#artist's note to self: finish later

[vcendent]

someone help me Kon is SO ✨pretty✨

#my art #fanart #traditional sketches #dc comics #dc fanart #tim drake #red robin #kon el #kon kent #conner kent #superboy #(someone please get kon his own hero name i am begging you) #timkon #long hair tim #you ever have those drawings that you think are gonna flop but you trust the process and then BOOM picasso? #artist's note to self: finish later #please dont repost my art

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Epilogue)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,783

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Part 23] [Part 24] [Part 25] [Masterlist]

Notes: The end of an era 😭😭 Holy smokes I'm so happy and also sad I cannot believe it's over.

_________________________________________

**Seven Months Later**

“Azriel,” you sing-song, bursting in through the open front door to their house. 

At the end of the spring semester Azriel’s father had bought 3rd Street apartments, and none of you had renewed your leases. His father hadn’t even tried to convince him to stay, but that didn’t matter to Azriel. The only thing that any of the five of you seemed to care about was that you’d no longer be living next to each other come summer.

Azriel, Rhysand, and Cassian had found a house to rent on the outskirts of campus. Of course, the place is gorgeous, a modern number that looks like it costs more than Rhysand is making it out to be. He’d been adamant about the three of them staying together, no matter what, and he’d tried to convince you and Feyre to move into another apartment nearby, but it wasn’t the right fit for either of you. 

You wanted something more homey than the new building, something walkable since you nor Feyre have cars. You already miss your old apartment dearly, saddened by what Azriel’s father is going to make it into. Sure, the elevator was a death trap that stuck, and sure, the walls were thinner than paper, but it was home, where you’d found love with your grumpy next door neighbor, though you’re sure in Azriel’s version of the story you were the grumpy one. 

The five of you had spent your last night at the building together, drinking and eating your heart content in waffles and ice cream from Rita’s. It was the perfect last night to end your time in the building, but also the semester. You passed your Drawing 101 final with flying colors, the half swan portrait you drew was something you’d never thought you’d be able to finish. Now, it’s one of your most treasured artworks. 

You’d chosen the swan because of their representation of the awakening of the power of self and self-esteem. When you’d started the semester you’d been unsure of your ability in the creative world, but after hearing the stories of so many around you, Azriel’s included, it awakened your inner artist, and your work only grows more confident by the day.

You’d also chosen to morph yourself with the swan because of their grace. Grace in dealing with others; Azriel’s gnarly attitude, Cassian’s cheekiness, Rhysand’s cockiness, Lucien’s snark, and Feyre’s hidden relationship, which didn’t last long, but still hurt your friendship.

You’ve come a long way since then, and are now in love with the neighbor that had been a thorn in your side for months. Azriel is as sweet as ever now, though he still distracts you from your work these days, but it’s no longer with rowdy music.

You turn towards the living room where you hear Azriel calling your name. You come to a screeching half at the sight of him and Cassian, chests bare as they carry a couch between them, moving further into the room. 

Your eyes zero in on Azriel, his tan chest glistening with effort. It’s move in day for them and they’ve been carrying boxes from 3rd Street apartments all morning. He looks godly in the light spilling in through the large glass windows overlooking the yard. The parties at this place are going to be insane this year, of that you know. It’s all Cassian has talked about since they’d signed the lease, commenting how their housewarming party is going to rival that of Project X. 

“Hey, princess,” Azriel winks at your wandering eyes and you can only beam. So what if he’s caught you admiring his chiseled torso? He’s all yours and you can stare if you please. Although, the sudden dampness between your legs has you shifting on your feet, Azriel’s smirk widening. 

“Can you two stop eye-fucking for one minute?” Cassian groans dramatically, acting like he’s struggling under the weight of the couch. You and Azriel both roll your eyes at the same time, which makes you burst into giggles. “This thing is fucking heavy.” 

“All right, let’s put it over here,” Azriel directs, guiding them a few more feet into the room. They place it in front of the giant TV Rhysand splurged one, and you know movie nights are going to be great in here. It’ll be just like you’re at a movie theater, without all of the extra bodies. 

You and Azriel still have yet to break in the couch, often choosing the privacy of his bedroom (as much as the thin walls give you) over the common rooms he shares with his roommates.

Speaking of, there’s a thump coming from upstairs and the sound of Feyre’s laughter drifting down the staircase. So maybe this new house isn’t that much more private than your old apartment.

As soon as he puts his end of the couch down you’re flinging yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. Azriel laughs and swings you around before planting your feet back on the ground and leaning over to kiss you silly. 

The flooding warmth throughout your body only intensifies as he steps closer, pressing his body into yours and rolling his hips a little, allowing you to feel his interested cock in his pants. 

“Hi,” you grin when you part.

Azriel’s gold eyes glitter with amusement. “Hi, princess. How is your morning?” 

Your hands snake down his chest, brushing over his nipples as you go. You don’t miss his reaction to your touch and it makes you giddy all over again. Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his pants, your smile turns sultry, watching his eyes darken. “Much better now.” 

“Is that so?” Azriel quirks an eyebrow. He looks like he’s two seconds away from dragging you upstairs to his new room and breaking it in. You wouldn’t mind that one bit. “Do I want to know why you’re this cheery this early in the morning?”

“You already know,” you beam, rolling onto the tips of your toes to kiss him on the nose. When you try to pull away Azriel growls, tightening his grip on you. 

“You can’t say that and not want me to fuck you, princess,” he says roughly, leaning down to whisper in your ear. His breath is hot across the shell and you shudder in his arms, eyelashes fluttering at his words. You have to swallow back the moan threatening to escape.

You startle at the sound of a loud crash, turning to see Cassian all but glaring at the two of you, having just dropped a box of books to the ground purposefully. 

“I thought we were supposed to be moving,” Cassian tosses over his shoulder and yells up the stairs, “I can’t have both roommates fucking already. There’s still so much shit to move!”

“I’m coming,” Rhysand yells back and you crinkle your nose.

“Ew.” 

It makes Cassian crack, a smile twitching at his lips. He has his hands on his hips and is still staring at you and Azriel in a false stern manner. “I knew I made a good decision to befriend you, (Y/N).”

“More like forced yourself into my life,” you grumble playfully, following him out to his Bronco, stuffed full with boxes.

“Just for that, I’m giving you a heavy box,” he teases right back, but he wasn’t kidding because your breath is nearly knocked from your chest when he hands you one. It’s falsely labeled ‘Az’s room’ on it because it feels like there’s a pile of bricks in it. 

Azriel glares at his roommate as he rids you of the heavy box. You give him a smile in thanks, sneakily sliding out a box labeled ‘couch pillows’ instead. It takes you back to the day that you and Feyre moved into your last apartment, how the living room box had been the last one you’d brought inside before your very first—and terrible—run in with Azriel.

The smile you wander inside with is a nostalgic one.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

“Are you ready?” 

“Yes!”

“Then why are you acting like I’ve already put the needle to your skin?” Azriel argues, sitting back in his chair.

You’re laid up on the table, shirt pulled up to your neck, waiting for Azriel to put the tattoo gun to your skin. You keep squirming, not quite comfortable on the cold table top, but it’s the best he can do while he’s still waiting to hear back about his apprenticeship he interviewed for last week. It’s been a few long, grueling days, and you thought you’d distract him by finally allowing him to give you your first tattoo. It had taken you months to decide, and Azriel hadn’t pushed you once about the matter, no matter how badly he’d wanted to put ink on your skin.

Now, the sound of the gun is making you rethink your decision.

You sigh loudly and Azriel shuts the gun off, placing it on the table. He rips the gloves from his hands and helps you sit up, guiding your shirt back into place.

“Maybe we should wait,” he suggests softly, though you can see the hurt in his eyes.

It’s not that you don’t trust him. No, you trust Azriel with your life. It’s that you’re overthinking the design you’d thought you wanted so badly. 

“I want one,” you huff, sadly, “But I don’t think this is the one.”

Azriel soothes his hands up your thighs. “That’s okay, princess. There’s no rush. You don’t even have to get one, if you don’t want to.” 

“I do,” you whine in frustration. You had it planned for weeks, this idea, and now…you just can’t go through with it. It doesn’t feel right. 

You slide off of the table into Azriel’s lap, resting your head against his chest as he holds you tight. You let the soothing beat of his heart calm you down, the running of his hands up and down your back a relaxing gesture. It makes your heart swell, with the amount of love that you have for him. 

Azriel brushes some hair away from your face when you pull back. He’s studying you with those intense golden eyes you’ve come to adore. You can read everything in those eyes; his annoyance, his happiness, his anger, his lust, even his feelings for you, but right now, you’re not all too confident in what he’s thinking.

“I want to show you something,” he murmurs softly and you frown.

“Okay,” you answer tentatively, but his hand is sure in yours as he laces your fingers together after helping you off his lap. 

He guides you up the stairs and into his room.

“Azriel,” you tease, “I already know this room too well,” you say, alluding to his first night in the house where he fucked you over every surface in his room. It was pure bliss, one of the best nights you’ve shared.

Azriel puffs a breathy laugh and guides you to sit on the edge of his bed. You follow his instructions with obedience, covering your eyes when he tells you.

He waves a hand in front of your face to make sure you’re not looking. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Um,” your lips turn into the cutest pout when you think. “Two?”

He’s holding up none but he grumbles. “I was thinking two.” 

You bounce giddily on the edge of his bed and his cock twitches as he thinks of you bouncing on his cock just like that. 

“Easy, princess.” 

You stop your bouncing but not your grinning.

Azriel strides over to his closet, pulling out the canvas he’s been working on, when you aren’t around, of course. Well, he only dares pull it out around you when you’re fast asleep in his bed. It’s consumed him day and night, and finally, his masterpiece is finished.

“What is it?” you ask giddily, unable to rein in your excitement or the butterflies in your stomach.

You hear Azriel’s laughter as he moves closer. “If I told you, that would defeat the whole purpose of me asking you to close your eyes, princess,” he tuts and you swear you can hear him rolling his eyes. “But you can open them now, Miss Impatient.”

“That’s my middle name—” your words stick to your throat as you stare at the canvas he’s holding in front of you. 

You’re in awe, struck by the lines so confidently drawn. You’re transported back to the night of his exhibition, when he’d shown you the blackest parts of his soul, put on canvas. 

Similarly to the centerpiece of the show, the charcoal drawing he has in front of you are two hands intertwined. His, with his rough scars, clutching tightly to a flawless hand, a feminine hand. 

Your hand. 

Azriel shifts nervously on his feet. All you’re doing is staring, open-mouthed, and he’d normally take that as a good sign, but when tears well your eyes his heart pinches in his chest.

“It’s,” you choke, pressing a hand to your aching heart. “It’s so beautiful, Azriel.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief, only managing to move the canvas out of the way when you launch yourself into his arms, sobbing into his chest. He leans it against the edge of his bed and tucks you tightly into his arms, pressing soft kisses to your forehead. 

“Shhh, princess. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” 

“I’m crying because it’s perfect,” you pull away and he’s wiping softly at your cheeks. Your eyes are red-rimmed and he hates that but he loves the way it makes your eyes pop. He studies them for a little longer, committing it to memory, something to sketch for later. “You’re perfect. And I—I love you.” 

His attention snaps onto your words, holding onto them like they could slip away like a shadow. You haven’t said that before, neither have you. And he’s been wanting to say it for so long now, was going to so many times but it never felt like the right moment. 

And it’s now that he realizes that there was never going to be a better moment than any of the times his lips formed the words, only for nothing to come out. He should’ve said it when he felt it because he knows you don’t care about the moment being this perfect thing, for fucks sake you’re crying in his arms right now and you’re telling him that you love him for the first time. 

He is such an idiot sometimes.

“I love you too, princess,” he admits in a rasp, throat thick with the words. He’s never felt something this strongly for someone before. He wants to be around you all of the time, wants to hold you and touch you and taste you. You consume him, mind, body, and soul.

You’re there, tattooed on his fucking soul, inked in the love he hadn’t known he was missing until you met. The darkness that consumed him was a starless sky, a void waiting to be filled. You. You are the moon and the stars lighting him up, brightening his days.

He fucking loves you. So, so much.

“Yeah?” you ask, your soft crying turns to happy tears, ones he can’t help but to kiss as they roll down their cheeks. “You love me?” 

“I love you, (Y/N),” Azriel says, “I think maybe I always have.” 

“That’s so not true,” you laugh wetly, trying to swat at his chest. Azriel catches your hand in his and kisses your palm, golden eyes gleaming.

“Okay,” he concedes with a grin, “Maybe not always, but for a long time now.” 

You shake your head fondly. Your eyes dart away from him in your sudden nervousness. “Az?” 

“Yeah, princess?” 

You look at the picture once more, admiring it. It’s utterly perfect, just like him. 

Pointing at it, you say, “That. I want that as my first tattoo.”

Azriel stares, shocked. “Are you sure? You know I’ll give you any tattoo that you want, but I need you to be one hundred percent positive. I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I won’t,” you shake your head in disagreement and the softness in his eyes makes your heart swell. He looks like he can’t believe you’re real and you’re his. You’ll make him believe it and more. Later, you want to hear him say those three magical words while he’s pinning you to his sheets. Now, you want a tattoo. “This has to be the tattoo, Az. It’s us. I want us.”

He kisses you firmly on the mouth. Desperate.

“I want us too.” 

“Then let’s do this thing, Az. I’m ready.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycries @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @helensophie @isa1b2h3 @viatorem-maris

#midnight muse #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #tattoo artist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au #acotar au

[lilmashae]

two millimeters ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary | you've gotten tattoos and piercings galore... you've never been this nervous before — but this is different. lucky for you hyunjin knows a few tricks to ease your mind.

warnings | tattoo artist & piercer hyunjin x female reader · petnames · nipple stimulation · fingering (f) · oral (f) · p in v · petnames · swearing · slow burn ( porn with some plot ) · overstimulation (?) · cum eating (?)

author's note | adding commas later because i was in a funky mood about them :) this isn't the first time i've written for skz but it's maybe the first time i've felt semi-confident in it so please enjoy it ♥

your whole body's blanketed in art — tattoos and piercings trailing from your head to your toes. this isn't something new for you — so why you're so nervous is a mystery to you. you've gotten piercings before: your ears nose and mouth adorned in jewelry. but never anything like this — something more intimate.

your bestfriend had convinced you to get your nipples pierced and you'd only agreed because you were drunk. maybe you felt the regret sinking in now that you were there. but it's still too late because — "are you y/n?" a man stood before you — was this the guy? he doesn't look like any of the tattoo artists you've had before one of them recommending him if you were ever looking for a more hidden piercing. "yeah..?" tall medium length hair with brown eyes and a single piercing above his eyebrow — he's... very attractive: if you weren't nervous before your heart is definitely in your stomach imagining yourself shirtless in front of him of all people. "my name's hyunjin you can follow me."

as you sat in front of the handsome stranger you could feel your throat closing —suddenly dry and pulsing. you watched as he cleaned his supplies: needles, 2mm bars, and whatever else he thought he needed. "are you nervous?" hyunjin didn't even look up. the voice pierced through your thoughts and broke all of your concentration. "honestly? only a little bit." you smiled awkwardly. "well don't worry sweetheart. i take good care of pretty girls like you." he winked quickly finishing his preparations. you'd be lying if you said you weren't feeling sort of flustered. not only was hyunjin maybe the most handsome man you've ever seen but he was also about to see you shirtless — and now that you think about it he was going to touch you too. the idea made you squirm. "what? you don't believe me?" you shook your head "no of course i believe you..." he smiled standing up. "good so we can start."

his hands were cold as hyunjin carefully positioned you in the leather chair. "comfortable?" nodding he sat back down before explaining the process to you: "does that sound good sweetheart?" the name made you shudder. "it sounds fine thanks." he smiled grabbing disinfectant wipes and ripping the package open with his teeth. upon pulling out the pad he looked back up at you. "take your shirt off for me..." you could feel blood rushing to your head — he's only doing his job but for some reason it's turning you on beyond belief. the way you squeezed your thighs together didn't go unnoticed by hyunjin either smirking to himself and internally chuckling at how cute you were. you reached for the hem of your shirt peeling it above your head before neatly folding it in your lap. "good girl." he smiled. there's no way he isn't teasing you — he has to be aware of how wet he's making you right?

opposingly you had no idea how hard you were making him — the soft plush of your chest or with your cute little sighs as the cold alcohol pads swiftly brushed over your hardened nipples: "it's a little cold... here." or the way your breath hitched feeling his hands firmly hold you in place. you were driving him crazy. however hyunjin has great self control — even in situations like this. but not even his amazing center could save him after the way you squeezed onto his arm and let out the prettiest shaky breaths he's ever heard. "fuck..." he grunted. " 'still nervous beautiful?" you opened your eyes. they were closed tight anticipating the sharp sting of a needle. "i guess so... we can keep going though." you tried to reassure him — cute. a slight chuckle flew past his lips. "hm... i can help you if you want... relax you know?" he had to have you.

the way you looked up at him nodding with big doe eyes drove him insane. "ah use your words pretty girl..." he held your jaw thumb slipping past your puffy lips and into your mouth feeling your wet tongue. "p-please help me relax hyunjin..." you managed to get out with your legs still tightly pressed together. and with that he was more than happy to oblige by diving into your chest. as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples you couldn't help whining. the wet hot feeling of his tongue was foreign to your cold and sensitive skin. "shit..." unsure what to do with your hands you let one adventure into his hair entangling with his warm brown hair causing him to smile.

whilst the fingers on his hand toyed with your other nipple rubbing it in painfully slow circles — his other hand crept below your stomach: finding itself against the heat of your soaking entrance. two of hyunjin's fingers prodded at your opening before swiftly curling inside. "o-oh! holy shit..." you gasped feeling the scissoring motion of his finger buried in your slick gummy walls. "so wet baby... fuck." hyunjin gets a up planting a kiss on to your lips — swollen from nervously nipping at them. "i should've offered to help you sooner sweetheart..." as your lips molded together continuously pressing into each other you moaned into his mouth... the feeling of hyunjin's fingertips repeatedly kissing your g spot had you feeling dizzy. silver jewelry still adorning his fingers became lathered in a coating of slick dripping down his fingers and pooling into his palm. "h-hyunjin i think i'm... ah... fuck! i'm close..."

"yeah?" he looked up at you fingers still submerged in your sopping cunt. "go ahead and cum on my fingers pretty baby. 'want to taste you then i'll give you my cock okay?" dumbly you nodded wanting to feel more of him. "y-yes! fuck! s'okay... 'need it please hyunie..." god you might've been one of the cutest girls he's ever seen let alone touched. "hyunie baby? s'that right..?" he was already confident but something about the way your soft voice echoed his name drove him absolutely mad. that self control hyunjin was so proud of had seemingly slipped away as he carefully pulled his fingers out of you. "w-wait!" you whined at the sudden empty feeling squirming in the leather chair. "shhh... angel it's fine. 'want to give you my cock s'bad right now..."

standing over you hyunjin unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants — the denim material pooling at his ankles as he freed his dick: slightly curved up and to the left adorned with pretty little veins. hyunjin's tip was dripping in pearls of slick precum his pinky mushroom tip angry and practically pulsing. "fuck." you bit at your lip. his hands came down touching both of your thighs. he gently peppered them in kisses before opening them and spreading you out — yanking your panties to the side he stared at your glistening folds in awe. "god baby... you have such a pretty pussy. s'tight too and all wet f'me."

he smirked slyly leaving a kiss on your clit before standing up and aligning himself with your clenching hole. it didn't take long for him to bottom out: he'd lost himself in the silken walls of your cunt — hot and inviting him to stretch you out. "ah! hyunie please..." through blurry eyes you could see hyunjin with his head thrown back: huffing and out of breath. "shit y/n... i could cum right now... i'm going to move okay?" with your hands on his abdomen you eagerly agreed. "y-yeah..." each thrust of hyunjin's cock felt unreal: the slow dragging sensation of his tip kissing your cervix as both you creamed around his shaft.

"shit, shit, shit..." relentlessly hyunjin snapped his hips into your own the rolling motion not stopping once. "so fucking hot..." when he slammed into you your tits bounced perfectly on top of your chest: covered in drool and spit from previous activities. "ah! oh fuck hyunjin... i'm close! really, really close mpf!" a firm slap struck you tits as he nodded. "m'close too. just hold on baby... ah! shit!" each thrust became sloppier as you both came close to your release. "there you go y/n... fuck yeah. cum all over hyunie's cock angel." sticky white cum painted your walls — you could feel the hot fluid soaking into your womb.

as you rode down your high hyunjin continued pumping his cock inside of you — slower and slower until you were both out of breath. "mmm..." you whined. hyunjin layed on top of you still panting with his cock stuffed in your cunt. "ugh shit!" he hissed as the cold air met his now softened dick — hot in contrast to the cold air. but to your surprise you weren't done yet: hyunjin sunk down onto his knees placing another kiss on your clit before lapping your cunt slowly. " 's'sweet babygirl..." he hummed into your heat. collecting both your cum of his tongue he spat back onto your cunt dexterous finger pinching your clit. "aw fuck..." you squirmed hands flying to your boobs and massaging you nipples — hard again. the feeling of overstimulation clouded your head as he continues to eat your pretty cunt out: licking long stripes up and down your folds and shoving his tongue into your still fluttering entrance. hyunjin's hands held your thighs apart keeping them from swallowing his head completely. after he'd gotten his fill he was back on his feet leaning into your lips once more to plant a sloppy cum filled kiss onto your swollen lips.

it's safe to say you left with more than just a piercing — your panties leaking with hyunjin's spit and cum. but you also left with his number and another appointment for a piercing that you knew'd you'd be much more nervous for than this one.

guidelines and disclaimers | i'm sorry if this got lazy towards the end ! i got excited and started to rush 😵‍💫

#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ lilmashae — proofread later ! #lil-ma-shae #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #hyunjin smut #skz smut #hwang hyunjin smut

[fanficimagery]

Girl in the Painting

After taking a closer look at Xavier's paintings, Wednesday realizes he wasn't having dreams of her at all. But she does know the girl in the paintings and she's decided that this one good deed shouldn't kill her.

Words: 6.6K Author's Note: Wednesday AU. I'm well aware Xavier never had dreams of Wednesday; he just painted her because he'd seen her and "instantly fell in love". For this, however, I'm saying he's dreamt of her, possibly even before she showed up to Nevermore, and she realizes later on she was never actually the center of his dreams. Also, TRIGGER WARNING for mentions of past attempted sexual assault. It's brief.

As the students of Nevermore are packing up and readying themselves for their trips home, a group of girls are sitting around the charred fountain in the courtyard.

"So what are your plans for summer?" Bianca asks, fingers skimming the water. The dark skinned siren smiles when Enid blushes prettily, her gaze immediately darting to the ever stoic Wednesday. She's been wondering, as of late, if Enid's feelings towards Wednesday were leaning towards romantic rather than platonic.

"Going to Wednesday's home," Enid finally says. "Gonna spend a couple of weeks with the Addams' family."

"Yeah? I didn't think our resident living dead girl was into slumber parties."

"It's going to be a blast," Wednesday deadpans. Yoko chuckles, sipping on whatever concoction she's mixed up that satiates her bloodlust. "You two are more than welcome. Apparently the more, the merrier."

"Sorry," Yoko muses, "but the coven's gonna travel all summer. I'm quite looking forward to it."

"Mmm. And as much as I'm loving the new attitude, I got some things to take care of before we come back to Nevermore," Bianca says, her silver eyes glowing just the faintest. She really couldn't wait until she finished this favor for her mother and her new creep of a husband. "Besides, I can't be seen painting the nails of the girl responsible for my break-up with Xavier so soon. I at least gotta make it seem like I've made you sweat."

Wednesday just blinks at Bianca's reasoning, but Enid frowns. "Wait, what? I thought you broke up because Xavier was being his emo artistic self?"

Yoko grins around the straw of her drink. "She wishes."

"I actually found a sketch of Wednesday in his journal before I even knew who Wednesday was," Bianca confesses. "Here. Look." She takes her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through her pictures. "I snapped a pic to see what I could find out online, but shockingly nothing was solved until Wednesday showed up here."

"I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation."

"Yep. Sounds like you," Bianca says. "Look. See? He drew this before you even stepped foot behind Nevermore's gates."

Wednesday takes the phone and Enid leans closer to take a look. Both girls scrutinize the sketch, both equally baffled to see who everyone has assumed was Wednesday herself smiling. But just as Wednesday is about to hand the phone back, something catches her eye and she brings the phone closer to her face to scrutinize it.

"I can see why you thought this was me," Wednesday says, "but I assure you, it is not me who's apparently caught Xavier's fancy."

"No?" Bianca huffs. "Sure as hell looks like you."

Yoko nods. "Could have fooled me."

"I thought it was me as well, but this sketch proves me wrong. Look here." Wednesday zooms in on the picture, focusing on the right eyebrow. "You see that scar? I don't have it."

Bianca stares before rolling her eyes and reclaiming her phone. "So Xavier gives you a flaw and you immediately don't think it's you?"

"It is not a flaw. It's a sign of strength." Bianca, and the ever-smiling Enid and Yoko frown at the tone Wednesday has now taken on and the steely glint in her eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

"A couple of years ago, me and my siblings decided to walk into town after a tiring day at school. A group of older teenage boys cornered us down an alley, and they held me and Pugsley back while making us watch as they tore at the clothes on my sister's back. They mocked her tears and promised that whatever they did to her, no one would believe her since even our sheriff hated outcasts like us. They wanted to break her because we were different. But in a bout of bravery that I will forever be proud of her for, she took the small blade our uncle Fester gifted her and stabbed one of her attackers. In return, they hit her in the face with half a brick and fled with their friend."

"Shit." Bianca blinks in surprise. "Is your sister okay?"

"She's fine. They only left her with a scar and a fear of normies. She used to have the social personality that Enid possesses, but now she haunts the halls of our home rather than leaving it. I tried to get her to attend Nevermore, but even I failed in doing so. Xavier's sketch though, it shows her smiling. That tells me she will be okay."

"So… Xavier only thinks he's infatuated with you?" Yoko wonders.

"It appears so. But if I can manage to get him to my home, maybe he'll see for himself it wasn't me he was having dreams of."

Bianca huffs a laugh. "Sounds fun. Now I'm really glad I can't make it to your slumber party. The breakup is still too fresh to see him fawning over someone else. Maybe the time away will do me some good."

"This sounds like my kind of drama." Yoko sighs wistfully. "Too bad I'll have to miss it."

"Yes, well, Xavier did gift me this phone." Wednesday pulls out a sleek iPhone. "Perhaps if I had your number, I could text you updates. Or death threats."

"Done and done. Gimme." Yoko happily takes Wednesday's phone, typing her information into it. Then taking a selfie, she hands the phone to Bianca who does the same, but makes sure Wednesday understands that she doesn't want any updates.

"We're going to have so much fun!" Enid happily bounces in place, accepting Wednesday's phone to type in her own information. "I can't wait to meet your family."

At 001 Cemetery Lane, a gothic looking manor stands tall and proud behind a sentient gate.

With your fingers running through the dust along the wall, you quietly walk down the hallway as your sister's friend can be heard babbling on and on. Enid Sinclair had shown up only a couple of days ago, her bubbly personality breathing life into your usually dark home. You'd have kept your distance had you not learned she was from Nevermore, but upon learning she was a werewolf, you found yourself leaving your room while there was a guest in your home.

Halfway down the staircase, the doorbell ominously tolls and Lurch appears from the next room over to answer it. You freeze, wondering who would dare walk up to your house.

Lurch opens the door and your breathing ceases for a moment at the sight of a teenage boy standing there. He's around six feet tall, give or take a couple of inches, and he sheepishly runs a hand through his chin length hair.

"Hey, uh, is Wednesday home?" He's staring up at Lurch who's towering over him, nervously tugging at the sleeves of his coat which seem to be torn on one arm. Lurch turns and looks up at you, and you startle when the boy's gaze lands on you. His brow furrows before he smiles. "Hi. I, uh, I think your gate tried to eat me."

Your lips faintly twitch and your heart rate starts to slow. If he knows Wednesday and isn't freaking out too much about Gate, there's a good chance he's from Nevermore as well. "He's temperamental. You need to be quick to avoid his swing." Then without waiting for a response, you turn around and call out, "Wednesday! There's a boy at the door for you."

A small weight lands on your shoulder and you grin at the sight of Thing. He trembles excitedly, tapping and pointing and making gestures as you giggle at his enthusiasm.

"Oh, hey Thing! Long time no see." When you glance back at the door, the boy is now inside your home with the door shut behind him and Lurch nowhere to be found. Thing scrambles off your shoulder and rushes towards the boy, and it's not until the boy squats down to fist bump Thing that you catch yourself admiring how cute the boy is. Immediately you shut that thought down and wipe any form of amusement from your expression. Then when the boy glances back at you, he stands tall and smiles yet again. "I'm Xavier Thorpe," he then introduces himself.

"YN," you deadpan. You hear Wednesday's nearly silent footfalls behind you and nod at him before you take a step back up the staircase. "Enjoy your stay here. Don't touch Mother's plants. They bite."

As you turn around, you're unsurprised to find Wednesday looking right at you. Her eyebrow twitches, your eyes narrow, and you clasp your hands behind your back before marching back up the stairs.

At the top of the staircase, Enid is practically beaming at you. "He's cute. Right?"

"Ask my sister. He's her guest."

"What? They're not-"

But you pay her no mind and trace your steps back to your room.

At the bottom of the staircase, Xavier watches as Wednesday's sister disappears. "How long have you known?" He asks.

"That it was my sister you've been having dreams of and not me?" He gives her a deadpan stare and Wednesday nearly smiles. "Only since our last day at Nevermore. Bianca showed me the first picture you ever drew and the scar in her eyebrow tipped me off. You're welcome."

Enid skips down the stairs, sighing as she approaches her friends. "Well you're going to have your work cut out for you, Xavier. She thinks you're here for Wednesday."

"Technically, I am." He shrugs.

"And now you're here for her," Wednesday says. "Protect her heart. You so much as bruise it and I'll dissect yours."

Xavier blinks in shock and Enid giggles, skipping to his side and hooking her arm with his. "Let the wooing begin."

Over the past couple of days, you keep your distance from Wednesday's friends. You've heard them around the house, sure, but only managed to really be in the same room as them when you all had dinner as a family. You always sat between Wednesday and Pugsley, across from Enid and Xavier, but your eyes never strayed too far from your plate.

One morning, you have the urge to visit what used to be your favorite part of the manor.

The sunroom towards the back of the manor used to be your space- filled with vibrant flowers, plants, and vines and even a small fountain in the corner. But ever since the incident, you've tried to find solace in the one place you loved, only to have everything you touch wilt right before your very eyes. And now- now the sunroom is filled with black and gray and brown plants.

Finding what used to be a rose, your mother's favorite flower, you pick it up and gently cradle it in the palms of your hands. One of its petals crumbles beneath the pad of your thumb and it takes everything in you to not cry.

"I was wondering where you've been sneaking off to." The voice startles you and you turn to see Xavier standing under the archway of the entrance. His hair is pulled back into a small knot at the back of his head, a few strands left loose, and you quickly squash down the thought that he looks really cute like this. "Sorry," he then apologizes. "I thought you would have heard my footsteps."

"...no worries."

You turn back around, gently laying the dead flower back down. Exhaling softly, you then move towards the door leading outside, unsurprised when you hear footsteps following you. "So this place is… awesome."

You huff a laugh, stopping just inside the door and only peering outside towards the family cemetery. "Believe it or not, it wasn't always like this. I used to be able to breathe life into this room."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. Now everything I touch seems to die."

"Oh I wouldn't say that."

"Really? Take a look around, Mr. Thorpe. I did this." Xavier takes a look around, frowning and trying to understand you. Exhaling softly again, you paste on a friendly grin and turn to face him. "If you're looking for my sister, she and Enid have Uncle Fester in the electric chair up in the attic."

He barks out a surprised laugh. "What?"

"He loves it." You shrug. Then as you're walking away, you say, "Fair warning; if Uncle Fester tells you to pull his finger, don't."

"Why? Because his farts are killer?"

"No. Because he'll electrocute you."

You leave Xavier chuckling in your wake, finding it a little easier to be in your sister's friends presence.

Then two days later, it's your turn to find Xavier in the sunroom. His hair is back in the little knot that you couldn't stop staring at, dressed in paint splattered clothes as he stands in front of an easel.

When he catches sight of you, he offers you a smile before he focuses on his canvas once more. You continue walking closer and when he doesn't say anything, you walk around to see what he was inspired to paint. Surprisingly, it's a black and white portrait of your sister sitting behind her cello mid-stroke.

"Oh wow," you breathe in awe. "Xavier, this is amazing."

"You think so?"

When you chance a glance at him and notice the faint pink surrounding his cheek bones, you smile genuinely at him. "Of course. You're really talented."

"Glad you think so." Xavier steps back, looking at his work as he stands side by side with you. "Wednesday, uh, she played the cello one night and it was amazing. No one thought her capable of it."

"Why? Because she's death incarnate?"

Xavier chuckles, bashfully averting his gaze. "Something like that." Then looking at the painting once more, he says, "Your mother saw one of my pieces at Nevermore and asked if I could recreate it so she could hang it here."

You nod in understanding, unable to tear your eyes away from the way Xavier has captured your sister. Then right before your eyes, the painting slowly comes to life- Wednesday's bangs blowing in the wind, one hand pushing and drawing the bow across the cello strings as the other holds down certain strings in a muted song.

You quietly gasp, eyes widening in surprise. You watch in awe before turning towards your companion, only to find him holding his hand out towards the painting with his eyes closed. "Oh." You utter in realization. "You're gifted and then you're literally gifted."

Xavier's eyes open and he nods, eyes sparkling. "I have the gift of animation."

"Marvelous."

You continue staring at the painting, finding the foundation of your walls quaking and feeling a bit more comfortable in the presence of the boy who has decided to share his power with you.

You're so used to sitting between your siblings at dinner that you're thrown for a loop when you find Enid in your usual place. Your eyes narrow suspiciously, but Enid and Pugsley merely smile while Wednesday arches an eyebrow at you.

Xavier fidgets nervously in his chair, smiling sheepishly at you. "Come on. I don't bite," he muses as he gestures to the empty seat.

Against your will, you blush.

"Pity," Wednesday drawls. "I think my sister would have quite liked that."

"Wednesday!" Your mortification makes Enid giggle. You nervously take your seat before your father takes your mother's hand, pressing kisses to the back of her hand and all the way up her arm where he then proceeds to mockingly bite her. "Oh my god. You're all so embarrassing."

"They're cute." Enid beams at your parents' affectionate behavior.

"Someone drown me," you mumble.

"Only after dinner," your mother says.

Xavier snorts and you briefly flash him a grin before fiddling with your utensils.

Lurch brings the food out, everyone having a pasta dish with the exception of Enid who'd been brought out a medium-rare steak. You quietly dig in, gaze darting from person to person as the conversation flows around you.

Eventually, when the dessert is brought out, Enid addresses the younger crowd.

"So the cinema is playing a werewolf movie and I really want to go see it and make fun of it. Is anyone else interested in going?"

"Sure." Xavier shrugs. "Sounds fun."

Wednesday sighs. "If I must."

"I have plans with Thing," Pugsley says, smiling apologetically at Enid.

All eyes turn towards you and you fight the urge to shrink in your seat. You gulp, but before you can come up with an excuse to not have to leave your house, your mother is urging you to go. "It sounds like fun, sweetheart. Surely you'd love to go with your sister and friends."

"I-"

It's been years, darling," your father says. "I think it's time to get back out there. You're not that naive little girl anymore, mija."

You let your mouth close, everyone ignoring Xavier's, "Am I missing something?"

Wednesday's giving you her usual deadpan stare whereas Enid is smiling and nodding, encouraging you to go. Both your parents are smiling, anticipating your answer, but what makes you cave is the fact that a part of you actually wants to go. You want to be somewhat of a normal teenager, being out and about with your sister, Enid, and a cute boy.

Reluctantly, your shoulders sag and you give a nod. "Fine. I'll make an attempt."

"I'll take it!" Enid blurts.

Wednesday looks pleased with your answer and you finish the rest of dinner without uttering another word.

Then the next evening, you're being picky about what outfit you should wear. You'd taken to wearing different shades of black and gray, but tonight you want to look good. All your dresses and skirts are out of the question, and eventually you settle on a pair of burgundy plaid leggings and a black sweater crop top. You fix your hair to your liking and then slip your feet into a pair of black combat boots before lacing them up tightly. Then deeming yourself ready, you shove your phone, cash, and ID into a miniature backpack that is adorned with skulls and crossbones.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you finally make your way downstairs.

Wednesday, Enid, and Xavier are waiting for you, and when Wednesday sees you… a smile slowly blossoms as she takes you in.

"What are you-" Enid turns around and her jaw drops. Then she beams and practically hops in place in her excitement. "You're wearing something other than black!"

Xavier turns, his gulp very obvious. "Wow." You think he must've wanted to keep that to himself because he blushes and nervously runs a hand through his loose hair. "You, uh, you look nice."

You arch an eyebrow at him, grinning. "Thanks."

Walking past them, you walk outside to where Lurch is waiting by the car to drive you into town. He hums when he sees you and you wrinkle your nose at him as he opens the back door for you. You climb in to sit on the bench seat directly behind the driver's seat, holding in your surprise when Wednesday and Enid shove Xavier in right behind you. He practically falls into his seat, righting himself as smoothly as he can, and Wednesday and Enid take their seats across from you.

Enid and Xavier keep the conversation flowing with you and Wednesday occasionally humming in response.

After several long minutes of driving, Wednesday is instructing Lurch where to drop you all off. It's a couple blocks away from the cinema, but your sister apparently wants to go for a brief walk. Though the second your feet are on the pavement and Lurch drives away, you freeze.

"Hey. You okay?" Xavier asks.

Your hands are gripping the straps to your backpack and you gulp, subconsciously stepping closer to him when he gently touches your elbow. "Y-Yeah."

"Come on. Wednesday will leave us behind if we linger."

"Mhm."

Gently pulling on your arm, you stiffly follow Xavier. Your eyes are peeled for anyone staring, hands tightening on the straps of your bag. The only time you feel yourself exhaling with relief is when Xavier puts himself between you and the street, letting you take the part of the sidewalk that's closest to the buildings.

Enid and Wednesday are walking in front of you, elbows linked, and occasionally Enid giggles over her shoulder when she glances back at you. But you're too paranoid to pay her any mind and try to focus on the silent strength that Xavier is unknowingly offering up.

At the cinema, Enid asks for four tickets to the latest werewolf thriller, and she happily claps when Xavier pays for everyone. At the snack counter it takes everything in you to not bolt or hide out in the bathroom, but you shakily manage to retrieve your own cash to pay for some nachos and a drink.

So far no one's stared or shouted and you find yourself relaxing, especially when you take a seat in the movie room and everyone is paying attention to their people that they showed up with.

Sitting between Xavier and Wednesday, you find yourself breathing a little easier.

Enid has several hot dogs balancing on her lap, Wednesday is chewing on black licorice, and you and Xavier had the same idea to get nachos. He, however, also nabbed several boxes of candy and a bucket of popcorn.

"I hope you choke on a kernel," Wednesday says as she watches him stuff handful after handful of popcorn into his mouth.

You giggle, licking the cheesy goodness from your fingertips and sipping on your drink.

And halfway through the movie, you hear Xavier actually choke. A laugh slips out of your sister before her lips are pressed closed once more, and you offer Xavier your drink. Sharing a straw doesn't bother you, so you nod in reassurance as he stares at it.

For the rest of the movie, you and Xavier share your drink. And when you run out, he quickly leaves the darkness of the room to get you a refill.

After the movie, you're standing outside in front of the cinema as Enid talks about the horrible cosmetics they used to portray a werewolf. Wednesday is tapping away on her phone before she puts it away, cutting Enid off mid rant and giving her a nod. She squeals and happily claps her hand, and you stare at them in confusion.

"There's a fair going on," Wednesday says. "Enid wants to go."

You slowly tense up. "Oh."

The bubbly werewolf's smile falls. "But if that's too much for you, we don't-"

"No. It's fine," you assure her. Your hands are back to gripping the straps of your backpack. "We can- we can go."

Enid is back to happily clapping, but Wednesday curiously studies your demeanor. And when she sees you're not about to have a meltdown, she turns and follows after her friend.

"We can always hang out front of the fair if you really don't want to go in," Xavier says. You startle, somehow having forgotten he was there. "I don't mind waiting with you."

"It's okay. Really." Your smile is shaky as you look up at him. "Just, uh, maybe don't leave me alone in there?"

"Stick by your side. Got it." Xavier grins as he offers you his elbow and you're quick to latch on. "I'll even win you the ugliest prize we can find if you're up for it."

You chuckle and let him lead the way, occasionally glancing up at him. "Christ, I forget how tall you are sometimes."

"I'm not tall, you're just really small."

"Ha. Ha."

When you eventually make it to the fair, Xavier hesitates with you as you warily glance around. Then taking a deep breath, you press on and practically make yourself flush against his side. You walk around for a bit, smiling when you see Wednesday and Enid pass you by, Enid already holding tightly to a stuffed unicorn.

As you're walking around, your eyes are drawn back to a green and black dragon that's about half your size. Xavier must notice because he decides to try his hand at basketball in order to win the prize and it takes him four tries to win it.

You don't know what it is about Xavier that makes your guard start to drop, but you find yourself smiling and laughing a bit more easier. He tries winning a panda next, but in between his dart throwing, he notices as you keep your back to the game and are staring from side to side.

You're too distracted to notice he's watching you, your arms wrapped around your dragon as you nervously chew on the bottom corner of your lip. He sighs a little dejectedly, turning around so he can see where you're staring off to. "So who's the lucky guy… or girl?"

"Excuse me?" You look up at him, brow furrowed in confusion.

"You keep glancing around." He faintly grins. "Are you waiting for someone?"

You study his features, eyes subtly widening when you notice something. Was that- was that jealousy clouding his expression? "Wednesday didn't tell you," you then mumble in awe. You for sure thought he knew why you never left your home. After all, Enid did.

"Tell me what?"

You gulp, glancing at the carnie listening in to your conversation. "Let's go for a walk. I'll fill you in." Shakily exhaling, you gesture for Xavier to follow. Side by side, he walks with you with his hands tucked away in the pockets of his coat. "A few years ago, Wednesday, Pugsley, and I were attacked by a group of normies. It… wasn't a pleasant experience for me and it's actually how I got this," you say while gesturing to the scar on your eyebrow. "They were ripping- uh, they were ripping off my clothes, so I stabbed one of them." Your breath hitches and when you chance a glance up at Xavier, you find that his jaw is clenched. "I stopped them from doing that to me, but they managed to hit me with a brick before they ran away."

You make it a few more steps before you're being tugged to a stop and then Xavier is walking to stand in front of you. Gently cupping one side of your face, you manage to hold back a flinch when his thumb brushes over your scar. "You're safe with me. You know that right?"

"I'm starting to realize that."

"That was a shit thing those normies did and I'll be damned if they do anything on my watch." When you meet his gaze, he offers you a small smile. "Now let's go win Wednesday the brightest stuffed animal we can find and make her take a picture with it."

Slowly smiling, you chuckle. "Okay."

And by the end of the night, you and Xavier have won the most terribly bright and fluffy stuffed animals, shoved them near Wednesday's face, and had Enid hurriedly snap a picture of your glaring sister.

You're smiling and skipping alongside Enid towards a waiting Lurch, laughing with all the stuffed animals crammed between your arms and bodies before crawling into the idling car.

For once, in a very long time, you've had fun and didn't worry about any normies looking in your direction.

Xavier's just got off the phone with his father when a familiar song being played on the cello draws him towards Wednesday's room. The door is open, the room is empty, but there's another door that leads out to a balcony.

Following the music, he's not surprised to find Wednesday playing Paint It Black while Thing turns the sheet music for her. Gomez, Morticia, Pugsley, and Enid are also on the balcony, staring at something down below.

"What's going on?" He asks, stepping closer to the railing.

Enid glances at him, beaming. "Take a look for yourself."

Xavier glances down, gaze falling to the gazebo that's been strung up with white fairy lights. But what draws his attention is the twirling figure inside the gazebo, adorned in a black leotard and a multicolored tutu. His jaw subtly drops. "She dances?"

"She dances." He looks over at Morticia Addams, tears glistening in her eyes. "It's been years since she's put on her slippers though."

"This week and a half with you and Enid have brought our daughter back," Gomez says. "Thank you."

Paint It Black fades into Nothing Else Matters and a majority of the white lights darken into purple. Xavier is entranced by the way you twirl on the tips of your toes, the stretch of your neck whenever your head is thrown back, and the long stretch of your leg when you twirl on the tips of your toes only on one foot.

As the music fades out, Enid breaks out into applause.

Your head snaps up at the sound of clapping, chest heaving, and your face burns when you see everyone watching you. Your little brother whistles as he claps too, but it's your parents' beaming and tearful expressions that keeps you from fleeing. Well them and Xavier who looks more than a little awed.

So before you do take your leave, you give them a little bow and then rush back inside the house.

Sitting on the floor in the middle of the sunroom, you're staring at the lockscreen on your phone. You never saw when the picture was taken, but apparently Enid had been keeping tabs on you and Xavier when you were at the fair, and now it was one of your favorite pictures.

In the picture, you and Xavier are walking side by side, one of your arms wrapped around your stuffed dragon with the other arm looped through his. You're looking up at him and he down at you, both of you smiling. But what made you grin at the picture the most was the height difference between you and Xavier. Enid was spot on when she described you two as tall and smol.

Hearing approaching footsteps, you block out your screen and climb to your feet… and speak of the devil.

Xavier walks in, smiling. "Knew I'd find you here."

"Did you now?" Walking over to a bench seat, you gesture to the space beside you. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to see if you were up to going into town. The cinema is showing this new cheesy horror flick and I thought you might be interested in going before my time here is up."

"Oh. Uh, yeah." Your heart starts to hammer in your rib cage. Could this be a- "Just us or are Enid and Wednesday waiting for us out front?"

"Just us?" His answer is more of a question, his cheeks tinting pink the longer you stare.

Eventually you grace him with a bashful smile. "Sure. I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You laugh. "Are- are we leaving now?"

"Yeah. We can, uh, window shop and all that fun stuff before the movie."

Warmth surges through you, at the thought that Xavier wants to spend time with just you. You're not sure if this is actually a date, but you're looking forward to one on one time without a family member lurking around the corner. "Alright. Let me just go get a bag." As you stand up to leave the room, a vine falls over the entrance. But not just any vine- a vibrant green vine that hadn't been there moments before.

"Huh." Xavier huffs. "That's the first colorful plant life I've seen in this room."

Your eyes widen and you glance all around the room, taking notice how the dead plant life isn't looking quite so dull anymore. "No way," you breathe in awe. Turning towards where the fountain sits, you rush over and pick up one of the dead water lilies. Cradling it in the palms of your hand, you notice a couple of changes in the once dead flower. Feeling Xavier walk up beside you, you ask, "Remember how I said I used to be able to breathe life into this place?"

"Yeah."

"Watch." Bringing the water lily closer to your face, you let your eyes fall shut as you inhale deeply. Then slightly pursing your lips, you blow out slowly and you can feel the water lily coming back to life right there in the palm of your hands.

"Wow." Your eyes open upon Xavier's exclamation. "And here I was thinking you had a green thumb or something. Not that you actually breathe life into them."

Huffing a laugh, you blink your tears away and gently lay the water lily back in the fountain. "I haven't been able to do this for years. I guess I had a mental block and then you- you and Enid show up and I feel more at peace than I have in a while." You step up on the side of the fountain then, turning towards Xavier as you smile. "Thank you." Then leaning in, you press a kiss to his cheek.

He suddenly turns bashful, angling his face downward so his hair shields his blushing cheeks. "I never realized how small you were."

"Shut up. You're just freakishly tall."

As Xavier glances at you through his curtain of hair, you wrinkle your nose at him and then hop off the fountain siding less you do something to ruin the moment.

Like kiss him on the lips rather than the cheek.

Spending the day with Xavier alone goes so much better than you had expected, so much so that you find yourself incredibly sad the day he is set to leave. It was clear to your entire family that something had shifted between the two of you when you'd come back home, hand in hand with a never-ending blush staining both your cheeks.

Enid was more than ecstatic and Wednesday took to sharpening her short swords whenever possible.

You're in the sunroom, clipping roses with your mother when Xavier walks in. In hand, he has a covered canvas.

"I have something for you," he tells you. "But I'm sure your mom is going to take ownership of it after she sees what it is."

You smirk at him, setting down your clippers and walking over to him. Your mother isn't far behind. "Did you paint me something?"

"I did." His hands dig into his pockets after his hands are free when you take the gift from him. You stare at the covered canvas, trying to figure out what it could possibly be. "You inspired me the other night and I just had to capture the moment."

You glance up at him, eyes narrowing though you continue to smile, and pull the cover off your painting. Your mother's delighted gasp is what makes you glance down and you're struck speechless.

The painting… is of you.

Specifically you dancing in the gazebo with the only color in the painting being that of your tutu.

"Xavier, this is…" You trail off, staring in awe. A moment passes and he brings the painting to life. Your mother starts to clap, even more delighted now as the miniature version of you dances away. "This is amazing. Thank you."

"I must show your father. This is just splendid." Your mother takes the painting, but not before gently grazing her nails along Xavier's jaw and smiling at him. "Thank you, young Mr. Thorpe."

"Y-You're welcome, Mrs. Addams."

Your mother sighs wistfully before glancing at the painting and then leaves the two of you alone. As soon as she's out of your sight, your hands are reaching for the lapels of Xavier's coat, his hands are clinging to your waist, and he's leaning down to meet you in a kiss.

You giggle when his hair falls forward to tickle your face and it makes Xavier smile.

"We really should have started this sooner," he says as he hesitantly straightens himself out. "I'm gonna miss you while I'm at Nevermore."

"What if… what if you didn't have to miss me?" You ask, your hands smoothing down the wrinkles you'd made on his coat.

"What?"

"What if I came to Nevermore?" He's quiet a little too long for your liking and you start to feel like maybe you read too much into whatever you two were. "Or not. I just thought-"

"Are you kidding me?" You barely manage to hold back a wince and Xavier's sudden laugh has you wanting to crawl into a hole. But when you chance a glance up at him, his expression is not what you were expecting. He's actually excited! "You're going to Nevermore?!"

You shrug, grinning sheepishly. "Mom's been talking to Principal Weems. I have a meeting with her in a couple of days to see whether or not I'll be a good fit."

"Hell yes." His smile is boyish and you can't help but giggle. "You'll make it in. I know it."

"I hope so. I love my parents, but they're not the greatest of teachers."

"You're gonna love it. I can introduce you to my friends and show you all the cool hang out spots. We can-"

"Xavier. Xavier!" You laugh, trying to talk over his excitement. "We don't even know if I'll get in."

"I'm telling you, you will. And if Principal Weems denies you, I'm pretty sure Wednesday will bug her until she grants you a place at the school."

"Oh. I forgot what going to school with a sibling was like." This time, you do wince. "People are going to dread another Addams roaming the halls, aren't they?"

"Some will." He grins. "But once they get to know you, they'll grow to like you."

You sigh but end up shaking your head in amusement. "If I do get in, how shocked do you think everyone will be if Wednesday's sister shows up dressed like Enid?"

"You'll confuse the hell out of everyone. Do it."

"I will. Now come on. We got away with one kiss. I have a feeling if another happens, a dagger will whiz by out of thin air."

"Xavier." The boy in question flinches as your sister pops up out of nowhere. "Your ride's here. Stop sucking my sister's face and go home. You'll see her soon enough."

He rolls his eyes, even as you laugh in the face of your sister's glare. "Always a pleasant encounter, Wednesday."

"Not really."

He huffs and glances back down at you, his gaze falling to your lips. But before he can get carried away, Wednesday's grunting and dragging him away. "Okay. Okay!" He laughs.

"You're gross. I never should have introduced you two."

You follow after them, trailing behind until you're standing under the archway of your front door. Wednesday pushes him down the steps and he walks to the car that Lurch is putting his suitcases in. He offers you one last look, one last smile, and one last wave before climbing into the vehicle his father had sent for him.

Once the car drives out of the gate, Wednesday turns towards you. "Are you happy?"

"Uh, yes?"

She quietly groans. "And here I was preparing Enid to hide a body in the family cemetery. She'll be let down that all that studying was for naught."

You bark out a laugh. "Stop corrupting Enid, Wednesday."

"Never." Her lips twitch in amusement. "Now come on. Let's go visit Principal Weems."

"But my interview is still a couple days away."

"So? She needs to be kept on her toes. She'll have to grow used to having two Addams' in her school."

"If you say so."

"I do."

#xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe fanfiction #wednesday imagine #wednesday fanfiction #xavier thorpe #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday #wednesday on netflix

[nullified-space]

The over-analysis of Orbo (and the little screen time we have of him)

Welcome to my over analysis of Orbo as a character because I love him dearly, I need to see more of him in season 2, and I’m tired of the evil Orbo trope. This is 7 pages long and reached 2k words yikes. UMM. I don't know how to do introduction so lets jut get right to it:

When we are first introduced to Orbo he falls from above and onto a pedestal. If the audience doesn’t already realize it from the symbolism of putting someone up on a pedestal- where he is angled ABOVE Scarab, the symbol thats etched into it which related to the wings on the phone they use to talk to the Boss we see later can explain to them that Orbo is in an authoritative position over Scarab. Even before mentioning it we can assume that Orbos his boss.

But before we get into their interaction let’s take a moment to observe Orbos design. It's a very simple and obvious silhouette- a circle with purple shades on his face. Usually in character designs to accentuate specific traits in a character, artists would choose one body shape over the other to express that to the viewer. So Orbo being a LITERAL circle, with no sharp pointed edges should already communicate to the audience that he’s not inherently evil or malicious. And often, circles are associated with unity, security, and divinity. In other words, he’s friend shaped.

If the artists wanted to paint Orbo to be a villain/ villain-leaning- wouldn’t they try to express that through his design by adding sharper edges? Giving him more striking colors like red, darker purples, or just a darker color palette in general?

Compared to Scarb who’s all sharp angles and consists of many triangles in his design, even being fully BRIGHT red to showcase that he’s dangerous (a walking red flag if you will)- it just doesn’t make sense for Orbo to be painted as a villain or immoral boss when his design doesn’t match up to that in the slightest.

Anyways. Moving onto the interactions that the two have.

Earlier when Scarab is waiting to have a meeting with Orbo I do want to note that he’s seen being agitated and fidgeting to himself. In the next scene the room Orbo brings him to is full of calming and colorful lights. It feels less intimidating and more casual. It almost seems like a place you would be meditating in.

The scene starts with Orbo spinning around Scarab while growing bigger. While he’s doing this he’s listing off the reasons why he was called into a meeting with him in the first place.

“Ignoring our calls, giving yourself missions, pursuing your own monomanias. I tell ya you’re really whiffing that ball lately.”

And yet despite listing off Scarabs transgression he says this all in a lighthearted tone and expression, if anything it’s barely the kind of scold a boss would give to a coworker who keeps going against orders. He still keeps a very lenient attitude that you wouldn’t normally expect a boss to give to a self-serving co worker like Scarab. He says it almost like he’s asking why Scarab is doing all this, giving him the floor to speak on it.

However, Scarab just completely dismisses what Orbo says so he can request for more time. This to which Orbo scoffs in return- being dismissive to Scarabs dismissiveness.

(analysis has been finished check qrts)

#scarab the god auditor #orbo fionna and cake #fionna and cake #scarab adventure time

[daizymax]

the ways we love | lfl (m)

summary: periods of work mean periods without play between you and your longtime boyfriend. after he offers to be the muse for your latest artistic piece, you realize just how much you appreciate his never-ending support.

pairing: felix x fem reader

genre: smut

word count: 7.9k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: established relationship; profanity; mentions of alcohol consumption and (past) drunken sex; public marriage proposal; brief mention of having children; graphic sexual content; dom!felix; dirty talk; use of pet names; fingering; some spit play; oral sex (m receiving); some spanking; penetrative sex; multiple orgasms; creampie; aftercare

author’s note: rewritten for stray kids and reuploaded from my old blog. i think this will be the last of the fics from my old blog that i'll be reuploading here for the foreseeable future. also, i forgot how much fun i had writing the smut in this one. hope you enjoy!

( click here to read on AO3 instead )

---

He had started off so well. He was relaxed, comfortable, cheerful. Happy to help. This was his idea, after all.

But now… now he’s fidgety. Anxious and bored. You sympathize with that, but if he doesn’t — “Doll, can you please stop moving?” — then you’re ready to give up this entire project already.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs in that sweet, deep voice of his. “You’re just being so quiet. I thought you’d at least talk to me and let me know how it’s coming.”

You spare him a quick, direct glance before refocusing on the canvas. “I’m not going to give you a play-by-play of every mark I make, Lix. I need to concentrate. I want this to be as perfect as you are.”

Felix huffs and averts his eyes, but you know you have appeased him from the way he falls silent and relaxes his shoulders again. The new pink hue spreading across his freckled nose, ears and cheeks would be a nice touch if only you were ready to add color to the piece. For now, you store the inspirational image away for later.

You manage to finish your outline and flesh out some details around his nose before his real-live self ruins his posture — and subsequently, the lighting on his face — by shifting in his seat yet again. With a sigh, you set your utensils aside, wipe your palms on your pants and say, “How about a break? Let me get you a drink.”

Whatever his answer was going to be — agreement, argument, or otherwise — does not have time to be voiced before you are breezing by him and into the kitchen. When you return, he accepts the glass of water and obeys your command to drink up. You watch as he tips an ice cube into his mouth and licks his heart-shaped lips afterward.

He mistakes your admiration for scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”

You smooth some stray hairs near his ear and poke the bulge of ice in his cheek. “Nothing at all. I just like looking at you.”

He crunches the ice and blushes deeper. “Thanks. Don’t you need to do that from the other side of the room, though? Any idea when you might be finished?”

You shrug and fuss with the collar of his shirt until it un-creases. “You know I can’t answer that. A few hours? Days? Weeks? Whenever I’m satisfied with it. Or whenever you say, ‘Fuck you, I’m done with this.’ I told you I can always just use a photo to finish this so you don’t have to model for me.”

Felix smiles softly. “No, I don’t want you to do that. I volunteered, didn’t I? I like modeling for you. It feels fancy to do it this way, like it might turn out better if we do it like this.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it’ll be so awful you’ll leave me over how monstrous I make you look.”

“Well, at least that would make an interesting story to tell my next girlfriend.”

You giggle. “That’s true. Why don’t I just do a caricature? That way, if it looks bad, I can pretend it was on purpose.”

“No. God no,” he says firmly. “You’re too good an artist to be making pieces look silly on purpose.”

You peck his forehead. “Well, if you want this to be ‘professional,’ you have to sit still for me, doll.”

“I will. I’ll behave.” He tilts his chin to seek out your lips, and you willingly give them up. You smile into the kiss when you see him fumble to set his glass aside on the coffee table beside him without breaking contact with you. Before he can free up his hands to do goodness-knows-what with them, you slink away, back to your easel.

“You just told me you’d behave. If you’re not backing out, then I’m still working, and that means no playing,” you remind him.

He knows, but there is still a hint of disappointment in his dark brown gaze.

These abstinence periods are relatively new to your long-standing relationship. You suppose most people would think a couple purposefully denying themselves sex would tear a wedge of stress and resentment between them, but that has not been the case with you and Felix. It’s a stimulus. A game. A challenging one, to be sure, but always immensely rewarding.

So that is what you have both agreed: there is no sex while you are working on a piece. Not until the job is finished.

“How long do you think this one will take?” Felix asks again.

You plop down in your seat with a light groan and gather your utensils again. “The answer is the same, Lix. I can’t say for sure. A few hours, days, weeks?”

Your pretty muse nods and takes another sip of water as he mentally prepares himself for the oncoming drought. He does his best to relax in his seat again, and you flash him a smile before getting back to work.

---

It takes twelve days to complete the portrait, and Felix is not even sitting across from you when the last stroke falls upon the canvas. He might be offended by this once he finds out, but you couldn’t stop yourself from finishing without him. Besides, you know he will ultimately be as happy as you are that it is finally finished.

Truthfully, you might have been able to do most of the portrait simply from memory; you know his face as well as your own by now.

A sigh flutters past your lips. You take a step back to better admire (and scrutinize) your work. As you scan it over, you can’t help but smile. Not just out of pride for the job you did, but because of the striking resemblance you have been striving to achieve.

It is always difficult to instill life and warmth into mere lines and dots and smudges, but the two-dimensional rendition truly seems as though it could begin breathing at any moment, and a fresh wave of fondness for your best friend and lover as the real-life person he is comes over you. That is how you know you are satisfied, and not just in terms of your finished project.

This is something to celebrate, so after deciding how you want to do so, you pick up your phone to text Felix about an important dilemma.

[You: hey i forgot what you’re wearing today]

There is enough time to change out of your old, splattered overalls and heat up a late lunch before your phone buzzes back.

[Felix: i know it’s been a while since we’ve sexted but i think you meant to phrase that as “what are you wearing” with a smirk emoji]

You almost choke on a bite of your food as you laugh out loud.

You: dfjfdjso i’m not trying to sext you. i just need to know if you’re dressed nicely enough for a restaurant with a decent wine list tonight. we have some celebrating to do

[Felix: how come?]

[You: it’s finished]

This time your phone does not buzz. It rings.

“You finished the portrait?” Felix’s voice is hushed and a little rushed. You can tell he is on the move, probably heading somewhere away from his co-workers and customers for a more private conversation.

“It’s signed and everything,” you say cheerfully.

“That’s fantastic!” he says, not the least bit offended. “This is definitely worth celebrating. We should go to the nicest place in town and dress to the nines.”

More laughter bursts from deep in your chest. “Wha— I mean, it’s still just a portrait, Lix. I didn’t win an award or solve a murder case or anything.”

“So? I” — you hear the sound of a door closing in the background — “sat in that chair for a hundred years and went celibate waiting for that portrait to be done. No offense. This deserves a grand celebration.”

Your eyeroll can probably be heard through the receiver. “It didn’t take that long, did it? It was less than two weeks. Remember that waterfall landscape I did?”

Felix grunts at the memory. “Yeah, how can I forget? Longest month-and-a-half of my entire life.”

“It was worth it in the end, though, wasn’t it?” you say, remembering how neither of you could walk properly for at least a couple days after you finished that particular piece, which is now proudly mounted on a wall in the master bedroom. “Come on, doll. When I pick you up, we’ll go out and have that decent wine with a decent meal so the public knows we’re celebrating something, and then we’ll come home and fuck each other blind, okay?”

There was a time years ago when he might have choked and sputtered over your words, but this lewd proposal is mild, and today he doesn’t flinch.

“If that’s what Madame Artiste wants, then that’s what she’ll get,” Felix says.

He offers you a choice between two restaurants he deems himself dressed appropriately for without having to come home and change, and once you choose, he asks, “Can you just bring my navy suit jacket with you so I can make this outfit work, please? I’ll see you later. I can’t wait.”

He ends the call with the sound of a kiss.

---

The chimes on the door draw the attention of three pairs of eyes, and the sight of you stepping into the salon brings a smile to Felix’s face. Well, the mask on the lower half of his face prevents you from actually seeing his smile, but the happiness is there in his deep brown eyes.

“Hi,” he says, scanning your date-night outfit with obvious appreciation. “Be right with you.”

“Take your time,” you say, smiling at the customer sitting across from him. She smiles back politely and returns her attention to Felix, who goes back to focusing on her fingernails. He meticulously sweeps an emery board across the rounded ruby shapes to finish smoothing them out.

The third person in the salon gets up from his cozy perch in one of the pedicure chairs at the end of the row and crosses the floor.

“You look so nice, Y/N. Is it date night?”

“Yep, we’re off to dinner,” you say, accepting the man’s hug. “What’s new, Ji?”

“Oh, not much.” Jisung shrugs and takes one of your hands. He inspects your fingernails, which have unsightly matte polka dots chipped in the gloss. “Want me to redo these before you go? It won’t take that long.”

You let out a fleeting giggle. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother getting them done in the first place when I put so much wear and tear on them. This damage only took me a week.”

“Well that’s because—” Jisung shoots your boyfriend a quick look and clearly alters the second part of his statement, “—you did them at home. You need to have them professionally done.”

His way of criticizing Felix’s work while leaving the customer in the room none the wiser is clever, and you have half a mind to applaud him for poking fun at his friend without hurting their business.

The comment is not lost on Felix. He glares over at you and Jisung, but he cannot seem to think of a subtle rebuttal, so he stews in silence.

“Ah, maybe that’s my problem,” you say, grinning.

“Give me, like, fifteen minutes and you’ll be all set,” Jisung promises.

As he’s making his offer, Felix finishes with the woman. From the edge of your vision, you see him remove his mask and lead her to the register to finish the transaction.

“Are you working Saturday morning?” you ask Jisung. “I’ll stop in then and you can do my toes, too.”

Before he can either confirm or deny the appointment, Felix interrupts by coming up behind you and waving his tip in front of your face. “Here, look what my ‘unprofessional’ work got us,” he says. “Buy yourself something nice, baby.”

You chuckle at his little joke until you flick through the bills and realize just how much worth is in them. “Wow, Lix, she was so generous!”

“She was appreciative of the amazing job I did,” he corrects with a peck to your cheek, then he takes his suit jacket from your arms to slip it on. “Sorry, Ji, we have to go. Ready, Y/N?”

“Ready,” you say.

“Sounds good,” Jisung replies at the same time. “I’ll lock up here. Enjoy your date, guys. See you Saturday, Y/N.”

---

The wine is more than decent, the food hits all the right spots, and the company is absolutely perfect.

Felix laughs happily from across the table. Strands of pale blonde hair trickle past his ears the further he tips his head back, and the apples of his cheeks are hued pink from where the rosé has gone. His smile loses none of its dazzle when the waiter interrupts to check on the two of you. The sheer warmth he radiates is boundless in the most endearing way.

When the waiter leaves, you watch Felix lean back in his chair. His eyes land on yours, and while some of the amusement fades from his face, the fondness remains. You see it there, twinkling in the inky pools of his irises; you feel it in the comfort he exudes while he is with you.

For some reason, the contentment of the moment draws something to mind. “Do you remember when we first met?” you ask out of the blue.

The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Of course I do. Remember how you tried to kiss me?”

“Oh my god, yes,” you groan. “Honestly, I still don’t remember a whole lot about that night, but I definitely remember you saying, ‘Oh, no thank you,’ right in my face.”

“Listen,” he laughs in defense, holding up a finger. “I was trying to be polite. I was trying to be a gentleman. You were a hot mess. That party had you twenty so’s-worth of shit-faced.”

“Twenty what?”

“You were so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, soooo…” he starts chanting his stupid joke.

You giggle and hang your head. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“Hang on.” He holds that finger up higher. “So, so, SOOOO—”

“I said I get it already!”

“—so shit-faced. I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“You did embarrass me, though! By rejecting me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, dipping his head in apology, “but we both would’ve been way more embarrassed if we’d slept together that night. It would’ve been a disaster.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “What makes you think I would’ve slept with you so soon?”

“Uh. Did you or did you not sleep with my roommate that night instead?”

“Fair enough," you say, toasting your wine glass in his direction. “It’s only funny now because we’re the ones who ended up together.”

Felix smiles. “Thank goodness for that. Life is pretty incredible with you in it, sweetheart.”

His words sober you a bit, and you smile back almost shyly. “I could say the same about you, doll.”

He probably does not always love you as much and as effortlessly as he does right now. He certainly is not always his best, most charming self the way he is right now. Neither are you. But he is still worth loving when he is at his worst, and if you could have moments like these scattered all throughout the rest of your life, you feel it would be enough. His love and support and respect and admiration are more than enough.

So it comes as a soft entreaty rather than a question; out of the blue again, but also a long time coming: “Please marry me.”

This time Felix raises an eyebrow. He seems more intrigued than surprised by your impromptu proposal. Then he half-purses, half-pouts his lips in a cheeky sort of expression, like he thinks you’re bluffing but is willing to play along anyway.

That feeling of overconfidence you had that first drunken night when you leaned in to kiss him in a stranger’s kitchen comes back, as does the fear of the rejection you suffered immediately afterward. If he says ‘Oh, no thank you,’ again, you wonder if you’ll die of embarrassment right here in this restaurant, surrounded by different strangers with different alcohol on your breath.

But you know he won’t, not even as a joke, because he knows you now. He knows you well, and he sees the sincerity in your face.

“I don’t have a ring,” you go on, “but I’ll get down on one knee right here, right now. This dress won’t stop me.”

Wordlessly, Felix lifts his napkin from his lap to lay it across his plate, then leans sideways to pull something from his pocket. He casually holds it up for your inspection, and once you realize what it is, you move to kneel in front of him as promised without even questioning the coincidence. Now is not the time for questions. Now is the time to show how serious you are about this.

Felix stares down at you and pries open the tiny case to reveal the brilliance of the diamond’s sparkle. Your fingers are sure and steady when he slips the top-heavy band onto the appropriate one.

“I would be honored to marry you,” he says softly, poking back and forth at the engagement ring with the edge of his thumbnail.

By now there are dozens of eyes on the quiet scene the two of you are making, but his are the only pair you see. His smile is still there, softer and smaller now, but still brimming with the adoration he has gained over the years. It widens when you rise up just enough to press your lips to it. His hand finds the back of your head the same second yours cups his.

A round of coos and charmed applause from the crowd goes up around you, but it is all background noise to the sound of Felix’s precious, giddy laughter.

---

He is no longer laughing by the time you throw the front door shut and press him up against it. The needy kisses between here and the car have taken most of his oxygen.

“Shit,” he hisses, watching you work his belt buckle. “You get a ring on your finger and you turn feral, is that how it works?”

You growl playfully but say nothing.

“You better slow down, tiger, or we won’t last five minutes.”

“Don’t care.”

“Aren’t you gonna show me what we waited so long for this for first?”

“Later. I thought you were dying of celibacy?” you sass.

Felix clicks his tongue. The simple sound is quiet, but it shifts the air. You stop trying to get into his pants to give his dark eyes your undivided attention.

“We have all the time in the world now, don’t we?” he murmurs, as though the hard-on in his jeans is not growing as impatient as you.

You swallow. “I just want you so badly. It hurts.”

His gaze sharpens at your tone. “Does it?” He reaches up to graze a thumb along your bottom lip. “Where does it hurt, sweetheart? Here?”

The sound you let out is something between a hum and a whine. You feel so sex-starved, so desperate for any morsel of pleasure he can feed you. You try to take his thumb into your mouth, but he slips it away too fast, plucking your lip as he goes. He brushes across your breast next. The sensation is dulled by your clothing, but your nipple stands to attention nonetheless.

“What about here?” he whispers.

“Yes…” The fingers that had been so keen on removing his belt cling idly to the leather.

“Aw.” Felix pouts and bats his eyelashes at you, but his sympathy feels insincere. He’s amused by the state of you. He adores seeing you so riled up and pliant for him.

His thumb trails further, straight down your stomach, while the rest of his fingers are kept stiff and carefully away from your buzzing body.

Eventually, he reaches the crease between your thighs and presses through the layers of your dress and your panties where he estimates your clit to be. He is a little north at first but quickly readjusts his position. The soft moan you let out is a dead giveaway for when he has found it.

“And here?” He takes a step closer while he begins drawing tiny circles. “Tell me, angel, does it hurt here?”

“Yes. Yes...”

He kisses your cheek tenderly. Mercifully. His deep voice is pitched even deeper when he murmurs, “Shh. I know it does. It’s finally time for me to make it better, isn’t it.”

You cant your hips against his hand. “Felix, please...”

“Come here.”

He trades places to cage you up against the front door. You reach for him, but he draws back out of reach to shrug out of his jacket first. After he carefully pushes the sleeves of his sweater up, he uses both hands to hike your dress up along your waist. There is no rush to his movements. In fact, it’s almost graceful the way he does it, as though the actions he is about to perform could be considered decent.

When you try to remove your underwear from his way, he nudges your hands aside. “Ah-ah-ah,” he tuts. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Tell me the safe word first, Y/N.”

After all this time, he still has you say it out loud beforehand. Beneath your eager lust, you appreciate the basic act of care and commitment to playing the dominant role.

“Candle,” you answer.

He thanks you as though you’ve done him a favor and places a light kiss on the edge of your jaw. Then he hooks his thumb through the side of your panties to touch the hood of your bare clit directly. A jolt of electricity singes your nerves from his first flick. Your body noticeably quivers, and Felix smirks at his quick, effortless effect on you.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he drawls lowly.

You swallow again, drier this time. “Mm-hm.”

“Because we don’t play while you’re working anymore, do we?”

You shake your head. “Hm-mm.”

“And you’ve been working so hard, haven’t you, baby?”

You hum again, louder this time. Or maybe it’s a full-blown moan. Whatever the sound is, it becomes incessant over each passing second and each pass of his thumb. Every noise you make is met with a return sigh or hum from Felix. Every jerk of your hips is matched by a tilt of his head or other shift in his posture.

Getting fingered like this, fully dressed and up against the front door of your home, spikes a carnal, filthy pleasure into your blood. It sears through your muscles, hotter and hotter until it beads between your skin and your clothes. You want to take them off, but you dare not stop Felix for a second. You keen with lust and desperation.

“I know. I know,” he purrs, soft and sweet as a kitten. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so good...” He nuzzles the space between your jaw and your neck and inhales deeply.

You tilt your face away to give him better access, but he peels back and takes your chin in his other hand to steer you back toward him. A puff of hot breath hits your damp temple; it almost feels cool.

“Eyes on me. Good girl.” His gaze skims down your form. “You’re still shaking. All I’ve done is touch your clit and you’re that close already, huh?”

“Yes, so close,” you admit, completely unashamed. “Just keep going, please just keep going.”

Felix smiles and takes the sweat from your temple with a pair of kisses. “How can I say no when you beg me so nicely like the perfect angel you are? Hold onto me. C’mon.”

You instinctively go to clutch his biceps but think of a better idea and hook your arms around his neck instead. Felix allows you to pull him even closer and finally — finally — slips another finger into your panties. He pushes it into your opening with almost no resistance, and you gasp when his knuckles bottom out inside you. Just as quickly as the finger entered, a second one joins and curls. He keeps them buried for a moment, then drags them back out to smear the juices he collected around your swollen bud. The slipperier his work gets, the more he enjoys it.

“Your pussy is so perfect,” he breathes. “Spread your legs. I want to feel just how wet it gets for me.”

You obediently open your legs wider, and he delves back in immediately, fast enough that his palm audibly claps against your slick lips, hard enough to send your head tipping backward to thump against the door. When his thumb drops back to your clit and nudges under the hood this time, you know it won’t be long until you’re unraveled.

“Ohhh my god,” you groan. More sweat builds on your forehead, on your chest, under your arms, along the backs of your knees. You grow lightheaded from the static in your veins from being fucked open by Felix’s talented, diligent fingers.

“That’s it,” he pants. You’re not sure when he became so breathless. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let go. Come for me. Come for me. Come.”

Another dozen strokes and you do as you’re told with a pinched yelp. Felix kisses your throat as he works you up your high and eases you back down, undulating his wrist and babbling encouragements into your sticky skin.

“That’s it, squeeze my fingers, just like that. Squeeze ‘em tight. Tight. There you go. That’s my good girl. So gorgeous when you come. So fucking perfect. Hey.”

The hand not still knuckle-deep in your pussy cups your cheek and pulls you in. He swallows the whines and the airless, nonsensical words of thanks you huff between kisses.

Once your breathing has had time to settle, he gingerly slips his fingers from your sensitive, throbbing walls. He doesn’t even look at those fingers as he brings them to his tongue. In fact, he closes his eyes altogether as he laps the tips and moans indulgently, as though this is the first time he has ever tasted you.

When he is done cleaning the mess you made on him, he looks you in the eye and says, “Now that we’ve rubbed out that easy one, I’m open to suggestions on what to do next.”

“Let me return the favor?” You inflect it as a question.

Felix smirks. “It wasn’t a favor, sweetheart, it was a pleasure. But since you’re asking so nicely again… c’mere.”

He tugs you by the hands and begins walking backward, slipping out of his shoes as he goes, and you follow his lead. You assume he is bringing you to the bedroom, but he stops when his feet hit the carpet in the living room and glances over his shoulder. It must be the chair he was looking for because he then moves toward it with a sense of purpose, leaving you a few paces behind.

“Strip,” he orders. His voice is even and his expression is calm as he sits and crosses an ankle over his opposite knee.

You move to obey without hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back to yank down the zipper on your dress. Felix keeps his eyes fixed on your face as you peel the gown away from your shoulders. Gravity takes the fabric to your waist, and you shove it down the rest of the way to step out of it completely. Next, you snap one of your bra straps with an eyebrow cocked in question.

Felix nods. “Mhm. Keep going ‘til you’re in nothing but that ring.”

You had nearly forgotten about it. You lift your hand to look at it again, but a sudden noise startles you. It sounds like more of a crack than a snap from the way it ricochets off the walls of your home, though you know a snap is exactly what it was by the pose of Felix’s fingers in the air.

“Don’t get distracted now,” he says, deep voice rumbling. He drops his hand back to his lap. “You’re being so good. Finish taking off your clothes, then come here.”

With his instructions, you unhook your bra and let it drop to the floor. His eyes dip to your naked chest, but his expression is more clinical than enticed.

You shove your thumbs into the band of your panties and stall there until you get the attention you want. It takes Felix a few seconds to realize you’re not moving and look back to your face. When he meets your eyes, he mouths the word ‘off,’ leaving his teeth planted in his bottom lip for an extended moment. Even when he is silent, you feel the authority radiating from him. You shiver when the air hits your slick, heated center.

Felix uncrosses his legs, and you finally glean a proper peek at your effect on him. The erection in his pants looks past the point of painful, but his demeanor is still relaxed as he invites you to stand in front of him by casually tossing a throw pillow at his feet. Once your toes brush against it, he reaches for your hands and sweeps his lips across your knuckles, quick and affectionate. Then his hands are on your waist, and near your ribs, and around the curves of your ass, and across your thighs. He soothes them up and down your skin, imprinting patches of heat everywhere he roams.

“There’s my gorgeous girl.” He leans forward and plants an open-mouthed kiss on your lower stomach, then peers up through his eyelashes at you and directs, “On your knees for me, gorgeous.”

Another look at his covered crotch and you do as you’re bid. When your knees touch down on the pillow, Felix shifts to whip his belt out of its loops at last. By the time it clanks to the floor, you’re already helping him with the button and the zipper. He lets you tug his pants down to and away from his ankles. His socks go next, and he takes care of his sweater and undershirt himself. His underwear is last but gone in a flash and then there he sits, stripped bare with his toned abdominals twitching and his cock standing flushed and rigid just for you. He is so goddamn beautiful.

“Is this what you want?” He leans back and takes his rosy length in a loose fist. “Is this what you’ve been being so good and working so hard for?”

You swallow and pretend it’s his precum sliding down your throat. “Yes.”

“What’s that, baby?” He strokes upward.

“Yes.”

“What do you say?” He strokes downward. Back up again. Your eyes may as well be stringed puppets with the way they follow helplessly.

“I said yes,” you repeat again.

And he patiently repeats: “No, what do you say? Look at me.”

Once you meet his lust-glazed stare, you don’t have to wrack your brain for the answer he’s looking for.

“Please,” you say, “let me suck your cock. I want it so badly. You deserve to feel good after waiting so long.”

Felix tucks his chin down, puckers his lips, and releases a ball of spit onto the head of his cock. Another soon follows, racing alongside the first, joining the trail of wetness that already leaked from the slit.

You shuffle closer between his knees and take him in your hand. He lets go of himself, but not before brushing his fingertips along the back of your hand. The gesture is deliberate, not coincidental, and you smile up at him. He smiles back, more with his eyes than his mouth. His mouth is used to give commands such as, “Put it in your mouth, sweetheart,” before leaning back comfortably. Even with his pulsing erection at your mercy, he is a marvel of beauty and dominance.

You give him a few strokes to spread the wetness around and simply enjoy the slick glide, then bend to take in his wet tip. He tastes delicious. Good enough for you to moan on contact, good enough for you to want to fill your entire mouth with his warm heaviness. He is tangy from his natural body and sweet from the taste of wine lingering in his spit. You sink down further, letting your tongue follow the path of a prominent vein.

“Open wide. That’s it,” he says. His voice is steady but barely there. The relief of finally being touched where he wants it most runs a succinct shiver through his legs, but otherwise he remains controlled, even when you tighten your lips to hollow your cheeks. “There you go. So good for me. So good at sucking my dick.”

His praise leaves you hungry for more, so you slather your tongue down and around his balls to hear the way his sighs and quiet pants start to crack his composure. He shifts his hips to ensure you can reach every sensitive part of him, and his cock feels just a bit stiffer when you try to swallow it down your throat.

“Hah,” he gasps. “Oh, fuck, baby, that’s it.”

On the armrest of the chair, his fist clenches tight enough to pop a knuckle. He soon releases it, however, and moves his hand toward you. You half-expect him to hold you in place because you know how much he enjoys being in your throat, but instead, he eases you off of him and uses his loose grip on the top of your head to roll it back in a slow, gentle circle along your neck and around your shoulders. A strand of spit — there is no way to tell whether it is yours or his — still bridges your lips to his swollen cock. You reach out to break it with your tongue, curling it devilishly. Felix watches with dark, hooded eyes.

“Dirty girl.” He wipes away the dribble on your chin with his thumb. “Where do you want it?”

You don’t quite understand his question. “Hm?”

Once again, he takes your hands in his, this time to help you up off the floor and onto his lap where he can sling your arms around his neck. The only conceivable reason for him to cut a blowjob so short is that he is already too close to coming. You won’t call him out on it, but you’re thrilled to know it’s true.

“I asked you where you want it. Where do you want me to fuck you?” His vulgar inquiry is warm honey on your tongue. “You want me to take you up against the wall? Fuck you so good and so hard that you can’t fucking walk in the morning? Hm?” His hum vibrates your lips with the sweetest melody. “Do you want me to take you in our bed, under the sheets, nice and slow, until you can’t remember your own name?” His lips are a soft, decadent treat you sink your teeth into. “Or do you want me to take you in this chair, right here where I sat while you were across the room working for hours and hours instead of bouncing on my dick?” His perfume is a laced drug that could leave you high in bliss for hours.

“Yes,” you breathe into his mouth. You pull at his lips, molding and folding them with yours while you feel up every inch of his skin you can reach — his jaw, his back, his arms, his chest, his stomach.

Felix relinquishes a shred of his control with a groan as he ravishes your lips right back. His own hands crawl along your shoulder blades, your spine, your ass. Eventually, he clears his head well enough to say, “That’s not an answer, sweetheart. You need to tell me right now where you want to fuck, or I’m choosing for you.”

“Here. Chair. Now,” you rasp brokenly.

He hoists you up right away, perching your ass halfway onto one of his forearms and using his other hand to drag his swollen, spongy cockhead through your folds until he finds your entrance. The tip slips inside with a stretch but little resistance, as does the rest of him until your lap and his are pressed flush against one another’s.

You rock your hips slowly to welcome the intrusion and ensure he is as deep and you are as full as possible, and his breath hitches from the movement. He lowers his eyes in a straight path from your eyes to your nose to your chin. His lips part as though he is going to say something, but after a couple seconds, he leans forward to give you another searing kiss instead, bracing a hand against your spine to keep you from tipping backward from the sudden motion.

Whatever he was going to say about how good it feels to be sunk in your wet heat again is conveyed through his tongue on yours and the way he clutches your bare skin.

Just when you think perhaps all his words have dried up, Felix sucks his mouth off yours, lays a slap across your ass, and grunts in deep bass: “Bounce for me, baby.”

You would love nothing more than to do just that, so you build up a steady pace as quick as you can. He is just thick enough to rub your walls and make them burn in the best way imaginable. The smacks that come from your pelvis and thighs meeting his over and over are lewd and wet and so fucking good. So fucking good.

You shut your eyes and hang your head back. “Oh my fucking god…”

Felix keeps an arm hooked around your moving waist while he paws at you from the front. He splays his free hand across your throat, applying just enough pressure to get a feel for your erratic pulse, then slips down your collarbone, down your chest to squeeze one of your tits.

“That’s it, baby. This is what we’ve been missing, isn’t it?” He lifts your breast and leans forward to wrap his lips around the perked nipple. The sensation makes you involuntarily clench around him, and he whimpers from the tightness. “Fuck, I’ve missed this so much.”

His admission spurs you to speed up. You try to roll your hips at the bottom of every drop, but your movements are getting sloppier the higher your pleasure climbs. It doesn’t seem to matter to Felix, though. His ragged breathing is a telltale sign of how good it feels to have your soaked pussy dragging up and down his cock. He tries to find your staggered rhythm in order to buck upward in time with your drops and help drive himself into your sweetest spot, but although both of you are hyper-concentrated on reaching your peaks, the coordination is not quite there.

“Sweetheart, you’re falling apart on my dick,” he moans with the little breath he has. “Jesus, you’re squeezing me so goddamn tight. You’ve already come once and now you’re about to soak my whole fucking lap, aren’t you?”

“Lix, I-I’m s-s-so-” you trill mindlessly.

“So close, I know.” He gives the fleshiest part of your ass another solid slap, then digs his fingers in to help you rock back and forth against him. “Do it. Come again on my fucking cock, baby. We’ve earned it.”

You work to get all the friction the ridges of his raw cock can give you, but the edge you’re chasing is still on the horizon, just a bit too far out of reach. “Felix, I can’t…”

“I’ll get you there,” he swears. “Let’s just—”

In no time, you’re on your back on the floor and Felix is plunging his steely length back between your drenched folds. Your legs automatically anchor themselves around his hips to steady yourself against the jarring pace he sets. The aftermath of the rough carpet on your bare skin is a worry for a later. Right now, you whine at him to go faster, go harder, just don’t fucking stop, whatever he does.

Felix leans close and takes one of your knees to push it back toward your chest so he can fuck into you deeper. His breath is hot and shaky and somewhere in the vicinity of your earlobe as he whispers, “Fuck, you’ve gotta come now, angel. Please.”

He readjusts his weight and his grip on you, pushes deep just a few more times, and you’re finally coming again, crying out and clenching around him so tight it nearly hurts from how hard he is inside you. He fucks you through your entire high, never stopping the solid snap-snap-snap of his slim hips.

“God, fuck, I’m right fucking there,” he huffs and pants. Sweat drips from his brow onto your cheek. “Where do you want it? Where should I come?”

“In me, come in me,” you beg, reaching down to squeeze his tight ass and urge him even deeper into your soaked depths.

Felix whines something wordlessly lyrical in a high alto as his release fills you with a sticky warmth. He fucks his cum into you with rough, staggered thrusts, his pace slowing but never completely stopping. Your legs begin to ache as he continues gingerly pumping himself. You assume his spent cock must hurt from the rising sensitivity following his orgasm, but he is not quite finished.

“Holy shit,” he whimpers. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight, I think I could come again.”

Your walls clench around him because you know he is serious. “Do it, baby,” you pant hard. “Use my pussy to come again. I want it all.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Just a little more, I’m gonna— fuck!”

He finds a second shaky high and buries his fingers in your hips deep enough that the bruises may last until your wedding day. The force with which he pulses a final spurt of cum toward your cervix is something you’re certain to remember for a long time as well.

“Holy shit,” Felix sighs again, blissful and fucked out. The two of you moan together when he slips out of you, still half hard. “Come here, angel.”

He slumps to the side and gathers you in his arms to face him. You tuck your forehead between his jaw and his shoulder, and he traces his fingertips along your shoulder blades where the skin is a little irritated from its row with the carpet. You’re not worried about the sting, but your nerves wince under his touch anyway, and he apologizes immediately.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re not an idiot,” you giggle tiredly. “We’ve had worse rug burn before. Much worse.”

“I know, which means I know better than to have sex on the carpet.” He kisses your forehead and sweeps a thumb across your cheek. “I shouldn’t have gotten so caught up, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you insist. “Being fucked into the carpet never felt so good.”

Felix laughs quietly, deeply. “It was definitely worth the wait. I haven’t come twice in a row like that in a while.” His sigh is exhausted but pleased; his hug is weak but loving.

After a moment of recovery, he helps you stand and urges you to use the bathroom and change into something comfortable, and you agree on the condition he does the same.

Before you dress, he peppers sweet kisses along your lightly scraped skin and helps you apply lotion over it. He also insists that you drink at least half a glass of water to rehydrate yourself before you both return to the living room so you can finally show him what the two of you have been celebrating in the first place. He massages the back of your neck soothingly as you walk side by side.

“Alright, now I’m actually really proud of this, but you still need to be honest with me, okay?” you preface. Without waiting for him to respond, you whip the sheet covering the easel away with a flourish.

The moment it is revealed, Felix eyes dart over the portrait in patternless directions. You want to see inside that pretty head of his to know every thought going through his mind while he examines your depiction of him, but you can’t, so you keep your eyes trained on his pensive face and wait quietly for him to share whatever feedback he chooses.

“Y/N,” he eventually begins. You can’t tell if the hush in his tone is because he is awed or appalled.

“Yes?”

Felix turns to look you in the eye. “How do you keep outdoing yourself?”

A note of laughter pops past your lips, and the nervousness in it surprises you. “Well, you know what they say about practice. Does that mean you like it?”

“Are you kid— I love it! I don’t even know where to begin! The detail, Y/N! It’s so—” He faces his two-dimensional self again and waves his hand through the air in front of the canvas in a gesture you have no idea how to interpret. Then he extends a single finger toward the bottom edge of the canvas. “Like right here. The shadowing is so good. And the way you did the lighting here...” He lifts his finger higher to point at his painted cheekbones. “You did my freckles so well, I wouldn’t even be surprised if you captured literally every single one of them. It’s, like, scary good. And I don’t know if this is technically a critique towards the realism, but I don’t think my hair has ever actually looked this good in real life.”

You laugh louder, more happily. “I do think I did a pretty good job, but your real life self is way better than this, doll. Trust me.” You tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, and he brings his face back around to look at you again.

“I don’t even know what else to say without sounding dumb about it,” he tells you. It is not often he sounds bashful around you anymore, but he does now. “I’ll have to keep processing it. But in my unprofessional opinion, to my untrained, non-artistic eye, I’d say this is certifiably amazing work, sweetheart.”

You touch his cheek. “As long as you don’t feel like leaving me over it, you don’t have to say anything else.”

Felix takes your other hand and kisses the center of your palm, then each of your fingertips separately, then the ring between your knuckles.

Tomorrow, you’ll ask him for the story of how he happened to have it in his pocket tonight. Saturday, when Jisung sees it on your finger, you’ll ask his advice on how you should do your nails for the wedding (though you’ll probably end up having them done by your groom anyway). Next week, you’ll ask Felix what time of year he has in mind for the ceremony, or if he even wants to make a big pageantry of it. The week after that, you’ll either start looking into wedding venues or making an appointment with City Hall.

And years from now, when your children ask you about the portrait you painted of their father, you’ll tell them you did it because he was always your biggest supporter, and you’ll be reminded just how in love the two of you were tonight.

---

if you enjoyed, please consider re-blogging and/or leaving me some feedback. take care! ♡

copyright © 2024 by daizymax. all rights reserved. back to masterlist

#felix smut #lee felix smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #the ways we love #daizymax

[dean-a-mean-tae]

Of The Tunnel | Stray Kids Extra Member

WARNINGS: Mention of self-harm, mention of sl!tt!ng, racism, discrimination, dissociation, JYP, I think that's it.

Nicholas Ross Master List | Requested: Yes | Light At The End Part 1

You don't realize how much you need someone until they're gone. Things were different. He started washing and brushing his hair consistently. He stopped the old hair care routine, and he's been getting it straightened more often. His hair stylist stopped complaining. She even congratulated him.

"Finally fixed your hair," The woman laughed as she brushed through Nicholas' hair. It didn't hurt. It felt nice. The brush glided through his hair, only snagging on looped strings of hair. "See how easy I can brush it now?"

He hadn't heard anyone talking about him. People still commented about his skin, but he couldn't do anything about it. Eventually, he'll have to cut his hair. His hair is too long for a man. His stylist said so.

"Why are you so quiet?" 

He did it again. Nicholas has been spacing out a lot recently. He thinks the boys are starting to get suspicious. He'll have to be more careful.

But it was too late. 

"I don't think I've ever seen you with your hair straightened. Has it always been this long?" Chan asked, watching Nicholas lean forward to brush his hair into a messy bun. Nicholas was quiet as he sat up, rubbing his back to relieve the ache.

The boys noticed something wrong as soon as it started. Things were different. There was no running through hallways or jumping on one of the members. No one burst into the bathroom while they were showering to talk to them.

Their clothes were returned to them with no note or anything. But they all knew who gave them back. His door was always locked now. None of the members could sneak into his room and steal his body heat during the night.

They can see him, and he can hear them, but Nicholas isn't with them.

"Where's your mind, Nick?" Hyunjin whispered, sitting next to Nicholas on the couch. He looked strange with straightened hair. They all were used to Nicholas' gorgeous curls framing his face. Now, he had a long ponytail of damaged hair.

"Your hair is thinning," Minho hummed as he ran his fingers through Nick's hair. Strands fell with each movement, and the two men could feel their hearts shatter at Nick's silence and the dull look in his eyes.

Today, Nicholas walked into their dressing room and was greeted by all the members. It wasn't until he got comfortable that he noticed their eyes. They watched him as he grabbed a bottle of water up until he sat in the stylist's chair.

"This is an intervention," Changbin said, leaning forward on the table. The members glared at him, and Changbin flinched.

"That's not what we practiced," Hyunjin huffed, side-eyeing Changbin as Jeongin shoved Changbin.

"I saw it in a movie and was trying to lighten the mood," Changbin explained.

Did they notice? Of course, they did. When did they not? This wasn't his childhood. They weren't his parents. They paid attention to the small things. 

"You're harming yourself," Chan said, and Nicholas tilted his head.

Was he harming himself? Nicholas wasn't hurting himself. He tried hard not to. Why would they think that? Are there cameras here? He doesn't think today was recorder day. Hopefully not.

Maybe Chan could see the confusion because he continued, "You're not slitting anything, but you're still indirectly hurting yourself." 

The door opened, and Nicholas watched everyone rush to look normal. They would have to continue this conversation later. He's happy. This was a bit one-sided, anyway.

There she is again. Nicholas doesn't understand why they chose this woman as his hairstylist. He watched her finish setting her station before yanking the hair tie out of his head. 

He winced. Another 6 or 7 strands of hair ripped from his head.

"Your hair is too long," The woman grumbled as she looked for a brush. Next to them, Jisung looked over his makeup artist's arm.

"But if I cut it, my curls will be extra small," Nicholas argued. Though, his voice could barely be heard over the chaos in the dressing room.

"It's not like it will be in those knotted curls anymore," His stylist huffed, rolling her eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair. It stopped in the middle of his back, much too long for a boy.

Jisung's makeup artist walked away, and he looked at Felix. They both nodded before looking back at Nicholas and his stylist.

"Your hair is staying straightened," She ordered, and Felix's eye twitched. The stylist twisted Nicholas' hair in a bun. He looked a little like Hyunjin, but his hair was thinner.

After the stylist left, Jisung and Felix split up. Jisung went to speak with Changbin since Chan and Minho left to check on their props. While Felix went to Nicholas, his arms wrapping around the older boy's shoulders as he whispered in his ear.

"I miss your curls."

Nicholas hummed, and Felix frowned at the reflection in the mirror. Nicholas Ross, his best friend and member of Stray Kids, was miserable. His hair, once luscious thick curls, was straightened and thin. The makeup on his face could only hide his sunken face so much. He could see the bags under his eyes peeking through.

He looked just how he felt.

"We'll fix this. Your hair will be healthy, and you can wear it with pride," Felix mumbled, watching Changbin and Jisung come into the room with Chan and Minho following.

"You promise?" Nicholas whispered, and Felix felt his eyes water at the tears in his hyung's eyes.

"I promise."

"Can't we just get her fired?"

"Not without proof," Chan sighed, fingers pressing against his eyes. Three people groaned as Minho threw his head back.

Only Jisung and Felix heard the stylist. This would be a classic he-said-she-said moment without proof. They would have to wait for the next time she worked with them again. But at the rate this was going, Nicholas probably wouldn't have any hair left by then.

The door to Chan's room opened, and the five occupants watched Seungmin close the door behind him. He calmly sat on the bed next to Chan and handed him his phone.

"When will you tame these knots?" The woman groaned as she brushed through Nicholas' hair. You could hear the brush ripping through his hair.

"What knots? I brushed and platted my hair," Nicholas hissed. His voice trembling with pain.

...

"You don't think your hair is unprofessional?" She asked, pulling at Nicholas' curls. He frowned at her in the mirror.

"I'm not being mean. I just don't want you to look lazy," She explained. "The puffy curls were cute when you were younger. You're older now and need to look the part."

...

"Did you hear?" Another woman whispered. "He only washes his hair once a month, twice if his members help him.

The woman in front of her grimaced in disgust, "Could you imagine the build-up?"

...

"Your hair is too long. We need to cut it," The stylist said.

"It's not like it will be in those knotted curls anymore," The woman huffed. "Your hair is staying straightened."

"Is this enough proof?" Seungmin asked, and Felix flung himself at the younger boy.

"You're amazing, Seungmin. You know that?" Jisung asked from his place behind Chan's shoulder. The older man was sending the videos to himself.

"I know," Seungmin grinned.

"Now we have proof. What do we do?" Changbin asked, looking around the room. Minho hummed in thought.

"You and Chan will go straight to JYP about it. I'll stay here with the kids," Minho answered. Everyone nodded before splitting up. Minho, Seungmin, Jisung, and Felix went to the Maknae + Minho dorm, while Chan and Changbin went to the company.

It's hilarious how often JYP is just lurking around the building. It wasn't hard for Chan to see him, and it wasn't hard for Changbin to find the stylist. They were in a meeting room. The videos had just been played, and JYP sighed in irritation.

"So," he started, "do you have anything to say?"

"I wasn't trying to be rude," She said, looking between JYP and a very angry Changbin. "It's just having his hair straightened is easier for me."

JYP's eyebrows furrowed. "Your job as a hairstylist is to cater to his hair needs. Not make his hair bend to your will."

"I already have to use special products for him," She said as she slid a list of the different products she used to use. Another much smaller list filled with the products she uses now was placed after it.

"The least he could do is make my job easier."

"You're not very well educated are you?" Chan asked, carefully looking between the list and the blatant price difference. The woman gasped, offended. 

JYP raised his hand to stop a potential argument and turned to the woman. "If you can't do your job and nurture his hair while making it look good, then you won't have a job. You're fired."

"I'm fired for asking him to keep his hair straightened?" She huffed.

"No," JYP started, leaning forward in his seat to look her in the eye."You're fired for racism and discrimination. The proof is right here."

"Where's Nicholas? He can vouch for me," The woman shouted as she looked between the smug members.

"Nicholas isn't available at the moment. The others are helping him get his hair routine back on track," Changbin sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

It was clear no one was on the woman's side, and she stood. Her chair fell back from the force. She ignored it, grabbing her bag and coat, the woman left the room.

JYP sighed as he turned to Chan, "I'll find someone else. Tell Nicholas I'm sorry this wasn't handled sooner."

"Of course," The younger man nodded before he and Changbin left for the dorms.

When they entered the dorm, they were greeted with everyone spread throughout the room. Minho and Felix were by the table, picking through the tray of snacks while Jisung and Seungmin were fighting over what movie to watch.

On the couch sat Hyunjin and Jeongin with Nicholas in front of them. The taller boy had a towel around his shoulders while the other two were plaiting his soaking hair. A spray bottle was next to Hyunjin's foot, while a container of curl cream leave-in conditioner was next to Jeongin's thigh.

"What's all this?" Chan asked, waving his hands at the mess of blankets and pillows. It looked like they went to the 3racha + Hyunjin's dorm and got their blankets, too. 

"We're having a self-care sleepover," Felix cheered, tossing a bag of chips at Nicholas. Hyunjin and Jeongin shouted, pulling him back when he moved too much.

"When did you guys learn how to do his hair?" Changbin asked, sitting by Nicholas and wiping a glob of leave-in off his temple. 

"We were learning before the witch messed with his hair," Hyunjin answered as he sprayed another section of Nicholas' hair before brushing the ends.

"Not a witch," Nicholas laughed. He missed the look of adoration from his members as he continued laughing. Felix crawled over and began tickling him. Jisung, Changbin, and Seungmin followed after him.

"Please tell me she's gone," Minho whispered. 

"She is," Chan smiled from his place beside him, watching the chaos before them. 

"Chan, tell them to stop! I don't wanna mess this braid up!"

Nicholas Ross Master list | ©️DEANAMEANTAE2023

Tags list: @bada-lee-ily, @jinnie-ret, @hwxnghyynjin, @foxilsdenn. @rensahazard, You can be added by asking in the replies, sending me a message, or doing an ask thingy.

#deantae nicholas ross #skz x reader #skz 9th member #stray kids x reader #stray kids 9th member #skz x male reader #stray kids x male reader #skz x 9th member #stray kids extra member #stray kids with the 9th member #9th member of skz #9th member of stray kids #skz imagines #skz x oc #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids x oc

[atinycafe]

LIME SORBET — masterlist

PROMPT; reader finally comes back to s. korea as she finished her training in los angeles, ready to debut as a solo artist under kq ent! exciting right? well her sunbaes seem to like that idea too.

FEAT; alpha!ateez x omega!idol!reader

GENRE; fluff, smut (in later chapters)

AU; omegaverse + poly (as in ot8 ateez end up w reader)

NOTES; first time writing it's gonna b interesting, i don't really know what im doing, im just vibin honestly + also ik it's a self-insert but reader is gonna b fem + she might b described in a way that doesn't fit u (like 4 exemple; long hair, a bit on the tanner side, etc...)

— ch 01. [jetlag]

— ch 02. [g-wagon]

— ch 03. [studio.log]*

— ch 04. [dance practice!] coming soon

— coming soon

— special 01. [hatchan live!]

[x] : fluff [x]* : suggestive [x]° : smut

#lime sorbet #ateez #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #x reader #omegaverse #masterlist #poly #reverse harem #soulmate

[walder-138]

MY BELL OC FROM COD BLACK OPS COLD WAR!

I saw another artist make their version of Bell, so I decided to dig up my version (having just finished my 4th play-through of the game last night) and post her here! This is my first post here, and if people like it, then I might make more OC posts.

Side note that my Bell is based off of my reactions/choices in the game, so it might not be 100% realistic or canon. I’m going with the bad ending, but I shot Adler in the end.

INFORMATION:

Name: Diana Jones/Annika Nikolaevna Voronova

Languages: Russian and English

Nicknames: Nika, Di

Callsigns: Bell, as Diana.

Age: As Diane, about 35, her actual age is 23

Sexuality: Lesbian (though during the time, she couldn’t express it)

DOB: January 21st, 1958 (Another plot hole in the Vietnam false memories; she would’ve only been 10 at the time.)

POB: Volgograd, Russian SSR, Soviet Union.

Eyes: Blue-green (got an eye injury while in Perseus, making her right pupil constantly dilated)

Height: 5’7

WEAPONS

M16A1, 1911, M60, Tranquilizer Gun, MP5, Type 63, Gallo SA12, RPD, LW3 - Tundra, Pelington 703, Hauer 77, Recurve Bow, M79, War Machine, XM4, AK-47

EQUIPMENT

Knife, M67 Grenade, Tomahawk, Stun Grenade, Throwing Knife, Smoke Grenade, C4

•

Career information

Occupation: Perseus Operative, MI6 Agent, MACV-SOG, the latter two formerly (implanted memories)

Rank: Lieutenant in Perseus

Affiliations:

Perseus

CIA, MACV-SOG, MI6 (indoctrinated)

Annika joined Perseus relatively young, when she was 17, and quickly rose up in rank as the years gone by. She quickly earned ‘Perseus’s trust, as she was willing to do whatever it took to earn her place. They’d often have Annika undercover, performing assassinations and ‘cleaning house’ whenever necessary.

She was smart, crafty, resourceful, but she carried a lot of unbridled rage within her. Annika genuinely believed everything Perseus did was for the greater good of the USSR, which left her with no hesitation while killing whoever they told her to. Sure, you could argue that she was manipulated, but Annika didn’t really care.

Her methods were brutal yet efficient. Annika didn’t care about whatever mess she made, only getting away with it mattered (unless she was specifically ordered to make it look like an accident).

When she was 22, Kadivar shot her and left her for dead at the Trabzon airfield in Turkey. While Annika was bleeding out, Russel Adler found her half dead in the back of the car. While she was conscience, she bit, scratched, and kicked at him, until the blood loss got to her.

Annika didn’t even say a word while being interrogated and tortured. Before they brainwashed her, she even tried to bite off her own tongue. Was extremely aggressive the entire time.

(I’ll elaborate more on her story later, but this is all I have so far.)

Random thing: I don’t really understand when people ship Bell with Alder. I’ve seen them as having a bastardized father-child like connection. I could be biased, as I’m a lesbian and my Bell is 17-ish years younger than him, assuming Adler’s 40.

Personality traits:

‘Bell’ had a strong sense of loyalty before and after she got indoctrinated. She’d do anything for the people she’s close to without hesitation.

Extremely petty; would go to great lengths to give the people who wronged her hell. (Definitely isn’t a projection to how I played)

Stubborn + Contrary: Whenever someone, who isn’t a superior, tells her what to do, she would do anything in her power not to do it. However, ‘Bell’s stubbornness makes it difficult to break her.

Sarcastic:

Aggressive: Self explanatory

Immature: ‘Bell’s younger than people would expect, so she’s often labeled as immature by her teammates.

That’s pretty much all I could think now, if anyone has any questions or ideas to improve, LMK!

#call of duty oc #call of duty cold war #call of duty #oc #oc art #helen park #russell adler #lawrence sims #yippee #i need to pee #original character

[bajis-wife]

Retro wave

Synopsis: Every individual has something that they are missing or lacking in their lives, whether it be a person, a purpose, or something else entirely.

Will they be able to fill those gaps and find satisfaction or a purpose, or will they be left perpetually incomplete?

And what better way to describe this journey and character development than in a fan fiction? Where they embrace life to its fullest, make mistakes and grow while hiding their true flawed tint, that lost it's meaning long ago.

Will she finally achieve her childhood dream of becoming an artist? Using their smudged and sketchy colors to paint on the canvas of her life, or will she settle for more sophisticated one's?

Will the painting in the end be enough to engrave the memories passed together?

Warnings: Swearing, explicit profanities, illegal doings, VERY LONG.

Notes: This is the full version of my story on wattpad ‘Retro wave’ until now there are only five chapters if we count the prologue too, I only want to get some feedback and attention for all the work i put in it and for the readers to enjoy it as this isn’t your usual insert self story.

The background of the character is already decided and specific although the appearance is not, so you can perfectly put yourself in it without reading Y/N or anything annoying like that.

New topic, tattoos.

Often seen by those stiff elders with a closed mindset as something bad, permanent and idiotic.

How about I give you my perspective of it?

Tattoos aren't just stupid impulsive mistakes that last forever, they are one of the best ways someone can ever express themselves with; Words are useless to describe someone compared to the feeling of your fresh virgin skin being inked, making whatever part of your body a masterpiece. Flamboyantly taking away the virginity of your flesh.

Am I romanticizing it too much? Probably, but honestly who cares when you're being paid to do what you love?

After my last customer headed out, I took a deep breath and walked into the foyer of the shop which I personally customized, from the soft lighting to the comfortable furniture.

As I sat on the couch, spreading my limbs to then relax them, breathing in and out slowly, closing my eyes, focusing on the deep dark of my mind as existential thoughts started to flow into my brain.

Out of all I focused on one only.

Am I even making a difference?

This day surely has worn me out as it brought me to thinking about something so distant when I'm still young and beautiful.

Why bother thinking about legacy? I'm here now making most of the present moment, my future isn't written yet so screw legacy. I'll deal with that later after I've had my fill of fun and adventure, so don't talk to me about it.

I'm too busy living the dream, your dream.

It's reassuring to know that in my chaotic existence I'm not living under a bridge and have a place to call home.

But even chaos is born from something or someone; And I was born from my immigrant parents in Italy, just to be sent to my home country.

What a way to start life huh?

Only a couple months old and my parents already had enough of me, sending me to my grandparents with the excuse of learning their and now apparently my mother tongue.

Jokes aside, they loved me from the bottom of their hearts.

Four years later I came back to finish the remaining two of kindergarten and finally start primary school.

But oh boy, from there my life has been a downhill roller coaster of emotions. As childhood optimism had brain washed my mind into thinking it was going to be a wonderful experience.

Not realizing that from the very first day of school I was thrown into the cage of lions.

For the first, second and third year they weren't nothing but buzzing noises in the background, as I felt drained from being in that class.

As now I was in fourth grade, and already tired of everyone there but him.

Now you might wonder who this kind soul is?

Simple, my first love.

Brown wavy locks that gently swayed every time he tilted his head, capturing my gaze with those dark brown eyes.

With that little beauty mark under his right eye, that everytime he offered me one of his sweet smiles would make my heart melt.

But the thought of seeing him every day made me push through all of that.

I could relate to thinking it was simply him and I against the world. But there's more to the story. Love is blind, as they say, and we sometimes need time to accept it, one way or another.

Certainly being served the fact that he likes another girl in our class, wasn't the best.

I felt as if the world crashed onto me.

But maybe the other girl didn't feel the same? Maybe all of this was one sided love like most of the time between kids, I could just go and ask her if she feels the same.

Simple as that.

I was relieved to find out she didn't feel the same, my burdens lightened; Not realizing that by doing this little thing to relieve myself I broke his trust.

Making him the new target of mockery in our class, as that girl couldn't keep her mouth shut.

The classroom isolated me too, labeling me as the snitch, well deserved I guess?

But what hurt me the most was him slowly distancing himself from me, it was a gradual process. Yet the most painful for me, and heartbreaking for my parents to watch their daughter suffer from it.

After finishing my fourth year, I was transferred to a different school, one where I was welcomed with open arms. Spending my last year of elementary school there, forming good friendships as I grew more confident with each day.

I learnt the fine art of blending in while also standing out in society. Once I completed my fifth year in elementary school, I started my middle school journey, confidently prepared for whatever came my way.

However, fate had other plans.

I ended up being way too overconfident, and it bit me in the butt.

The universe had a way of humbling me and remembering me nothing lasts forever, each and every time you start from zero with the help of your past experiences.

So now you ask me how would I describe those three years of middle school?

Hell.

This time I was fortunate enough to have a loyal friend who was alongside me, Anastassia.

Together we helped each other and formed a lasting bond that would only become stronger as time went on.

She was one of those friends that even you meet again after a long time, I'm talking about months and years. It felt like time stood still with her.

Anastassia made the time fly by before you knew it, and with her by my side, I felt a timeless sense of comfort and peace. Whether we spoke of distant memories or made new ones together, it was as if we had never been apart.

After we finished middle school we had to part ways, she chose to focus on studying languages while I wanted to study art.

High school offered a much-needed fresh breath of air. There people seemed too occupied with their own personal struggles to bother with my actions, which brought back my laid back confidence that mixed with the release of dopamine.

I no longer felt restricted by the confines of social expectations or the constant judgment of others, instead focused on exploring who I was, and what I wanted from life in a less constrained and more meaningful way.

In less words I stopped caring about what others thought.

This newfound sense of freedom allowed me to truly come into my own, and shaped me into who I am today.

From studying there I also got to meet two wonderful girls that today moved and live with me in San Francisco.

First I came across Lara whose light brown shoulder length locks were highlighted with buttery blond highlights. Her eyes were surrounded by thin metal square frames, which perfectly empathized their beautiful vivid hue of maroon.

Lara's aura was like a magnet for those around her, drawing people like moths to a flame. Drawing the attention of boys who lusted for her and girls who envied her, leading to gossip and telling vicious rumors about her. Yet these attempts of destruction failed, as she continued to radiate joy and positivity.

Truly looking up to her for it, wondering what her secret was.

And so, the truth was unveiled.

One day, I found her smoking cigarettes in the school bathrooms, and the habit gradually became something I expected to find her doing from then on.

I had no intention of dictating her choices.

However, I still held hope that she would make a conscious effort to stop the unhealthy coping mechanism of smoking.

But despite her habit remaining the same until this day, many things about Lara have changed over the years.

Her hair for example, her once buttery blonde locks now styled in a choppy cut, with a side-fringe and even a bold red dye job to top it off.

These changes have altered her previously bubbly image, giving her a more mature and confident flair, though it's hard to say if that is simply the result of growing up.

Her charming and bubbly personality remains as captivating as ever, and she has not lost any of the charms and magnetic personality that constantly goes in contrast with Lia's one.

The living room everyday was an area of contention, Lara's smoking habit often irritated Lia through the smell that easily flowed through the apartment, as the confined space made it difficult to avoid breathing the smoke.

Arguments between them would always end in Lara sulking in the corner, while Lia walked away fuming from anger.

I don’t blame for her intolerance towards smoking.

She was an open-minded person, but when it came to smoking, she had zero tolerance. So, it's only natural that she would be upset whenever she caught Lara smoking inside.

Anger issues weren't the only trait that characterized her.

No, not at all.

As those curls of hers kept her craziness in check, but it somewhat from time to time it managed to escape from those lips of hers, making her say the most mean and absurd statements sound true and convincing.

If her lips were mean, then her eyes shall be the sweet ones. Green and hazel hues coloured those irises, as they held such beautiful mystery and charm.

And yet they also held a glimpse of her fiery anger and held up frustration, which sometimes exploded out, turning her captivating eyes into fireflies that burned through my soul.

A mix of raw emotion and magnetic influence made her memorable and endearing, as her presence was one that was hard to forget.

Lia truly was a girl of many colors and contradictions.

Although the two women have brought their fair share of excitement and adventure into my life, there's always room for more.

If the gods offer more and more delicious fruits on the branches of life, it would be a shame not to indulge in a little more of what makes it sweet and delicious, wouldn't it?

After all, life is made interesting by new experiences and challenges we encounter, and who are we to deny more enjoyment?

Not knowing I've jinxed for good my future, for thinking like that.

As the sound of the phone alerted me about a new message.

Unfortunately not notifying me about the consequences it will bring to my unsure future.

The number was unknown, but as I read the message and realized it was from Lara, I let out a sigh as I shook my head.

I was used to her borrowing other people's phones to send me messages or call me when her iPhone died, but I still felt a slight sense of annoyance.

Constantly reminding her to change it into maybe one of some other brand, whose battery didn't die immediately after being charged.

Fuck the aesthetic. Even an eighty year old could last longer in bed than those phone batteries.

With a groan, I rose to my feet, taking the keys of the shop out of my pocket as I slid one sleeve than the other of my cardigan.

I held onto my phone in one hand while the shop keys were in the other, as I exited the door.

After the store was properly locked up, I set my sights on the parking lot where I had left my 2006 BMW M3. Talking about it, it was probably the best deal I had scored in my entire life.

Quickening my pace while searching for my keys as I neared the parking lot, making my way over to the red sports car that stood out among the other vehicles, looking like a beast ready to devour the roads with its raw power and beauty.

After finding them, I unlocked the car and sat in the driver's seat, ready to drive away.

Starting the engine as now the powerful roars could be heard, feeling the humid air come in through the slightly open window, breathing the fresh yet familiar scent of the night.

With everything set, I put the car in drive and started making my way to the exit of the parking lot.

Speeding through the freeway, with wind coming through the window making the end strands of my hair fly back as adrenaline pumped into my veins.

But it soon came to an abrupt halt as I found myself stopped at a red light.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, traffic rules were sure pesky; Still I had to follow them, while I waited for the annoying red light to become green.

As the smooth, soothing tunes of "House of balloons" by the Weekend filled my car, my mind was at ease and my soul at peace.

Enjoying myself before the storm, commonly known as Lara, could enter my car.

Talking about the devil, there she was on the other side of the road talking with someone.

A man to be precise.

They still continued conversating, as I focused on the new individual.

His shaggy butter blonde strands swept to the side and his imposing lion tattoo were hard to miss, as they commanded attention.

Shifting my gaze at the now green light, I stepped on the gas pedal and proceeded toward the roundabout, making a sharp turn as I went back to them.

Parking my car just a few feet away from them as I yawned, hitting the horn two times to let her know I was there.

With a jolt, Lara turned to my direction to then say something to her companion earning a chuckle from him, while she motioned for me to come over.

Weird, she usually doesn't involve me with her flyings—What was she trying to pull here?

Frustrated from the long day of work I just compiled with her request, exiting my car and shutting the door behind me as I approached her and the man.

I looked at them to notice the blonde's stare was on me, probably he wanted me to burn holes into my skull for interrupting his moment with Lara.

At least that's what I believed until I was in front of them as he offered me a supposed charming smile.

"Nice to finally bump into the talk of the town." He made a little dramatic pause to then add.

"The name's Madarame Shion, but you can call me sir, if you're into that kind of thing." A devilish grin spread across his face as he introduced himself, his voice dripping with sarcasm and bravado.

You only needed to hear that, to know that he was the type of man who looks better with his mouth shut.

Eyeing Lara as she looked confused about Shion's introduction, considering her words before putting on one of her best smiles and finally breaking the awkward silence, "He is just a little full of himself today, don't mind him."

Wrapping her arm around his as she tried to justify him.

"I wouldn't call it being full of myself, more like pointing out the different possibilities my little minx." He remarked with a toothy grin, only a few inches separating his face from hers.

There was clearly something between them, but no way I was letting that guy try to woo her in some way.

"Right, a little minx huh?" I interjected with a sneer as it was now time to put this guy into his place.

And I surely didn't mind doing that.

"Well, if you're going to be throwing around names, then I suppose I can call you a douche." Locking eyes with him while my lips rose into a mocking smile.

Shion seemed more amused than annoyed by my response, as if he enjoyed this back-and-forth insult exchange.

Licking his teeth to then speak "If she is my little minx... Then you shall be my little vixen." This time leaning closer to me as he was trying to control the situation, perfectly knowing how to get under someone's skin.

It was futile trying to beat him this way, as it seemingly was his best field.

This would have taken time to bring him down from that supposed throne he believes he is on, and embarrass him when he is with Lara so she would leave him, but right now i didn't have the time nor the patience to do so.

So I did what I should have done from the start.

"It's late we should get home Lara," Motioning for her to come as I gave one last glance at Shion before saying "It was shit meeting you, hopefully I won't see that ugly face anymore."

Opening the door of my car as I waited for Lara that was still hesitant to leave.

"Why can't we stay out a bit longer? I mean, it's Friday night and we don't have anything to do tomorrow..." She said trying to convince me as her voice was dripping with disappointment at the idea of returning home so early.

Still I gave her one last look as an ultimatum, and she didn't do anything but walk in my direction complying to my order, sighing like a little kid since she was in no place to argue when I was the one driving.

The only one still calm was Shion watching us intently with a smug smile on his face as he added "Oh yeah? You're pretty annoying yourself,"

Both of us were already in the car as it didn't take much before we exited the momentary spot where I parked it.

"But that's what makes you endearing. Sweetheart" He concluded talking to himself.

Leaving him there, as the speedometer raised and lowered its pointer.

The car ride was silent until I stopped at a red light taking the opportunity to look at her, so maybe she will fill in the blanks and explain what the hell I needed to interact with him.

To which she just responded with, "Do I have something on my face?" Saying this as she moved the rearview mirror towards herself to check.

I was now looking at her like she just killed my family.

"How many times have I told you that the rearview mirror isn't to check yourself out!" Examining exasperated as I tried to fix the mess she just caused, only for her to start fiddling with the car radio as she browsed through the different channels.

Finally settling down for one to then look at me as she leaned into her seat, "So what do you think about Shion?"

To which I answered.

"I'm thinking about how much weed you've smoked to even see something in him," sighing to then add.

"Lara I'm seriously thinking you have a talent to find self centered assholes."

This story continues with a man whose ambitions drove him to obsession.

Kisaki Tetta, a man who both instills fear in others and arouses hatred. Not just any ordinary criminal, but rather, one of the men who rules the darker depths of the criminal underworld of Japan, pulling the strings behind the scenes and manipulating those below him to his will.

All in order to find peace and escape his weak past self, who failed to stand-up to the cruelties of this unjust world. By any means necessary, he sought to reach the position that he currently holds.

No one could oppose him, not even her.

Tachibana Hinata, his sweetheart. The girl in which words and praises he found shelter, words that even his own mother didn't say to him if there wasn't any perfect test score that accompanied his request of appreciation.

Her kind and straight forward personality truly caught him in its embrace. Making his past self desire more kind from the young girl. She was truly his first love, or at least in his eyes she will forever be.

She had saved him mentally, and yet he was unable to save her physically that fateful afternoon when they first met their hero.

Hanagaki Takemichi, a walking wannabe defender of justice. Mock him how much you want for being beat up after making his entrance, still he was able to offer her comfort and protection when she needed it.

He truly admired his bravery and was thankful to him for saving his muse, if taking the hit instead of her was considered saving.

Then so be it!

Next time he will be the one protecting Hina.

But there wasn't a next time and there never will be. Hina didn't get into trouble, and after that day her parents enrolled her in some self defense classes.

Yet their life's took different paths after they graduated elementary school, forced to part ways by the wishes of their parents.

Still managing from time to time to cross paths when going to buy groceries, it was fascinating to think about their friendship, going from being close friends at school to distant acquaintances outside of it.

He adored those moments he got to spend with her, her voice was so smooth to get him to space out sometimes

—Life was still good for him.

Or so he thought, till the start of the second year of middle school. Hina started to space out multiple times while they talked, which was very unusual for her.

This left the young man feeling confused as he tried to make sense of her behaviour. It was like she was physically there but her head was elsewhere.

In conclusion there was something else going on beneath the surface that Kisaki was unaware of; Still it wasn't that big of a mystery as she later confessed that she and Takemichi go to the same middle school.

Until here it was all fun and games.

Fool, he shouted victory too early and as a result he was taken back to discover she had been harboring feelings for the boy since their first encounter.

Otherwise from Kisaki, Hinata was and never will be a bystander especially when she was in love, more than ready to battle for Takemichi's one.

And weeks later in a spring evening, he was welcomed not only by allergies but also with the news of her being in a romantic relationship.

With none other than the crybaby hero himself.

He should have understood it by now, nothing good in this world comes for free and lasts forever.

He could cherish them from afar and trust them to not do anything stupid, but if he didn't take matters into his own hands; He would be just a passing phase for the lives of the two lovers.

His mind was a mess as many of his beliefs became doubts, but about one thing he was certain. He wanted her, the thing he lacked for that made him fall in love with her.

What his beloved considered pure platonic friendship for him became a full time obsession, not essentially on her but also on her so-called boyfriend.

Takemichi, the admiration he had in his regards

didn't take much time to turn into resentment and disgust.

Beginning to despise everything about him; Starting from that new bleach job that he got done, making him look even more of a bigger prick than he already was.

Ruining Hina's image with his choice of joining the delinquent world like many of their peers.

Sure he remained the same brave idiot he knew, still he became nothing more than a trouble maker to the public eye.

Always wondering why girls often romanticized being in love with delinquents, fantasizing any possible love story with them.

Couldn't they be happy with a regular guy?

How could troublesome and dumb clowns like them be attractive to girls?

Maybe it was their appearance? The charisma that some of them had?

No, it became crystal clear now. It was the seek of thrill in their life.

To have someone who will protect them, go on late motorcycle rides, boys who aren't afraid of judgements.

He was just a gifted boy with an average and easy life. Waiting for his happiness.

He had nothing to offer to no-one, destiny couldn't do anything with his useless life.

This was a big mistake he had made; Waiting for people to walk right into his life, and then expect them to stay. Only one person did, Hina.

But even she could walk away like she walked in. He couldn't afford losing her.

And there he is thirteen years later. Still hasn't lost hope on having a relationship with her.

Looking through the car window, gazing upon some carefree birds flying in the afternoon sky;

The sun gave its last rays for the day, as the chilly air hit his face hinting the approaching of fall season.

How he wished to spend a peaceful evening like this with a cup of tea in his hand, enjoying the warmth of the sun while he still had the chance.

Instead he was in a car driving him to attend a meeting regarding the incompetence of his subordinate.

His appearance was absolutely flawless, with silken vanilla blond hair pulled back by a touch of old and practical gel as light danced across his blue scrutiny eyes which gazed at the horizon through the glasses he wore.

His outfit was a sharp beige suit, perfectly complemented by a tie that matched the hue of his eyes like no other combination could.

Finally entering the gates of the unique complex of coloured buildings. Tinted glass hiding the different illegal doings inside of them, prostitution being the main of course.

After all these were the Haitani headquarters.

Waiting for him in front of the main building was Hanma Shuji, his infamous right-hand man, a crazy bastard ready to do anything for some thrill and action.

His tall, lanky figure made it easy to distinguish him from the sea of people entering and exiting the structure.

Those golden irises bore sharp and fiery glares which were contoured by the lens of the glasses covering the man's eyes.

His gaze was lazy and casual as he searched for something to pique his interest, constantly moving from place to place and person to person.

Just when he spotted a familiar car pulling up, the bland expression was quickly replaced by his trademark mocking grin.

In just a split second he was standing at the curb, ready to open the door for Kisaki.

Without a moment to spare ready to greet him and show his efficiency and promptness.

Jokes on you, he just wanted to taunt him even this early in the morning by making various snarky comments.

After opening the car door, their usual dynamic began to play out.

"Kisaki! I see that you're perfectly on time and busy as ever…Wonder if you ever take a break?" Breaking the ice with a bit of light-hearted teasing, to then afterwards ask.

"What would the occasion be, if I may ask?" His boss didn't even give him a glance as he started to walk towards the entrance.

Hanma couldn't do anything but follow right behind him, this was a classic behavior Kisaki had in his regards, how could he blame him though?

He knew he was annoying and used that to his advantage, but these games weren't so effective on his superior.

Walking straight ahead to the elevator, it seemed like Kisaki was cutting in half the lobby. Which was teeming with low-ranking scantily dressed prostitutes.

To which his subordinate being the gentleman he was let his eyes wander around, like he hasn't seen this already multiple times.

Shamelessly observing his surroundings, and all of them had a good package, just saying.

And when he got to the elevator there was his boss waiting for him, spitting the most vile and hurtful words to him and his dick.

But honestly he couldn't care less of what the shorter male said, if he was alright with anything that brought him to feel the thrill.

And to top that off, what would be more satisfying than seeing the one that offered him that fall apart? As his childhood dreams shatter.

Silence filled the elevator ride, until unexpectedly the shorter one broke it.

"Has Shion updated you on his progress? Because from what I've been told, he's been wasting time smoking weed and drinking,"

'Annoyed' wasn't quite the right word to describe his attitude. Instead, he was getting fed up quickly with Shion's bullshit, I mean who wouldn't?

Despite the length of time that they'd worked together, Hanma didn't grow weary of his boss' behavior, enjoying the show whenever he could; Like it was just an ordinary day in the office for him.

Prior to dismissing the subject as unimportant, "It's not my problem that you chose someone so incompetent for such an important task."

Earning a sharp glare from his superior to then backfire.

"Oh really? Wonder who advised me to send him for it, you know what? You're right; It's my fault for listening to some worthless bastard like you."

Hanma raised his hands and casually replied, "What can I say? Guilty as charged." Accepting his guilt as a sign of amusement and carelessness, dismissing his boss concerns completely.

"Wow we got a comedian over here?" His companion said with a sarcastic tone. "You certainly seem to be enjoying this, don't you?"

He surely was.

"If you're enjoying this so much, how about you go fix his mess?" Kisaki snapped back with a sarcastic tone followed by a challenging statement, saying, "Surely you won't mind, since you find this so amusing."

By sarcastically stating that Hanma wouldn't mind, he implied that fixing the situation was his responsibility in the first place.

"Oh please, who got your panties in a twist? Why the hell should I be included in this? It's his fault man."

He very well knows how much of a selfish and reluctant individual Hanma Shuji is; loves to laugh about someone else's mistakes, but dream on to actually seeing him helping them.

"It's not for you to choose to do so, Reaper. It's an order." With these words, his superior made it clear that this was not a request but a demand that as his subordinate had to follow.

And of course his tongue-in-cheek nature had to butt in along with his nonchalant attitude, nodding his head in a gesture of mock obedience saying, "Then I shall comply with your request, my sir."

But he very well knew his and Shion's life's were at risk, which honestly added more thrill to the thing.

Then a ding concluded his last thought, indicating that they reached the top floor, letting his boss exit first to then follow right behind.

Two male figures were walking into the halls of the police station, one proceeding with his fast peace while the other tailing right behind him, trying to lose the distance between them attempting to reason with his companion on a matter this last one didn't understand.

Or let's rather say he didn't want to understand...

"Kazutora, can you be reasonable for one time? You can't decide to do things on your own, especially now that you're in an organization!" There he goes being ignored by his friend, again.

Chifuyu was concerned about Kazutora's behavior, as the latter was consumed by guilt and self-blame due to Mikey's disappearance.

It turned into casual sex in a futile attempt to escape his own guilt and the memory that haunted him.

"Let me put it in a language you can comprehend. I'm exhausted at having to deal with so much paranoia every day," With a slight turn and a sharp exhalation, he faced Chifuyu, his eyes tired as he continued.

"If we continue like this, someday that picture on that board may turn out to be our single and final memory of Mikey!" For once, he truly did understand him, lacking the desire to blame him instead he wanted to free him, just like he did when he saved him from the grip of an abusive father.

It was explicit that his friend blamed himself for Mikey's crimes, and Chifuyu couldn't reason with his stubborn ass.

"Have a nice day Matsuno." With this last statement he made his way to the stairs.

He only hoped he wouldn't do anything too reckless like he did in the past...

But he clearly underestimated his companion.

In a certain way, he was able to relate to Kazutora, as the latter was similar to his younger self of thirteen years ago.

However if he in his teenage years failed to accomplish a much simpler rescue plan, statistically talking it's not like his friend had a much bigger chance of succeeding, if not lower.

Arriving at a point where he wondered if he should drag Baji's corpse out of the grave, revive him with some kind of ritual, so he could knock some sense into Kazutora's head, first with punches and then words as he usually did back in the day.

Seriously speaking though.

The concept of a gang originated from the ambitions of Mikey but especially Baji during their childhood; As the last one idolized Shinichiro, the older brother of the first one.

Also best known as the commander of the first generation of the Black Dragon, the most powerful biker gang in Tokyo back in the 90's.

The duo harbored the desire to follow the footsteps of their idol, wishing to create a gang of their own and live out their youthful fantasies.

So when the right time came, with the help of those who would eventually be known as the core members of its creation, namely Sano Maniiro, Riyuguji Ken, Baji Keisuke, Mitsuya Takashi, Hayashida Haruki and Hanemiya Kazutora, they officially gave life to Toman.

Even if the latter ended up in juvenile detention, it didn't stop the enlargement of it.

As the gang was more than just a part time thing, as it had a cherished place in the hearts of the captains and their vices.

And three years later it was living fully its era of gold, being recognized as one of the most powerful biker gangs of Tokyo.

But with the fall and loss of Baji, one of its linchpins, it became more and more fragile as time passed, somewhat still managing to have their influence over the city.

Thanks to some scum of members doing dirty work to archive it.

One thing was known for sure by the members, if Mikey was in command with Draken alongside him everything would have gone just fine.

Not knowing that the commander lost both of his parents at the age of three, being raised by his older brother Shinichiro and grandfather Mansaku who taught him the ways of karate, from which he made a name for himself in the streets.

The Sano siblings were just like a group of bowling pins, put in line one after the other connected by bad luck.

Another individual who had a lack of luck was Kurokawa Izana, their non-blood-related relative, fruit of the love of a Filipino woman and man.

Unfortunately, after her companion died, she found herself looking after the young boy on her own. Until she crossed paths with Masaru Sano, father of Shinichiro and Manjiro.

They became lovers and were together for a brief period until she passed away as well.

But he wasn't so heartless to not take the young boy with him, taking him under his wing as he went to live with his new flame, Karen.

And at that moment, they also had an infant daughter, Emma. Who he left behind as he also made his departure to the underworld.

Not even after she just turned three, her father's last paramour abandoned her in front of the Sano household, as she took her leave, and never returned back.

While she was introduced to her half brothers, her previous one wasn't doing very well.

Unlike her he was dropped at an orphanage, left to himself.

But despite the hardships, there was still hope for Izana as Shinichiro sought after him tirelessly.

After his grandfather had a talk with him, and nominated the young boy that lived together with Emma and Karen before they all parted ways. He was determined to locate him, to hopefully make him become a new member of the family.

And he does find him, instaurating an amazing sibling bond between him and the soon to be Sano.

Making him believe in that fairy tail, where everyone gets their happy endings but the villain.

Over time Shinichiro begins to talk about Emma and Manjiro too, giving him updates and telling him their adventures hoping to fuel the curiosity and excitement of the younger boy, but no success.

One thing he did fuel though, the young albino haired boy's jealousy in the regards of Mikey.

Believing the boy was trying to separate him from Shinichiro, he refused to let another loved one get snatched away from him, as he viewed the older sano sibling as a father-like figure in his life.

Taking a firm stance against the notion of letting the boy take the only thing remaining that could fill the void that the loss of his parents had created in his life.

But either way he had to be taken away from this world to early repent for his sins.

And just like this the bowling ball had hit one of the side pins that would later take two more down with it.

Starting the countdown for the lives of the other two Sano and our one and only Kurokawa.

Second to fall was Emma, Izana following right behind her leaving Mikey now all alone.

Waiting for the ball to eventually hit him.

So yeah he became a somewhat untraceable suicidal crime boss, in flip flops.

Ok he sounds too silly if we describe him that way, but he is Mikey so being silly is —Correction was his nature.

And what better way was there for the search to continue other than staging a reunion with the past division captains of Toman?

Reviving the organization, as now it slides sides and cooperates with the law to extend the reach of effectiveness in the search.

Working together while risking our lives for a better cause, which was stopping Manjiro and making him exit from that corrupted mentality so his name won't be stained by different numerous crimes.

That was our main goal, while the police wanted Bonten to fall apart, trying to capture most of its executives and associates, slamming them into jail and leaving them to rot there.

Lunch break; And those four motherfuckers were still in the office discussing business, well actually, only two of them were seriously discussing business while the other pair had discarded their jackets, loosened up their ties and opened the first buttons of their white shirts as they were busy hugging and laughing, just being the regular obnoxious drunk duo.

Remembering embarrassing past experiences, until the alcohol would no longer make them feel it's stung on their throat.

"Do you remember that intoxicated exotic dancer who wanted to provide you with a lap dance, but accidentally slapped you with her tits in your face?" The older Haitani inquired and then added, "I have never laughed so much in my entire life, I tell you!"

This was one of the many amusing escapades that they lived through together whilst being part of the Tenjiku and later the Kantou Manji Gang.

Chuckling his pal added.

"She was worse than a bitch in heat, the impact that came with it, and the weed effect nearly sent me to the depths of Hades, no cap!" This statement earning a snort from Kisaki,

while Rindou had become accustomed to dealing with drunk imbeciles.

So this was very common for him to not say usual in his daily life.

"If you ever require a prostitute's services for your trip into the so-called land of freedom, you know who to contact. I have a few fresh faces this week, and who knows maybe they can help you enjoy it to the fullest!" Ran's face broke into a smug and happy grin, as he offered his ex comrade the opportunity to indulge in some pleasure even out of the state.

However, the younger Haitani was clearly unamused by this show of generosity. He may not have shown it explicitly, but his mind was filled to the brim with irritation.

"Hold your horses, until we don't receive the order or further instructions we can't start any new negotiations with third parties, so refrain your fantasies together for another time." Collecting his papers and putting them into a folder.

Kisaki got up after he finished his paperwork, as his presence wasn't needed anymore.

"If you excuse me gentleman. I have some other important matters to attend to, so now I'll take my leave."

Matters my ass, he just wanted to leave as soon as the meeting was over, since the next few days will be brimming with work-related responsibilities and meetings; So he needed as much rest as he could get.

He might have the brain of a genius, but a brain doesn't work if it's not taken care of.

Rindou was about to tell him to get his dog with him, but it was already too late as the other business man was already out of the door.

Leaving him with not one, but two annoying drunken pricks.

He hated his job, at first it was fun until there wasn't any thrill in his life as everything was now routine.

He very well knew that once you get in Bonten, you can't leave.

Not alive at least.

Exactly, in exchange of what they always wanted as teens, they had to give their freedom and loyalty in return. But they didn't have any other choice.

Or let's say he didn't have any voice in chapter...

Two best friends, on the balcony; Violating the now deep black color of the sky with white and gray free spirited hazes.

The smoke danced along that void which gave the buildings a defined shape, floating lazily into the darkness of it, disappearing into the night sky just as soon, almost seeming like it was absorbed by it.

While I absorbed Lara's blabbering about Shion, as nicotine gave me the patience I needed for it.

"And when our eyes locked into a curious dance, I wondered; Who could he be? What has he seen in his life to make him pick my eye?" She concluded by taking another hit from the cigarette.

"It's a waste of effort, Lara. Just by viewing him one can tell he is more of a rake than a real-life criminal or thug, whatever he claimed himself to be,"

"You should really raise your standards, for your own good." I sighed out, flicking the back of my cigarette as the ash dropped down the railing into the street.

"Is that so? Funny coming from a woman who sent nudes to her lover before they even hit their third month, I doubt you're in a position to speak about such matters of morality." She retorted, rolling her eyes dismissively.

"Really? You're picking something that happened almost a decade ago so you could counter what I have just stated?" I replied, as the tone of my voice was disappointed while my face displayed an irritated grimace.

"Il lupo cambia il pelo ma non il vizio." She shrugged, looking to the side.

"Can you please listen to me, and stop behaving as if you own the world while I'm trying to advise you?" I was now furious, dropping my cigarette on the balcony tiles, firmly stomping on it and kicking the butt out of the railing.

"This individual is not good for you, I am trying to help you not get another heartbreak, like the one you had in junior year; With a guy who by the way was seven years older than you!" Rubbing my temples while I spoke in an attempt to soothe the headache that I was starting to feel, as I added.

"You want me to remember my mistakes from the past? Fine by me, have it your way, but don't think I won't reciprocate since you're no saint either." I concluded as now I was fully annoyed, while my eyes betrayed the fury I felt towards her shitty remarks.

"You always get your way! It's honestly so annoying how you establish your argument as definitive truth, and nothing can prove them wrong in any circumstance," Lara stated, unable to suppress emotions as her voice rose to match mine, expressing the pent up frustration and the feeling inferior to me even if she was older.

"I know I'm stupid and keep making the same mistake over and over again," She declared, as if she had nothing to lose by making me see her vulnerable side.

"But it's too late as now I'm addicted to that type of person, despite the fact that they will fuck me up." As she continued to vent her feelings to me, her voice became lower and lower.

There always was a sense of beauty she saw in her circumstances, no matter how bad they were. Despite the challenges, she would always point out a hint of good and cling onto it.

Nonchalant of the consequences.

"Let's join Lia on the sofa, and enjoy the match of football. We shall discuss this another time." I exhaled deeply, trying to turn her attention to some light entertainment.

"But I haven't finished my cigarette!" Protesting, as she held the carcinogen stick between the middle and index finger of her right hand.

In no time, the cigarette was swiftly thrown over the railing, by me as it flew down to the street where it crashed on the ground; Putting an arm across Lara's shoulders, guiding her inside.

Welcomed by the triumph screams of Lia, spinning around in the air her team's scarf, as apparently gli Azzurri had scored against the Brave Blossoms.

Her joy was palpable even to the neighbor next door, as he banged his fist against the wall while cursing at us to keep it down. Reminding us that it was late, and there were other people residing on the second floor.

We did nothing but laugh to our heart content at it.

"We'll surely try, cariño~!" I shouted back in a playful tone, with a hint of flirtatiousness in my voice.

I had a soft spot for our neighbor, Mr. Garcia; The handsome Spanish teacher, who recently moved into the condo weeks prior. With his suave personality and dazzling charisma, how could one not?

His anger issues were on another level though, maybe those were the reason his wife divorced him.

But one thing I know for sure, I would have chosen Spanish instead of French in middle school if he was the teacher.

As only the idea made me caliente between my legs.

Only to be dragged back to reality by Lia as she sat us down on the couch, to then accommodate herself between me and Lara, keeping us at a short leash, so to speak.

"It would be appreciated if you kept your lustful scenarios to yourself, at least until this match finishes." Lia expressed with a tired sigh.

"Oh come on what's wrong with letting your fantasy run a little wild? Plus who wouldn't fall for a dilf like him-" I answered as Lara playfully hit my shoulder chuckling, before Lia cut us off putting both of her index finger on our lips.

"Shh shut it for now..." She whispered strictly, eyes glued onto the screen of the TV.

The camera now shifted its focus to Tommaso Allan, who had the ball passed onto him by one of his teammates. In a swift and decisive move, he rushed forward, and successfully managed to overcome an opponent who had initially blocked his path. He was in the process of searching for an ally to pass the ball to, when Kanji Shimokawa suddenly tackled him to the ground, catching him by surprise and seemingly causing him to lose the ball.

"Now that's a hunk!" Lia remarked as she viewed the slow-motion replay of the action on the screen.

Only for me and Lara to shut down her affirmation.

As the game progressed, the Italian team was in advantage, netting two more touchdowns, prompting Kanji to utter a series of curses in the meantime, his anger being quite apparent.

Takeomi glanced sideways at his companion, cigarette between his lips, taking a long drag before saying. "You worry too much buddy,"

"They are playing on their home ground, with that huge advantage I'm sure they are just being a little playful with the opposing team just to put on a show and then get serious reversing the situation."

To which the fake blonde answered with a serious demeanor, "One thing I know for sure, and that is their victory over the Azzurri. I'm not taking another loss from our national team." He stated.

To which the other male answered.

"Then try not to get any white hair from the stress, it would ruin that dye job." Taking a long drag from his cigarette as he talked to his colleague.

While their two younger superiors played pool in the background, the pink-haired freak wasn't having any bullshit from his smoke addict of an older brother.

"Can you shut that trap of yours and stop smoking like you're mourning someone!? It's so fucking annoying to smell the smoke of your cheap cigarettes!" Talking, more like spitting words as if he was speaking with the lowest scum on earth.

"Suck it up Haruchiyo, your weed is no better." He firmly stated puffing out the smoke.

"It's Sanzu to you Akashi, stop acting like we're close and playing family, we both know you suck at it." Snarling while he glared at the older male.

"Fair enough, I just thought you missed my figure as an older brother." He laughed to himself.

While his little brother scoffed at his antics, dispising him from the very bottom of his heart.

Applying some chalk on the cue stick, as he got ready to make his strike.

"You talk as if you've died, which unfortunately you didn't. Anyhow, who would miss such a parasite as you?" With a swift and precise motion hitting the little white ball, as it went rolling full speed colliding with the brown one, "The world would just lighten from such burden if you did." He concluded as the ball fell into the hole.

"Oh- come on now, you talk as if I've ruined your life, or in this case as if I was the only one that did-" Being cut off by Mochi esulting as the Brave Blossoms finally scored a point after a back and forth between the two teams.

"Take that, you pasta eating bitches!" He was aware that the Azzurri were still ahead of a point but had so much faith in his team to win, as his nationalism kicked in.

When the two charismatic figures of Bonten entered the room.

Or more like one entered while having the arm of the other on his shoulders, as he helped him walk inside.

"Ahoy there, mates! Terribly sorry to keep you all waiting, I was busy chugging down copious amounts of liquor." Stumbling forward for a couple of steps as he gripped tightly the fabric of his brother's suit, the older Haitani made his entrance.

"However, I've recovered somewhat and I'm ready to enjoy some time together with you beautiful, beautiful people!" The man drunkenly declared, while his sibling dumped him on one of the minibar stools.

"Stay put, alright? Don't do anything dumb." Putting his brother in a position where he wouldn't fall off the stool from squirming around.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Rindou. I can take care of myself, even when I'm tipsy. Seriously, don't you trust me?" He proudly stated.

"There's nothing to be so proud of, Ran." Only to be cut off by the other, "I mean, I know how to handle my booze!" As the two got into a back and forth over the situation, which only got more chaotic and interrupted Kokonoi's efforts to concentrate and get some work done.

The ladder was immediately caught by their words, as he grew annoyed by all the interruptions to his work.

"Can you stop being so loud!? I'm trying to focus and you're making it almost impossible!" He snapped, his patience quickly running out with the ruckus.

The younger Haitani was already fed up after all the bullshit he had to deal with today.

As the situation wasn't helping, and his patience was quickly running out. He was ready to explode, and this slight form of provocation pushed him over the edge.

"Screw off, dick cheese! This isn't a place for work. Stop thinking about more ways to make money when we don't need it right now, you capitalist prick!" He exclaimed not able to control his temper anymore, as now he just wanted to exit the room not wanting to completely lose it.

And he did just that leaving his drunk sibling over there with the other lad, quickly making his way to the elevator.

Ran, being the drunken flirt he is, decided to break the silence between them with a bold claim, "Don't listen to him, gorgeous. You can consider this room your workplace, and if anyone else says otherwise, let me take care of it. I'm quite the big deal around here." Clearly still drunk from the alcohol, he mistakenly thought the white haired man was a woman.

Who seemingly caught his attention so he wanted to shoot his shot and earn some chuckles from, but he only received a disgusted glare from his comrade.

"For the love of all that is holy, please just trip over a knife and leave me alone." He face palmed in utter exasperation, as just the idea of having to deal with Ran's drunken antics was just too much for him to bear. He returned to typing on his laptop, trying his best to avoid Ran and hoping he wouldn't interrupt him again.

He was wrong, Ran was right behind him, his arms draped over his shoulders as he leaned over to whisper in the other man's ear, "Oh come on, don't you like attention? Especially from such a charming man like myself." Continuing to hit on the supposed woman he believed his comrade was.

"I like respect and boundaries, don't you know personal space is a thing? Stop being a creep and keep your goddamn hands to yourself, geez." Wanting the other to get the point and leave him alone, he wasn't going to sugarcoat his words to not sound offensive.

Still the rather tipsy individual took it personally.

"Me a creep? Please, I'm a gentleman." He started, quickly retracting his hands from his companion's back.

"Is there any difference? A gentleman is just a more patient and pleasing wolf in sheep's clothing" He retorted with a roll of his eyes, not impressed by the behavior of his companion.

“Don't be a killjoy, sweet cheeks! Why waste those lovely locks if you aren't gonna put them to good use? Maybe they'll look even better with my fingers through them and you on your knees." He said with a cocky demeanor, leaning on the counter holding his head and looking dreamily at his colleague back, as if imagining the various things he wanted to do with 'her'.

Ran was high on his own fantasies of romance and sex, while Rindou was high on their own professional success.

Making his way to their boss' office to report the process of their successful deal with Kisaki, hoping that their superior, Mikey, would be pleased with that accomplishment and tell him and Kokonoi to begin making the necessary investments into their new deals.

Rindou, after stepping out of the elevator to the top floor, was met with the warm glow of the sunset as the sun was slowly setting in the horizon. Within thirty minutes, night would fully sweep over Tokyo, giving the window one last glimpse before heading to the boss' office.

Firmly stepping through the double doors, closing them behind him. He glanced up at his boss, making eye contact with the man piercing black irises.

Despite his lanky and short stature. He was the epitome of 'don't judge the book by its cover.'

As his presence was intimidating, making the executive quick mental note to keep the report short; The faster, the better.

"How did it go Haitani? Hopefully you gave a good image of Bonten." He asked even though it seemed more a threat, making the thirty year old man stand straight.

Breathing out, relaxing as he recollected his thoughts, he started to give his report about today's meeting he and his brother had with the heads of the Tenjiku criminal organization, Kisaki and his left hand man Hanma.

It was hard for Mikey to remain calm and focused while listening to Rindou talk about them, considering the men were the ones who caused the death of two of his siblings. Still, managing to stay silent and not show the frustration he felt.

With a quick hand gesture shutting the other man up, before he inquired, "Was Hanma much of a hassle during it?"

Rindou quickly shook his head, "He was knocked out shortly after Ran got him to try some of the new booze we ordered from China," he explained before adding "Just as you had told to operate."

Another hand gesture telling him to continue, as he complied with his boss' order.

“He wanted to have some other drinks so we gave him a vip pass to one fo our most known nightclubs, for later we prepared a royal suite at one of our five star hotels.”

Instead of going through all this trouble he could have shot that adrenaline freak, leaving him to die alone like a bastard in the corner of a cold and lost alley, people wouldn't even notice about his disappearance. Nobody would care honestly, not even the police.

But his boss' orders weren't optional, and Rindou would much rather follow them and tolerate the other annoying asshole for that short period of time, than suffer the wrath of Mikey's so-called 'loyal mad dog.'

As being skinned alive by him doesn't sound so appealing to no one. Whatever he has to do he will do it, and get the job done.

"He will depart to San Francisco tomorrow at 7 am sharp. At least this is what I know from the information Kisaki gave me." He concluded, fixing his tie as he awaited further instruction or questions from his superior.

After a long period of them just staring at each other as silence surrounded them, the boss moved his arm over the landline, his fingers pressing a button before speaking.

"Kokonoi, come to my office and bring Ran along with you." The boss says to the other person on the line, in a firm and clear tone.

And not even five minutes after three people enter the office out of the two requested.

"I was told there was going to be some top-notch food here," The still intoxicated individual exclaimed, ready to engage in whatever entertainment that was happening currently. However, despite this, the pink haired individual accompanying this person mentally scoffed and was annoyed by his drunken behavior.

Nevertheless, the person's sotic expression remained in front of the king that he followed, regardless of the irritation caused by the inebriated idiot.

With Kokonoi right behind them, closing the doors after entering with his laptop in one hand a dossier on top of it.

"You told me you were taking me to your hot female friends, but I see no beautiful babes, no sexy girls, just a bunch of ugly dudes in an office." Rather disappointed by the lie Kokonoi told him to get his ass moving as soon Mikey required their presence there, Sanzu wasted no time in dropping Ran on the leather couch like he was a sack of potatoes.

"My hot bitches-" was as far as the drunk individual's complaining got, because he was abruptly interrupted by Sanzu placing his hand over his mouth, trying to shut him up, only to have it licked away in the process. The other man was disgusted by the behavior of the drunk individual, and his annoyance was starting to show.

"What the hell you freak!" he exclaimed, clearly surprised and not expecting this to happen. He quickly pulled his arm back, Kokonoi offering him a handkerchief as he proceeded to walk towards Mikey.

Placing his laptop and the folder on the desk of this last one, as he began to state the analysis he made about how much would their earnings rise out of assimilating Tenjiku into Bonten, with the ultimate goal of absorbing them completely after removing the top two heads.

"What about Madarame Shion?" Sanzu questioned about the third head, Kokonoi confidently responded by saying.

"He is no threat. He's easy to bribe with some money and power, maybe be generous and add a couple of women for him too..." He paused looking at Rindou before continuing.

"But if his appetite isn't satisfied by that, two bullets can shut his mouth for good, and make him grateful that we ended his life quickly." Showing no hesitation or remorse as he made his statement, clearly not bothered by the slightest to have a guilty conscience.

As long as it serves the greater interests and goals of the criminal organization he loyally serves, fill his pockets and mouth, he will do that and much worse.

"What do you think, boss?" Sanzu looked to Mikey for an answer, waiting to make sure they were all on the same page.

Ready to follow whatever came out of his mouth.

As his boss was still contemplating the situation, thinking about the best move to make. Finally deciding to go along with the plan suggested by Koko, believing that there shouldn't be any trouble with the third head of Tenjiku as long as they had a fool-proof plan to bring the man over to their side, and if not get rid of him.

Pulling out of the folder the documents before giving it one last adjustment, as he and Rindou put their signature on them, handing them to Sanzu and Mikey so they could do the same, as they both read what the contract was about before signing too.

Officially declaring their agreement, now they just had to wait for the outcome, and ensure that everything proceeded according to plan.

"Now we have time to give this to Kisaki, while I need you to give this to Hanma as he will go overseas tomorrow morning." Kokonoi directed Rindou, sticking out with his hand a piece of paper from the folder for him to take.

In the middle of the nightclub, surrounded by the loud music and boisterous atmosphere, is a man. Average height and a lean type of build, with a face that is so charming even now when it displays nothing more than indifference.

He was familiar if not used to having ladies of the night by his side as they swayed along the music, one in particular, his favorite.

The young woman was basically a walking feast for the eyes, her figure a perfect example of what the male gaze perceives as the ultimate beauty.

As she back faced him, his hands under hers as she guided him to feel every curve he already knew of her body, as they moved along the rithm of the music.

Still failing miserably when it came to Kazutora, as his mind was elsewhere, and she was nothing more than another Saturday night for him.

And while she tried to win his attention for hours, only to see her efforts fail, something much simpler had managed to get the job done. And that was a buzz from his phone, tucked away in his jeans pockets.

Quickly making his way across the nightclub towards the bar, presumably intent on finding a way to end his night on a more positive note. However, the woman was not about to give up that easily. She followed closely behind him, trying not to loose him in the sea of people.

When he reached the bar, the man paid for his drink, before giving the woman some gas money to call an Uber. This sent the signal loud and clear that he had enough partying for the evening, and the lady was forced to accept defeat.

He needed to fully focus on the task at hand he gave himself, still he wasn't no ungrateful bastard as he bid her a swift goodbye, planting a quick kiss on her cheek as a sort of consolation.

Walking out of the club leaving her behind. Reviewing the intel his most trusted subordinate had sent him.

"Roppongi huh?"

Haitani's well known turf. Still half of their subordinates liked to say they were loyal, in reality they are just a bunch of dumb assholes that with a little money and lies you could buy.

Cracking the engine to life as soon as he got on his motorcycle, a loud roar filled the mostly empty parking lot due to the late hour.

Taking a hold of the handle bar, rubbing it to gain more speed. He then performed a half circle turn to then speed off down the wet streets of Shibuya.

The streets were empty, except for the occasional low-life thugs or wannabe gangsters. He enjoyed nights like this, as it was just him, his motorcycle, and the cool wind that brushed across his now rosy cheeks. The blonde streaks in his hair blew freely, adding even more beauty to this moment.

Taking the exit onto the highway, it started to get boring.

Until he noticed a luxurious car in the distance, it seemed to be a black Mercedes-Benz.

Surely expensive to maintain, from the looks it seemed it was brand new. Although he couldn't see the owner, unfortunately as this rich bastard had black tinted car windows. But surely he seemed to be in deep thought as he moved with a slow monotone peace.

Then an idea came to his mind.

Letting the car gain a good distance, before going at maximum speed just right beside it. The roars of the motorcycle surprised the driver that much he swerved off into another lane. Luckily, the driver hit the brakes with all his might saving the car from making an accident.

Kazutora burst into laughter, not caring about the person in the car he almost killed. According to him, it was the driver's mistake to be distracted and wandering off with their thoughts while on the highway.

And since he considered himself to be a good cop, he saw it as his duty to remind him of this simple rule.

In his style and way of doing it.

The two figures that exited the car didn't catch his attention for long, as the situation had given him enough fun for today. Turning back to focus his attention on the road and on his true goal that night —visiting one of the night clubs owned by the two charismatic brothers.

Unbeknownst to him, the ones that he almost made go astray were none other than the two brothers, and the psychopath with a pink mullet of their superior.

The younger Haitani was outraged after the incident, and furiously started shouting calling the driver of the bike all sorts of names.

"That bastard!" The man yelled, his tone raging with fury.

In spite of his subordinate's outrage, Sanzu saw comedy in the situation and couldn't help but crack up.

"Calm down, bro. This is hilarious. it almost felt like we were going to die there," His coworker said with a wicked grin, as he closed and leaned into the car door.

Rindou was now fuming with outrage as the Joker wanna be continued to go at it.

"What? It's not my fault nor his that you drive like an old lady," The individual shrugged, unconcerned.

"You sick fuck! That damned bike almost caused us to crash! I might drive like a grandma, but who does he think he is acting like a maniac on the road?!" Storming back to the car, upon reaching it he opened the car door and forcefully closed it behind him.

Sanzu stayed out of it, sighing in annoyance as he left the younger Haitani some time to cool off, before they could carry on with the task given by his king.

While all this chaos happened, Ran was in the back seat, knocked out.

And not even five minutes after they were back on the road.

The speedometer showed numbers escalating rapidly, reaching higher digits after mere seconds had passed.

Street lights pass their bright ray on the car bodywork, somewhat trying to clean it from all the shady businesses that they have used it for.

Chase Atlantic blasting from the radio, as the man with the pink mullet sang along the lyrics. Only to be interrupted by the news.

"It seems that the trend of illegal car races came back, California has been full of reports. Especially in the cities of San Diego, Los Angeles and lastly but not least San Francisco."

As the news reporter continued their broadcast, Sanzu lowered the volume as he looked at Rindou before saying.

"Seems like Shion is already at work." He snickered still looking at whom he was speaking to.

While the other guy thought nothing but how idiotic people were to follow a trend, just to be known as some sort of crappy underground superstar. Not knowing how much of a hypocrite he sounded.

He and his older brother did follow the trend of being delinquents too, but they had more style and charm than those scraps.

"San Francisco huh?" He mumbled to himself.

Rindou only knew the city thanks to the books at juvie.

Remembering it's characteristic monuments such as Alcatraz, the ruthless prison known world wide, the Golden Gate Bridge; A red and white vortex that makes you enter a colorful mix of colors and cultures, where cheap and expensive coexist.

These were the words that the author of the book chose to describe the city.

Hanma tomorrow would go there to help Shion, his old gang pal, as the mission given to him by Kisaki wasn't such an easy task.

They should be there just for a few days, just to find a good location out of the public eye, and then be back in Japan without getting noticed.

The police have been on their tails in this period of time, with the help of that damned Toman.

As they reunited the gang, this time to find and bring back Mikey and his fucked up mind. With Takemichi being none other than the leader, yes that's right a weak bitch like him is the top dog.

He was good with words, Rindou admits, but words can't bring you anywhere. Violence must accompany them, at least that's his ideal.

Still he found it hilarious how they believed that with the power of friendship they could bring back his boss, who honestly just needed to be sent to a psychiatric hospital along with his loyal mad dog that was now sitting beside him looking at his phone.

But at least they had the balls to do something he would never do, and that was going against Mikey.

As if it wasn't Sanzu hunting him down for betrayal his subconscio would take his place. Guilt tripping him of leaving Ran alone, breaking the promise they had made at each other from the very start.

He couldn't handle the type of life without anyone beside him, like he had Ran for his entire life.

So running away was, and forever will be just a fantasy.

Since we were into the topic of old friendships, two other old friends were seeing each other right now after many years.

Junpeke, a once lively individual, had become much more tame over the years. His once stylish and edgy haircut was still the same, but his spark seemed to have been lost.

And now he happened to work at one of the many clubs the Haitani owned, he was just a low ranking subordinate of theirs nothing really special.

Still Kazutora found a way to use the position of his old friend in something useful to him, otherwise he wouldn't have bothered meeting him again after all these years.

Both of them not wasting much time, walking though the dark corridors headed straight for a door that was labeled 'Staff Only'.

Once through the now closed door, they entered an area that was most likely a dressing room, as Junpeke immediately got to business, pulling a waiter suit, from the nearby closet handing them to Kazutora.

As the latter changed into them pretty quickly, taking out keys and wallet from the orher pocket of his jacket along with his phone.

"Now that i have completed everything you've asked me for, it's time for you to hold up your end of the deal," Junpeke stated, a smug smile made it's way on his face as he added.

"Give me the money, and you can go and do whatever your heart pleases with Hanma." As if he wasn't in a dangerous situation at all.

"Of course, a deal is a deal after all." Kazutora seemed used to his arrogant behavior as he searched though his jacket pockets, pulling out two rolled stash of twenty five bills worth ten thoused each.

For you folks that don't want to do math, it's basically around four thousand dollars.

Not wasting anymore time the other took it and began to count them.

"What? Don't you trust me Junpeke?" The man with long hair pulled back and tied into a low ponytail asked his former friend, however the ladder didn't respond to him.

He looked around to make sure everything was left as they found it, then both took their leave walking to the door.

Not all bad things come to harm you, and Kazutora had learned one important rule during juvenile detention, and that was; Never let anyone walk behind you, especially when doing shady business.

Of course the ex-juvenile delinquent took this opportunity, knocking his childhood friend unconscious, sending his live location to one of the police officers he had under his command, and carrying the man outside the back exit and dropping him inside a dumpster.

After successfully taking Junpeke out of the picture he went back inside the building, now walking through the corridors that brimmed with sex workers that offered him lustful gazes and sweet chuckles.

He payed them no mind, as they were only doing their job.

Entering the large underground club lounge of the hotel, he was met with a scene of chaos. Music blasted in the background, ladies dressed in vibrant colours and styles moved back and forth, forming a veritable bouquet.

Just as he was taking in the sight, his eyes scanned the various tables as they came across the man he was looking for, he was surrounded by a circle of ladies, as they stuck to him like glue or looked to get closer.

Hanma Shuji, a man with many words for him, but clown was the most fitting, as his lazy smile was exactly the same of a fool.

And Kazutora couldn't wait to wipe it off his face, as it would look better when he will shove him behind the bars.

As if by fate, a tray carrying two alcoholic drinks was suddenly placed in his hands by a waitress, confusing him for a waiter, shouting at him to bring it to the table where the infamous reaper was.

And of course after knowing that how could he not spit into the drink to top it off?

Not a smart idea to do it in the middle of the dance floor, as he was grabbed by the collar from a bulkier man with an angry expression on his face.

If you were at a club and brought a drink, only to see a waiter spitting into one of the same type that you ordered, it would certainly put some doubts in your mind about your own drink.

And since alcohol can often make one's inhibition lower and impulse control harder to manage, it's now wonder that the man got so aggressive in a quick time span with Kazutora.

"Who do you think you are, spitting into drinks like that?!" In the midst of the loud music and partying, the sound of that sudden shout got the attention of those nearby.

As the partygoers turned their gaze towards the source, witnessing the man violently shaking the 'waiter'.

This situation surely ruined the cheerful mood there was in the club, as people didn't know if the accusation was true or simply a misunderstanding.

"If you don't want to give us our money's worth, then don't bother working here at all?!" Kazutora didn't even bother defending himself, he was too busy getting his face sprayed with spit from the angry shouts of the other man.

This whole situation ruined their night, as his voice surely would give the others a headache if this continued.

But one in particular.

And that was Hanma Shuji of course.

Making his way through the crowd of people as he left all the ladies behind, and when he got there he was met with the familiar face of Kazutora.

Seeing his ex comrade getting into a heated confrontation, how could he not intervene to help him? Jokes aside he quickly made his way to the two, putting his hand on the angry customer's shoulder, before saying.

"Now now, what's with all the hoopla?" he asked with a somewhat dismissive tone, taking the situation lightly.

But this seemingly innocuous gesture seemed to spark a fire in the customer, who was now fuming with anger.

"Who do you think you are, you bastard?!" he growled at Hanma, his voice practically dripping with fury. "I'm a powerful criminal, you think you can just go and mess with me like this?" he continued, his rage growing with every word.

Hanma, however, remained unfazed and replied to the customer's threats with a lazy smile, "Or what? What are you going to do? Enlighten me," he retorted, his lazy smile remaining on his face despite the customer's rage.

"Are you challenging me?! I can take you and break you like a breadstick, you lanky beanpole!" The customer shouted, angry at Hanma's continued lack of fear and respect for him.

"You don't seem to be in the right mood, mister." He said before adding "How about you go on a little timeout and drink some water, hm-?" And that was it, the final straw.

Suddenly Kazutora was free, as the man who was gripping on his collar turned to the taller male.

"I'll kill you four eyes!" He shouted, finally snapping.

"Four eyes? Make it six, because from how drunk you are." The other one had enough, and decided to resort to physical violence. As he ran at Hanma, fist ready to punch him hard on the jaw, determined to wipe that lazy smirk off his face.

Still as we all know this was a piece of cake for the reaper, as he dodged the strike with ease. Getting under people's skin was his profession rather than being a criminal, this was routine for him.

Kicking his opponent's feet, making him trip and fall on the dirty dance floor, that from the various partying of the night was all sticky, either from drink spills or obsolete substances.

As the bouncers came and took the man on the floor, as he continued to sprout profanities at the two.

Once the chaos of the situation subsided, Kazutora understood it was his cue to leave and get out of there. His plan being ruined by some drunk bastard.

Hoping to slip away unnoticed, but he was way too positive and confident in his skills not to notice Hanma's hand on his shoulder.

"Not even a 'thanks, old friend?" The familiar voice cut through the air. Even if he was facing the other way, the ex Valhalla number three could feel his ex superior lazy smile.

"Hanma, long time no see," he said, "You've changed quite a bit, and it seems like you've acquired the habit of grabbing people by their shoulders?" He said with one of his best fake smiles he could manage to hide his irritation.

"I could say the same for you," he responded humorously, "you still look as fresh as new! Mind telling me your secret?" With a light-headed tone, he joked about his friend's transformation.

"Oh, y'know. Just grew my hair out a bit," lightly tugging some rebel strands of hair framing his face, "and eleven years of prison did their work." He playfully scoffed.

"You're as sassy as ever, huh?" Hanma replied teasingly, "How about we get some drinks and catch up on the lost time?" Wrapping his slender arm around his old comrade's shoulders, who seemed to not be interested in having to chit-chat.

Ultimately, he accepted the offer, ending it with "Why not?"

Both perfectly knew who the other was, but just for tonight they'll forget it over a few glasses of Mojito.

#tokyo revengers #shion madarame #kisaki tetta #hanma shuji #kazutora hanemiya #chifuyu matsuno #rindou haitani #ran haitani #manjiro sano #kokonoi hajime #bonten #fanfic #nysa #my work

[james-is-here]

Maybe, maybe, just maybe

Some unrequited love between m reader and Jackson wang. Reader confesses his love to Jackson but Jackson just says sorry and leaves reader standing there alone sad and upset (I’m thinking reader is a soloist who has a lot of friends in the industry and he’s performing at Coachella) days later before he goes on stage he sees 88risings performance and sees Jackson and bibi perform together and gets upset cause he thinks they’re a thing (side note their chemistry on stage was so omg) and he gets sad so on stage he performs an unreleased sad song and after the performance he runs off crying and ends up finding comfort in the arms of another 👀👀👀👀 that’s all I got pooks 👀🖤👀🖤👀🖤

Umm...first time writing outside Stray Kids, incredibly nervous but thank you for sending a request ☺️😬😖 I had to do so much video research and just research in general cause I didn't know much about what you wanted, that's how I learned Atarashii was at Coachella

I'm actually really scared this isn't good cause I've honestly barely gone out of my writing zone with SKZ so if it's bad I'm really sorry.

Tags: Very nervous writing cause I try to make everything perfect 😅, short, Wise words from Han's father (Tiger JK😂), Fading Echoes is a fake song name...um...yeah, idk what else. I inserted Chan cause I couldn't help myself.

Side note: If anyone wants to be tagged when I post, lmk! I can definitely add you!

You stood backstage at Coachella, your heart pounding with anticipation. As a k-pop soloist, this was a dream come true, performing at one of the world's biggest music festivals. But amidst the excitement, your thoughts kept drifting to Jackson Wang, your friend and fellow idol.

When Jackson finally appeared in your line of sight, a smile lighting up your face, your nerves intensified. This was his chance to finally confess, it's been years and you can't stomach the nervous churning bubbles in your stomach anymore whenever you're with you friend. "Jackson" You call out and he makes his way over to you.

"Can I tell you something? It's important." Jackson's expression is curious as he tilts his head at you. "Sure, Mn. What's on your mind?"

Taking a deep breath, you gathered as much of your courage you can muster. "I... I have feelings for you. I've been wanting to tell you for a while now."

For a moment, there was silence, and your heart raced with anticipation as you felt like if you bite your lip nervously any more it may bleed. But then Jackson spoke --the churning of your stomach swirling tenfold-- his face was covered with a look of shock at your admission before it was taken over by a look of sympathy or awkwardness, you couldn't tell, his voice gentle yet firm. "Mn, I'm sorry, I-" Is all he said with a sigh before he looked away and just walked away.

With those few little words, your world felt like it shattered, your eyes wide and mouth dropped open as you watched in disbelief as Jackson just walked away, leaving your standing alone, feeling utterly rejected even though he didn't say anything but you could still tell, he's your friend, you know his answer or thoughts before he speaks them. That's what hurt though, apparently you've been focused on the wrong guy...

A while later, despite your lingering hurt, you put on a brave face as you enjoyed the other performers. You watched the artists of 88Rising perform, getting to say a small hello to Atarashii Gakko as they went on stage, and you felt a pang of jealousy when you later saw Jackson interacting with Bibi, you thought they looked way better together then you and Jackson would, along with feeling the need to be sick, but at your own self for thinking confessing to Jackson was a good idea.

When it was your turn to perform, you changed your set and performed 'Fading Echoes', a song you always thought was too melancholy for your usual upbeat or sensual songs. As you finished, tears threatened to spill from his eyes, and he fled the stage, seeking solace in the anonymity of the backstage area.

There, you ran into Tiger JK, another artist he admired. "Hey, Mn, right?" "U-Um, Yeah, sorry for running into you." You bow deeply before standing upright. "You okay?" "Um...." "It's okay if it's too personal. Your song out there was so...powerful." "Really? Kinda thought it sucked from my other stuff." "No, it was really good. I could feel the emotions." He tilts his head, looking over your face before placing a hand on your shoulder. "I can also see your emotions, you sure you're okay?"

Taking a deep breath, you shake your head. "Um, sort of? I...I confessed to my friend that I liked him...all he did was apologize and walk away..." JK hums to himself. "I still like him though but...now I don't even know if our friendship still exists."

Tiger JK listened patiently as you poured out your heart before speaking with his arm wrapping around your shoulder. "Mn, you sound like an amazing guy. So what if one dude doesn't like you but you shouldn't chase after someone who can't see your worth."

You nodded, your heart heavy yet strangely lighter at the same time. As Tiger JK tightened his arm and gave you a tight side hug, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his kindness.

"Y'know, you remind me of someone." "I do?" "Absolutely. His name is Chris." "Chris?" "Or Chan. I think you two would get along great, plus he's an idol as well." You easily fall into another conversation which was mainly JK telling you about his friend.

Though, you couldn't stop but think if it was worth keeping Jackson as a friend. You've known him for a long time but after your rejected confession, it feels too awkward.

You'll think about it later though, cause your brought back from your thoughts when JK offers you his phone with a picture of him and another guy, maybe the same age as you, and when JK tells it that it's Chan, you forget about Jackson, cause honestly JK's friend is...cute.

mmmmm this is bad, I'm sorry. Well, no, it's...okay. Honestly I'm not proud of this but it's good, I think, and I hope you liked it 😬

I feel disappointed in myself and idk why but no, it's good, I'm stepping out of my stray kids comfort zone even though it feels weird.

#jackson wang #jackson wang x male reader #k-pop x male reader #male reader #i really don't know how to feel about this one

[the-authoress-writes]

Family

(AKA some of my Tom “Iceman” Kazansky headcanons)

Warnings: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky’s father’s A+ parenting (not), mentions of cancer.

Author’s Note: This was instigated by @callsign-skydancer, after she sent me a very insightful message, and I just had to go with it, until, voilà, I churned this out in an hour and a half.

I’ve had these headcanons for a while now, but it’s because of Sky that I decided to get them down.

I’ll be using these in some later stories, so if you see some copy-pasting, you didn’t see anything, self-plagiarism doesn’t count, 😂.

I have no idea if this makes any sense, I wrote this in what I feel is a weird tense, but I have to get this out of my head, so I can finish “Wherever You Go”.

Enough of the Authoress talking, here we go!

Family has a great deal of meaning for Thomas Kazansky.

It affects and has affected him in more ways than one, and it continues to influence and shape him.

It was why he joined the Navy.

Most people assume that his father was Navy, because they hear higher-ranking officers whisper “He’s related to Kazansky” or things like that, but they’d be wrong.

His father was not Navy.

His father is Dr. Vasily Kazansky, a prominent Honolulu cardiologist, who detests all things military, who wanted nothing but for Tom to follow in his footsteps, demanding utmost academic excellence in preparation for medical school, creating a habit drilled into him that carried over into Tom’s service.

His grandfather, however, was Captain Sergei Kazansky, a highly decorated US Navy officer who served during World War II.

As a child, during visits to his Dedushka Sergei and Babusya Anya, young Thomas could be found in his grandfather’s arms, listening wide-eyed to Sergei’s stories of his time in the Navy.

It was Sergei Kazansky who instilled in Tom a love of country, and the desire to serve.

Tom’s decision to join the Navy and attend Annapolis was what drove a final wedge between Tom and his father, who detested the military for taking his father, Sergei, from him, in more ways than one, both physically, and emotionally, Sergei not knowing back then how to handle his trauma.

It was his grandfather who pinned the Lieutenant Junior Grade bars on his uniform, and Tom will never admit it, but he had tears in his eyes when Sergei embraced him and whispered in his ear, “Я так горжусь тобой, Томас,” words his own father never said to him.

It broke his heart when Sergei died of lung cancer three months before he was slated to attend TOPGUN.

But his memories and the lessons his Dedushka taught him would stay with him forever.

Most people would never assume that Tom “Iceman” Kazansky would have an artistic bone in his body, but they would be absolutely wrong.

One of Tom’s best kept secrets was that he is a very accomplished pianist.

He was taught by his mother, Yelena, how to play the piano, and music ran in her family, her own father, Oleg, having been a violinist with the USSR State Symphony Orchestra, before his defection to America.

Tom’s fondest memories of his mother are of afternoons spent with Yelena teaching him to play the piano, after dragging him from his homework, which enabled him to play Chopin at twelve, followed by the two of them listening to recordings of classical music, some of them featuring his grandfather Oleg’s playing, his father’s long hours at work enabling this time away from studying without censure.

One of his most prized possessions is a vinyl record which he inherited from his mother, of Shostakovich’s “Leningrad Symphony”, where his grandfather Oleg can be heard playing second chair violin.

In general, Tom’s favorite pieces to play are Chopin, but depending on his mood, what he plays varies.

When he’s at his most neurotic, Bach comes easier, the precision required to play those pieces giving his mind something to fixate on.

When he’s upset or angry, he hammers away at Scriabin, and some pieces of Rachmaninov, like “Prelude in G Minor (Op. 23 No. 5)” and “Prelude in C Sharp Minor (Op. 3 No. 2)” and Beethoven’s “Piano Sonata No. 8 in C Minor (Pathétique)”.

When he’s feeling a little drifty, he goes for Satie and Debussy, or “The Lark” by Glinka and Balakirev.

When he’s happy, Chopin’s “Heroic” polonaise is a must.

When he’s lonely, Chopin’s “Nocturne No. 20 in C Sharp Minor (Posthumous)” is a standby, because of how it reminds him there’s always light at the end of the tunnel.

He’s proud to say he can play his dream piece from his early high school years, Liszt’s transcription of “La Campanella”, though he still thinks he can get it just a little bit faster.

His most recent dream pieces are Rachmaninov’s “Piano Concerto No. 2”, and Liszt’s “Rondo Fantastique (El Contrabandista)”.

It’s because of him that Bradley is as good a pianist as he is, having been the Baby Goose’s teacher on the instrument.

He wishes Bradley would show off the classical pieces he knows more than his rendition—great as it is—of “Great Balls of Fire”.

Family has shaped Thomas Kazansky for better and for worse—there are still days he can hear his father telling him an A- wasn’t going to get him into any half decent Ivy League, or that he had to try harder, that his best needed to be better, and those are the days he plays Bach, or Scriabin, Rachmaninov, and Beethoven—but it was also what made him who he was, what led him to what he loves doing, and what led him to the family he chose.

Taglist

@valmare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

#i wrote this instead of sleeping #please be kind #bahaha 🤣 #top gun #top gun headcanon #top gun headcanons #tom iceman kazansky #tom kazansky

[bimrsadler]

Hello, I saw requests were open. I wanted to see if you could write Arthur finding out he has a child/teen that he didn't know about, but now needs to help care for them. How he has to bond with them whether it be through interests like drawing or teaching them to hunt/self-defense.

A Pretty Dream

Characters: Arthur Morgan, Arthur’s daughter

Warnings/tags: dad!Arthur, fluff

Word count: 1,000

Notes: went with giving Arthur a daughter named Sarah (maybe around preteen age) who he bonds with through drawing

Arthur hadn’t expected to feel so nervous, he knew she would like the gift but he couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointing her.

He didn’t even believe Sarah was his when the telegram came through and she stepped off the train. His heart skipped a beat when he realized there was no mistaking it — those were his eyes.

It terrified him. Seeing a child with his eyes look up at him for guidance when he himself was lost. But he couldn’t abandon her, not when she needed him the most.

It took time to warm up to each other and Sarah was fiercely independent, never wanting to be told what to do or how to do it.

But with time she took interest in Arthur’s adventures, asking to come with on the outings that weren’t too dangerous. She loved watching him sketch his surroundings most of all, in awe of the drawings that he thought were simple scribbles.

So Arthur’s hand sat in his satchel, fingers gripping the journal and pencils he picked out for her, waiting for the right moment.

He watched lovingly as she flipped over rocks to look for critters and undiscovered treasures. A sense of adventure had been instilled in her during her time with Arthur and the others.

She loved dresses and flowers and all those other things that young girls were expected to, but she loved learning and exploring more. If she had to work for something or get dirty in the process? Even better. And God help anyone who told her she wasn’t allowed.

The natural world was her playground, the animals and trees and everything around them; her happiness. One day Arthur hoped to introduce her to Albert Mason so long as gators weren’t involved in that day’s photography.

“Hey sweet pea! C’mere for a bit.” Arthur patted the ground underneath the tree, motioning for her to sit beside him.

Timidly revealing the leather bound journal from his satchel, he slowly handed it to her. “I uh, wanted to give this to ya. I know ya been wantin’ to try drawin’ more so…”

Arthur watched her small hands grab the journal exuberantly as her face lit up, “are ya serious?!” She shot up to wrap her arms around his neck in a tight hug, “thank you!”

“Ain’t nothin’ honey.”

“Well you’re gonna teach me how to draw better right?”

“Do my best but uh, I never fancied myself as an artist.”

Arthur felt an elbow in his side as his daughter scoffed, “oh hush, y’are too. Now! What should I draw?”

“Well,” Arthur gestured broadly to the area in front of them, “see anything ya like?”

Holding the pencil up to her lips in thought, she pointed animatedly. “That rabbit under the tree over there! See it?!”

“Sure do,” Arthur drawled with a grin.

He watched as she nervously began sketching what she saw, “now relax — it don’t need to be perfect… jus’ try yer best.”

Arthur felt his affirmations were clumsy but he truly meant them, and it seemed as though the awkward anxieties of a parent and child who met later in life were finally fading.

He didn’t have all the answers and never would, but they felt like family now and he would do anything to protect her.

As the warm afternoon breeze cooled to evening, Arthur advised on which parts to shade, which lines to draw first, how to make things more realistic; anything he could think to teach.

She listened intently and applied everything he taught, and it felt good to be a teacher. Not a killer or a robber, just a man helping his kid.

The drawing was finished as the sun began to set, an indication that it was time to head back to camp.

Arthur helped Sarah up on the back of the horse, and wondered if it was time to find her her own.

Her expectant inquiry interrupted his thoughts however, “soooo is there anything we’re doin’ tomorrow?”

“Well I’m goin’ huntin’. Ain’t the nicest thing and it can be real boring but if yer inter—”

“Sure!” She exclaimed more enthusiastically than anticipated. “Then after maybe you and Aunt Sadie can teach me to shoot?!”

Arthur let out a soft chuckle, she did love spending time with Sadie and he would most certainly be fighting a losing battle (with both of them) to say no. “In good time kiddo. I do want ya to be able to take care of yerself but I don’t want ya to grow up too fast neither.”

“I’ll just practice with cans and bottles. I mean, you do want me to be able to defend myself right?”

Arthur sighed, he knew Sadie would say the same and maybe they were right. “Of course,” he stated with a tone, “but I can protect ya til then too ya know…”

Arthur could hear Sarah roll her eyes, “I know that, but it doesn’t hurt to know how to do these things. Even if some people think it ain’t ladylike.”

Arthur laughed to himself as he hurried the horse along, “yer right sweet pea, we’ll get to it. I promise.”

After arriving in camp, Arthur watched her run excitedly to Charles and the girls; showing off the drawing that she was rightfully proud of.

Arthur never thought he would get a second chance at fatherhood. He wasn’t sure at first if he even wanted it and most certainly felt he didn’t deserve it.

But there she was — reading to Jack at the campfire which he politely asked for after being shown the drawing.

Abigail flashed a kind smile from the seat beside them, no doubt thrilled that Jack had her to befriend.

It wasn’t lost on him that this life was dangerous and unfit for them, as much as he would always love the gang; he needed to love his daughter more.

And maybe one day Abigail’s little dream of turning John into a rancher would have room for Arthur and his girl to join them. It was a pretty dream.

#arthur morgan #dad!arthur morgan #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption #rdr2

[the-knights-of-rohan]

11/100 days of productivity.

Was pretty busy with some IRL stuff today, so didn't get a lot done. Days are finally getting much colder now, which is great in the afternoon, but kinda annoying in the morning.

(My lamp looks quite dashing, and ready to trampoline on the letter i.)

Today’s productivity:

Read four more chapters of Catch-22 for AP Lit, also added to quote notes. The story is FINALLY going somewhere, than fuck. It only took 30 chapters to become interesting.

Continued composing outline for spoken word topics for AP Lit

Completed the directional dashes to AP Computer Science project, in order to make the game more active for the player. Also did some refactors to improve the extensibility of our game later.

Self Care:

Continued learning Vim keybindings, finally making some real headway and getting the hang of them.

Future Goals:

Continue Catch-22, finish by Thursday of next week, currently still on-schedule.

Finish AP Literature spoken word presentation by Sunday night, sans deliberation with AP Lit teacher

Song of the day:

Name: Intentional

Album: Apt. 505

Artists: Coast contra

#100 days of productivity #studyblr #study motivation #student #studying #coding #literature

[aftgthenandnow]

Then & Now is a fest for the All For The Game fandom, accepting fic, art (any medium!) and podfic. 

Our only requirement is that your creations focus on canonverse (either before and during the original timeline — “Then” — or post-canon — “Now”). Otherwise it’s entirely up to you what pairing or pairings (or none at all — your creations don’t have to feature romantic/sexual pairings at all) you want to feature, what length/medium and what rating you want to go for.

TIMELINE

The prompting period will be from July 18th to July 24th, and the prompting list will be available to browse the moment prompts start rolling in.

The sign-up period starts on July 25th. You can either claim a prompt or sign-up with your own idea.

Artists, writers and podficcers will then have until the deadline on October 20th to finish and post their creations.

And FINALLY what we all really want to hear is that posting starts on October 22nd.

Reveals will be up a few days after the last work posts and then we can all finally chat about our creations openly!

PROMPTING

Prompting will open on July 18th, and will end on July 24th.

You can prompt as many ideas as you’d like using our prompting form.

Once you open the form, you’ll be asked for the following info:

- what time period your prompt fits (“Then” or “Now”);

- pairing (if applicable)

- your prompt (this can be as detailed or as vague as you want it to be)

- if your prompt is nsfw (so that creators browsing the prompts can filter those out if they want)

- your ao3 username (optional)

This fest isn’t an exchange so all prompts are there for inspiration in the first place. Creators do not have to include every single detail of a prompt if they pick it, but do have to use the main idea as a starting point for their works. If you leave your ao3 username when prompting, the creators can choose to gift the fic to you, though this isn’t at all a requirement.

Note that if you’re wanting to write your own idea, you don’t have to prompt it and then claim it later. There will be an option for self-prompting once sign-ups open!

SIGN-UPS/CLAIMING

Sign-ups will open on July 25th. We don’t currently have a closing date for claiming.

The sign-up form will ask you for your name, ao3 username and an email we can use to contact you.

You’ll be asked to specify if you’re creating art or fic, and if you’re claiming a prompt or self-prompting.

You can then pick a prompt from the list to claim if that’s what you’re doing, or leave a short description of your idea if you’re self-prompting.

For the sake of the form, podfics count as art. If you’re podficcing, please leave the link to the original fic in the prompt box.

There will also be a box for any questions/comments/concerns.

The prompts left during the prompting period will only be available for claiming once for art and once for fic. 

The option to sign-up as a team (either co-writers or writer+artist) will be available. Co-writers will be asked to sign-up only once, and leave the information that you’re co-writing in the questions/comments/concerns box. Writer and artist teams will be asked to each sign-up individually, but let us know that you are collaborating in the questions/comments/concerns box, too.

Creators will be limited to one prompt only, but you are welcome to pick a second prompt after you finish and submit your first work.

CREATING

Submissions must be completely new and finished works. Unfortunately, this means no sequels for previous fics or comics you may have, and no finishing WIPs you’ve already started posting.

Even though this is an anonymous fest, we understand the rampant issue that is reposting and art stealing, so all artists are allowed to submit watermarked/signed works. You will also be given the option to take part in the fest and post your work to the collection, but for it to be posted after reveals, so it’s never anonymous.

There is no minimum word count for fics. We trust that you know the best way to tell your story, and only ask that your works are tagged appropriately and follow the prompt.

Having your fics beta-read isn’t a requirement, but if you’d like yours beta-read and don’t know how to reach out to a beta reader feel free to ask the modding team and we can get you in touch with someone!

Podficcers are welcome to choose any fic previously posted on Ao3 that fits the Then & Now theme to read/record, as long as the original poster allows for podfics of their work to be made.

As we mentioned before, the fest will be posting anonymously so we ask you to be creative when sharing wip snippets. We trust you to know what would easily identify your fic once it posts and what is vague enough to slip through the cracks ;)

We will NOT be accepting AI-generated art or fic.

DEADLINE; CHECK-INS, EXTENSIONS AND POSTING

We will be emailing every participant during the creation period, but your final deadline for posting is October 20th. You can submit your work as soon as you have it done, though.

You’ll get detailed instructions for posting to the collection via email, and we’ll post those on both tumblr and twitter closer to the posting date.

We’ll be sending every participant a couple of check-in emails, but these aren’t as scary as they sound! We won’t be asking you to show us what you’ve got, or how much you have already. 

If you need to drop out, please don’t hesitate and do not feel guilty. Shit happens, we get it. We only ask that you do it as early as possible, so we can adjust the posting schedule accordingly. If you need a few days past the deadline to finish, we should be able to give people extensions too, so just keep us in the loop.

It is our priority above all that everyone enjoys taking part, so we’re here to minimise stress and worries.

When posting, don’t forget to add AFTG Then & Now 2023 as one of your tags and post your work to the collection — this will make sure it remains anonymous and hidden until we release it out into the world. Please don’t leave any references that reveal who you are before the anon period is over. You can add all your usual social media links, etc. after reveals. 

You can find the collection here, and you’ll be able to find it when posting if you type AFTG_thenandnow on the “Post to Collections / Challenges” section.

There will also be a form to fill in with your name, the title of the work you submitted and the link to the work, that you can fill once you’ve posted. The link to this will be shared with you in the posting instructions email :)

(A little note: after you hit post the work will be hidden in the collection until we reveal it, so the easiest way to get to it should you want to edit or just to copy the link is to go through your stats page.)

But don’t worry, we will be reinforcing all of this as we go along!! This is just so you have all the information in one place!

Once your work posts, remember to change the date to the day it’s posted so it appears on top of the list for your pairing/the fandom. 

We will be giving everyone a few days after the last work posts to catch up, and then FINALLY reveals will happen :) 

If you have any issues at any point, we’re here to help and to answer any doubts or questions. Do keep in mind we all live in different timezones and are unfortunate victims to the capitalist grindset. If you DM/ask/email us, we promise to get back to you ASAP.

We hope you have lots and lots of fun!!

Your mods,

Marion, Nikki, Róisín, and Rory

[@decaflondonfog, @rainsoakedhello, @jaywalkers, and @mostlymaudlin]

#[mod post] #rules and guidelines #aftg #all for the game #fandom event #long post

[sketchyallstar]

Pixie Hollow OC doodles! This is the first time I’m concretely designing Drizzle, Aspen, Zenith, and my newest OC Erys, whom I see as the most direct self insert out of my previous attempts. My oldest OC is Ella, who’s based on my favorite fairy to play as among my Pixie Hollow Online accounts. Later I made Brightly, but I didn’t feel super connected to her so I made Drizzle, then I decided they’d make a good odd couple duo so I made them sisters, in a different way from Tink and Periwinkle. They’re two fairies born of the laughter of twin babies, so they came into being at basically the same time and see each other as twins. I was also playing with the concept of a winter fairy and that’s where Aspen came from, but I used her to flesh out Ella’s character as an OC and not a player character. Basically, Ella is an artist and Aspen is her muse, but Aspen is an introvert and doesn’t know what to do with all the attention Ella gives her. Much much later I made a fairy with a new made up talent, Valora, who can dreamwalk. Using her story, I also made my first Sparrowman OC, Zenith. He has a job that keeps him up at night, Valora has a job keeping her up at night, there’s grounds there for a ship. Their relationship is a bit of a Tink/Terrance ship, where Zenith has a crush on Valora but she’s a bit oblivious to it.

My current self-insert, Erys, is a Storytelling talent, but she’s not great at telling stories verbally. Her thoughts are scattered, her mind wanders, she gets fixated on the wrong details sometimes, and some fairies think she’s Incomplete. She heavily relies on pixie dust to show visually what she’s trying to say, so she’s overly conscientious about her pixie dust supply. Best friends are Rani, who finishes her sentences, and Prilla, who can get where Erys is going with a train of thought without words sometimes. Still, despite her struggles, she’s always writing notes, and fairies who read her ideas and story fragments think they’re great, sometimes brilliant. The only thing holding her back is that she can’t finish off any of the stories she starts.

#my art #art #oc #my oc #doodles #fairies #Disney fairies #pixie hollow #pixie hollow OC #fairy oc #sparrowman OC