomore spoil that they stalked your Facebook last year and found your post.

"I mean you all seem really cool and," Mark saves, looking at you, "I'm really glad we got to meet you today. But we were just... intimidated before".

You raise an eyebrow and your eyes meet Yuna's, Hope's, and Lisa's who shared similar expressions.

"Babe, I'm intimidating?" Yuna asks her boyfriend, peering into his eyes. Ten promptly places a hand at the back of her neck and brings her in for a deep kiss. Everyone in the group groans in disapproval and you hope the sour expression on your face isn't too obvious. Why, Ten. Why.

"Uh.. ok then," you divert, "I was never a fan of hockey itself, to be frank. The sport, not the team. And maybe I've been annoyed at you guys for hogging the ice sometimes, but I've never ever hated you! Don't worry haha".

"Bro what?!" Haechan cries, "hockey is the greatest sport of all time! It's all about strategy, speed, strength, and skills. If anything, figure skating doesn't have a point".

You gasp in full-offense. Sure, you just gave your honest opinion on their sport and it was only fair that they give theirs, but that one burns. Before you can make your counterargument, the boy next to you beats you to it.

Tapping the back of his hand to Haechan's arm, Mark's next words made your heart skip a beat: "dude, you don't know what you're talking about," he turned to look into your eyes, "it's beautiful".

Mark's eyes are a deep brown color, you notice, and they sparkle gold in the light streaming past the branches of the willow tree. Softly, they peer into yours, bringing with them a rare kindness that pinches at your chest.

"Thank you" you smile at him. Is your face always this warm?

"Okayyy," Jeno finally opts to sit up, "now that we've determined that we don't hate each other and we're all cool, are we good to be friends?". A chorus of "Heck yeah"'s and "duh"'s filled the picnic area and your heart swells with happiness. You look back at Mark and smiled again.

New friends

"You should come eat with us here more often," Mark suggests to you, warm gaze making your heart strain for the hundredth time that afternoon. What is happening? "All of you should," he corrects, looking away shyly.

"Yeah we're here everyday," Ten adds. Looking down to Yuna who had laid her head in his lap, he stroked her hair lovingly. "You should come hang out with us whenever".

"I'd like that," you grin.

"Let's make a group chat. Everyone gimme your numbers," Haechan declares.

While the brunette went around collecting numbers, you chatted with Mark, wanting to get to know him more. You quickly find that he's so very endearing, blushing and fiddling with the bandages on his fingers at your every word. His words are kind and he listens to you thoughtfully when you speak. Talking to him is so easy, surprisingly easy, and you feel the conversation unfold out effortlessly. You hardly notice as the minutes of your lunch break tick to an end.

"That's crazy! There was this one time that-" the jarring sound of your phone alarm cuts you off. Scrambling for your phone, you tap on the screen desperately to shut it off.

"Sorry guys," you apologize, "Lisa, oh my goodness, it's time for us to go to Frankie's".

Lisa checks her own watch and gasps, "Oh gosh! We gotta go guys".

"Who's Frankie?" Mark questions, eyes slightly crestfallen.

"No," you laugh while picking up your bag, "Frankie's. The diner down the street next to the lake. We work there".

Haechan, Ten, and Jeno crack up silently at their sensitive friend. 

"It was nice meeting you all!" you exclaim, "It was nice meeting you, Mark".

"Great meeting you, y/n. Hope to see you around," he waves back at you.

Bidding their goodbyes, you and Lisa make your way down the alley to her parked car.

"Y/n don't you think Mark is super into you?" Lisa says excitedly once the others are out of earshot.

"What are you saying!?" you proclaim, looking back to make sure the Lovelees aren't following you. Seeing the coast is clear, you consider your friend's accusation. So much has happened in the last 2 hours than in your year and a month at college, or your entire life honestly. 

You walked into the alley with no guy friends and are leaving with four. Is it greedy to say that Mark really does stand out to you and you might be starting to like him, or are you just like every other girl who likes him too? The last thing you want is to be like Hillary.

"He's probably just friendly to everyone," you decide.

"No way, y/n, you good in the head? This dude only looking at you the whole time," Lisa retorts.

You shake your head in denial but thinking back, it could be true.

There it is again. That nervous, light feeling in your chest.

Oh, God. What if I like him?

Mark flops down on his bed, still not down from the high that he's been on all day. No, not that kind of high. Smile plastered on his face, he runs his fingers through his freshly washed hair, recounting your conversations from earlier.

"Dude, you look so stupid," Jeno walks into their shared room, shirtless from just getting out of the shower. A simple white towel wrapped around his lean torso is the only thing censoring the spectacular scene. Messing his hair with a second towel, he chucks the wet fabric at Mark's face.

"Fuck off," Mark swings it back at the sophomore. This year, he chose to live in a suit with the rest of the guys to save some money. Him and Jeno shared a room while Ten and Haechan occupied the other. It's undeniably small and only has one bathroom, but he is grateful he at least doesn't have to room with Haechan anymore.

Mark's phone buzzes with a notification on his nightstand. Propping himself up with his elbow, he checks to see who it's from.

1 new message from unknown

Mark sighs. If it's these crazy girls again he's going to get really annoyed. Today was a really good day and the last thing he wants is another stranger asking him to father her children. 

Maybe: Yuna?: hey mark, it's Yuna. I got your number from the group chat! If you're not too busy I'd love to talk to you about a few things

Oh crap.

Suddenly nervous, Mark scrambles to sit up properly.

"Text from your new girlfriend?," Jeno taunts unknowingly.

"No, dickhead, it's Yuna," Mark rebuts, thinking hard about a good, casual reply.

"Oh, shit," Jeno states, taken aback. The sophomore swaggers onto his own bed, now sporting a pair of grey sweatpants and a fitted white t-shirt. The bare minimum makes him look like a poster boy every magazine photographer would clamber for. The man could put all models out of work if he had the heart for it. Fortunately, he only has the heart for hockey, video games, and pizza.

Mark: Hey Yuna! What's up?

Yuna: Hey :) nothing much! Not to freak you out, but I know all about your crush on y/n from Ten

Mark: ahaha... yeah I figured

Yuna: ok, so as her best friend and someone who cares about her a lot I just wanna put a few things out there

Yuna: is typing...

Mark watched as the three dots of the impending message taunted him. What could she be talking about? What if you have a boyfriend and Yuna's telling you to back off?

Yuna: if you're going to get close with her, you gotta make sure you keep her safe from those crazy fangirls. Y/N is a shy and sensitive girl she'll definitely take the hate to heart and if Hillary and those other crazy bitches come after her, I won't let you live

Hillary? Mark wracks his brain for any memory of a girl with that name. That girl from calc? No, that's Helen. Hillary...

An image of a mousy girl with red bangs comes into his mind. Ah yes, that's Hillary. She sends him love tweets and gave him chocolates for Valentine's Day.

Mark: I barely know Hillary and I'm pretty sure I've told her I'm not into her, but i'll make sure she knows. Yuna I'm serious about y/n

Yuna: as you should be! She's a real diamond in the rough and she's never confident in herself. All she does is work and study and practice. She never does anything for herself but she never complains either. Also, I don't wanna butt in too much, but I gotta you ask one thing

Mark: yeah ask away!

Yuna: y/n says today is the first time she met you but Ten says you've "been simping for like a year". Add it up for me?

Mark: It's kind of hard to explain... it like... do you believe in love at first sight?

Yuna: HA!!! You're too cute omg

Mark: It's like that but I never had the chance to talk to her... it never seemed right idk

Yuna: boy

Yuna: I had to force y/n to go to your game with me and Ten had to bribe Haechan to set up the picnic today early

Yuna: not to mention we made Hope and Jeno sit together even though they're both awkward just so y/n would have to sit next to you. you better make ur fucking move now

Mark curls his fingers into his blow-dried hair, letting out a low, stressed groan. He's gonna owe the guys big time.

Mark: I really appreciate it! :)))

Yuna: oh and one more thing

Mark: yeah?

Yuna: If you hurt her, I will gouge out your eyeballs and stick them up your ass and while you cry, I'll force feed you your own severed balls until you choke and die. Got it? :D

Holy fuck.

Mark: understood

Yuna: Yay!!! Approved :) good night mark! Nice getting to know you today!

Mark: same here. Night!

Mark's thumbs shake as he types out his final message. So this is what your friends are like, huh? It's such a contrast to your easy-going attitude. A smile spreads across his lips at the thought of you again.

Stretching up to shut off the lamp on his night stand, Mark tucks himself into bed. It's finally happening. You're here. You're right within his grasp. And he wants nothing more than to give you everything you need.

Mark contemplates Yuna's messages as he lay there in the dark; she said you aren't confident in yourself. This comes as a surprise to him. You're so beautiful, smart, kind, funny, and talented, the last thing he expected was that you didn't know it. You exude put-togetherness and wear elegance like a favorite sweater.

His eyes squeeze shut as Mark replays the first night he saw you in his mind. The image is engraved in his brain as he must have revisited that unintentional performance a thousand times.

This whole time, he never got to know you, but today he dipped his hand in the water. And he wanted so much more, to dive in completely and surround himself with you. All this time, he's only been on the sidelines.

I want her so bad

It's time to stop waiting around and get in the game. He's going to talk to you, walk you to class, make you feel special. So much time has already been wasted due to his own fears and misunderstandings. If it's confidence you need, it's confidence he will give you.

Wait for me, y/n, I'm gonna do it right this time

previous || m.list || next 

[jaskierswolf]

I’ve got a prompt for you! 💜

Ok, I have no idea why I got this idea just now but it opposed into my head and you’re my fave for Modern AUs so I’m passing it onto you! So like modern college au ski trip where Jaskier twists his ankle on the slopes and has to stay behind while everyone else does a moonlight hike or something. Geralt also stays behind and we get some fireside cuddling. Maybe Lam, Eskel, Aiden, and Coen are there to tease or ship it or something when everyone gets back ☺️ Unsure if it’s happening in a cabin or hotel/resort lobby. But yeah. I’m placing it at your feet, do with it what you will 🤗

(geraskier-trashh)

I’m sorry this took so long!! But here you go my darling!!

Ships: Geraskier and Lambden. Also on AO3

Warnings: Minor injury, and sexual references. _______

Geralt was pacing in the lobby of their hotel. It was nearly half past five and Jaskier should have been back by now. They were in different groups for their ski lessons, Geralt being a more advanced skier than his friend. All the other ski school groups has returned over an hour ago. Only Aiden and Jaskier remained uncounted for. The sun had crept behind the snowy peaks of the surrounding mountains. The ski lift had stopped working and yet there was still no sign of Jaskier and Aiden.

Lambert was lounged out on one of the sofas by the bar, tossing a stress ball into the air and catching it again in a never-ending rhythm. “Relax.” Lambert sighed. “They’ll be fine. They probably just decided to après-ski”

Geralt growled at his brother. “No, not tonight. Jask knows that we’re night skiing tonight. He hasn’t shut up about it all week. He’s been looking forward to skiing to together for a change.”

Lambert snorted. “Don’t know why you’re letting him. He’ll slow you down.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “And you’re willingly skiing with a snowboarder.”

Aiden was learning to ski in Jaskier’s intermediate group after lunch but Lambert’s boyfriend’s real skill lay with the snowboard. He tore up the slope when he was on his board and spent most of morning in the snow parks doing tricks and flips off the jumps and rails that could be found there.

Lambert grinned dopily. “The things we do for love, white wolf.”

“How come you aren’t more worried? Your boyfriend is missing too.”

Lambert shrugged and ran a hand through the thick red curls on his head. “Ski school said all the groups were back. You know what Aiden and Jaskier are like when they’re together. I’m surprised they’ve not been arrested yet. Our boyfriends are terrible for each other.”

“Not my boyfriend.” Geralt sighed. No matter how many times Geralt said it, Lambert still insisted on calling Jaskier his boyfriend.

“Their phones probably died.” Lambert suggested, completely ignoring Geralt’s protest.

Geralt shook his head. “Jaskier would never let that happen, besides he has a portable charger.”

Lambert rolled his eyes. “They’ll be fine, Geralt.”

Geralt continued his pacing in the lobby and Lambert restarted his game of catch. The thud of the ball landing in his hand was driving Geralt mad. Every catch was a second passed that Jaskier hadn’t returned. He was having visions of the pair of them being lost off the side of the mountain. The idiots had probably decided to take the lift back up without their instructor and gotten injured as a result. Not even the picturesque hotel could calm his nerves. It was warm and bathed in a soft yellow glow. There were paintings of the ski resort hung on the walls. Some of the paintings showed the resort as Geralt knew it, but there were several of the mountains with luscious green grass. Edelweiss flowers were often found engraved into the wooden frames. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself, the warm scent of hot spiced wine filled his nose but it wasn’t enough. He needed the startling blue of Jaskier’s eyes and his gentle chamomile perfume.

The hotel was gorgeous and it was expensive, too expensive but Jaskier’s parents had insisted that Jaskier and his friends had needed a break. The trip had been paid for in full before any of them could protest the cost. The gang insisted on paying for their own drinks though. They refused to let Jaskier’s parents, no matter how rich they were, foot the bill on that one. The hotel overlooked the main slope, a blue run that ran all the way into the village, ending by the bubble lift and a collection of ski rental shops and bars. The best bar for après-ski though was half way up the mountain. Everyone knew that. From their hotel they could often see the drunk skiers and boarders trying to make their way down the hill, at least they could when they weren’t amongst them. Geralt always tried to remain alert enough that he could help Jaskier down. His friend always seemed to forget the steep hill that lay between them and their beds. If it was too bad they would take the snowmobile shuttle back down but Jaskier called him a party pooper when they tried.

From their hotel they could ski in and out of the boot room. It was a luxury Geralt had never known in all his years. He was used to trekking through the snowy villages with his skis on his back, and Jaskier’s too in recent years. The brunet would always whine and pout until Geralt helped to carry his skis. He didn’t mind, not really.

The doors opened letting in an icy breeze. Geralt’s eyes snapped up and the noise of Lambert’s stress ball stopped, bouncing across the tiled floor. Geralt heard the shuffle of fabric but he didn’t look round. Aiden was half carrying a limping Jaskier through the door. Jaskier’s arm was around Aiden’s neck and he had his ski poles in his other hand as a support. Geralt rushed over to help.

“Jaskier!” He growled. “What the fuck happened?”

“We went shopping after skiing. I thought I would be able to buy that painting of the horses you like… as a gift.” Jaskier whined. “But I slipped on some bloody ice. I sprained my ankle. It fucking hurts.”

“Nothing’s broken.” Aiden noted, his soft french accent coming through more strongly like it always did when he got emotional. “We’ve just got back from the hospital.”

Geralt was furious. They’d been all the way to the fucking hospital and no one had said a bloody word.

“Now before you say anything, wolf.” Aiden said sharply. “He landed on his phone and it broke.”

“And yours?” Geralt asked with a raised eyebrow.

Lambert snorted. “As if he charged it last night. He’s a fucking nightmare.” Lambert patted Geralt on the shoulder and then wrapped his arms around Aiden’s waist, burying his face into the snowboarder’s neck. “Hey kitten.”

Geralt hummed and he scooped Jaskier up into his arms. His ankle was clearly hurting him and it would help to take the pressure off of it. Geralt watched his brother for a few seconds, noting the way he melted into Aiden’s embrace, and felt bad. Lambert had been worried…. very worried. He’d just hidden that from Geralt because Geralt had been a fucking mess.

And Jaskier was only his friend.

Friend.

The word felt bitter on his tongue.

How long had it been since he’d thought of Jaskier as a friend? He’d been completely gone on the man for at least a few years now. It had been a completely daft revelation. Jaskier hadn’t been doing anything special or even particularly charming at the time. He’d been asleep on Geralt’s bed after Geralt had gotten back from a pub night with his brothers. The brunet had been drooling all over Geralt’s pillows and wearing one of his shirts as he sprawled like a starfish over the bed, and he’d been snoring.

Geralt had watched his friend sleep for a few minutes before he’d realised the snoring wasn’t even irritating, hell he even found it… cute?

And with that the epiphany had hit him like a truck. He was in love with his best friend.

He’d grabbed a spare pair of boxers from his drawers and gone to sleep in Jaskier’s room. It had taken all his self control not to slid into the single bed next to Jaskier.

He’d been in love with him ever since and stoically ignoring it the best he could. Jaskier was very open in his feelings. If he loved Geralt then Geralt would know. His friend wasn’t exactly subtle.

“Are you alright?” He murmured as he carried Jaskier over to the sofas by the large open fireplace in the lounge area.

Jaskier’s arms were wrapped around his neck and Jaskier snuggled up against his chest. It hurt in some ways. It could be so easily interpreted as something more than it was. Geralt wouldn’t change it for the world. As much as he wished for more, he lived for the calm moments of intimacy that fell between them.

“Yeah.” Jaskier mumbled, his face red from the cold. “It’s sore but I’ll live.”

“You won’t be able to ski tonight.”

Jaskier pouted and groaned. “Geralt! We never get to ski together.”

Geralt chuckled and dumped Jaskier onto the sofa before sliding down next to him. Jaskier shrugged out of his bulky teal ski coat and pulled his snood over his head. His hair messed up completely but Geralt thought it looked endearing. Jaskier dropped the layers on the floor before curling up against Geralt’s chest.

“If it’s alright by the morning then we’ll skip ski school.” He suggested.

“Hmmph.”

“That’s a whole day together.” Geralt draped his arm around Jaskier and pulled him closer.

“It’s more romantic at night.” Jaskier sighed.

Geralt’s heart stammered in his chest and he felt the heat rising in his cheeks. “Romantic?”

“I meant… fuck.” Jaskier tried to shuffle away but Geralt grabbed his arm and then brought his hand up to Jaskier’s cheek.

“Romantic?” He asked again, his voice low and unsure in his words.

“Ah well. Freudian slip.” Jaskier bit his lip and his soft blue eyes were looking everywhere except at Geralt.

“Jaskier.”

“Yes, darling?”

“Did. Did you want it to be…”

“Yes.” Jaskier answered too quickly. “Of course I do. The whole world knows that, Geralt.” He covered Geralt’s hand with his own and his cheek pressed into Geralt’s palm. “But I know you don’t and that’s alright, dear friend.”

“I don’t?” Geralt asked with a smirk.

Jaskier frowned. “You don’t… Do you?”

Geralt tilted his head and brushed his thumb along Jaskier’s cheek. “I. I do yeah.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. His face flushed even darker than before. Geralt usually would have said the soft glow of the fire was to blame but he was starting to wonder.

“This could. Well, I mean.” Jaskier gestured to the fireplace. “This could also be… romantic?”

Geralt let out a shaky breath and rested his forehead against Jaskier’s, his eyes shutting on their own accord. “Yeah?”

“Hmm.” Jaskier agreed and Geralt could feel his warm breath against his skin.

“Careful. “ He murmured. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

“God forbid.” Jaskier laughed and captured Geralt’s lips in a kiss.

Geralt hummed against Jaskier’s lips, still cold from the icy weather outside. Jaskier’s hands slid into Geralt’s hair and Geralt couldn’t resist pushing Jaskier down onto the sofa so his back hit the soft cushions. His lips brushed from Jaskier’s lips along his jaw and he nipped at the soft skin of his swanlike neck.

“Geralt…” Jaskier gasped quietly and a hand squeezed his arse.

Geralt gave a low growled before sucking hard at the pale skin under his lips, biting gently until a dark bruise began to form. Once he was satisfied by the mark he kissed the tender skin before pressing their lips together once more. Jaskier moaned into the kiss and one of his legs wrapped around Geralt’s arse.

“Oi!”

They broke apart, panting and red faced. Jaskier groaned and buried his face against Geralt’s shoulder. “Fuck.” He muttered.

Geralt smirked at Lambert, not caring that they’d been caught. He was too happy to care. “Brother.”

“You have a room.” Lambert snapped. “Use it.”

“Darling, it’s young love. Be nice.” Aiden purred and pressed a kiss to Lambert’s cheek. “We were going to see if you were still coming out skiing tonight but I see you’ve finally got your head out of your arse instead. Have fun boys, be safe. Don’t do anything I would do.”

Geralt laughed. “Isn’t that supposed to be don’t do what you wouldn’t do?”

Aiden winked. “There isn’t much I wouldn’t do, white wolf.”

Jaskier finally emerged from Geralt’s shoulder and held his hand out. Aiden high-fived it with a smirk before Lambert dragged his boyfriend away towards the stairs. “We need to get ready kitten.”

“But darling.” Aiden said loudly, making sure everyone in the lobby could hear. “I’ve been waiting all day to get you out of those clothes.”

“Fuck.” Lambert cursed. “Little shit, upstairs.”

“You love me!”

“Fuck knows why. Come on.” Lambert gave him a shove up the stairs.

“Stop acting like you’re the one in charge, wolf.” Aiden sang sweetly. “Everyone knows how much you like to beg for—”

Aiden’s words were cut off by Lambert’s hand over his mouth.

Geralt grinned before turning back to Jaskier. He gently brushed Jaskier’s hair out of his eyes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “You wanna take this upstairs?” He asked gently.

To his surprise Jaskier shook his head. “Not yet.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am very interested in continuing this upstairs.” Jaskier gently thrust his hips up to make his point. Geralt groaned softly as he felt Jaskier’s erection rub against his. “But I’d like to enjoy the fire a little longer first. It really is rather romantic. A warm fireplace in an alpine hotel with snowy mountains outside.”

“Romantic bastard.” Geralt laughed and bumped their noses together gently.

“Yes, but I am your romantic bastard.” Jaskier paused and licked his lips. “If you’ll have me.”

Geralt sat up, his legs straddling Jaskier’s waist. He rested his hands on Jaskier’s chest. “Mine.” He said softly. “And I’m yours, if you’ll have me?”

Jaskier laughed, his blues eyes crinkling in the corners and Geralt’s heart felt warmer at the sound his melodic laugh. “Of course I’ll have you, you daft idiot.”

Geralt grinned and leant back down to rest his head on Jaskier’s chest. “Hmm.” He replied, hoping Jaskier would understand his words. If anyone could translate then it would be Jaskier, but he was suddenly feeling almost overwhelmed by the emotions in his chest, the happiness. Words just didn’t seem like enough.

Jaskier’s fingers gently combed through his hair and he let his eyes close as he focused on the steady flutter of Jaskier’s heartbeat. “I love you too.” Jaskier murmured. Geralt smiled against Jaskier’s chest. Jaskier heartbeat raced a little faster.

“Mine.” Geralt repeated in a whisper.

“Yours.” Jaskier agreed. __________

Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @awitchersbard  @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @caspertheassholeghost @feraljaskier 

[readerinsertfanfiction]

Rain Check

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Character: Kennyo (and an appearance of Shingen)

Prompt: I was talking to Mama ( @silhouette-of-a-dream​ ) about what Kennyo and Shingen would be like as roommates. This is the result of it. Modern AU! 

Warnings: Academic stress, academic life, because Kennyo is a scholar-type. Getting drenched in the rain, mentions of food. 

Word count: +2K

When Kennyo woke up that day he knew that it was going to rain. He could see it from the colour of the sky, but also in the way the air clung onto his skin when he opened the windows and smelled the air, humidity coming its way promising something to alleviate the sweltering heat of summer. Perhaps a morning run would do him well, to fill up his lungs with fresh air and clear his mind. It could even help him avoid the arrival of Shingen who had decided to stay out for the night again, no doubt about to return smelling like the perfume of yet another lady and some lipstick stains in his collar.

How the man managed to be prim and proper by the time the first class started was beyond Kennyo, but he had long since given up trying to figure out the mysteries of his frolicking friend. At least Shingen had the decency not to bring his conquests home, the walls of their shared apartment not thick enough to spare Kennyo from the sinful sounds his friend would produce.

It sometimes went a little beyond the man on why he had agreed again to live together with his friend. Was it because of Yukimura’s pleading that someone needed to look after Shingen’s sugar intake? Or perhaps something within the man himself still felt compelled to look after this hopeless man and his lustful lifestyle.

For now Kennyo decided that it was time to put Shingen out of his mind, not wanting to be hit with dark clouds attracted to his brooding thoughts while he was out on a run. Shoes on and fitbit ready he thus made his way out of the door, the consideration of taking an umbrella with him just barely there before dismissing it. He would shower after his run anyway, provided that Shingen wasn’t occupying it.

It occurred to Kennyo how often he thought of his friend. It earned a scowl on his face as he fit the earbuds into place, turning the music louder that would hopefully drown out his thoughts. Cursed be his friend, and darned be the decision that had ever moved him to move here. Next year he was going to move out. That he told himself, just as he had done so the year before.

Any thought of Shingen would soon be banished, however. A good ten minutes into his run the sky broke open, first a drizzle through which Kennyo persisted, not worried about a little water, before it steadily grew into a cold shower that chilled him more than that his run warmed him. By then Kennyo had reached halfway through the path he had planned to take that day, having reached just short before the forest park he usually picked for its peaceful scenery and overall serenity. Today it didn’t seem like a good idea to run between the trees, however, as somewhere up ahead he could hear the rumble, a low growl coming from above sent to the mortals below.

He hoped that Shingen got drenched. But the man had been wearing a white button-up yesterday and Kennyo could already imagine the stares he would fetch and the pride in which his friend would walk.

Damn him and everyone else for being taken by such shallow fleeting appearances.

But as stated a few paragraphs back, the thought of Shingen would soon be banished. Not because of the rain, for Kennyo had been expecting that one. Not because thunder struck him, his luck wasn’t that bad, though bad enough to live together with his best friend, but because in the distance there was a figure crouched in the rain, a figure shivering as if trying to grasp the fleeting warmth that escaped through drenched clothes.

It reminded him of Ranmaru, once upon a time, before Kennyo had interfered and entered him into the family temple to receive shelter and education there. You, however, were much older than Ranmaru and he recognised you as one of the postgraduate students from university. A different faculty, to be sure, but you had come by nonetheless, mostly to inquire on his own expertise within his field, and because Kennyo happened to be a methodology expert as well.

“You,” he called, concern coursing through him as he realised that the image was off. You were supposed to be at home, warm and safe. Judging by the time you were supposed to be hitting the snooze button on your alarm for a few more times before deciding to poison yourself with the first cup of coffee before groaning about the long day ahead and the struggle that was called the thesis.

But you weren’t and nothing in your appearance suggested to him that you were out for a run just like he was. The jump you made at the sound of his voice also suggested that you hadn’t expected anyone to notice you, or even to pass by.

“What are you doing sitting in the rain?” Kennyo’s tone had softened up after the initial call, reminding himself not to frown, for that was what usually made the students cower in his presence when asking for his opinion on their essays.

What your look meant, he couldn’t tell. Wide-eyed and surprised, a little bit too discerning as well as he could feel the way your gaze glided over his form. Perhaps it was something different from what he usually wore at university, but even he was a man with a life outside of his studies and work.

“Well?” and here Kennyo winced at his own tone, the professor within him rumbling up as if trying to ask for an explanation from a student who had missed the deadline so clearly announced in the syllabi.

The way you twitched was enough of a confirmation on how well this ‘voice’ of him worked, as another startle went through you before you quickly scrambled up, looking guilty of something that went beyond Kennyo as well.

“You should get out of the rain quickly, else you catch a cold,” the man interrupted you before an explanation could come. Kennyo didn’t need one, it was not for him to pry, though he hoped that you didn’t make a habit out of this. That it wasn’t one already.

To this you twiddle your thumbs, head lowering further as Kennyo waits for you to react or to turn around and leave. You did neither, and as the moment dragged on a sigh leaves him, an understanding falling over as the man runs a hand through his wet locks. It earns another portrubing stare from your side, startling the man in his turn as he quickly regains himself.

“You can come over to my apartment? Just to warm up. It isn’t too far away,” he tells you and this time you agree, nodding with a small and grateful smile as the two of you turn around.

Kennyo is digging through his clothes for something appropriate for you as breakfast is cooking in the background. He is still wet, and only now does he realise that the shirt he is wearing is clinging onto his form from the rain and leaves little to the imagination despite it being black. But he doesn’t care, allowing and insisting that you shower first while he handed you a new towel and set off to look for wear. It is the only time he curses Shingen in envy, for Kennyo doesn’t possess the discerning eye to tell your sizes by just a glance.

Envy soon makes place for annoyance as the familiar click of the door sounds the arrival of his friend, a sound booming through the otherwise quiet place as Shingen knows Kennyo is an early riser.

“It smells great!” he announces as Kennyo rushes himself out of his room, some pantalons and a dress shirt in hands that he had randomly grabbed. Shingen’s eyes widen at the appearance of his friend, hand already on the door handle of the shower just like Kennyo had feared as he quickly pulls his friend away.

“I’m not in the shower, you lech,” comes his admonishment and Shingen doesn’t quite recover for another moment as he keeps on staring at Kennyo and then into the direction of the shower where so clearly the sound of water running is coming from.

“Did you?” He questions after a short silence and Kennyo steps away from Shingen in disgust as he realises the man smells like perfume and lust and sin from the previous night. The insinuation isn’t lost on Kennyo, he isn’t oblivious, but he refuses to amuse his friend by pretending he understands it either as he scowls further.

“I ran into someone in need of help. Go wash up in your own room,” he tells Shingen before marching over to the shower and firmly knocks the door. It earns a pause from the other side as a quiet ‘yes?’ follows, earning another choked up look from Shingen.

“I left some dry clothes at the door,” he speaks, loud enough to be heard over the running water if it was still running before turning back to his friend, who also is drenched, the white button-up seen-through just as predicted.

“Don’t even think of it,” Kennyo warns before he turns off the fire on the stove, checking in on breakfast before deciding to leave it in the pan for a little while longer to keep it warm. “I’m going to shower first and then you can go in,” he informs Shingen briskly before turning to his room to fetch his items and his own set of dry clothes.

Shingen doesn’t say anything but smile to himself, which annoys Kennyo all the more because he knows what the man is thinking.

Thoughts he soon forgets when he meets you outside of the shower, some colour back into your face and your lips looking more naturally shaded than what it had before. The clothes he has given to you are too large, as expected, but Kennyo is relieved to find that they cover you up decently enough and reminds himself to dig up a belt for you later and a pair of socks.

“I prepared breakfast if you want, don’t give Shingen any.” The manner in which he tells you this is so gentle that you aren’t even sure to take it seriously, eyes blinking rapidly as your eyes turn to his lecherous friend already seated ready enjoying a sunny side-up that Kennyo had quickly fixed him as a compromise.

“Yo, so Kennyo decided to pick you up, huh?” Shingen is quick to point out and Kennyo would have growled out a correction if he hadn’t already shut the door and peeled off the wet clothes from his body. At least the warm water relieves him somewhat as he steps out refreshed and warmed up minutes later, fast as ever.

“This is the first time Kennyo ever brought someone home, so what’s the deal?” Kennyo can hear the interrogation Shingen is throwing you under, just as he can hear the discomfort that it brings you as you try to explain that it wasn’t anything he thinks he is. But Shingen being Shingen doesn’t pay it any heed when he knows Kennyo is within hearing distance, having timed the question perfectly with the estimated time that Kennyo needs to wash himself up.

“Can you stop that?” the man interferes instead, scowl back on his face once more before prodding the man out of his seat and pushing him away from the dinner table. “Go shower, you stink of sin. I should be rinsing you in holy water if it wasn’t to burn you instead,” Kennyo continues to frown, earning a mirthful laugh from Shingen who bids you a goodbye.

“Kennyo could stand to loosen up, maybe you can help him with that!” are the man’s last words before he is shoved into the shower where Kennyo shuts the door into Shingen’s face.

He never finds out why you were out in the rain that morning, but it isn’t the last he sees of you. Be it either because Kennyo tries to keep tabs on you despite his own busy schedule, or because you are suddenly standing in front of his office with his clothes washed and pressed in a bag.

“With a little something as a thank you,” you supply, looking much better than the day he had found you in the rain. You seem more confident, more glowing, though there is still a remnant of that guilty caught red-handed student he had seen before. It occurs to him that you could never be a student of his, for there isn’t actually much of a difference between the two of you within the academic ranks.

“Starbucks?” he questions, not remembering ever expressing a love for it, or even liking it. Quite the opposite, he recalls, remembering all of the disapproving glares he shot into the direction of Shingen who also happened to be his office-mate.

Yeah, he mentioned his luck being non-existent but not being too bad. That was because Shingen took the majority of it.

“I saw a bunch of Starbucks merchandise in your cabinet, or thought I saw such?” you question and Kennyo has to hold in the heaving sigh that is threatening to escape as he curses Shingen’s addiction to the sugary drinks there that over priced themselves.

“I’m sure he would enjoy it,” Kennyo manages to smile without scowling at the mention of Shingen. As long as he doesn’t mention the name of the fiend he is fine, or so the man has found.

“But I didn’t help you for your gratitude, it was a whim,” he continues, ready to hand back the gift as you already shot your hands up in refusal.

“I didn’t give it only out of gratitude,” you announce, and for a moment your eyes meet and Kennyo sees something that he had seen before in them. Before in that rain, when your eyes probed and lingered a bit too long for his own comfort. This time it is mixed with hope as you release a sigh of your own, as if to gather courage before meeting him in the face once more.

“I was hoping that maybe we could talk about my thesis for a bit?” The request isn’t too uncommon, after all, fellow academics had to help each other out a hand and Kennyo never turned down anyone in need of help. It was a well-known fact from all and a badly kept secret of his own faculty, but coming from you it is different.

It sounds like a promise for more. And Kenno surprisingly likes the thought of perhaps seeing more of you, if only so that he can continue to keep tabs on you. Or perhaps because a part of him is truly interested in you in the way Shingen has been teasing him relentlessly about.

“Sounds like a plan,” he finally answers, and the smile that escapes him is warm and gentle enough that it warms himself from within, as much as that it spreads out over you who returns the same smile as if reflecting a mirror.

[slimeypuppy]

Since Kendall also married Rava in this au, could you write about Rava confronting Stewy about his relationship with Kendall?

Stewy looks out of place in their home, but he sits like its a natural environment, like he's been here countless times that she wasn't aware of. She wouldn't put it past him or Kendall to have been here when she wasn't. It still feels wrong, though, for him to be lounging on her couch dressed to the nines, a harsh contrast to her loungewear and the exhaustion born of taking care of Iverson round the clock with a second baby on the way. Kendall's not helpful at all besides paying for the live-in maid that helps her out so she doesn't go insane.

"Please, Rava, sit?" he implores, not unkindly. "You must be so tired. I'm not here to start a fight."

She does sit down across from him, but only because her feet hurt and she is tired, honestly. She doesn't know why she's doing this. Their second baby isn't even Kendall's, but a donor's, and it's not like Kendall wanted Iverson anyways. They're both grasping at straws of normalcy and as much as Kendall loves and adores their son, he's not made to be a father. He's too much like Logan for that.

"I honestly don't know why you're here. Ken is out of town."

"I know. Don't think I don't keep a very close eye on our boy's whereabouts."

Rava raises an eyebrow at the phrasing, but doesn't comment on it. The thing is that she's never been stupid. She was handpicked from a lineup of women with great educations but no burgeoning prospects in an industry. Logan chose her for Kendall because she's smart, pretty, and fits into designer skinny jeans. She's the perfect little machine to pump out an heir, since Roman can hardly be trusted to procreate and Siobhan would rather drop dead than carry a child. It's kind of a fuck you to Logan Roy that her second baby won't be his grandchild in blood. Maybe she shouldn't be a mother any more than Kendall should be a father. The fact remains that she's smart enough to know when there's things that are being kept from her, and Stewy is the world's biggest blind spot because Kendall doesn't talk about him and he has a habit of making himself scarce any time he catches a glimpse of her face or a whiff of her perfume.

"So what is it you want? I'm not letting you take Iverson."

He feigns offense with a hand on his chest. "I have no interest in taking anyone's children. I don't know where that comes from. Just because the Roy family are soulless devourers of mankind doesn't mean I am too. You and me, we're pretty similar, right? Outsiders brought into the orbit."

"We're not the same."

"No."

Although she can't drink, she had poured a polite glass of wine for him that he swirls in its glass now, studying the way it catches the cool toned lighting of the modern designed apartment. She's never seen him drink anything he didn't pour himself, but the gesture is one she's never abandoned in her life. It's more just a ritual, a pretense, to act like they have any reason for civility.

"The main difference between you and me is what makes us useful to Kendall, isn't it?"

"I don't think it's so simple."

Stewy hums. "It is though, I think. I'm not here to insult you, Rava, I want to be clear. I think you're smart and capable, a hell of a lot more so than the firm gives you credit for. I'm just wondering what you're doing here."

"Raising a family," she reminds, but it doesn't feel like she's really even doing that.

"All due respect, Mrs. Roy," he says, spitting the formality like an insult, "but you're nothing to them but a working set of parts. I know you're more than that, and you know it too. You deserve so much better than sitting around, pumping out little babies to carry on the legacy or whatever bullshit it says in that surrogacy contract you call a marriage."

"Get to the point, Stewy."

He reaches into his coat and pulls out an envelope, opening it and rifling through before passing it over to her. The thick, cream colored paper feels expensive to the touch, but the real cost lies in its contents: two passports and two plane tickets.

"Like I said, we're useful in different ways. You're an heir machine, and let's be honest- Kendall doesn't want that, and at some point, Logan's going to realize that your second kid isn't even really a Roy. How do you think that's going to for you? They'll just wrap up your divorce in a pretty boy and send you on your way with a severance package? You're smarter than that, Rava, and I know the last thing you want is for Iverson to be left solely in his father's care."

He gets up to reseat himself next to her, their shoulders brushing as he gestures at the two passports that don't contain either her or Iverson's real names. His cologne is woodsy and earthen, subtle from across the room but much stronger when he's so close. He doesn't seem interested in overpowering her with his presence the way her husband and his family do, but there is something undeniably compelling and in control about his whole demeanor. He's right; she is smart. She's smart enough to know that the fact that she doesn't feel threatened is exactly why he's more dangerous than they are. She's smart enough to know that this lifeline comes with strings. She's smart enough to know that if she runs and doesn't get far away fast enough, or lets her guard down for even a moment in the years to come, it'll be her death.

"You said we're useful in different ways," she says, buying herself more time to think. "What makes you useful? And don't say your 'extraordinary skills' or some bullshit, because that's why Logan's up your ass all the time. What makes you useful to Kendall?"

She looks at his gloved hands and thinks of all the ways that Kendall is the least of her worries. If Kendall ever laid a hand on her -not that she thinks he would- there would be evidence and a clear trail. The rest of the Roy family would have the foresight to hire someone else to do the dirty work, and even now, Stewy is so carefully put together that he could do nearly anything that he felt necessary. He doesn't seem the type to cater to whims, but he strikes her as ruthlessly efficient and loyal to a fault. If Kendall asked him to kill her, not that Rava thinks he would, she has no doubt that Stewy would attend to the task with nothing but professionalism and vigor.

"We make a good team."

"It's more than that, isn't it?"

Then Stewy shrugs, and pulls a second envelope from his coat, this one thicker. It's not surprising that when she opens it, there's a thick wad of cash, all high bills culminating in an amount that would make her dizzy if she counted it. She has plenty of money in her bank account now, but if she's really going to leave, she'll have to either drain it or it'll get frozen- or they'll use it to track her. This is a safety net.

"I suppose it is. I've been working with Kendall longer than you've known him, Rava." She remembers the first time she met Stewy, because it was the same night she met Kendall. The two of them were thick as thieves even then, with Stewy pressed against his side and the two of them sharing bumps of coke off the back of Stewy's hand, smiling together like there was a joke no one else was in on. She remembers how on that night, she had allowed herself to indulge of a moment of fantasy in which it was Stewy's hand on the small of her back and Stewy who kissed her chastely as he helped her into her car. She knew even then that it was going to be a loveless marriage with Kendall, and had quickly realized that Stewy wasn't someone who would indulge in infidelity. It occurs to her that it's not simply her and Kendall's relationship that could be jeopardized by such behavior. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Please."

"Think of it like this. If it came down to the two of us- I mean, if we were lined up for the gallows, and Kendall could only get one of us out of there, who do you think he'd choose? You can't seriously tell me you think Kendall would choose you over me."

The blow stings, but the worst part is that she knows what he's getting at. Kendall wouldn't choose her. Not over Stewy, not over Roman, not over Logan, not over anyone. She's a convenience, as important to him as the groundskeeper in that someone must fill the role, but it doesn't particularly matter to him who does it. She's replaceable in a way that Stewy has never been.

"I'm trying to do you a solid here," Stewy says, reaching too close so he can pull her soft cardigan tighter around her shoulders. "You and me are a lot alike. We're fun little toys for people like the Roys. The difference is that I've been around maybe fifteen years and they're still having fun playing with me. You've been around less than five and honey, they're getting bored of you fast. Let's pack your shit up and I'll drive you both to JFK now."

She studies him and sees all the things he doesn't say. Sure, part of this may be him simply looking out for her, but a much larger determinant is a possessive instinct that she recognizes all too well. The fire in his eyes when he talks about Kendall is the same one that Kendall burns when he talks about Stewy, the one he never even lit when it came to her. She'll never really compare.

[lothlaer]

A/N: 1.3k of stupider-than-it-seems yennskier feat. geralt for @meliteles-tits 

Summary: Modern AU. Jaskier and Yennefer high sex. But not. [CW: implied drug use]

The candlelight flickers and ripples across Yennefer’s skin, each flash of the flames catching on the creases of her flesh. Jaskier stares at the shadows her eyelashes create across her cheeks, down past the wet pink of her lips to follow the line of her throat, the cascading waves of hair rolling over her collarbones. He kisses her there, right on the sharp jut of bone, his eyelids heavy, only a pulsing glow of orange in his vision.

God she tastes fucking incredible.

Like sweat and perfume and yet sweet, nectarine, ambrosia. He tongues at the dip there, feels her groan hum through his lips, his mouth, his jaw, his throat, his very being. She moves where she’s splayed across his hips, her thighs pressing hot and strong into him. She tangles her hands in his hair, tugs a little, moves her fingers again and again and again in a desperate massage. He moans – a keening, pathetic noise she should be taking the piss out of him for making, but instead she pulls his head back with the fist gripping at his skull, forces him to bare his face to her.

Fuck she looks fucking incredible. 

He gets to gaze up at her, consider the halo of light that frames her head and what it means – wonders how his eyes haven’t been burned out of his skull for daring to look at such a woman – for a long, long time. Her eyes are blown black, glittering in the low light, devilish and fixed on him. Her mouth curves sharply, wet and red as blood. She might eat him. He wants her to eat him.

She leans down so slowly it almost hurts, her breath so loud and so hot and so intense against his mouth and then they’re kissing and it’s everything, it’s the whole world captured in one press of skin to skin, and she’s going to consume him.

“Jaskier,” Yennefer murmurs against his lips as she drags her nails across his scalp. “Jaskier.”

It’s breathless and husky and it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard in his life. He wonders if he could pass out from how hot this is. His skin is on fire. The candle flames are touching him everywhere and they’re nothing compared to how she feels, her knees either side of him, pressing him down into the sofa, and god he wishes she weren’t wearing clothes but fuck that would probably literally kill him.

She grinds on him again, pushing and settling more than her weight onto him, forcing him down into the cushion underneath. The fire licks at his skin, scalding hot.

Fuck she fucking knows how to fucking… fuck.

His brain is utter mush. His heart’s beating ridiculously fast. He’s definitely going to die and he’s going to be so thankful for it. He’s going to buy her wine and dark chocolate and like seventeen thousand million bouquets of flowers to thank her for this, even though he’s going to be dead.

His tongue feels fat in his mouth, unwieldy but eager nonetheless. Yennefer doesn’t seem to mind – she meets his kisses with equal enthusiasm. He runs his hands ups her sides, lets his fingers catch fire, matches striking the box and flaring to life where his bare skin touches hers. It’s ecstasy. Well. It’s– that’s—

Oh fuck.

He breaks the kiss, finds her cheek and goes on, presses his love and adoration and joy to the hinge of her jaw. He heaves up the rhythm that sits beneath his ribcage into his throat and sings it to her in almost inaudible whispers, repeating her name over and over until he’s sure it’s the only song he’s ever sung. He settles at her neck to feel where the blood pumps thick and gives in, lets go, lets her take what she wants from him, rolling her hips against him over and over.

Oh, okay, he thinks, I am actively dying.

A flash of blinding white light crashes over him in pure violence and it hurts, and Yennefer stops moving, and it’s all falling away, he’s stopped breathing, he’s dead, he’s—

He turns his head, and drags himself into the light.

 * * *

Geralt could not find the pizza that Jaskier likes at the supermarket.

It’s always buried deep in the freezer section, tucked away at the back, and god knows why a shitty off-brand freezer pizza is the man’s favourite but it is. Jaskier was hungry, and so was Yen, and so is Geralt. He’s settled for the fresh pizzas from the fridge section instead (which he prefers anyway) and bought potato wedges to placate Jaskier. If he complains, Geralt will simply eat it all himself.

He locks the car and trudges through the puddles in the cracks of the paving stones that lead to their front door, feeling muddy water splash up against his ankles. Unlocking the door reveals an unnerving quietness – when he’d left, Yennefer and Jaskier had had their music turned up high, shouting over the beat to be heard. They’d had several full conversations like that before they’d turned to Geralt, begging him to buy them food. Now it’s almost silent, only the hum of the fridge in the kitchen to be heard. And the main lights have been turned off – though he can see through the doorway the low glow of the fairy lights Jaskier strung across the living room walls when they first moved in. They’ve been flashing all evening, the batteries obviously struggling.

Geralt closes the door behind him, one hand holding three plastic bags filled with pizzas and potato wedges and wine and batteries, and steps up to the open living room door.

It’s… this sort of thing really shouldn’t surprise him anymore. He sighs.

Yennefer is straddling Jaskier’s lap, her hips moving in clumsy back and forth motions, both of them fully dressed. Their mouths are glued together, making sticky wet noises. It looks and sounds as if they’re fourteen-year olds who’ve never kissed before trying to eat each other’s faces. Perhaps too enthusiastically. Definitely too enthusiastically. It’s really kind of disgusting.

It’s practically pitch black in the room – Geralt can hardly make them out. The fairy lights keep flickering as Jaskier moves to suck along Yen’s jaw. A garbled version of her name falls out of his mouth again and again, and she groans long and deep. Jaskier presses his nose to her neck as she keeps moving jerkily across his lap, their legs at odd angles and none of it looking particularly comfortable. In fact, it’s probably one of the most unsexy things Geralt has ever seen them do, and he’s mostly confused as to why they seem so into it.

Jaskier pants a word Geralt can’t make out, slurred as if he’s—

Geralt flicks on the hallway light.

They flinch like they’ve been burnt before turning their heads, finally noticing his presence. They squint up at him, utterly fucked, their mouths wet and hair a mess. Geralt watches their eyes widen, pupils blown so big he can barely see their irises.

Well. That explains it.

The fairy lights twitch in their death throes.

“Geralt, the candles are going out,” Jaskier says, very serious. “Also I was on fucking fire and then I think I died.”

Yennefer smiles sloppily. “Yeah, he died.” She tugs on his hair to pull his head back. “I killed him. But he’s fine.”

“I’m fine,” Jaskier parrots, totally at ease despite the painful angle of his neck.

Yennefer lets go of him and starts bouncing up and down on his lap. The sofa springs squeak in the otherwise silent room.  

“Oh fuck,” Jaskier says eloquently, turning back to press his face directly between Yen’s tits while she uses him like a trampoline. He groans filthily into her chest. “’m def’n’tly dead.”  

Geralt sighs again, and goes to put the pizzas in the oven.

[just-jordie-things]

hi! could i request prompts #39, #45 and #74 for a zuko x reader fic with a modern au that takes place on halloween, with the gaang and everyone dressing up for halloween? with the reader and zuko already being really good friends and a part of the gaang?

prompt 39: spin the bottle kiss prompt 45: passionate kiss prompt 74: kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap ___

You’d been chatting with Katara, complimenting her cute 70′s themed costume, and just blabbering on in tipsy delight.  However in the middle of your conversation about one of your classes, your eyes caught sight of the door opening, and in walked your favorite person.

“Zuko!” You cheered, grabbing your drink off the counter and excusing yourself from Katara so you could be the first to greet him.

He smiled sheepishly as you bounded up to him, the hood of your alien onesie flopping your head.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” You said happily, giggling as you threw your arms around his neck.

He nervously reciprocated the hug, not wanting to spill your drink or overstep his boundaries.

“Did I miss anything?” He asked, glancing around the room, but inevitably looking back down at you, because nothing could capture his attention like you did.

“Sokka and Aang are in a competition to see who can do the most casual backflips,” You said in all seriousness.  “There’s still time to catch up if you want to join” 

Zuko just laughs, and shakes his head, and you’re quick to jump topics.

“What are you dressed as, anyways?” You asked, poking at the leather jacket he wore.

“I’m an emo phase,” Zuko said, looking down at his black clothes and ripped jeans combo.  “Is it not obvious?”

“It’s more of a sexy bad boy vibe,” You giggle.

His face flushes pink at the comment, but you don’t notice.

“I have a great idea though! Come with me” 

You grab his hand and you’re pulling him into the apartment.  He barely had time to greet Suki and Ty Lee in passing before you bringing him into the bathroom.

“How do you feel about eyeliner?” You asked, setting your half empty drink on the counter so you could pick through your makeup drawer.

“Uh...” 

“Sit,” You prompt, softly pushing him down onto the toilet.  “You’re too tall, I can’t reach your face and keep a steady hand” 

He does as you say, and forgets that he should go say hi to his friends while you carefully pull the brush from the black tube.

“Is this really necessary?” He asks, but bites his tongue as you lean in close to him.

You smell sweet, like fruit or candy.  He wonders if it’s your shampoo or your perfume, or it’s both and it’s just your natural splendid scent-

“Absolutely,” You murmur, vote quiet so you could keep your focus.  “Now shut your eyes” 

Again, he complies, and you steadily drag the brush over his eyelid.  For being fairly tipsy, your hand his still, and the liquid applies smoothly.

“Perfect,” You hum, proud of yourself, and Zuko opens his eyes.

You’re so close it’s impossible not to think about kissing you, but at the thought a blush crawls up his neck and he wishes you would move away so you wouldn’t see.

“Now look up,” You direct.  “I’m going to do some under too, make sure the goth-ness really stands out” 

He nods, speechless, and looks as far up as he can.

But then your hand slides over his cheek so you can maneuver his face properly, as well as keep yourself steady, and he’s looking back at you again.

“Hey, up” You scold teasingly, and hastily he’s following your order.

He’s not sure that you’re aware of it, but as you apply more makeup, the thumb on his cheek is caressing him in smooth circles.  It’s somehow calming, while still making his heart race.

You did that to him a lot.

You’re slower this time, worried about getting it in his eye, but it’s over all too soon, and you’re pulling away from him with a grin.

“Perfect!” You cheer again, capping your eyeliner and putting it back into the drawer.  “You look very edgy” 

Zuko stands to look in the mirror, and it’s odd, but he can’t deny that you did an excellent job and it definitely makes him look more emo.

“Do you like it?” You ask, picking your glass up and taking a tentative sip.

He looks down at your hopeful eyes, and smiles before nodding.

“You’re right, it’s perfect, thank you” 

“Great! Let’s show the others!”

And so you’re taking his hand again and weaving through the small crowd in search of your close friends, Sokka and Aang in particular, because you know they’ll get a kick out of it.

“Who are all these people?” Zuko asked after passing too many unfamiliar faces.

“Katara and I invited some people from school,” You told him nonchalantly.  “I didn’t think a halloween party would be such a hit, but I guess people love ‘em more than I thought!” 

“Well if you invited them then I’m sure they do” He mutters.

It’s a vexed comment, but you look up at him with a bashful sort of smile, and the implication in his words has him blushing again.

You giggle, and do him the favor of not saying anything about it, instead finally catching sight of Sokka and quickly pulling Zuko over to him.

“Sokka, look!” You say eagerly, pushing Zuko forward to show the boy the excellent job you did on his makeup.  “I gave Zuko eyeliner!” 

Sokka cheers loudly, and hugs you with pride.

“Zuko, you look beautiful,” He gushes playfully.  “You should be so proud of your date here” 

Sokka’s, well, hammered, but still the comment throws Zuko off, and he begins to stammer.  No real words came out, but luckily you came to his defense.

“Sokka, stop teasing,” You say, and bring your hand up to Zuko’s arm.  “We’re gonna go get a couple drinks and then let’s hang out, okay?”

“Alright, I’ll find Suki and the others, meet in the living room in a couple minutes?”

You agree, and then you’re bringing Zuko with you to the kitchen.

You tended to do this at parties, even ones where it’s just your small tight-knit group of friends.  You stuck by his side and rarely ever broke off from him.  At first he’d thought you were doing him a kindness, because he was award and not always great at small talk.  But after a few parties, he started to get the feeling that you genuinely enjoyed his company, and chose for your own reasons to stick by his side.

“What’s your poison?” You asked him as you reached the kitchen, which was littered with every alcohol known to man, as well as dozens of red plastic cups, some used, some new, Zuko wasn’t sure it mattered.

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having” He says, and you grin.

“Suit yourself” 

He realizes quickly as you pour a generous amount of shots into a cup that you’re making your drinks strong, and he takes over for you.

“Why don’t you let me do that?” He says, taking the bottle from your hands and setting it down, before pouring half the alcohol in your into a second cup for himself.

You make a face, but don’t protest while he adds in the soda, and hands you your weaker drink.

You take his hand again as you both make your way to the living room, where most of your friends have already gathered.

Sokka and Suki share one corner of the sofa, Aang and Katara on the other, both couples hogging the whole space.

Ty Lee had claimed the recliner for herself, sitting in it sideways, her legs thrown over the arm rest.  Mai was at her feet, the girls sharing their drinks and whispering amongst themselves.

That left the loveseat, if you could call it that because it was so small, but you didn’t mind as you dragged Zuko along and plopped down onto the cushions with him.

Without a second thought, you moved in close to him and threw your legs over his lap.  You did it so casually you’d think that you always sat this way.  But that wasn’t the case, in fact Zuko’s not sure you’ve ever been this close to him before, and his heart does a somersault.

“So what are we playing?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink, and then a longer more dramatic drink while making eye contact with Zuko because you could barely taste the alcohol.

He rolls his eyes and playfully flicks your arm, before turning his attention back to Sokka, who’s deciding on a game.

“Let’s play something old fashioned,” He decides, and he’s smirking at everyone as he raises his beer bottle, before pausing dramatically.

Suki nudges him, prompting him to continue his thought since no one knew what he was talking about.

“I say, spin the bottle!” He declares loudly, enough to get a few other people’s attention, and now the group grows a little bigger.

“Really?” Suki mutters, glaring at her boyfriend.

“Well I won’t be playing, I'll just be moderator” Sokka argues.  The girl rolls her eyes, but goes with it anyways.

“Spin the bottle? Isn’t that kinda immature?” Aang asks.

“I think it’s fun!” Ty Lee chimes in.  “I’ll play!” 

With that, a couple more boys come to sit around in the living room.

You stifle your giggle in your hand at the way Ty Lee so effortlessly had men flocking to her.  You always admired her for it.

“Fine.  I’ll play” Mai sighs, leaning back against the chair Ty Lee sat in.

“You guys in?” Sokka asks, looking to you and Zuko.

“Oh, no,” You shake your head and put your hands up in defense.  “It’s not for me, I’m spoken for,” 

Zuko perks up at this, turning to you with a confused look because since when did you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? You were seeing somebody and didn’t tell him?

He’s about to ask you a multitude of questions, probably all at once in a messy fashion, but you’re speaking up before he can.

“But you’ll play, right?” You ask him eagerly.

He wants to say no, because games like these are stupid and the only person in this room he’d actually want to kiss just said that she was spoken for, but you give him an encouraging nod, so he shrugs his shoulders.

“I guess” He mutters.

As Sokka goes over the rules and sets the bottle in the middle of the floor, you notice Zuko practically deflating into the sofa.  When you give him a worried look, he doesn’t meet your gaze, so you’re not sure what his issue is.

You decide to wiggle in closer, your legs bent at the knees and resting against his chest comfortably, and your head laying on the sofa cushion right next to him.

At your close proximity, he can’t help but look over at you, only to find your eyes already set on his.

“It’s just a game, Zuko,” You whisper cheerily.  “Lighten up a little, have some fun” 

You give him a sweet smile, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell you that some old school kissing game isn’t what’s eating away at him.

He returns your smile, albeit faintly, before putting his attention back on the game.

A couple of strangers kiss, Mai and Ty Lee share a kiss, and Aang spins the bottle once, using his airbending to make sure it lands on Katara.  That gets a laugh out of everyone as the waterbender gives him a dramatic smooch on the cheek.

The game is dumb, but it’s amusing to Zuko because you keep giggling and cheering for everybody, and everytime you laugh, the sound vibrates through him, and he forgets that his window of opportunity for asking you out had been shut.

He’s kicking himself, but he knows he shouldn't be.  Deep down, he knew that he never would have made a move, no matter how affectionate you were, or how much time you spent together.  The fact of the matter was he was too anxious about ruining a great friendship to make his feelings for you known.

But still, his heart ached a little as you rested your head on his shoulder.

He can’t help but wonder why you’re so cuddled up to him if you’re spoken for, but he’s not so big of an idiot that he’d ask you such a thing.

You whisper something, but he doesn't catch it because he’s so lost in thought.

“What?” He whispers back, eyes flickering down to you.

“You should stay over,” You repeat yourself.  “Katara and I thought it’d be nice to have everyone stay over for scary movies- not everyone, just, you know, us,” You tell him, and he knows what you mean.  “But you should stay” 

His eyebrows furrow in the slightest, and you lift your head to ask what’s wrong.

“What about your boyfriend?” He asks, quietly, and although it’s subtle, you can hear the venom in his voice.

Despite the comment, you giggle quietly, shaking your head at him.

There’s a crease between his brows now from how much tension he has in his face, and you fondly reach out to rub your thumb between them, easing them from their furrow.

There’s no time to ask you what is so funny, because suddenly Sokka is snapping in his face.

“Hey! Lovebirds! You spinnin’ or not, Zuko?”

Your hand falls from Zuko’s face, and you sit back into your comfortable position now that the whole room has their eyes on you.

Not, he wants to say, but he grumbles in agreement as he reaches his leg out, kicking the bottle into a spin with his boot.  You, among a few others, are giggling at the action, and while Zuko is distracted by the sound, Aang sends a little burst of wind at the bottle.

A couple people notice it, but they keep it to themselves as the bottle slows to a stop.

It’s pointed back at you and Zuko, and he flusters.

“Okay, s-someone else’s turn” He stammers.

“What? But it’s pointed right at (y/n)!” Sokka shrieks, gesturing wildly at you.

Zuko turns to you for a quick moment, almost apologetic, but as soon as he meets your eyes, he does a double take.

You’re smiling at him, and you lean up off the couch and straight your posture.

There’s whispers around the room, as well as music blasting and the chatter of the party goers who weren’t playing the game, but Zuko couldn’t hear anything over his heart pounding.

You get closer to him, your eyes noticeably flickering down to his lips before you’re wrapping your arms around his neck, painstakingly slow.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth before you glance back up at Zuko, a nervous blush dusting over your cheeks.

For once, you’re the one blushing over him, and it brings him so much joy.

So in a quick move, his free hand reaches up to your face, thumb proving your lip from your teeth, instantly, you shoot forward, meeting his lips in a heated kiss.

All thoughts and reason flew out the window, and Zuko could barely set his drink down before taking you in his arms and bringing you as close to him as you could be.

Whoops and hollers surrounded you both, mostly from your friends, but a few bystanders were just happy to see someone getting some.

When you pull away, you’re winded, and Zuko’s hair is all over the place, but neither of you care.

As soon as the kiss ends, the game picks back up, and your peers go back to their meaningless conversations and dancing.  It gives you a sense of privacy, even in the crowded room.

“I just didn’t want to kiss anyone else,” You explained yourself in a murmur, your hands cupping around Zuko’s face.  “That’s why I said I was spoken for”

He chuckles, pushing the hair out of your face and bringing you in close again.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” He asked, and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Cause I didn’t think you’d kiss me if I’d asked you to” You replied.

“Well, you must have had more to drink then I thought,” He says teasingly, making you laugh as your forehead rests against his.  “Because I don’t want to kiss anyone else either” 

Your lips curl into a smile as your eyes flutter shut so he could kiss you again, this time softer, as you both took your time getting used to the new and exhilarating feeling.

You spent most of the rest of the night on that little sofa, lazily making out and drinking, as well as being made fun of by Sokka for it taking so long for the two of you to fess up your feelings.

Of course, you wouldn’t have had it any other way.  ___

xoxo ~ jordie