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tommyspeakycap · 3 years ago

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nsfw alphabet - andy robertson

A - Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He's a sweaty cuddler after sex. He doesn't care that neither of you have cleaned up or that you're both hot, sweaty and sticking together. He couldn't care less. Andy loves to pull your naked body as close to him as you can get with his fingers drawing lazy patterns on your bare skin until you fall asleep comfortably in his arms.

B - Body part (their favourite body part of yours and of their own)

Of yours, has to be your boobs. He just loves them. Loves to knead them between his hands, rolling your nipples between his fingers to arch your back into off the bed so your body is flush against his. However, more innocently he loves your stomach. It's always so soft and warm and it harboured your little kiddies for nine months three different times. He loved to talk to it when they were in there and now whenever you get time to be together, he makes sure every single mark, scar, stretch of skin is kissed and named as beautiful as he truly knows you are.

C - Cum (anything to do with cum, basically…)

Ohhhh in you. He loves to cum in you. Got a bit of a breeding kink to be fair but we'll get into that later. To know you're full of him even when he pulls out of you or to think about you leaking him until he pushes his fingers up to stuff you full of him again is one of the greatest turns ons of his life. However, Andy would also argue there are few sights more fascinating than that of you on your knees in front of him, his cum dripping down your chin as you look up at him through your lashes.

D - Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He gets turned on when people call you Mrs Robertson or (y/n) Robertson or even Robbo's mrs. Anything like that just sends him fuzzy headed. You're his and only his. You have his name, you wear the rings that he gave you and he gets enthralled by calling you "Mrs Robertson" a million times a day and occasionally in bed. Get's him ready to go any time of the day to be honest. Also it’s not dirty, more fluffy and adorable but he gets really, really excited after you get married and he gets to refer to you as his wife. He loves to point you out and just be all awe struck with sparkly eyes as he proudly announces “That’s my wife.”

E - Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not necisarrily experienced but he is very good with what he does know. You've been together so long that you've learned just about every nook and cranny of each other so no one is left un satisfied at the end of the time you get to spend together. He's learned your body like the back of his hand and even on a day where the sex is as vanilla as can be, you always finish it feeling very satisfied. Also, for some reason that man has absolutely mastered the art of using his fingers.

F - Favourite Position

I get the feeling Andy probably prefers plain old missionary. It's the easiest, risks the least injury possibilities and allows him to see every single reaction and movement of your face as he bottoms out of you before plunging back in balls deep. He loves watching your eyes roll back as his name dances off of your tongue.

However he does also love taking you standing up. He loves the feeling of your legs tight around his waist because your knees were too weak from him to hold you up anymore and despite the fact it is much harder work, it's always well worth it. This usually doesn't happen at home, it tends to be the hidden corridors and empty rooms of Anfield after matches that are subject to said against the wall sex.

And finally, possibly his favourite is also watching you sink down onto his length, eyes fluttering shut. You take the reigns and he just melts, turning to putty in your hands. He rests both large palm on your upper thighs, fingertips bruising the soft skin of your bum, but they usually wander to your boobs until he’s reaching his high, where on will return to your bum and the other will grab a fistful of the bedsheets in a white knuckle grip as hips buck instinctively until he shoots his load into you with a loud shout. He loves when you ride him whether that’s lying on the bed, sitting up on the couch where he has an angle for his thrusts or if it’s simply you, rubbing yourself against the material of his shorts until he tugs them from the way and allows you to coat his bare thigh in your juices. He loves to be ridden.

G - Goofy (are they more serious or humorous in the moment)

He's a goofy guy through and through. He actually strives to make you laugh during sex because its the most intimate way and space a person could ever make the person they love giggle. It's usually when he's going in hard, almost always afterwards anyway. He'll share or tell little jokes or one liners that make you giggle, a blush heating your cheeks because he's still literally balls deep inside of you and you're giggling away. He just adores everything about it and making you laugh during sex always feels like an extra accomplishment.

Although if he's frustrated or got a lot of pent up energy then no ones laughing. The only noises that can be heard as slapping skin and you on those occasions and no one is complaining.

H - Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes etc)

We've all seen that video from Jordan Henderson's insta story so we all know it appears as though he is completely clean shaven down there. He's not necessarily got a strict routine, he just maintains himself how he likes it as he pleases. It's his beard you think about. Andy likes to keep his faint beard and when between your thighs, it definitely makes all the difference.

I - Intimacy (how they are during the moment? are they romantic?)

He can be quite romantic depending on the occasion (birthdays, anniversaries, valentines etc) but romance is subjective. Some may like rose petals and candles, but you're happy with just Andy really. He can make things romantic sometimes and other times he's just Andy, making jokes and making you feel ridiculously good. Although he certainly can dress up nice, putting on suit, lighting some candles and dimming the lights kind of evening. Those are few and far between but you're certainly not complaining.

J - Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doens't do it a lot really. Maybe in the beginning of your relationship but almost never now. The time that he does want to get it on is always when you're there. Otherwise he's at training or with the kids or something like that. He's rarely not busy. When off travelling, Andy may opt to take things into his own hands purely for a release that he needs if he's feeling a bit wound up and missing you. There was one particular point however in your first pregnancy where you got all embarrassed one morning before admitting that the hormones raging around in you had conjured up a dream about Andy jacking off and you getting to watch, so occasionally he'll treat you with that in a nod to that little thing you love that has stuck around ever since.

K - Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Like I mentioned earlier, he has a bit of a breeding kind and further to that, he was absolutely always turned on for pretty much the whole of your pregnancy. He found himself doing a lot of jacking off then because you unsurprisingly weren't up for it most of the time that he was during the course of those nine months. But he was absolutely ravenous seeing you all swollen with his baby. He wanted to be all over you all the time. It just made him wild with desire.

He also has a hefty thing for winding you up in public. One time, at a players gala he fingered you under the table while everyone was eating and you had to sustain a conversation with Jordan Henderson, his wife and Jurgen Klopp. Andy just got so hard knowing what he was doing to you under the table and no one has any idea. It was marvellous; watching you fight everything back as he felt you clenching around his fingers, trying not to arch your back or buck your hips against him. You had a white knuckle grip on your silverware by the time your orgasm rippled through you and you had to pretend that you had chocked on your meal in order to cover up the small cry you let out.

To this day, Andy still whispers about it in your ear when you're in public and you're still waiting for a time to get one over on him for it.

L - Location (favourite places to do the deed)

He’s not really got a preference. Like i said earlier he really like to take you up against the wall, but he’s also partial to bending you over a counter or sinking you down onto him in the front seat of his car. He just is willing to take you anywhere really. Personally though one of his favourite is the shower. Your body can be all slippery, soapy and warm, reactive to his touch and despite the slight danger of possibly slipping, the heat of one of your legs hooked up around him, as he uses the stamina he’s gaining from being a professional athlete to pound himself into you as you yelp and shout out his name. The heat and steam just makes everything better.

M - Motivation (what turns them on/gets them going)

He is also insanely turned on by you in the mornings, groggy and messy haired with a sleepy smile and tired eyes. Watching you clamber out of bed ready to take on the day again with those little kids who laugh like you and yell instead of talk like Andy. You'll also usually emerge from bed wearing one of his old shirts or strips - like an old Hull City training shirt he hasn't worn in 5 years or a stupid cheap t-shirt he bought when he was 18 working in M&S that he thought he lost but actually had ended up being yours. You'll sit up on the bathroom sink while he showers, brushing your teeth ridiculously early just so you both get some time with each other before the little devils wake up. He'll stand between your legs, going in for a kiss that deepens until he's lining himself up with your entrance having pushed your very unflattering underwear to the side and you'll have to be as quiet and as quick as possible. He just loves every minute of living his life with you - even sneaky sex in the bathroom at not even six in the morning. He'll gladly take it.

N - NO (turns off, something/s they won’t do)

Andy is not at all interested in adding another person to the mix. He's surprisingly private as a person and he doesn't ever want your sex life to be something that comes out into the open to be talked about. There is always a risk with another person, plus he doesn't see either of you actually getting any pleasure out of it when sex is so good already. He probably will also never record or take pictures of the ac because he knows how easy it is for these things to end up in anyones hands. When he was younger, he used to. Andy had a really favourited picture of you on your knees in front of you with his hand in your hair as you look up at him after sucking him off. Cum and saliva were dripping down your chin and he still thinks about that long since deleted picture to this day. Andy is great at remembering things in his mind anyway, so he doesn't feel the need to create sex tapes that one day his kids might have to deal with when they're older if it ever breaks onto the news.

O - Oral (are they good? do they prefer giving or receiving?)

Honestly he prefers receiving but he definitely does not shy away from giving. Oh my god the beard burn he gives you is literally to die for, the perfect amount of friction he talks so much that his tongue is his lost exercised muscle so he is very, very good with it when it comes to going down on you. To be fair, it is one of those things that he wasn’t always very good at, but he has vastly improved and now it is something you will never ever turn down.

However, being sucked off by you is probably one of his favourite things ever. He literally cannot get enough of it, watching you get him off. God it’s unreal. Meanwhile he’ll have his head thrown back against the ball, hands on your hair muttering, “That’s it, pretty girl, fuck, perfect. Beautiful.” And you’re soaking wet waiting for him already.

P - Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

He’s usually going for fast and hard. It’s all sweaty bodies and rapid breaths, whimpering out his name as his skin slaps against yours. He can be very sensual but rarely ever slow. His pace lets him reach every inch of you, pushing into you in every way as your nails drag down his back with your ankles linked around his waist. The way his muscles ripple quickly and his body clashes with yours is hot and fiery and perfect. He loves it, you love it. Why bother doing anything else?

Q - Quickie (their opinion on quickies. do they prefer it? how often?)

Dear lord Andy loves a quickie. Slamming into you with his finger over your mouth, warning you to be quiet in a Hampden park back room? Bliss. Pure bliss. He could get off just thinking about it. Post-match quickies are very common and when you become parents, quickies are also necessary when short on time. He prefers to have all the time in the world to take on you, but he will never complain about having a quickie.

R - Risk (do they think to experiment? willing to take risks?)

Andy loves the risk. He loves to pump his fingers into you under tables or have his fingers wound in your hair as you suck him off in a fancy marble walled bathroom at a gala. The rush of potentially being caught always heightens the pleasure. When you were younger and he used to still live with his parents, he didn’t care for the thumping of his headboard against the wall as much as you did. He just loves that he can have you like putty in his hands wherever. It’s not about the people there, it’s about the fact he can drive you crazy and he is in full control and nobody even knows. Although, you too like to get your own back on him, shuffling around in his lap during movie nights so he has to stay glued to the couch the rest of the night because of the hard bugle in his jeans. He’s also into experimenting. Anything that could bring you more pleasure? Bring. It. On.

S - Stamina (how many rounds? how long do they last?)

Everybody says that Andy is one of the biggest grafters in the team in terms of his engine. He could run forever, so i don’t see him being at all different in the bedroom. He could genuinely probably go forever and he very, very much loves to do so. When you’re wildly overstimulated, muscles tight, skin shining with sweat as you pant and gasp for breath beneath him, he gets intoxicated by it. His eyes drink your in, flicking over your face and taking in every little bit of you. He commits it to memory every time, each better than before.

But yeah, Andy could go for hours and honestly he will. It’s a very special treat for you always. Plus, who doesn’t like a guy who can go hard and fast four three rounds and still be fully ready to go down on you afterwards?

T - Toys (do they own any? do they use any? if so, preference?)

He does own a few, all funny little things he bought to tease you with. Like little vibrators that he can press again your clit and stuff like that. He doesn’t use them often and many he got when he was injured and couldn’t have sex with you the way usually would it would want to.

U - Unfair (do they like to tease? if so how much/often)

Aaaaabsolutely. He’s a massive tease. Andy absolutely loves having you writhing and whimpering beneath him, begging to have him fully in you or to go faster, to just move. Loves it. Definitely a big fan of edging you so close until you’re hazy, incoherent and begging for an orgasm that’ll ripple through your whole body so every in a five mile radius will know his name. Whenever you’ve got the time and the freedom, he’s teasing you and sometimes it’ll start in the morning before he leaves for work and he won’t finish it till much later it the day, making for an even more intense orgasm.

V - Volume (are they loud? what sounds do they make?)

Not necessarily loud, but he is very very very into dirty talking right into your ear. His hot breath tickling at your neck between kisses, grazing his teeth against your sensitive skin, god it drives you crazy. He’ll hum against your clit about how wet and ready for him you are and tell you the whole time how beautiful and perfect you are. It’s both romantic and painfully attractive. Apart from that he’s mostly grunts and some groans of your name but the sound he makes when he cums is *chefs kiss*. It’s deep and guttural, coming straight from the base of his throat when his eyes screw shut and his mouth drops open. It’s unbearably hot.

W - Wild Card (random headcanon)

He low-key loves to be marked by you. Not even actively, just passively almost?? Like he doesn’t think about it at the time but afterwards when he’ll spot the scratches down his back when he passes the mirror or if the guys comment on it in the changing room, it makes him feel good. He’s glad everybody knows he belongs to someone in every way, from the most romantic and simply to the most intimate. And knowing you have the faint, painless bruises from his fingertips on your hips with little nipped in love bites around your breast makes him feel satisfied that he’s left you with a memory of the evening. Even just you wearing your wedding ring or looking down at his own on his hand proudly makes him silently happy and all fuzzy inside in a completely non-sexual way because you’re so happy to show off to the world that he’s yours and your his you both love each other so so much.

X - Xray (what’s doing on beneath the belt?)

Again, i’m sure we all seen that video on Jordan Henderson’s insta story the other week, so we all know he is fairly packing. He’s not got anything extravagant or jaw dropping, but it’s still moderately bigger than bang average. It’s honestly just more about what he does with it and how he reaches every but of you that’s the wow factor.

Y - Yearning (how high is their second drive?)

Pretty high, to be fair but nothing out of the ordinary. like it’s not overkill but it’s usually completely unscheduled. Some weeks you’ll want to jump his bones every single night and he’ll fuck you twice a day and other time they’ll be a week between it. Schedules can be awkward and after you get married and have kids it’s a lot harder for things to run to any kind of plan. At the moment, it’s more of an ‘if we have time let’s just fucking go for it’ kind of thing. Although his sex drive is always higher when you’re pregnant or if the team are having a winning streak.

Z - zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?)

Both of you fall asleep pretty quickly after sex now to be honest. You’ll usually fall asleep first because he’s tells sweet, soft jokes while stroking your hair and drawing circles on your skin softly. It’s very soothing. And then once you’ve fallen asleep, fatigue usually finds him quite quickly, but he’ll get up out of bed and clean you up a little because he’s ever the gentlemen. Then he’ll climb into bed and fall asleep pretty much instantly once you’re wrapped back in his arms.

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winterhawk-olympic-bang · 3 years ago

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Writer’s Workshop: How To End Your Story

How To End Your Story

Guest Poster: Flawedamythyst

We’re in the final furlong before the deadline for the first draft now, so it feels like a good time to talk about endings, and how to bring your story together to create a satisfactory one.

Have a read and then head over to the Discord Server where we have a channel for you to take part in a discussion based on the post, with chances to share your own ideas too.

How To End Your Story

There are traditionally six types of endings for a story:

Resolved ending - one with no lingering questions or loose ends. (Most murder mysteries and romances fall into this category.)

Unresolved ending - the kind of ending that leaves the reader with more questions than answers. (Usually for books that are part of a series. A lot of the HP books have endings like this.)

Expanded ending - expands the world of the story beyond the events of the narrative itself, with a time jump forward or a change in PoV.

Unexpected ending - a twist ending that the reader doesn’t see coming, but that should seem inevitable in hindsight.

Ambiguous ending - one that’s open to interpretation. Unlike an unresolved one, it leaves things to be interpreted by the reader so they have to decide themselves how it goes.

Tied ending - that brings the story full circle, and ends exactly where it began. Often the case for ‘Hero’s Journey’ type stories, where the hero ends up back home at the end.

You can read more about them here: https://boords.com/storytelling/how-to-end-a-story or here: https://www.masterclass.com/articles/ways-to-end-your-story but also in multiple other articles online just by Googling ‘Six Ways To End A Story’.

But, of course, they don’t really tell you how to work out which one your story needs, or how to write one of them without falling into any of the traps that ends with an unsatisfying ending.

Motivation

Of course, often the hardest bit with an ending is actually getting there. Losing motivation is so easy, especially when you’re writing something super-long. I know lots of people get motivation by posting as they go and using comments/kudos as a spur, or even just by talking about it on Tumblr or other places and letting other people’s excitement buoy them up, but a Bang event like WHOB doesn’t allow for that.

I’m going to talk a bit about ways to motivate yourself when you’re having to keep things secret from all but a handful of people, but bear in mind that this is something that really is very individual. Everyone writes for different reasons, and so everyone’s path to staying motivated is different.

For me, I think it comes down to focusing on why am I writing this story to start with? Any time I feel myself flagging, I think back to that reason and re-capture the original feeling I had about it. Often there’s a couple of different reasons.

For example, when I was writing Look What The Cat Dragged In, my motivations when I wrote the first line were:

I want all of fandom to share with me the image of the Winter Soldier waking Clint up to threaten him while gently cradling a kitten in his hands, and

I was writing it as a present for @kangofu-cb.

So, if I flagged at all, I was able to either reread that moment with Bucky holding the kitten and think ‘wow, I really do thing people will enjoy this mental image’, or I was able to think ‘I want my friend to have a nice thing’, and that helped me drive on and push through.

A lot of my personal motivations come down to ‘I want to share this scene/witty one-liner/visual of Clint pole dancing while dressed as Captain America with people’, so often just rereading what I’ve already done is really motivating for me, plus it also gives me the chance to see just how much I’ve already done, and what I would be dooming to be unfinished if I just walked away without pushing through.

You might well have different motivations though, which are equally valid. Maybe you started a fic for this event because you wanted to get a shiny badge, or to do something that your friends were doing, or you wanted to prove to yourself that you could write something longer than usual or outside of your usual wheelhouse. It may feel harder now than it did when you had that first idea, but that doesn’t change why you wanted to do it, and it’s actually easier now than it was when you started, because you’ve already done some of it.

And, if none of those motivations work for you, there’s always spite. ‘Oh, my brain gremlins think I can’t finish this? Fuck those guys, I’m going to prove those assholes so very, very wrong’ is completely how I powered through to finish my first ever novel-length fic, a million years and several fandoms ago.

Resolution vs Ending

So, let’s move on to the ending itself.

There are two parts to writing an ending: there’s the plot resolution and how that all gets tied up, and there’s the actual ending of the fic - the last scene, and the last place the reader sees the characters.

Sometimes the resolution happens only at the very end of a story and so those are the same thing, but I tend to think that makes things feel a bit abrupt. Especially for fics, which tend to be more character-driven than mainstream media and so need a wind down on how the characters react to the end of the plot for the reader. (This isn’t always true, of course, some plots do tie up neatly in the final scene. Every story is different and you’re the person best placed to judge what’s needed in your fic.)

So when you’re thinking about the ending, think about both parts. ‘How does this plot resolve itself?’ and ‘where do I want to leave these characters in the readers’ mind’s eye?’

Plotting a Story Resolution

You may well have already got a resolution worked out as part of your planning, but what if that ending doesn’t seem to fit any more, or you realise just as you get to it that you forgot to think about an ending at all and have no idea where to go?

First of all, don’t panic! If the rest of the story is there, you’ll be able to pull together the strands to create the best ending. Trust the bones of your story.

When I’m facing a blank page and no real idea of how I’m getting from the Depths of Despair moment to the happy ending, the first thing I do is reread the whole story in case that sparks a fantastic, fully-formed idea to appear on how to tie it all up. Mostly that doesn’t work, which is always disappointing, but it’s still a good place to start, because you have the whole run of the fic fresh in your head to plan from.

The next thing I do is make a list of all the things that I know definitely need to happen for the plot to be done. These don’t need to be in any particular order at this point and they don’t need to link up, you just need a list of what needs to go into the framework, however minor. ‘Clint wears Bucky’s hoodie and Bucky is smitten’ is a totally valid plot point to include, or even ‘include mention of recurring joke about muffins’. If you know something needs to be resolved but you don’t know how yet, just putting ‘resolve plot point with badgers’ is fine. Hopefully once you’ve started thinking through all the different bits, you’ll work out what’s going to happen to the badgers, and it’ll make sure you know it needs to be included somewhere.

If you have a beta/cheer reader who can help, it’s also super helpful to ask them what they would expect from the ending based on what they’ve read so far, or what elements from earlier in the story they think will be coming back/will turn out to be foreshadowing. Sometimes you’ll find you’ve written the clues to your ending into the earlier bits without really noticing, and you can throw them down on the list to be included as well.

Once you have everything you know needs to be included, you can shift them around into a rough order you think they need to go in, and start filling in the gaps. For example, if ‘Clint gets injured’ is there, you can add in ‘Bucky tends to his wounds’ as the obvious next step and maybe that would be a good time to throw in a muffin joke, and then Clint might need to borrow a hoodie if his shirt has blood on it, so you can tick those bits off as well.

It gets easier to see where the gaps are once you have it written out, even if it’s only things that you already knew would need to happen. Having it down in black and white helps your brain to move pieces around like a jigsaw puzzle, and start extrapolating on what comes in the gaps between.

Make The Ending Fit The Story

Think about what kind of story it’s been so far, and make sure that the ending you come up with fits in with it.

You’ll know the general feeling that you wanted for the fic when you started writing, so that will give you a solid idea on how the ending needs to go. (Often for me this feeling is ‘schmoopy and loved up’, because I’m a softie. A lot of what I’m doing when I’m writing a fic is just clearing out of the way any obstacles that are going to get in the way of my characters being schmoopy and loved up. When there’s nothing left in the way, that’s when I know it’s the end of the story.)

You also need to keep the tone and pacing of your fic the same, and make sure that your ending matches up so it all feels like it fits together. This includes keeping the pace the same as it had been, no matter how tempting it is to rush through so you can get the thing finished already, or slow right down so you can add in a few thousand more words.

Along with sticking to the tone you’ve set for the fic, try not to genre-shift - if you’ve written an action-packed zombie apocalypse fic, resolving the plot with domestic schmoop isn’t a great idea. The reader is invested in the style of story that you’ve written so far, so pulling the rug out on them will only give them whiplash, a vague sense of dissatisfaction or a persistent nagging feeling that zombies are about to attack.

Unless you’ve written a domestic schmoop zombie AU of course, in which case I would read the hell out of it. ‘Curtain!fic but sometimes the undead interrupt’ sounds like a lot of fun.

And finally, make sure you maintain your characterisation. If the ending you want involves your character doing something wildly out-of-character, then that’s not the right ending. (I like to call this an Endgame!Steve ending. No, I’m not over that.) Even if your audience is invested in your story enough to overlook the incongruence, they will be having to overlook it rather than feeling fully invested in the journey you’ve created.

Chekov’s Gun

The most satisfying endings are the ones that tie up most, if not all, of the loose ends, and provide an emotional pay-off equivalent to the build-up. If you’ve been talking about something big that might or might not happen, and then it doesn’t, it’s narratively frustrating. In the same way, if you drop something big in that doesn’t really fit with what went before, it’s going to make the story feel unbalanced.

Obviously that doesn’t mean you can’t have a surprise or twist ending but even if the reader is surprised by something happening, they still want to feel like they’re reading the same story. They need to look back with hindsight of knowing the twist and see how it fits in, and not how it stands out.

A good rule to follow is the Chekov’s Gun rule: If there’s a gun on the table in the first act, someone needs to shoot it in the second act. If you’ve been teasing something, make sure the pay-off is there.

And, of course, if someone’s going to be firing a gun at the end, go back and make sure it gets mentioned earlier in the story. It doesn’t need to be a heavy-handed anvil, but if you can drop in casual hints about guns earlier in the story, the whole thing feels more cohesive and thought out. No one needs to know that you only put those hints in after you’d finished the whole thing.

Loose Ends

Something I always like to do when I’m plotting exactly how the ending is going to go, is to go back through the whole fic and make a list of anything that feels like it could be a loose end if it didn’t get resolved. (If I’m having a problem working out my ending, often this happens at the same time as writing down all my ending plot points, as I described above.)

Some of those are obvious, like ‘Bucky and Clint need to kiss’, but some are less so. Did Clint think about how much he just wants to be done with all the drama so he can snuggle with his dog? Maybe throw in some Lucky cuddles somewhere in the finale so he gets the emotional pay-off. Has Bucky mentioned really want to punch a bad guy in particular in the face? Give him a chance to smack that asshole around a bit. Has there been a minor relationship drama along the way, like someone leaving their socks lying around? Have them either make a point of putting them away, or the other person just rolling their eyes and accepting it as a part of being with them.

It’s also important to think about where your secondary characters are going to end up, and if it feels like they’ve had an arc that needs resolving. Has there been another pairing with a bit of screen time or some background drama? Give them a chance to make out/make up. Has the bad guy done something that affected one of the other Avengers? Let them have a slice of revenge along the way.

For example, in my plan for Be All You Can Be, one of the original characters I introduced as other soldiers doing Basic Training, Havelka, didn’t turn up again after he’d been kicked back a level to another training unit. When I reread that, it became clear that he needed to prove himself somehow or his arc would be a depressing downward slope partially instigated by Clint and Bucky, so I brought him back at the end to do some First Aid and gave him a line or two to point to how his future was going to go, so the reader knew he was going to be okay.

You don’t have to completely resolve everything of course, and sometimes it is nice to leave a couple of things up to the reader’s imagination, but it’s nice for the reader if there’s a sense of things being tied up in a little bow.

Ending

So, you’ve resolved your plot, how are you going to handle the actual final ending?

Depending on how your story has gone, you might not need much after the resolution, or you may need several epilogue-y type scenes just to make sure everything is wrapped up.

Take a moment to think about what feeling you want the reader to take away from the fic. If it’s a romance, do you want to end with a warm fuzz of ‘aw cute’? If it’s been an angsty dig down into Clint or Bucky’s mental health issues, do you want a sense of optimism or catharsis? If there’s been a lot of action and drama, do you want a bit of peace and quiet for your characters to signal it’s all over with?

The best way to end any story is with a sense of hope, even if you’ve not gone for a completely happy ending, or have left yourself open for a sequel with some unresolved plot points. You want the reader to feel at least in some way uplifted. After all, regardless of whatever else has gone before, that’s the emotion they’ll have when they get faced with the Kudos button and the Comment box, so you need them in a good mood, right?

When you know what kind of feeling you want your ending to have, that will give you a major clue as to what the characters should be doing in the final scene.

One thing that can work well is bringing back something from the first scene or two and twisting it to be part of the ending. For example, at the beginning of Be All You Can Be Clint uses the song Make A Man Out Of You from Mulan as a way to torture Bucky, and then at the end, they watch the movie together while snuggling.

You do have to be careful not to be too heavy handed with that, and it doesn’t work in every fic, but I do like the feeling of ‘things coming full circle’ that you can get from doing it.

Afterglow vs. Too Much Ending

I always think that good stories come with a certain amount of ‘afterglow’: Just a scene or two to round things out and give a pointer towards the future.

For example, in general, I don’t like stories that end with a first kiss, which is one of several reasons I usually find Hollywood romcoms unsatisfying. It feels like too much of a beginning, and leaves too many questions open about how things are actually going to go for the couple in question. As part of a complete ending, it feels more satisfying to have an ‘epilogue’-y type scene afterwards that will give you a sense of how things went from there, even if it’s just a couple of paragraphs about them planning their first date.

I’m sure we can all think of other times we’ve read or watched something and had a moment of ‘oh, was that it?’ after the last sentence/when the credits rolled. Abrupt endings without a bit of afterglow can leave the reader blinking a little and wondering where their damn cuddles are.

That said, you also don’t want to go too far in the opposite direction. If the plot is over, there’s no need to keep going with multiple scenes of fluff or porn that doesn’t really add anything. We don’t need to see their whole lives mapped out, and it can get fairly dull once the tension of the plot is over. Ask yourself if the three chapters of them having sex on every flat surface in their apartment is actually necessary, or if some of them can be cut and used as one-shot sequel/missing scene fics.

In general if it’s not adding to either the narrative or emotional arcs, try to cap it at a scene or two. Just enough to feel like you’ve had a bit of post-climactic afterglow, but not so much that it’s starting to drag.

In Conclusion…

Ending a fic is, in so many ways, the most satisfying part of writing. You got right the way through your plot to the end! You did all the writing! Your characters made it through to their happy/sad/ambiguous endings! You deserve all the gold stars!

You just want your reader to feel the same way, by making sure the ending fits with what came before, ties up all the ends that need tying up, and leaves them with a deep glow of whatever feeling you want the overall story to convey.

And then you just need to do the editing, but that’s a workshop for another day...

#winterhawk olympic bang #WHOB #winterhawk #writer workshops #writer workshop: endings #guest post #flawedamythyst

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hwaflms · 3 years ago

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Fav Emoji: 🗡

Hi!!! I was wondering if I can get a ship for txt, nct, and ateez pls? I’ll really try not to make this long, but it’s hard sometimes lol.

Anyways, I’m an 18 year old 03’ liner and I’m 5’6. As for looks, I’m african american so i have dark skin, brown eyes and cinnamon colored hair. I cut my hair really short above my ears. I look rather young for my age (unfortunately). I’m rather slim and i have long legs and arms so people say I look even taller than what i am. I have large round eyes a big forehead, a button nose, and thick(ish) lips with round cheeks(ok now i understand why ppl think i’m vv young 🙄) But nowadays i’m more confident in myself and it’s no longer an insecurity of mine. I’d like to say i’m very stylish yet i can’t pick an aesthetic for the life of me.

To sum up my fav aesthetic/style, i would have to say something that’s dark but sophisticated. Like dark academia, but add a bit more of an alt/goth style to it. I like listening to visual kei and rock music, but to be honest, I love all music, even country some times.

I’m from the south of usa, so that has influenced how i am A LOT. I usually don’t have an accent, but whenever i feel a really strong emotion, I get a really strong southern accent and it’s kind of funny. I also tend to go outside without any shoes or socks. I like playing with my pets outside the most, I have two dogs (one is a rottweiler and one is a bull dog), my cat (just a black cat) and my bird. I love love love animals. I love everything to do with nature as well, i feel a deep connection with nature, and once, i even cried while watching bees pollinate flowers help lol.

My psychic said my aura was multiple shades of green, which i think it fits, seeing that green auras represented healers and earth lovers. My dad tends to call me a hippie lol. Astrology wise, I’m a leo sun, leo moon, and scorpio rising. My personality type is INFP-T. My friends say i’m quite funny, and they like to point out, “she’s really really smart, but like everyone, she has her dumb moments, but her dumb moments are the dumbest of the dumbest.”

I’m very sensitive, and not in the “i’m always crying way”. Yet, when i do cry, i tend to cry over the smallest of things, like the bee one. I cry over animals being cute, and I cry when i’m rlly rlly excited. Yet if i’m rlly sad, i can’t cry for some reason, and i’m just 😐. But, I try my hardest to comfort others and help others because there seriously is no other happiness in the world that makes me more happy than making others happy.

I like to talk a lot, as well (as you can see), and i’ll talk about every topic. I tend to talk most about child birth and genetics weirdly enough, it’s so interesting to me. But i also love to talk about astrology, space, and conspiracy theories. I’m highly spiritual. I’m also highly creative. I love drawing, singing, dancing, acting, all of that. Drawing has always been my strongest suit before i somehow got bored of it, but i still draw every once and a while.

I also like playing sports, as i’m naturally athletic. I did ballet, tap dance, gymnastics, track and field, cheerleading, soccer, and softball. (i think cheer is a sport and i’ll argue with anyone on that). I’ve lived in america, germany, and south korea, and i want to travel to so many more places as i grow older.

As for relationship stuff, I’ve never been in a relationship. I’m scared of boys to be honest. I was bullied in school a lot for being “ugly” and it was always by boys so i’ve never really had the best experience with them. I’m still trying to gain my confidence so that i could try dating.

My ideal type is someone smart (though i don’t hate himbos lmao), but i like someone smart and mature. I like someone who works hard, but not someone who’s too serious. With people, i like to have those love/hate relationships lol like we make fun of each other but we also have our soft moments. As for looks, i don’t rlly have an ideal type, yet there’s a couple things that i would go for. I like someone who’s taller than me, has bigger hands than me (mine are 18cm 😥), and has nice legs (i tend to like thicker legs, but i don’t discriminate). I do think smaller guys around my height are so cute too tho, like UGH I CANT CHOOSE.

My ideal date would probably be anything other than going to a restaurant. Maybe later on in the relationship that would be fine, but to be honest, i’m very awkward and shy at first, so it would just be weird. I find that doing something fun together really let’s you find out more about a person rather than just talking. So maybe an amusement park, or even doing an escape room together.

As for love languages, i’m not a very touchy person. Sometimes, i’m STARVING for a hug, but most of the time i don’t like to be touched. I think my love language is acts of service, and idk what’s it’s called, but just trying to find out abt someone. Someone would really know i like them when i ask for their whole zodiac chart, personality type, weekday of birth, everything.

Tbh, i’m very much like a tsundere. I don’t like showing affection very much, and i’d rather insult the ppl that i like than compliment them. Though, this is probably the reason ppl think i don’t like them when i first meet them. Sometimes i might get rlly mushy and cute and stuff, but most of the time, i’m just not used to showing affection, so i feel kinda uncomfy when i do.

Ok, that’s all, i really hope it wasn’t too much for you to read, i tend to get carried away ❤️ have a nice day ily

୨୧ 𓂃 : 🐇 :┊ i ship you with . . .

💌 — huening kai ♡ txt.

𖥻 the last thing a relationship with hyuka would be is boring. he gives off very "best friend who also happens to be your boyfriend" vibes, so there would be a lot off playing around and goofing off. he can be affectionate but also likes his space, like you, so you would be able to find a middle ground. he would like is your relationship was light and fun, teasing each other and making fun of each other. if you ever felt insecure, he would make you feel better in a less "let's talk about it" way and a more "ugh you're so silly, why would you think that when you're perfect??" way.

💌 — johnny ♡ nct.

𖥻 johnny is a chill and laid-back person, so conversation with him would come easy. there wouldn't be an awkward stage with him because johnny is a pretty smooth talker and he would make it easier for you to talk to him. johnny would NEVER make you feel insecure, if anything, he'd be the type of boyfriend who would be hyping you up all the time, even when you're doing absolutely nothing. johnny loves music too so, while he might make fun of you a lil for listening to country, he would love vibing to music with you. we all know johnny is mf hilarious, so he could definitely joke around with you and insult you playfully often ! plus johnny is a sexc tall boy and he has legs for days D:

💌 — hongjoong ♡ atz.

𖥻 hongjoong has the perfect balance of being mature and hardworking while also being playful. he knows how to take a joke and return the favour by teasing you, so i think in that aspect, you will have an easy-going relationship. he also will definitely be so supportive of you, and will be there for you whenever you need it. the kind of dates he would prefer would be more indoor ones, especially just in his studio !! he would show the amount of affection you're comfortable with, never pushing your boundaries or pressuring you.

♡ 𓄹 ࣪ ˖ i hope you like this !! and also, i just wanted to let you know that you are so so beautiful, okay, ilysm <3 boys suck, pls ignore them >:( thank you for sending this in, stay safe ^_^

#(-_- ) zZ ships ★!

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brattyfics · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Daya Galindo [Black OC]

Word Count: 4,681

Synopsis | Masterlist

Chapter One

On the last leg of a week-long trip to San Diego, Daya Galindo did her best to remain engaging, open, and approachable.

Along with thirty other members of San Diego’s elite inner circle, she occupied one Petco Park’s most expensive and exclusive Skyboxes. Many of her nights were spent in the same Skybox attending the Padre’s baseball games.

This time, however, the Skybox has been transformed into a ballroom of sorts. Several circular tables were spaced out in the large room, eight chairs provided at each. Simple but elegant centerpieces decorated the tables.

The $10,000 a night Skybox opened up to the empty stadium on one side, and a breathtaking view of San Diego’s skyline on the other side. The sliding floor-to-ceiling windows were closed, and Daya found herself missing the fresh air she enjoyed on game days.

Most attendees remained inside, adding to the suffocating feeling in her chest.

Her husband, commercial real estate mogul and serial entrepreneur, Miguel Galindo, was one of the few people outside on the brick terrace. He used the balcony to take a private call.

“You look so pretty!” Marcy Stevens, the wife of a potential business partner, complimented Daya in a chipper tone.

An eight-hundred dollar silk cocktail dress stopped just above her ankles. An equally expensive pair of nude heels complimented the deep red of her dress. The front was designed to cover her breasts, giving the illusion of modesty while the fabric hugged her curves, outlining her shape. Thin straps were tied intricately on the back of the low cut dress. The ensemble was on-brand for Mrs. Galindo, a perfect balance between sexy and classy.

The big, springy curls that framed her heart-shaped face, bunching around the top of her shoulders, were also on brand. Her makeup was done simply, shades of brown and gold to complement her features.

Marcy was right. She did look stunning.

Regardless, Daya did her best to appear humbled by the compliment. It wasn’t that she was cocky or arrogant. The truth was she had become numb.

“You too! I love your lipstick. What shade is it?”

“Hmm. I’m not sure.” The middle-aged woman considered it for a moment before ruffling through her compact.

With a bright smile, she held the tube of lipstick up victoriously. She passed it over to Daya to inspect.

After pretending to take note of the brand and shade in her mind, she passed the tube back to Marcy. “Thank you.”

She couldn’t care less what shade of lipstick the woman wore, but the name of the game was flattery. Fundraising galas, country club banquets, and art exhibits had all become a blur of polite one-liners one after the other.

“It’s so nice to see you.” She lied even when it wasn’t.

“We have to have dinner and drinks soon.” She said to be polite, even when she’d rather not spend her time discussing the newest fashion releases with bored housewives.

“How are the kids?” She asked, although she had no interest in listening to parents ramble on about how great their mediocre children were.

“I love your dress. Who designed it?” Chances were she didn’t care.

A lively buzz of murmurs was standard for these events. Conversations flowed as freely as the champagne. Whether it was to foster relationships or just pass the time, people desperately spewed out the words like they would die if they couldn’t get it all out.

The constant chatter annoyed her, but Daya was able to connect with almost anyone on some level.

She knew a little bit about a lot of things, so conversations about sports, stock-trading, or even spa treatments were right up her alley. She never would have imagined herself as the type of woman to participate in meaningless conversations daily, but alas, she was. Her experience as a member of California’s high society was a far cry from her upbringing.

Daya Galindo was born Dayana Sims inside a community hospital in Hawthorne, California. Her mother, Denise Sims, settled in Cali sometime during her pregnancy. Denise didn’t talk about her life before Daya much. Her daughter knew almost nothing about her mother’s family or her reasons for moving to California. She didn’t even know her dad!

Daya was as inquisitive as any kid. She often wondered about him—who he was, what he looked like, where he lived, and if he ever thought about her. Her mother shut down any questions about him. The answer was always ‘stay in a child’s place’ or ‘grow up and let it go’. That was her mother’s response to anything uncomfortable, and inadvertently she taught her daughter to shrink herself to avoid conflict.

It was one of many bad habits that years of expensive therapy hadn’t completely fixed.

Denise had also taught her daughter to not form attachments. They moved around a lot when Daya was young. Most times it was only a few cities over, but each time she left someone behind. There was no explanation for why. That’s just how it was. She made it through her teens and early twenties without feeling the need to set down roots.

Her husband, Miguel, changed that.

On paper, Miguel Galindo was everything any woman would want in a husband. He was wealthy, smart, handsome, and charming when he wanted to be.

An honors graduate of Stanford, he quickly established a name for himself in business. Fresh out of college, he moved to New York and started a career in luxury real estate. From there, his interests transferred to commercial properties, and thus the entrepreneur in him was born. Miguel now owned successful businesses on both the East and West Coast.

When Daya met Miguel, he was new to Santo Padre and adjusting to his new lifestyle. The man who raised him died, and his mother, Dita was a wreck. Miguel vividly remembered the sounds of Jose beating Dita a room over, and the way he viciously chose his words to cut her down. Everyone thought she would be excited to start the next chapter of her life without him, but Dita took his death the hardest.

Becoming the man of the family meant his own complicated relationship with Jose was put on the back burner. His mother needed him, and the family business desperately needed tending to.

As the couple’s only child, he was the obvious heir. Regardless of his feelings about it, it was inevitable. Miguel’s future had been decided before he was even born.

Through the crystal clear glass, Daya watched Miguel’s face contort in annoyance. With a quick wave of his hand, he gestured for his head of security, Nestor Oceteva, to join him at his side. A few words were uttered between them before they were making their way inside. She expected Miguel to rejoin her at the table, but instead, he made a beeline for the elevators.

She was a little concerned, but not alarmed. If anything had gone seriously wrong, Miguel would be by her side, excusing them for the evening. He probably just needed more privacy.

Daya stepped up in his absence, focusing on the Stevens’ project in front of her.

Tom Stevens was Marcy’s husband and the owner of a chain of hotels in downtown San Diego. Property value in San Diego was higher than ever and steadily increasing, which made the hotels a worthy addition to Miguel’s portfolio.

An epiphany inspired Tom. He was passionate about the hotels because he built them from the ground up, but he realized his passion was better suited for home.

Marcy was a forty-something widower who decided to give love another chance with Tom. He was ten years her senior and even more unlucky in love, but he didn’t let his previously failed relationships stop him from trying again. The couple were newlyweds, and it showed with the way they giggled and grinned at each other every few seconds. It was cute watching them interact like love-struck teenagers.

Daya and Miguel had their moments, of course, but what they had was much different than the Stevens’. The young couple had gone through their rough patches and made it out on the other side, but the newlywed glimmer was definitely gone. Tom and Marcy were still open to each other and hopeful for the future. Willfully naive in Daya’s opinion.

No, what she and Miguel had was much more complicated. Neither of them trusted anybody completely, even themselves.

In between light conversation, she admired the night sky. In the distance, she could see the top of their hotel. It would be at least another hour before she could go back there, sinking into the king-sized mattress for the night. The Egyptian cotton sheets were calling her name.

“I was out in Brawley the other day, and I saw some of your signs up. What are you guys working on out there?”

If she remembered correctly, it was Luke that was speaking to her. Daya turned in her chair to face him as she responded.

Mama always said, “A woman’s work is never done.”

Another fifteen minutes passed before Miguel rejoined them, the vein in his forehead also present and in attendance.

Daya took a quick glance over her shoulder in search of Nestor. He wore a similar expression, confirming her suspicions.

They hadn’t resolved the problem.

Her hand found her husband’s thigh, softly stroking the strong muscle through his slacks. They sat close enough to the table that the movement was hidden. She smiled at him innocently when his eyes found hers for a second, a clear warning behind them.

A young woman with toffee-colored skin, and a short coiled Afro, approached the table, introducing herself as Eva.

Daya scanned her slim frame in the bright green dress she wore while Marcy explained how they met. Seven months ago, while volunteering at Skid Row, apparently.

Tom stood to offer Eva his seat, hand resting on the back of Marcy’s chair.

Eva talked about her non-profit organization, speaking passionately with her hands about what needed to be done to eradicate poverty. She shared her personal experience with homelessness, and how it shaped her life.

The expression on everyone’s faces said they were listening intently, but Daya knew better.

Millionaires didn’t care about poverty, because their wealth depended on it.

Daya had never been homeless, but she had been poor, and it wasn’t fun. Helping to dismantle capitalism was the last thing on her to-do list. She knew it was selfish, but she didn’t care.

While Eva spoke, Daya’s fingers inched up her husband’s thigh. She wasn’t surprised to find he was already half ready for her, his length thickening underneath his expensive slacks.

Miguel leaned over to whisper in her ear, the hairs of his beard just lightly tickling her ear.

“Watch yourself, conejita.”

The words sent a chill down her spine, but she didn’t remove her hand. Shifting in her seat, she crossed her legs in a poor attempt to dull the subtle throb below.

To her left, Luke asked Eva a question, diverting everyone’s attention to him. Daya used it as an opportunity to push her man further.

“Or what, papi?” The term of endearment rolled off her tongue with ease.

“Keep it up and you’ll find out.” He whispered through clenched teeth, speaking without moving his mouth. It reminded her of a mother scolding their child, and she resisted the urge to laugh.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” She warned Miguel, tapping his knee patronizingly.

Miguel’s arm came up to rest on the top of her chair, and his head dipped to whisper in her ear once more.

“Brat.” The word triggered something in her, and she bit the inside of her cheek.

A better woman would be annoyed by the nickname, or even insulted. Along with other words a wholesome woman wouldn’t appreciate, brat was a term of endearment between them.

Daya straightened, trying to clear her mind of dirty thoughts. The heated looks they were giving each other weren’t appropriate for the topic of discussion.

When she and Eva made eye contact, she nodded politely. When the woman stopped speaking, she would need to have something of substance to add to the conversation.

“Are you ready to go?” Miguel asked his wife, hand resting on her hip. She sighed with relief at his words.

The two of them had left the table under the guise of socializing, only to slowly make their way out onto the balcony.

"I've been ready. I hate to say it, but Marcy is working on my last nerve." Daya groaned as she remembered how Marcy kept her locked down for the past forty minutes. She had left the woman inside, and she hoped Marcy had found someone else to occupy her time.

"I don't know how many more fake bathroom breaks I could have taken before she noticed it was just to get away from her."

Miguel smirked at his flustered wife. She had a good poker face and tried to sell that nothing could face her. It was always a little entertaining to see cracks in her facade.

“I just hope this is all worth it. I have a headache from listening to everyone talk, and I can feel blisters forming on my feet.” She complained, pouting up at him.

Miguel dropped a quick kiss to her lips in apology before sparing a glance at her feet. "You don't have blisters, honey."

“You don’t have blisters, honey.”

“How do you know?”

Daya’s eyebrows raised, challenging him.

“I just do.”

“Well, how about you inspect them tonight when you’re massaging them?” She asked in a sweet tone.

Miguel laughed.

“Is that your way of asking for a foot massage?”

Daya nodded.

“Come on, loca. Let’s say our goodbyes, so we can get out of here.”

Locking hands, the couple began the slow process of trading goodbyes and promises for later dates. Another fifteen minutes later, they made it outside into the chilly night air, the California breeze kissing their skin. Daya was more than relieved to see the fleet of black SUVs that waited for them.

Nestor Oceteva stood by the truck in the middle, opening the back door for them. “Thank you, Ness.” Daya told him, accepting his help up into the vehicle.

A driver and Nestor's second-in-command and cousin, Antonio Oceteva, occupied the front seats. Daya greeted them both warmly as she crawled across the leather seats.

"I can't wait to get out of these shoes." She said to no one in particular.

With no answer, she slid across the seat to see what the hold up was. Miguel stood outside of the car, several feet away. In a heated tone, he and Nestor discussed something she couldn't make out.

Antonio turned around in his seat to stop her, hand stopping just before it touched her knee. She eyed his hesitant hand for a moment before she met his eyes. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

Antonio was all business when he gathered himself to speak. "He'll be with you shortly, Mrs. Galindo." She huffed in response.

Daya craned her neck to look out of the window once more, but it didn't do much good. From her vantage point she could see that Nestor wasn’t happy, but not much else.

"What's going on?" She asked Antonio catching his hazel eyes in the rear view mirror. He didn't look worried, and that helped to soothe her some. At the same time, she knew it could just be his military training at work.

"I'm not sure, ma'am." He spoke in an even tone, giving nothing away. She thanked him but continued to look out of the window.

Daya didn’t need to know every single gory detail, but Miguel knew she hated being left in the dark. It created distance between them and made her feel shut out.

She could almost hear her therapist telling her to slow down and think. Logically, she knew Miguel meant no harm, but it reminded her of her childhood, making her feel small and insignificant.

He found her in the backseat with her arms crossed, eyes closed, and heeled feet tapping impatiently against the floor of the car.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, mi amor.” With a simple nod, he signaled for the driver to take them to the hotel.

His warm hand found her belly, holding her there while his tongue slipped past her pouty lips into her mouth.

She responded the way he expected, melting under his touch. Soft hands cupped his face, deepening the kiss. His hands slid down to rest on the curve of her ass as she leaned into him. With each movement, Daya felt less tense. Several moments passed before they broke apart.

“What’s happening?” Daya asked, breathless from the kiss. Her eyes scanned Miguel's face for answers.

“It’s nothing you should worry yourself about.”

Miguel’s hands roamed her body, but she knew it was a distraction.

There’s a saying, “You either tell your wife everything, or nothing.”

Miguel often found himself stuck somewhere in the middle. There had been a time where he told her almost everything. Now, he operated on a need-to-know basis.

“That’s your favorite thing to say these days.” Daya said it with a smile, but her eyes told a different story.

“I didn’t mean it that way, mi alma. I just mean it’s not important enough to bother you with. I’m going to take care of it tonight, and then it’s done.”

“You’re leaving tonight?” She didn’t bother to hide that she was upset anymore.

The couple had spent the last three days in San Diego, occupying the penthouse suite of a downtown hotel. Their home was located in Santo Padre, a small border town on the outskirts of Calexico, two hours away from San Diego. Miguel had several meetings in San Diego during the week--with Tom, one of his lawyers, and the event. It just made more sense to stay in town for the week, rather than make the trek back and forth.

“I know I promised, but...yes. I have to take care of this tonight.”

The young couple had agreed to use the few days as a mini-vacation to recharge and spend quality time together. He had kept his promise so far, but she wasn’t happy their time together would be ending early.

“I understand.” Business came first. Always.

“Don’t be like that.”

“I’m not being like anything. I said it’s fine.” She pushed down the anger she felt bubbling in her chest. “Seriously, I’m not upset. There’s no point. You’re still going to do what you have to. Right?”

He nodded, watching as she checked out of the conversation. She faced the window, staring out of it at the blur of lights.

“Do you want to go home? If that will make you more comfortable, they can take you tonight.”

“No. I’m okay. I don’t want to be on the road in the dark." She told him with a grimace. "I’ll find a way to entertain myself.”

The blur of neon lights transitioned into shades of shadowy grey as they entered the parking garage of the hotel.

“Nestor’s going with me, but Antonio will be here along with…” Daya tuned out as he named the guards that would stay in San Diego with her.

“They’ll take you home in the morning.” She nodded, gathering her bearings as the driver parked.

“Will you be there?”

“I’ll try.” She was disappointed in his answer, but at least he wasn’t getting her hopes up.

Antonio opened her door, and she accepted his warm, calloused hand as she stepped out of the vehicle.

Miguel met her halfway at the back of the truck, opening his arms for a hug. She stepped into them, the smell of his signature cologne washing over her. It relaxed her, and she forced herself to enjoy the moment. She was annoyed at her husband, but she loved him and wanted to appreciate every moment with him.

“Be good.” He whispered in her ear, tone gentle, but serious.

“I can’t make any promises.”

Antonio averted his gaze, turning his back to them. Nestor and the guards followed, choosing instead to focus on different parts of the garage. There were plenty of shadows for a person to hide in, and the couple needed privacy.

Miguel’s arms tightened around her waist, squeezing to let her know he was serious.

“You heard what I said.”

Before she could get a smart response out, she felt his manhood poking against her belly. Miguel wasn’t a tyrant, but he liked to play King of the Jungle sometimes; backing her into corners, and giving her silly ultimatums that he knew she’d rebel against. It was a fun game because it elicited a carnal response in both of them to fight for dominance.

“Be good or else I’m going to have to spank this fat ass.” She gasped as his hands cupped her ass. He squeezed the fat in his hands before jiggling it.

Daya moaned quietly, pinching her plump bottom lip under her teeth.

“You’ve told me what’s behind door number one. Now, what do I get for being a good girl? ‘Cause I have to say door number one doesn’t sound so bad right now.”

He pretended to think, cocking his head to the side. “What’s the saying, ‘happy husband, happy life’?”

Daya pressed a kiss to his chin. “That’s definitely not the saying, but fine. I’ll be good, but you owe me a foot massage for skipping out early.”

“I thought I owed you one because of the heels.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” She would also have to pack his luggage for him. “Three. You’re in the hole for three foot massages, mister. I expect full payment by the end of the month. Got it?” There were plenty of people with better massage skills than her husband, but for some reason, they felt better when they came from him.

“I have no idea how you calculated three, but yes ma’am. I miss you already, conejita.”

Her arms circled his neck, pulling him for a kiss. “I miss you more."

Years of learning each other made it so they were in sync when their lips met, stoking fires in each other that wouldn't be extinguished any time soon.

“I. Love. You.” She told him in between greedy pecks. “Call me when you get a chance, ‘kay?” He nodded, understanding she meant for him to call when he reached the border. She would probably be asleep by the time he made it there, but it made her feel better when he checked in.

“I love you too.”

Entering the luxurious penthouse suite, the first thing Daya did was free herself from the designer death traps disguised as shoes.

There were plenty of amenities for her to enjoy— a jacuzzi style bathtub, and a spacious balcony with a breathtaking view of the bayfront. She intended to make the most of her time alone.

After assuring Antonio she was in for the night and wouldn't need his services, she stripped down to her birthday suit and ran a bubble bath.

The purple bottle was nearly finished from all the bubble baths she'd taken during the week. Whiffs of the lavender essential oil flowed up through her nose as she eased herself down into the rectangular tub. Powerful jets massaged her aching muscles with hot water, washing the day away.

Her hair sat in a messy bun on top of her head, loose strands clinging to her neck. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her hair puffed up with frizz, but she didn't let it bother her.

Old school R&B played on her phone. She could barely hear it over the sound of the jets, but she crooned right along with the singer enthusiastically.

Eventually, the water was too cool to stand and she was forced to get out. With wrinkled palms, she dried herself off with the fluffy white towel.

Wrapping it around her midsection, she settled into the low chair of the vanity. It took some time, but she carefully removed her makeup and moisturized her skin.

Staring at herself in the mirror without all the bells and whistles was always a little humbling. It felt dramatic, like she was in a cheesy coming of age movie or something, but it was eye-opening. So much of her time was spent pretending for others—dressing her body up, and her personality down.

The exclusive parties and expensive accessories were fun, but they weren't everything. Most people that came across her thought she was superficial, but in reality, she was the opposite. She would never be able to convince them otherwise and that was fine.

The people that knew her understood her, and that was all that mattered. She had a close-knit, but complicated relationship with her friend group. Most of them had known each other for years, so there were layers to their relationships.

Daya, her very best friend, Ariel Castillo, and Ezekiel Reyes made up the core group.

The three of them met freshman year when Daya moved to Santo Padre. Along with the pressures of going to a new school, she had to deal with being the small fry in a group of big fish. Ariel and Ezekiel had been there to make the experience bearable. They connected through honor classes and bonded over their shared desire to go somewhere else, and be someone different.

Miraculously, all of them ended up stuck in Santo Padre.

Ariel received a full-ride scholarship to UCLA. She made it through the first year and a half, completing all her core courses, but then her father got sick. She came home to take care of him, but couldn't bring herself to leave again when he got better. So she settled, forgot her dreams of being a surgeon, and went to nursing school. Ariel was great at her job, the best Santo Padre Medical had to offer, but it hadn't been her dream.

Ezekiel hadn't even made it through his first year of college when his mother was shot and killed in his father's store. Her unexpected death made him spiral, sending him on a witch hunt to find out who was responsible. One thing led to another and he made a fatal mistake that ended him up in prison for eight years.

Daya never left Santo Padre for college. She was good with academics in high school, but always had a passion for art. Her mother didn't have any money to put towards college, and she wasn't particularly excited about spending another four years in school. So, she did what she was good at, designing web pages for business owners around Santo Padre.

It didn't pay great, but it allowed her to make connections. People were impressed with her work and shared it with their friends and partners. With a stroke of good luck, she was able to form the connections and save the money to start her own web development and design company. In thirteen years' time, she expanded the business across California from Santo Padre to Los Angeles, becoming one of the most popular and successful in its industry. Daya had touched more money than she ever thought possible.

She had traveled for a while, creating new stations took time and a lot of energy. In between, she went on trips out of the country, learning about new cultures and customs. It was hard to do with a growing business, but the experiences were worth it.

Eventually, she met Miguel, a kindred spirit who wished to be anywhere but Santo Padre. It was ironic that it was the very place they were both forced to settle. Miguel out of duty, Daya out of love and stability.

People came to Santo Padre from the north, south, east, and west. From Northern Cali, Arizona, or Mexico. The quaint town was like a vortex, drawing people towards it from all sides. Most were smart enough to pass through, but those that stopped stayed forever.

GENERAL TAGLIST:

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @ifoundmyhappythought @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @thesandbeneathmytoes

“DEARLY DEPARTED” TAGLIST:

@buttercup812 @princesscornbread @oa-zidan @tian-monique @lovebennycolon @aria725

#mayans mc #miguel galindo #miguel galindo x black!oc #miguel galindo x black oc #miguel galindo x reader #please let me know what you think

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stuckonscenarios · 5 years ago

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what would the girls of homestuck (both beta and alpha including the trolls[beta and alpha]) do/act if they found out a girl had a crush on em

for a short answer: i personally hc all the human girls as being attracted to the same gender on some level and it’s canon that trolls don’t really have sexualities the way we do. so! assuming they like the girl back, i think all the girls would be receptive and happy with a girl liking them. for a more specific headcanons, see under the cut.

(i would have put this in the tags but i dont want it to get buried: for future reference can we keep the character count to like... four per request)

💜 rose tries so hard to play it cool, she really does. she has all these really cool one liners and suave pick up lines saved, but the minute you begin talking to her all bets are off. emotions and sincerity are really not rose’s forte, but she does make an effort for you. she’s very flustered whenever you broach the subject, but tries her damndest not to show it. this may result in rose coming off as colder and more verbose than usual, but don’t be put off! she’s just nervous, ha ha.

💚 jade is really surprised when she finds out you like her. she’d been trying to subtly flirt with you for a while, but that had mostly turned into her getting heart eyes whenever you talk and looking like--well, a lovesick puppy. as soon as she catches wind that you like her, she’s ready to confront you and hopefully move from there. despite her previous unlucky relationships, jade tends to tread on the side of optimism and has high hopes for your future together.

💙 jane is completely beside herself. we see how flustered she gets when the subject is brought up with jake, but when she’s being confessed to?? her brain short circuits. after the conversation, jane might avoid you for a little bit due to embarassment, but with a little reassurance she’ll come around. at the end of the day, she’s just so overwhelmed and happy that you like her back.

💗 roxy is immediately stoked. she’s got so much love to give, and cannot wait to share it with you! prepare for lots of affection from roxy; cuddles and wonks are frequent. you can’t really blame her though. she’s smitten and thrilled you like her back. don’t expect her to be very public about your blossoming relationship, though. while roxy may gush and be lovey-dovey when the two of you are alone, she prefers to keep matters of the heart more private.

❤️ aradia’s all smiles. she’s visibly happy, probably taking your hands tightly between her own. she’s not shy in verbally confirming her excitement either. aradia starts opening up a little more; she’s showing off one the more impressive bones in her collection when you realize this. it wasn’t bragging. it was an invitation into aradia’s world, so to speak. at any rate, your interest makes aradia feel warm inside.

💚 nepeta is beyond thrilled. she immediately updates her shipping wall to display her newly canonized otp. deep down, nepeta is very lonely; that’s the entire reason she’s so invested in relationships. knowing you like her is like a dream come true! if you haven’t already confessed, rps will probably start getting suspiciously flirty, lol. subtlety doesn’t come easy for nepeta, and it’s even harder when she likes you so much!

💚 kanaya has to do a double take. she hadn’t really thought that her attempts at flirting had… worked?? but here you are. liking her. blood rushes to kanaya’s cheeks at the very thought. anyway, kanaya’s all in at the thought of being with you; dates are planned quickly. assuming you’re on a planet with non-lethal sunlight, happy sunshine picnic dates with your vampire girlfriend are frequent.

💙 terezi likes to play around before getting to the heart of the matter, so she’ll probably flirt with you for a little bit before officiating any relationship with you. terezi just loves the scent of your chagrin when she teases you! it might take a while for her to actually open up to you though. terezi’s had a difficult past where romance is concerned, so be patient with her.

💙 vriska will probably try cajoling you into making the first move. except she’s not exactly subtle, so it’s super obvious that your crush on her is reciprocated. there are probably a lot of shenanigans leading up to the actual confession: that just comes with the vriska package. kinda random but later on in your guys’ relationship i could see vriska bouncing her various plots and schemes off of you. intentionally or not, you’ll become the person who makes sure all her irons in the fire aren’t getting too hot.

💗 feferi is SO GLUBBING -EXIT-ED!!! 38D it may take a few moments of giggling before feferi’s calmed enough to really talk. but when she does, it’s all about you. she wants to know what you’re thinking, what’s going through your head. feferi’s just a bit concerned is all. her history of dating cagey, grumpy boys has forced feferi into a habit of being pushy about feelings. bare with her, though, she means well. also probably a big hugger.

❤️ damara is suspicious, at first. she’s been severely jilted in the past, and this has negatively affected her outlook on future relationships. damara will come on super strong to scare you off make sure you’re serious about her and not in it for the wrong reasons. once she’s decided that you’re trustworthy, damara will take things very slow. she’ll want to spend a lot of time with you, being soft and getting to know each other.

💚 meulin is excited, but inside she’s a little nervous. similar to damara, meulin has been unlucky in love in the past. for as much as she loves love, she had made her peace with it not being in the cards for her future. your confession definitely makes her happy, don’t get me wrong! but she’s also worried and waiting for some tragedy to befall the two of you. be patient with meulin; she just doesn’t want to lose somebody she cares about as much as you. <3

💚 porrim is much happier than she lets on. secretly, she’d worried that her.. salacious reputation had scared you off. she won’t need much reassurance, though. just your presence is enough to comfort porrim and remind her that others’ opinions don’t matter. you ground her, in that way. i could see porrim being a little protective of you too; she might fuss over your scarf when it’s cold out or be really into helping you time manage or something like that.

💙 latula’s knee jerk reaction is to throw up a palm for the r4dd3st high five, but thought better of it when she remembered her steel palm. if she trusts you with her heart, then latula will likely trust you enough to at least partially drop the cool girl facade. latula’s ultra supportive, too. whether it’s verbal encouragement, a hand on the small of your back while walking, or even just a smile, latula never lets you forget that she’s got you, through thick and thin.

💙 aranea is a bit smug. she was sure this day would come sooner or later, it was only a matter of when. that doesn’t stop her from being elated, though! which she immediately begins to wax poetic about, haha. aranea probably keeps a diary or two, in which you are a recurring theme. this is a little random, but in private i could see aranea being a fan of giving & receiving surprise kisses.

💗 if aranea is a little smug, then meenah is smug as fuck. of course you like her back; what’s not to like? homegull’s got it going on! the two of you will quickly become partners in crime (if you weren’t already), with you as meenah’s right hand gal. despite the bad bitch/take charge attitude meenah has, yours would be pretty much the only opinion she values higher than her own. though she may have a reputation to uphold, meenah thinks of you as her strongest ally.

-mod lux

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genevievemd · 4 years ago

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Can I ask you some questions about Ethan and Genevieve I discovered your page a week ago just finished all the fics I'm interested in your version of the characters

Oph MC is usually seen as flawless and perfect (like every other MC in choices) what are some bad habits or flaws your MC has and we know Ethan's flaws he is one of the few li's who have actual flaws but still I'd like to know your Ethan's flaws which are personal or you have imagined them. (English is not my first language can't explain my request more clearly than this)

Do you see them married with kids in the future ( ik the marriage part you have a fic about it but here is what I specifically want. both of their opinions on this matter before meeting each other and after spending a year or two dating)

Does Ethan have extended family that you have created like a cousin he is very close to or a best friend (if yes can you make a fic where Genevieve meets this best friend or cousin?)

Any hobbies or skills Genevieve has?(like sketching or piano or something idk why Genevieve gives me piano vibes)

Which med school did you have Genevieve go to?

Are they fresh air kind of people or city air kind of

Do they believe in aliens

Opinions on pineapple on pizza

And last but not the least body language ( signs their body gives off when they are anxious, scared, happy and excited)

Ik they are a lot of questions and you probably hate me for making you answer this question air but either way love your work♥️♥️✨💫

Yes! You can always ask me questions and I LOVE these questions. I’m very attached to Gen lol so I’m always willing to talk about her!

Thank you for reading all my things!

And I don’t hate you for all the questions, I answered every single one, under the read more because they got lengthy. lol

First Question:

I definitely don’t see Gen as perfect. I’ve kind of put a lot of myself in her, which I’ve never done with any other MC I’ve played. I kind of see Gen as as a perfectionist, to the point where she gets in her own way. She also, like Ethan, tends to put everyone’s problems on her shoulders and feels responsible for thing that are way out of her control. And though Gen is patient, sometimes too patient, she can hold a grudge. It’s unhealthy and she knows that, but she has a hard time over coming it. Like with Landry, deep down Gen wants to let it go and move on. But there’s a small part of her that will always feel angry and betrayed. Gen’s also not one to put her own needs ahead of others, it’s rare that she’ll ask for what she needs, unless she 100% trusts the person she’s confiding in. (I have a headcanon where her dad cheated on her mom when she was in high school, they didn’t get a divorce, but Gen was the one who discovered the affair and it left a sort of trust/abandonment issue.) She can be rather clingy in a relationship, at first, something Ethan was annoyed with, he’s rather independent I think, but once he understood where that was coming from it didn’t bother him as much. It was just Gen’s way of reassuring herself that Ethan was hers, that he wasn’t going anywhere. Plus her love language is physical touch/affection and spending time together.

As for Ethan, I think he’s a very closed off person, has a hard time trusting people. He absolutely will push someone away, not because he necessarily wants to, but in order to protect himself. For me, I think one of the main reasons why he didn’t dive 100% into a relationship with MC was his fear that he’d lose them. That they would walk out the same way his mother did. I also think he’s way too stubborn and has a hard time admitting when he’s wrong. He won’t be the first to back down in a fight, even if that means it makes him unhappy.

Second Question:

I absolutely see Ethan and Genevieve married with kids. Gen has always wanted to get married, always wanted to be a mother. She’s had a pinterest board since high school thats dedicated to her dream wedding lol. When she found out Ethan wasn’t 100% on board with marriage, she was bummed. But at the same time, she was/is willing to let that go if it meant she could be with him. As long as she has Ethan, she doesn’t need a ring. Gen’s also always believed in soulmates and fate, she knew after their kiss in Miami that Ethan was her soulmate.

As for Ethan, I think deep down he’s always wanted kids but never saw them as an option because he never thought he’d find the right person to settle down with. I think that also ties into his past with his mom. Same with marriage, when he wasn’t in love, it didn’t make sense to him. But once he was, realized he never wanted to lose Gen, he understood it. Once he recognized how much he loves Gen, he wanted everything with her. Marriage, kids, all of it. With MC/Gen he realized he could be the parent he wanted to be.

I have a scene in chapter 3 or 4, I can’t remember which, in Love You Home where Ethan and Gen have the marriage/kids talk.

Third Question:

I think Ethan has an extended family. We don’t know much about his parents, if they are only children or not, but I think either his mom or dad has a sibling or two. They’re definitely not close at all, he probably doesn’t see them. But they exist. Gen’s influence definitely persuades him to reach out, in the same way she influenced him to give his mom a second chance.

As for a best friend? I don’t think he has one, I think Naveen is his closest friend at the moment. But I would love for him to get back in touch with maybe a childhood friend or friends from collage. Maybe even become friends with some fellow attendings at Edenbrook. Again, I think have Gen/MC around has really opened his eyes to different things and realizing how important friendships and relationships really are.

And at some point I may write something for that.

Fourth Question:

I love that you see Gen as a piano person because I also see Gen as a piano person. She doesn’t play much now, lack of access to a piano and too busy with work but she does know how to play. She also speaks a baby bit of french, not enough to be fluent but enough to understand her maternal grandparents (they’re first language is french, so they speak it interchangeably with english). I also think she’s a pretty decent singer, she did choir in middle/high school.

As for hobbies, Gen is super into photography. She’s not the greatest, but she loves it. It ties into her being a super sentimental person, she likes to have tangible memories. She also loves journaling, she definitely has a bullet journal that she does herself. It’s relaxing for her, after a stressful day. And I don’t know if you’d count make up as a hobby, but Gen is super into it. On the daily, she really only wears eyeliner, mascara and a light lipstick, but on her days off she experiments and does more intricate looks. I have a headcanon where Ethan comes home and sees Gen in like a super dark lip with a kickass winged liner, very femme fatale, and he’s shookith.

Fifth Question:

I go back and fourth on what med school Gen went too, I googled top 100 med schools when I started open heart so I could pick a good one for her lmao Its a toss up between University of California or University of Pennsylvania. Gen is from New England, she grew up on the coast of Maine - not too far from Providence actually. So I sometimes think UPenn because Gen would want to be close to her family. But then sometimes I say Cali because she wanted the adventure of going off on her own. At some point I’m going to have to choose obviously but where not there yet lol Still a toss up.

Sixth Question:

Genevieve is absolutely a fresh air girl. She loves the beach and being outdoors. Boston is a bit of a change for her, being a city but it doesn’t take long to find some country air here in New England so she gets both. lol

Seventh Question:

LMAO I love this question. I never thought of this but you know what Gen absolutely believes in aliens. Not in a weird conspiracy kind of way, more in a scientific kind of way. There’s no way Earth is the only planet in the galaxy to have life. The galaxy is freakin huge, scientifically there is no way we’re the only planet with life.

Eighth Question:

Pineapple on pizza is a crime. End of story. No one should ever have pineapple on pizza. No just...no.

Ninth/ Last Question:

I’m going to answer this for each of the things you listed in your question.

Anxious: It’s very easy to see when Gen is feeling this way, at least to Ethan and her friends. She retreats inward and does this like twisting motion with her fingers. Like cracking your knuckles but not actually cracking your knuckles. She’ll also bite the corner of her lip.

Scared: Gen doesn’t scare easy, but when she does she kind of hugs herself, makes herself smaller. Will hide behind things or run away. She’s a flight not a fight when scared. Especially if its like a spider, bug or snake - she’s terrified of those. That’s a freeze or run and scream situation.

Happy: Super easy to tell when Gen is happy. She gets really smiley, a little bouncy. One of those people that does that little happy dance of swaying back and forth.

Excited: Same as happy, big smiles. Jumps around. a little dancing. Lots of giggling.

I’m gonna add one more here, for shipping purposes lol

In Love: Gen is affectionate af, very touchy. She’ll show you how much she loves her way before she ever says it. Ethan realized she was in love with him months before she said it. Just by how much more open she was with physical affection. Always gently touching his arm, or kissing his cheek, always willing to hug him or snuggle in close.

Thank you so so so much for the questions, these were so fun to answer! Feel free to drop in any time. I love Gen and Ethan so much, I will always answer any questions you want to ask me about them.

#asked and answered #ethan x gen #ethan ramsey x mc #genevieve mcclure #open heart #open heart mc #fireycookie

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samwrights · 5 years ago

Text

Blackout

I am SO sorry this took me so long! With everything going on with me, writing was kind of a struggle, but I had so much fun writing this one. Reader is wild. We love reader. This fic was inspired by all the songs I used to listen to while getting ready to go out in college which include: Blackout by Breathe Carolina, Wild Boy by MGK, Wild for the Night by A$AP Rocky, and Trashwang by Tyler, The Creator so if you wanna get in the mood, I’d put those on.

Warnings: Alcohol (a lot of it), passing mentions of marijuana and nicotine, semi-mutual pining(?) and of course, Language. Also platonic Oikawa & Reader.

Word Count: 5.3k

There was no better feeling than being reunited with all of your best friends at university after a long summer filled with family vacations and a part time job to try to save money while you were away. It was the strange lull between summer and the start of classes that you looked forward to every year in which you still had time to socialize with everyone without the worry of your ever piling assignments or having to commute hours between cities—everyone was gathered in one place.

It was your favorite time of the year and there was no other feeling that could compare.

Not being so drunk that you had every bit of confidence that you could possibly muster pumping through your veins.

Not being so high that your body felt it was moving on it’s own.

Not even learning that the dude you’d been so in love with since the start of university is just as in love with you as you are with him.

But considering you had no idea what the last feeling felt like, you could only hope for the first two to come in at full force tonight.

Tonight was the party of the school year and it was the one thing you looked forward to in the brutal, lingering August days. At the moment, you were fresh out the shower with all of your inhibitions and leg hair down the drain, your hair wrapped in a towel turban as you slathered lotion over your already drying skin. Your speakers are blaring a myriad of different hip-hop artists in your room, drowning out the fact that your roommates were doing the exact same thing in their own spaces. The thought brought a smile to your face considering the almost clashing yet complementary personalities between you and your roommates.

Kiyoko was so incredibly blunt and straightforward. Yachi was so shy, even as she entered university with all of her own friends from Karasuno. Yukie, being the house mom of your apartment, and Kaori too—everyone knew what was happening tonight and everyone was doing their own ritual to get ready for a night they would most likely never remember. Regardless of how similar or how different you all were, this night warranted one communal ritual: roommate check.

As the five of you got ready, each of you would check each other’s make up, outfits, and shoes to make sure there was zero chance of being a social faux-pas. It was a strange, unspoken rule in the apartment that you all made sure each of you left the house being at optimal hotness, but it was an incredible confidence booster, especially if one of you were able to land a sexy, one night stand. It was the goal. Best friends don’t let each other leave the house looking less than their prime.

“What do we think ladies?” You could hear Kaori let herself into the hallway, prompting you to pause Lizzo and open your bedroom door. The ash brunette had her hair down and straight, framing her done up face nicely. Without too much face products on, the former Fukurodani manager allowed her freckles to show through the tinted moisturized, accenting it with a light dusting of blush. Her onyx eyes were left alone, save for winged liner sharp enough to stab any weak man that dared approach her and a few coats of mascara on her top and bottom lashes.

“Approve,” you and Yukie chimed simultaneously. From what you could tell, the other Tokyo native was still in the middle of doing her own make up.

“Looks good!” Yachi chirped, while Kiyoko gave a nod of approval with a soft smile on her supple lips before retreating to her and the former’s shared room. You did the same, carrying on with your own look, absentmindedly lip singing to whatever song popped up on your hype playlist. While you were excited, the music barreling into your ear drum was the only way to distract your thoughts from wandering while you focus on blending out your eyeshadow. That, and the two chimes that rang in rapid succession signaling a text, worked pretty well too.

Yaku: You’re coming tonight, right?!

A force of breath leaves your nostrils in laughter as you send a progress shot of your look. Yaku Morisuke was a very close friend you’d met through high school, in addition to being the Nekoma volleyball manager, and there was one thing that Yaku knew better than anyone. You didn’t wear false lashes for any reason unless you were trying to get it.

Yaku: I’ll take that as a yes.

You’re the last one to call your check with your roommates—a regular occurrence, really, considering you always took the longest to get ready. For good reason, of course. “Check!” You called out as your heels clacked against the hardwood of your apartment’s hallway. Sporting a heather grey cropped halter top and high-waisted black leather pants, the girls gave their approval with a bit of hesitation.

“Are you sure you want to wear heels?” Kiyoko asked for the third time as everyone packed a spare bag filled with extra clothes that you would put in Yaku’s room later. After the first year, the five of you started to come prepared. The beach bag that was used carried painkillers for impending headaches, two sets comfy clothes in the event some of you couldn’t quite make it home, swimsuits in case someone decided to go drunk swimming, and a spare set of party clothes. This was not your first rodeo, by any means. It was a stroke of luck that the five of you could share clothes as well and as often as you did.

“Don’t worry, they’re not that tall and they’re actually pretty comfy.” And you knew the bag was at capacity, not warranting the ability for you to bring spare shoes anyway.

“Then I think we’re ready to go!” Kaori jeers, elated to see everyone just as much as you were. Kiyoko leads the group, Yachi in tow with her, and Kaori is all but sprinting towards the house, leaving you and Yukie to head up the rear.

“You know,” the former Fukurodani manager sings in her humorous lilt, “Kuroo is going to lose his shit when he sees you.”

“I hope so.”

When it came to one of these mega parties, there was no such thing as being early or fashionably late. There couldn’t be when there was twenty people living in one house and, no, that was not an exaggeration. Supposedly that’s what happened when a bunch of college boys who all used to play volleyball together at some point in time attend the same university—they rent a mansion for the next four years. With dozens of people living under one roof, it was no surprise that the music was already wracking the foundation of the house even from the outside.

Without so much as a knock to the door, the five of you entered the house, immediately being bombarded with a joyous yell from the former Fukurodani captain and ace, Bokuto Koutarou. “Hey guys, the girls are here!” You always found it amusing that, for someone as popular as Bokuto, the five of you were dubbed as the girls. Which made sense considering all of you were club managers at some point or another. Of your old team, Yaku and Lev flock over immediately, the two of them wrapping and squeezing you into a tight hug. The three of you briefly exchanged greetings, questioning how the other’s summer was before silently asking Kiyoko for the beach bag that held your group’s spare belongings.

“Could one of you just stuff this in your room?” Though you hadn’t nominated anyone, you shoved the bag in Lev’s awaiting hands.

“You sleeping over?” He asks, peeking through the open top. Yaku rebukes him immediately, telling him it was rude to go through a woman’s bag.

“Nah, remember how bad I blacked out last year? I just wanted to make sure I brought extra stuff so I don’t have to steal one of your guys’ shirts agains.” The former libero shakes his head before covering his face with one hand.

“[name], please don’t make me look after you again tonight.” The sandy brunette pleads.

“I make no promises, Yaku.” You chirp before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek and entering the massive living room that had been cleared to act as a dance floor. By how many people greet you, you aren’t even sure if you know half the people in here at the moment. There are a few familiar faces of Karasuno alumni, you recognize the DJ as some kid in a class you had last year—he went to Aoba Johsai if you remembered correctly—and Yukie and Kaori are already on the dance floor with all eyes on them. They beckoned for you to join them, red solo cups already in their hands in the air.

“You’re going to want this,” you look up to see Bokuto who had temporarily abandoned his duty playing host to hand you your own drink. Cautiously, you take a sip as his gold eyes watched, waiting for the green light.

Sometimes, Bokuto tended to get carried away with the amount of alcohol he put in the punch. Thankfully, this was not one of those batches.

“Thanks, Bo!” Is all you call out before joining your two other Tokyo friends on the dance floor. From behind them, you can see other party goers honing in on them, completely oblivious to the men doing the same to you. For a moment, however brief it may be, none of it matters as you feel the pounding bass takeover your own heartbeat, squealing with your girls as remixes of old songs that piqued your nostalgia played over the sound system. You take another swig of your drink, already killing your first one of the early night, crinkling the plastic in your hand as you gently squeeze the empty cup so you don’t let go of it. You’re squeezing and squeezing subconsciously until it’s taken out of your hand, making you turn around swiftly because who the fuck—

“Need another?”

“Kuroo!” Before your brain can react and stop you, your arms are around the object of your affection’s neck in a tight embrace, you legs coming off the ground and your skintight leather pants sticking to the back of your knees. Still holding your cup, the old Nekoma captain grins down at you when you release him, gently nudging with his chin towards the direction of the kitchen. The two of you weave and wobble your way through the masses with you walking ahead of him, allowing Kuroo to appreciate the view of your backside. The way your top hit flattered your shoulders well, but the leather pants. The goddamn leather pants were just doing it for him. Joining others crowding around the twenty gallon cooler that Bokuto used to mix and house the alcohol for the night, Kuroo makes it a point to keep close to you.

“When did you show up?” The black-haired man asks as he ladles some liquid out into your cup, making sure to avoid ice cubes.

“Probably ten minutes ago,” you weren’t sure—time was a foreign concept at a party. The captain eyes you almost worriedly, knowing you had a tendency of pushing yourself well past your limits when it came to alcohol.

“And you’re already on your second,” Kuroo lets out a whistle, “better take it easy, princess. Don’t want a repeat of last year.”

“Jokes on you, I don’t even remember last year!” Unable to come up with a witty retort, the middle blocker rolls his eyes before knocking back the rest of the beer in his bottle and grabbing another one. He remembers. He remembers, and he wishes that he didn’t because he didn’t need another memory that contributed to you being the one that got away, despite how close you were.

It’s a little disorienting for you to see him this way, sometimes, so grown that he can down ale like it’s water when back in high school he would hound the team to ensure they were properly nurturing their bodies. It was disorienting to see someone you were once so close with grow right before your eyes. The thought softened your heart for a moment until you realized you were probably staring and you should probably stop before Kuroo thinks you’re weird. You chug half your drink the second the raven-haired man hands it to you, hoping the alcohol would ease your nerves. “What did Bokuto use?” You ask wearily, not tasting an ounce of a burn.

“Everclear, of course.” Oh. Well, fuck.

“Here’s to me dying tonight.” You hold your cup out towards Kuroo, waiting for him to touch his bottle to it. When he didn’t, and just looked at you thoroughly nonplussed, you shrugged before downing the rest of its contents.

“[name]...” his voice comes as a warning, even more so when you grab another helping for yourself and immediately bringing the rim to your lips.

“Honey, I’m here for a good time, not a long time.” Kuroo watches as you flee back towards the dance floor, rejoining Yukie and Kaori. He doesn’t miss the way your teeth shine in different colors from party lights as you grin. Or the way your firm grip on the cup is similar to that of your mission of getting plastered tonight—unyielding. He doesn’t miss that Seijoh fuck that’s honing in on you from behind. He doesn’t miss the way his hands are firmly planting themselves on your leather-clad hips and he certainly doesn’t miss that you don’t fight him off in the slightest.

Sucking on his teeth, Kuroo knocks back a full bottle of beer without skipping a beat before tossing the glass in the recycling bin and rummaging through his kitchen cupboards. There’s no way Bokuto used all nine—aha! He thinks to himself, finding a fifth of Everclear that was supposed to be used to replenish the jungle juice after it had been killed. Immediately, Kuroo pulls the fresh bottle to his lips, draining a decent amount of its contents into his system each time he sees this guy whispering in your ear. He doesn’t miss the way you’re smiling as he does so.

“It’s so nice to see you, [name]!” Contrary to popular belief and unpopular opinion, Oikawa Tōru isn’t that bad of a person. Sure, he had a big reputation on campus, but that never stopped the two of you from becoming friends. To be perfectly honest, it was a wonder the two of you weren’t friends sooner.

There was no other man in the known universe that matched your party energy because no man ever carried the desire to get as publicly obliterated as you and the former Fukurodani managers did. Unlike the other men that were enrolled at this university, Oikawa didn’t care to find some target of a hook up at parties—he’d rather do that sober, maybe take a girl out for a nice, ritzy dinner. Parties were for blacking out and hearing the crazy shit you did for the next three months and living with your name in infamy; that was your guys’ philosophy and you were sticking to it.

Because of this principle, Oikawa often uses you as a hook up repellent to deter unwanted attention and you do the same because there was only one person you ever wanted at these types of shindigs. One person that, regardless of the two of you knowing each other since the first year of high school, never seemed to want to be this kind of close to you. You tried to pretend that it didn’t hurt; that someone you knew for so long and that you unearthed your feelings for two years ago wouldn’t want to press his body to yours and claim his territory. In your mind, he was partially the reason you carried the mentality that you may as well just blackout and try to have fun. In a twisted way it worked, considering how bad you got last year.

And that person, after greeting you for a few minutes, always seemed to end up in hoards and swarms of women you didn’t know. Kuroo was always caught up doing his own thing at his own pace. It shouldn’t have bothered you, considering he was one of the hosts, but a small part of you that was full of envy just never could let it go. Which seemed to regularly bring you into the hands of Oikawa Tōru. “I missed you too, Oiks!” You tell over the pounding music. The brunette is laughing and smiling as offers cheers to you, taking a swig of whatever cheap beer he had in his cup.

You have no idea how long you’re dancing for—all you know that song after song is keeping you alive and the number of drinks a mystery. But after Oikawa returns with your cup replenished, the heat from the swarm of sweaty bodies in addition to the alcohol erasing your logic, you decide you need a break. Without saying anything, not that the former Seijoh captain would have been able to hear you anyway, you point in the direction of the patio just beyond the connected sliding door. When he shakes his head, you wriggle your way through the sweltering crowd before all but skipping out the sliding door, letting the mild summer night air cool down your skin.

Not surprisingly, Yaku is outside with a few others that preferred not to be swamped by the masses, including your other two roomates. Save for one very familiar face that you’d hadn’t even realized was here tonight. “Yamamoto!” You yell, immediately sprinting over to him to tackle him, accidentally knocking the lit cigarette betwixt his lips down to the concrete of the patio.

“[name]! You crazy son of bitch, I missed you!” Everyone is full laughters and smiles, sharing stories of their summers and reminiscing of the previous parties that occurred in this very same mansion. To some degree, you were thankful you weren’t the only person that got buck wild at these events. Two years ago, Oikawa, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa had shown up with bulk amounts of powdered Kool-aid mix and dumped it into the hot tub in an attempt to “dye the water red”. Or so they claimed. Apparently, Kool-aid and chlorine don’t mix well.

Needless to say, Yaku was pissed about it.

In that same year, Lev knocked over the famed cooler fifty gallon cooler that was once the home for Bokuto’s even more infamous jungle juice. Note to all future party holders, Hawaiian Punch stains all carpets, regardless of color, if there’s enough of it. Especially monsoons of it. Akaashi learned that the hard way when he was the one who had to make the phone call to get the hallway re-carpeted and the floorboards underneath had to be replaced as well due to moisture. Thank you, Hawaiian Punch. Which was why there was now always at least one person—Akaashi himself, due to the trauma from two years ago—who guards the smaller cooler with his life. Nobody is knocking that over ever again and if they do, he’ll send them an invoice in addition to slicing off their head.

Then there was your infamous blackout from last year. While you, obviously, remember nothing about it, Yaku made sure to recount every detail possible. The last thing you remember was chugging a bottle of Jägermeister.

You hate Jägermesiter.

According to Yaku, at some point you started taking cutlery out of the drawer in the kitchen and going into each of the rooms and hiding silverware in different spaces. Nothing was off limits—whether someone was in the middle of getting a blowjob or hiding forks in people’s shoes. You also had decided to try to climb on top of Lev’s shoulders so you could see what it was like to be tall. Try, in the sense that Lev was entirely unwilling and refused to crouch down for you, resulting in you falling off of him and ripping his shirt off to keep balance.

Yaku’s favorite moment, and that is entirely satirical, is when you started a fight with Bokuto. Not only had you thrown your few cigarette butts from social smoking that you had inherently participated into the punch to “claim your territory”, but he, Yaku, and Kuroo were so worried when they saw you reach to drink the contaminated jungle juice that the former Fukurodani captain had tried to take your cup from you and just have you sleep it off in Kuroo’s room. Which, in all fairness, you did. However, if you were going to go, you were going to go down swinging.

Literally.

As soon as the cup was out of your hand, Kuroo had to physically restrain you from punching Bokuto in the face as you screamed that you were one hundred percent sober. Unfortunately, Kuroo’s grip slipped, mostly due to your squirming and thrashing, and you had landed a solid blow on Bokuto’s cheek. Needless to say, the three boys had to all but detain you and leave you with a babysitter—a position that Kuroo ended up volunteering for.

You wished you could have remembered at least that part of it. Only Kuroo knows what and if anything happened between the two of you that night, but he refused to ever speak about that night.

Recalling last year’s events prompted Yaku to remind you one more time this evening, “I am not fucking babysitting you again tonight, [name].”

“Technically, Kuroo babysat me.” You jeer as you stick your tongue out at the former libero before smashing the remaining contents of your cup. After your last seven drinks, you were a solid level of drunk to the point of still being coherent, but the ground was definitely moving in ways it shouldn’t have been. “Speaking of which, where is my favorite rooster?”

“Oh he’s been in the pool for the last like hour.” From the patio, your head snaps over as if to confirm it. But seeing Kuroo, hunched over alone with a half full bottle of Henny in his hand while he sat at the steps leading him into the water was not how you pictured you’d find the former captain. Normally, he would surrounded with potential suitors hanging off his arms and cracking jokes just to see if he could get lucky for the night. Yet, everything in his body language screamed “leave me be!”

And yet, you were you.

“I’m gonna go join him—“

“Wait, [name],” Yaku grabs your wrist before you can flit off to his room to change into the swimsuit you had brought, “I really don’t think he wants company right now.”

“That’s when people most need it!” Managing to wriggle out of the libero’s grasp, you made your way inside, weaving and bobbing between the partygoers with an expertise that you shouldn’t have had in the moment thanks to how much you drank. Or maybe you didn’t actually have at all, considering you tripped up the stairs a couple times. Maybe heels weren’t the best idea, but you managed to make it to Lev and Yaku’s shared room—the third door on the left. Knocking just to be sure, you were greeted with a relatively tidy room and the beach bag Kiyoko had brought sitting on top of the libero’s neatly made bed.

After slipping into the two piece and grabbing the beach towel someone had thought to bring, you retraced your steps, barefoot this time thankfully, before popping out the back door and joining Kuroo on the steps. For a moment, he looks up at you and you can see him fully. His hair is hanging over his face, as per usual, but rather than covering his usual jovial hazel eyes, they’re masking something darker. Even in the dead August night with only soft porch and pool lights for exposure, you can see the murky storms brewing in his eyes from a single, sideways glance. “What, tired of being around everyone?” The captain slurs.

“Not particularly. But you seem to be.”

“The water feels nice,” is all he says before pulling the bottle of Hennessy to his lips and taking a large gulp before offering it to you. It’s a small offer of a white flag, but a genuine one that tells you he is allowing your presence and company. “So, where’s Oikawa?” You shrug at the question while taking no offense to it before taking a pull of your own.

“I dunno, I’m not his keeper.” A natural silence lulls over the two of you. After handing the bottle back to Kuroo, you take a few more tentative steps into the water so that it rests just above your chest, cooling your body from the heat of the alcohol that consumed you. “So, I get that it’s your party and you’ll sulk if you want to, but what’s eating at you?” You ask. As you’re speaking, your hands are moving about the chlorinated water, occasionally cupping the pristine liquid only to have it leave your fingers.

“Who says something’s bothering me?” Kuroo grits out. Not very well, you might add, as his slurs cause him to miss a couple vowels and consonants in his sentence. Judging by the fact that he’s drinking straight out of the bottle, Hennessy no less, you assumed he’s been hitting the sauce pretty hard. After all, Kuroo hated Henny almost as much as you hated Jäger. Turning to look back at him, you see the way he’s hunches over after bringing the half full bottle down to a quarter, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Kuroo, you think I don’t know you?” Your question was intended to come out as snarky, considering the long standing friendship between the two of you, yet swallowing down the infatuation you had been harboring for the last couple of years. However, seeing the way his shoulders were slumped and the defeat that crossed his downcast features—you didn’t have it in you to be mean to him.

“No, you don’t.” Comes the reply, one you weren’t expecting.

“Say sike right now,” you growl, “Kuroo, we have been friends for almost six fucking years—will you fucking put that down?!” You’re snapping now, the stomping of your feet muted by the water as you approach the captain and rip the almost empty bottle from his hands. Just so that he couldn’t keep hiding himself behind alcohol, you pour the remaining contents into your own mouth and toss the bottle into the nearby grass before you bring yourself to sit next to him with your knees touching his. “I have known you for—“

“Six fucking years, [name], I know.” The tone in his voice is suddenly clear. The slurs and disparity were now replaced with bitterness and acidity that rarely ever came from Kuroo. “For six fucking years, you’ve known me and yet you never once fucking looked at me.”

“Kuroo, I look at you all the—“

“No, you don’t,” his hazel eyes are lit with fire and intensity that reflected the anguish he felt inside. As much as he wanted to, the former captain couldn’t stop himself from saying the things that he’d sworn to secrecy for so long. “If you ever actually looked at me, you would see the way I looked at you.”

“Kuroo...”

“Why do you think I volunteered to watch over you last year after you fucking swung at my best friend?” The sheer burn of his words and the lava in his orbs is enough to make your heart stop. You swear that it actually did. “Why do you think I asked you to become the manager all those years ago? Or why I get so fucking pissed off that you show up here just to blackout? That you’re friends with Oikawa of all people?”

“Because you’re a good person?”

“Cause I’m in love with you, you moron!” Kuroo’s outburst is followed by him threading his fingers into his signature bed head, hiding the hot tears that he can’t stop from falling. He can’t help it—not when all of his composure was drained from every bottle he drank today. “[name], I literally held you and rocked you to sleep while you were puking your guts out over the side of my bed last year! Do you have any idea how hard it was not to confess while you were crying after punching Bo? How I finally got to hold you after six years but you don’t remember a single second of it?”

“Kuroo, I—“ but you don’t have anything to say. What can you say? You had no idea that any of that had ever taken place. And besides that, you felt that you were never worthy of his attention. You thought there was no possible way he actually returned the tiny embers of the crush you’d had on him for all these years, so there was never a reason to ask if anything had happened between the two of you that night. You didn’t have anything to say and the only thought that crossed your mind at the moment was to run from the situation—to leave him alone because clearly Kuroo wasn’t thinking straight. “I should leave.” You whisper.

“Wait, don’t go! Just...” a mangled sob leaves his chest and, for a moment, it’s sobering to watch him transition from being standoffish to angry to hurt, “why can’t you just look at me the way you look at him?” And suddenly, you’re overly aware of how convoluted your plan to use Oikawa as a hook up repellent was. How it worked out almost too well to the point where the one person you wanted thought you were out of reach.

“Kuroo, Oikawa and I aren’t dating, he’s known that I’ve had a crush on you since we started uni.”

It’s silent between the two of you.

It’s silent as Kuroo slowly turns to you as he relishes in the way your eyes boast sobriety and honesty—the way he knows you’re telling him the truth.

And then he’s laughing. Head tossed back and hands over his stomach in a way that is just so Kuroo as he guffaws with zero regard for his volume. There was just enough alcohol left in his system that he couldn’t bring himself to care, just enough for him to have zero inhibitions left. “So you’re telling me that I drank a bottle of Everclear, a bottle of Henny, and a twelve-pack to my self for no reason?”

“Kuroo, you may or may not have alcohol poisoning.” You deadpan in reply.

“Oh look who’s talking!” Once again, the man beside is you laughing and you’re happy that he’s slowly returning to his normal, joking self. But the uncomfortable silence rears its ugly head once again and the two of you are looking at each other. How long had the two of you been staring at one another? Since you’d drained the rest of the Hennessy or since either of you last had a drink?

How much of this conversation was born because of the alcohol? It seems the question was weighing heavily on each of you.

“Do you mean it, Kuroo?” You ask quietly.

“I love you more than I hate Henny.” A snort leaves your nostrils, but you don’t miss the genuine tone. You don’t miss the way his hazel orbs have softened or the way one of his hands reached over to hold yours. You don’t miss the way his taut skin over his cheekbones relaxes by the slightest millimeter or the way his tongue peeks out to wet his slightly chapped lips. You don’t miss the way he’s looking at you with love. “You know, you were the only person I asked to be the manager back in high school. It was the only excuse I had to talk to you at the time.”

“Oh no, drunk confessions,” you tease, squeezing his hand. “Speaking of drunk, do you think we’re gonna remember this conversation tomorrow?” Another bellow of laughter escapes Kuroo’s chest followed by him wrapping one arm around shoulder to bring you closer. He knew he would. No amount of alcohol could ever make him forget hearing the fact that you’d been just as smitten with him as he was with you. Well, maybe not as much, but it was a start.

“That depends. Are you planning on blacking out tonight?”

“Is that what it takes to sleep in your bed again?”

“Is that a confession I hear, babygirl?” The pet name goes straight from your ears and sends a chill down your spine and he knows it’s getting to you. He knows, and everything feels right. He’s told you he loves you and that he has for years. He knows there’s nothing stopping either of you anymore, and he knows that you’re only getting started.

“I’ll show you a confession.”

Haikyuu!! Tag List

@hihiq @tamcitrus

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psychosistr · 4 years ago

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Meet Me Halfway- Chapter 2

Summary: Liquidator prepares to enact his ingeniously evil plan to rob St.Canard of its water supply and put the town in a crisis...but he has a bit of a soft spot for a certain botanist, so he gives him a heads-up and helps him prepare for what's to come.

Notes: This one's a bit shorter than the last, sorry ^^"

-First Chapter-

After their first encounter in the greenhouse, running into the Liquidator became a more and more frequent occurrence over the following two weeks. Bushroot would often go to his greenhouse and find the aquatic canine already there, watering his plants for him, or his new friend would pop up from the garden hose not too long after his arrival. The pair would then spend hours talking about their day (though Bushroot tended to do most of the talking in that regard with Liquidator merely listening and interjecting when appropriate) while Bushroot tended to his plants or worked on the newest phases of his experiment and Liquidator either helped out or tested out a new ability.

Their frequent meetups at the greenhouse seemed to be mutually beneficial for both men involved: Bushroot had someone to help maintain the specific watering cycles his precious plants needed every day, as well as someone to share his latest scientific discoveries with. Meanwhile Liquidator, whom Bushroot was at first concerned wouldn’t get as much out of their frequent interactions, got a place to breath in some fresh air for a while as well as a safe environment to experiment with and refine his water-based powers and abilities.

On top of that, they both got something far more important- someone they could talk to who wouldn’t judge them. Even if he couldn’t always follow Bushroot’s excited ramblings about his experiments, Liquidator was genuinely fascinated by his research and would gladly let the scientist ramble on for literal hours without getting bored or dismissing what he said. In return, Liquidator used the scientist as a test-audience for his water-based puns and one-liners to see which were crowd pleasers and which still needed to be workshopped a bit longer.

It was an interesting but fulfilling relationship that Bushroot had never had with any of his coworkers or classmates before- a genuine friend who got as much out of his time with Bushroot as the duck did with him with neither expecting nor wanting anything in return. The fact that his new friend was a water mutant and upcoming supervillain did little to change Bushroot’s opinion or feelings for the other man- in fact, he hardly even thought about the latter most of the time.

Well, at least until Liquidator had a discussion with him one day about the water source for his greenhouse…

“I’m pretty sure it comes from the Saint Canard Waterworks.” Bushroot said after giving the question some thought. “Why?” He questioned as he turned away from his research notes to look at his friend curiously.

The man in question was currently leaning against one of the greenhouse’s supply lockers with his arms crossed and a serious expression on his face, looking as if he was weighing his options carefully before speaking. “……” He finally made his decision and looked at Bushroot with that same seriousness. “There’s a drainage pond out back behind the hill, right?”

“Yeah, but that pond’s been drier than the sidewalks since the heatwave started.” The duck’s curiosity was certainly piqued now. “Why are you asking? Is something wrong?”

“Not yet.” Liquidator shook his head before looking out through the glass panes of the greenhouse towards the pond in question nearby. “I’m going to fill it for you before I leave today- consider it a reward for being a loyal customer of the Liquidator’s special watering and companionship services.”

“Oh, well, that’s really nice of you,” Bushroot began while looking out towards the pond as well. “But the Waterworks still has plenty of water, even with the heatwave, so I don’t think I’m going to run out anytime soon.”

“Trust your friendly neighborhood Liquidator- you will be needing it by tomorrow.” Liquidator assured him with that same seriousness from before.

“Why would I-?” Bushroot’s brain stopped mid-question as he finally figured out what Liquidator was getting at and he looked back to his friend with a curious wide-eyed stare. “You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

“As always, the amazing Dr.Bushroot has guessed the 100% correct answer on his first try! For your prize, you get to be the first to hear the good news!” When Liquidator looked back at the small scientist, his serious expression had been replaced with a devious smirk- the same one he’d worn the first time the two of them had met. “I’m planning something big. Something this town won’t be able to forget for a long time to come. Something that’s going to put me on the map as one of the most dangerous supervillains in all of Calisota. By the end of the day, ‘the Liquidator’ will be a household name!”

He looked so dangerous when he smirked like that.

He sounded so excited about doing something that would likely be dangerous and possibly life-altering (if not life-threatening) to many people involved.

He already acted so much like the supervillain he claimed to be- a title he’d given himself despite having never committed any major crimes (that Bushroot was aware of) until now.

By all rights, Bushroot should have been scared. He should have been nervous about having such a dangerous person in the same room as him. He should have been thinking about the quickest way he could get in contact with the police and warn them about what was to come.

Instead, the only thing Bushroot felt was excitement. Excitement and pride for his friend’s plans that were about to unfold. “Really? That’s great! I can’t wait to see what you’re gonna do! I just know it’ll be great!” He gave the other man a bright smile as he leaned forward in his excitement, wanting to know more about what the clever canine was plotting. “So, what are you going to do? Poison the water supply? Burst the city’s water mains and flood city hall? Stop the pipes from working and extort the town for money to turn them back on?”

Liquidator was momentarily taken aback from the shorter man’s eagerness, but soon had a grin on his face that was somewhere between devious and amused as he answered the other’s questions. “To satisfy your thirst for information: That’s already been attempted, with unfortunate results. Not a bad plan- I may try it next time. And you’re surprisingly close with your third and final guess.” Before the duck could ask any more questions, the dog flowed over to the work table he was seated at and held up a finger to silence him. “I’m afraid the customer service desk is closed until further notice- no more questions may be asked until business hours resume.”

Bushroot pouted at essentially being told he wasn’t allowed to know more about the supervillain’s evil scheme. “Can’t I get some sort of 24/7 support for my special membership?” He knew how much the dog loved his business jargon and jokes- it was usually the best way to get him to relent on something and worked most of the time.

Unfortunately, a shake of the head informed him that this would not be one of those times. “Sorry, but even platinum-tier customers can’t be privy to all of the business’s trade-secrets.” His earlier grin softened into the slightly softer smile that Bushroot had become familiar with over the past two weeks. “Trust me- the less you know, the better. If you know too much and get caught, you’ll probably be charged as an accessory or accomplice.”

“Son of a broccoli..” Bushroot muttered dejectedly. He really wanted to know what his villainous companion was up to, but he knew logically that Liquidator was right. Despite his frustration over the lack of information, the duck returned his friend’s smile with one of his own. “I’ll keep the news on at work, so you’d better make sure I have something interesting to watch.”

A bubbly chuckle rumbled in the dog’s chest before he wrapped an arm around the mallard’s shoulders and gave him a thumbs up with the other. “Of course! Exploits involving the Liquidator are guaranteed to enthuse and excite even the most melancholy of local news watchers, or your money back!”

Bushroot chuckled as well, subconsciously leaning into the cool touch on his shoulders. “They’d better be, or I’m calling the complaint department when I get home!”

The two laughed, excited for the next day’s events to unfold, albeit for different reasons.

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

End Notes: Again, sorry this one ended up being a little shorter ^^"

#darkwing duck #dwd #bushroot #liquidator #liquiroot #meet me halfway

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ohblackdiamond · 4 years ago

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liner notes/unused joke summaries for kiss fics (part iv)

Despite what my general dislike of the shift key and my tendency to mock all that I love might imply, I actually overthink everything I write to a great extent. I make no claims to these explanations being in any way enjoyable, but if you wanted to know what I was thinking while writing KISS fic… now you do. Part one can be found here. Part two is here. Part three is here.

little t&a --If Paul had boobs, they would be big and Gene would want to grab them.

>>Title from a Rolling Stones song of the same name; most of the chapter titles are from another Stones song, “The Spider and the Fly.” I started it during quarantine as a means to occupy myself and destress, and didn’t initially plan on posting it at all. Once I’d written five chapters without having posted it or mentioned it to anyone, I figured, well, I guess this might as well go somewhere, so I put it up. I had the hope that it’d give me something to strive for during the stress of lockdown, and I’d assumed that I wouldn’t ever have that much time to devote to a story again.

There were a couple of things that really inspired me. I’ve always enjoyed sexswaps as a bit of a guilty pleasure, but wanted to do a different take on them-- there’s this tendency for sexswaps to either be wacky hijinks or an excuse to write particularly brutal noncon. There’s also a tendency for the sexswapped character to almost automatically start adopting stereotypically feminine traits he didn’t have prior, with no real reason for it. I wanted to try and avoid all that as much as possible.

... There’s also another tendency for the sexswapped character never getting back to normal, and I wanted to avoid that, too. I mean, c’mon, KISS is supposed to start the Love Gun tour a month after the fic. Paul can’t exactly pull the trigger of a love taco. (Maybe gently brush it a bit...)

I had Paul already cursed for five days at the start of the fic because I thought it would make things easier and allow the plot to advance more quickly. I also felt like it would give him more autonomy-- prior to Gene showing up, he has tried (albeit in small ways) to get a handle on what’s happened to him, and while he’s hermited it up, he hasn’t given up. Autonomy in general was pretty important for me re: Paul. (Incidentally, probably one of my favorite things about this fic is that Paul’s made that poor twelve-year-old kid on his bike buy him sanitary napkins.)

I wanted to explore a couple of other things, too, mostly rock and roll’s (and KISS’ in particular) pretty heinous treatment of women. Gene and Paul argue in the eighties that groupies know the score from the beginning, and even postulates that those relationships are more “honest” than just taking a girl out to dinner. They’re not alone in this (and, of course, as married men, these days they try not to discuss those times at all); almost every band/artist from around that time period will give you the same answer. “The girls know what they’re doing.” I think many of them did know. I also think many of them came into those hotel rooms expecting a lot more than they ever received, and I think plenty of girls ended up at the very least disappointed by their encounters, if not humiliated or worse.

I don’t know if this was successful, but I also wanted to at least try to poke a few holes in celebrity/idol worship as well. Carol’s scathing comments to Paul-- “they [fans] think there’s something you’ve got that they can get at, but there’s not” pretty heavily exemplify behavior I’ve seen at conventions, fan meet-ups, etc. At the end of the day, well, there’s no point in putting them on much of a pedestal. I dunno. I’ve seen some weird crap in the name of fan worship, in and outside of RPS. Keith Richards talks about it in his book-- girls urinating on themselves out of sheer nerves/excitement just at seeing the band, etc., which, while disturbing, had to have given them a sense of being something beyond ordinary (and act accordingly, of course).

I don’t know. I like them a lot, but I can’t hero-worship these guys; they don’t live in the real world. They’re not, ultimately, relatable or accessible despite the billions of photos, the twitter posts, the meet and greets-- any more than they were 40-odd years ago. I think there can be a real danger in thinking they are. I wanted to show that, too, but again, I don’t know if it came across properly.

One of the aspects I really struggled with was getting a good handle on Paul’s innately slippery sense of identity without it overtaking the story entirely. Gene’s very stable identity was a good foil, and it helped that most of “t&a” is from his point of view, rather than Paul’s.

Another place I faltered with was Paul’s outing alone at CBGB. The first draft had the guy in the club slip quaaludes into his drink, but I really didn’t like that at all and felt it took too much control away from Paul/punished him for going out on his own. I thought it’d be more interesting if Paul deliberately took what he knew was a dangerous combination (alcohol + quaaludes) in the hopes that would make him feel better about sleeping with someone he didn’t care about.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, having him do that (and the way the scene with the guy at the club ends) also meant that I couldn’t have him hop right into bed with Gene that night, either, so that accounts for some of the delaying. I was also really wanting to make sure in general that when Gene and Paul finally did go all the way, there wasn’t any feeling of being coerced or pressured. Not that Gene would do either of those things, but I didn’t want him or Paul to be doing it out of any feeling of obligation or hurry; I wanted it to be as natural as possible, under the circumstances. And I wanted, again, Paul’s dubious sense of self and Gene’s ambiguous feelings about Paul(’s boobs) to come into play-- yes, Paul, now you, too, can take Gene on the amazing technicolor dreamdate you’ve been fantasizing about for the last seven years! Or, you know, not. Overall, there are some pacing issues and the story slows down considerably after Gene takes Paul home from CBGB, but I like to hope that most of the scenes add something.

There were a couple of secondary plotlines that got scrapped because I couldn’t get them to fit well enough with the narrative. One of them was Paul’s very troubled relationship with his sister, Julia. There’s a fair amount of references to her scattered throughout, and Paul brings her up on several occasions, generally without much provocation, and generally at mildly odd moments (at Central Park and immediately after getting drawn by Gene being the standouts). There was an initial draft of the chapter in which Ace calls Paul, where Julia’s the one calling Paul instead (after having gotten his number from their parents). I wanted to at least get the start of a reconciliation going between them. Ultimately I scrapped it because I couldn’t get it to flow with the main plot and never felt like I’d ever explored it thoroughly enough for it to be worth a detour.

The comparison between Paul and Carol is pretty blatantly obvious, even in the narrative. Paul and Gene both recognize it (Gene, initially, when he notes that Carol doesn’t seem to belong at 54 any more than Paul does), and it makes them highly uncomfortable. (Mary-Anne, Carol’s friend, also notices it-- “she [Paul] reminds me of Carol. Just pitiful.”) They’re both very shy, insecure people that have thrust themselves into a world they’re not naturally suited for (show business) in order to achieve their own ends. They’ve both put great stock in a single person who helped them (inadvertently or not) during a dark time, and are driven by those feelings, despite knowing that person is out of reach.

Physically, they’re intentionally mostly opposite (Carol’s short, with a slight build, lighter hair, blue eyes, vs. Paul being, well, Paul-- tall, fuller build, black hair, brown eyes). But narratively speaking, neither of them are described as beautiful; “cute” and “kind of pretty,” sure, but nothing past that (except when Gene says it towards the end). That was important, too, for a couple of reasons. One, I wanted to further the comparison between them; two, I wanted to at least try and dispel the idea that all groupies were glamorous; many of them were rather ordinary-looking.

Paul not being “playboy material as a girl” was very deliberate. I feel like a lot of sexswaps tend to make the guy in question end up a ridiculously hot babe, which didn’t quite jive with what I was going for (not that I wanted Paul to end up awful-looking, but...). ... He’s probably hotter than he thinks he is though; at least, Gene didn’t mind at all, and Pete thought he was pretty. I wanted him to be recognizable if one knew where to look (face, body language). I didn’t want him to end up a tiny, frail-looking waif-- given what he looks like as a dude, that didn’t make sense to me. So this meant the less perfect attributes had to stay and carry over to a female body. He ended up with big boobs because... well, honestly because if he wasn’t going to end up with a great figure overall, he might as well have great boobs. And I mean, really, his chest’s already pretty all right as-is.

I didn’t want there to be a love triangle, but I did want it obvious, at least in an offhand way, that Peter and Paul had had sex (Ace mentions it in the car with Peter, with his “how long did it take you”). I wanted to incorporate Ace and Peter to as great an extent as possible in general.

Marbas is an actual demon from The Lesser Key of Solomon, although other than the few sentences Paul reads off from that grimoire, there’s not much more information on him to be found.

#kiss fanfiction #liner notes #gene simmons x paul stanley

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surviiived · 4 years ago

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Guidelines

If you don’t agree to these rules and don’t want to follow me back—and if I have already followed you—please just HARD block me. It’ll help keep my dash cleaner, as well as make sure in my forgetfulness I won’t follow you again. Don’t worry, I won’t be upset lol. Thank you so much for looking at my rules!! 🖤🖤

Basic Rules:

-SEMI SELECTIVE AND MUTUALS ONLY. This is for my own safety and feeling of security. If you want to roleplay with me, follow me. I will do the same for you if I’m willing to interact.

-OCS, AUS, AND ALL OTHER CHARACTERS WELCOME. I don’t care who your muse is. I’m all for OCs, crossovers, AUs, anything!! Just know I’m a bit more selective towards fandoms I don’t know about lol

-NO ONE-LINERS. I need some more interest in our thread from your end so I don’t lose muse as well. One-liners are fine for crack threads, but nowhere else. I’m fine with single to multiparagraph, and that’s how I will be writing.

-NO GODMODDING. I cannot express this enough. It’s my biggest pet peeve. Just don’t, or I’ll end the rp immediately.

-PLEASE USE CORRECT GRAMMAR. I’m a bit of a grammar freak, so seriously. At least try. However, If English isn’t your first language, I COMPLETELY understand.

-MULTIVERSE, MULTISHIP. Every thread is a different verse, every ship a different verse. Simple.

-DONT REBLOG THINGS FROM ME. Honestly, guys this just gets on my nerves. It’s a bit irrational...but also irritating because when I check my phone and see a notification from a mutual, I get excited because I think it’s a reply! But then I realize you just reblogged that meme/musing/whatever. Please, only reblog threads from me and everything else from the source. This includes memes, musings, pictures, and promos. Also, pls don’t reblog my PSAs, if you agree with them let me know so I can post it to my rp memes blog, which I would LOVE for you to reblog it from!!

-REBLOGGING ASKS AND TRIMMING THREADS. I’m not as strict as a lot of people over this, but some mutuals of mine are so please trim your threads when you reply to me. If you are in a situation where you can’t, that’s perfectly fine. However, thanks to this new Tumblr update I cannot trim asks because I don’t have xKit. So I ask for you to trim them for me, and if you can’t either then I’ll figure something out. Also with asks, I’m fine with you reblogging an ask to continue it. I will turn it into a separate thread for my friends’ sake.

-UNFOLLOWS. There’s a low chance I will unfollow someone, and the only reasons I can think of are spreading drama, being inactive for over a month without a hiatus, something else that annoys me, or too many OOC posts. The latter is why I am hesitant to follow back personal blogs who roleplay on said blog, but it’s not impossible. I won’t follow personal blogs from side blogs, but if you let me know you are a side blog I will gladly follow where you roleplay.

-DONT INVOLVE ME IN DRAMA. I hate drama. I’m the type of person who wants absolutely nothing to do with it. If I ask about what’s going on, then you’re welcome to tell me, but other than that, don’t talk to me about it. I won’t take sides. I won’t tell other people what’s going on. I’ll only act like nothing’s happening.

-SPOILERS. This is kinda hard with an Identity V blog... I don’t really anticipate there being any spoilers on this blog?? But if a new diary entry comes out or a deduction for a new character, sure, I’ll tag it for a couple of weeks.

-REQUESTING MUSES. If you don’t request a specific character in an ask or a starter call, I won’t write it. I just don’t have the time to go to you and ask which character you want, nor try to guess what you were thinking when you sent something in or liked a starter call. So I just won’t respond to whatever it is. This is the case when requesting one of my muses or picking one of your muses, if you’re a multi like me. Sorry..!!

Romance Rules:

-NO SMUT. I can’t stress this enough. It’s not that I’m a minor (which I’m not), it’s that it makes me uncomfortable. You will never see smut on this blog. I’m fine with heavy make out scenes, but when the clothes start to come off is where I request a fade to black.

-I LOVE TO WRITE ROMANCE THREADS. I’m a pretty big hopeless romantic, as that’s where most of my muse is generated from. I may want to add a ship to our thread at some point, but will never force it.

-REFUSALS. NO pedofilia, NO incest, NO rape, or ANYTHING nasty like that. I understand that sometimes in writing dark situations occur, as some of these things are in my muses’ backstory. So, if you write any of those things, I’m not going to block you. However, if you request to do any of that stuff with me, I’ll say no. Press the issue, I’ll hard block you. I shouldn’t have to hear you request it the first time, as it’s right here in my rules and that means you didn’t read them. But I’ll go easy until you cross a line.

-THERE MUST BE CHEMISTRY. Don’t bother trying to make a ship work that just won’t click, it’s a waste of time. But I’m more than willing to try things and see how they work..!!

-PLEASE RESPECT MY MUSES’ SEXUALITIES. You can tell a muse’s sexuality by what it says on their about. Most are bi/pan, but a few may be different.

Rules and things about me:

-I HAVE LOTS OF WRITING EXPERIENCE. I’ve been writing since I was maybe even seven years old, played games where I pretended to be a character irl since I was five, and have been actually roleplaying for approximately 7 years now. I’ve been roleplaying on Tumblr for three years. I really love writing, you know?

-WARNING, I WRITE GORE. I tend to go into detail about pain, suffering, death, and just very demented topics. That’s just a warning. If you have a problem with that, you may not want to follow me…

-TAGGING. Gore, murder, suicide, and other dark and triggering things will be tagged, but swearing will not. I swear far too much for me to remember to tag it. Also, I don’t post NSFW images or threads on this blog, so don’t worry about that, but I will tag asks and memes that can be perceived as nsfw. I tag things like this (using death as an example): “tw: death”. If you have any triggers, PLEASE let me know so I can tag them. There’s always a chance I might forget about something, and if I do please tell me. I’ll make sure not to forget a second time. Also, I ask you all tag vomit mentions, even if it’s just written, and ESPECIALLY TAG VISUALS OF THROW UP!!!! That is my ONLY trigger. Thank you.

-RESPONDING TIME. I’m a college student, high school student, and I work, so my responding time isn’t what it used to be lol. Please don’t pressure me over that..!! I also post most threads via queue unless I just need to send it out ASAP. I won’t bother you if it takes a little while to reply. We all have lives outside of Tumblr!!

-I’M NOT GOING TO SEND IN PASSWORDS. It just adds to my anxiety, and I don’t like that. That’s why I don’t ever ask someone to send a password in and just ask that they like my rules post! Just know I will always read someone’s rules before interacting.

-I’M ALWAYS HERE IF YOU NEED SOMEONE TO TALK TO. Honestly, I want to help! If something’s wrong and you want to tell me about it, I’m all ears. I hate being upset or depressed myself, so I like to try to make others feel better. It helps with my own sadness.

That’s all for right now..! Happy roleplaying~!!

like this post if you have read it and agree to it, please.

Hello! My name’s Kiki. There isn’t really much to say about me, except that I love to roleplay!! That and write, of course. And draw. And sing. So I guess I love a lot of stuff lol. Also, I am diagnosed with ADD (attention-deficit disorder), so please bear with me..!! One last thing, I’m 18 as of November 2020.

If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m right here and always accepting PMs!!

My main account is twx-sid3d, but I’m rarely ever on there so here is the best place to contact me. I also have a multiverse oc sideblog @hxlf-bred that’s connected to my multi, @nycttophilic.

Thanks for reading! Have a nice day~!

#{ Rules }#{ Mun Things }#~ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵒⁿᵉ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵗᵉˡˡᶦⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ; ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵃˡᵏˢ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ʷᵒʳˡᵈˢ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ~ [OOC]

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hxlf-bred · 4 years ago

Text

Guidelines

Basic Rules:

-SEMI SELECTIVE AND MUTUALS ONLY. This is for my own safety and feeling of security. If you want to roleplay with me, follow me. I will do the same for you if I’m willing to interact.

-NO GODMODDING. I cannot express this enough. It’s my biggest pet peeve. Just don’t, or I’ll end the Rp immediately.

-PLEASE USE CORRECT GRAMMAR. I’m a bit of a grammar freak, so seriously. At least try. However, if English isn’t your first language, I COMPLETELY understand.

-MULTIVERSE, MULTISHIP. Every thread is a different verse, every ship a different verse. Simple.

-REBLOGGING ASKS AND TRIMMING THREADS. I’m not as strict as a lot of people over this, but some mutuals of mine are so please trim your threads when you reply to me. If you are in a situation where you can’t, that’s perfectly fine and I’ll do it for you. Same with asks, I’m fine with you reblogging an ask to continue it. I will turn it into a separate thread for my friends’ sake.

-SPOILERS. I will tag spoilers for everything that’s not in the anime. For example, if a post contains something in the BSD fandom that’s not in the anime, I will tag it. I doubt I will tag threads for spoilers, and if there’s a character that’s manga only I won’t tag it (ESPECIALLY if I write that character, like Daki.)

Romance Rules:

-REFUSALS. NO pedofilia, NO incest, NO rape, or ANYTHING nasty like that. I understand that sometimes in writing dark situations occur, as some of these things are in my muses’ backstory. So, if you condom any of those things, I’m not going to block you. However, if you request to do any of that stuff with me, I’ll say no. Press the issue, I’ll hard block you. I shouldn’t have to hear you request it the first time, as it’s right here in my rules and that means you didn’t read them. But I’ll go easy until you cross a line.

-THERE MUST BE CHEMISTRY. Don’t bother trying to make a ship work that just won’t click, it’s a waste of time. But I’m more than willing to try things and see how they work..!!

Rules and things about me:

That’s all for right now..! Happy roleplaying~!!

like this post if you have read it and agree to it, please.

Hello! My name’s Kiki. There isn’t really much to say about me, except that I love to Roleplay!! That and write, of course. And draw. And sing. So I guess I love a lot of stuff lol. Also, I am diagnosed with ADD (attention-deficit disorder), so please bear with me..!! One last thing, I’m 18 as of 2020.

If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m right here and always accepting PMs!!

My main account is twx-sid3d, but I’m rarely ever on there so here is the best place to contact me. I also have a main multimuse blog over at @nycttophilic and an Identity V multimuse at @surviiived!!

Thanks for reading! Have a nice day~!

#{ Rules }#~wíth єvєrчσnє αrσund hєr tєllíng hєr thє wαч tσ gσ; ѕσ ѕhє wαlkѕ thrσugh wσrldѕ αlσnє~ [ooc]#{ Mun Things }

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alchemist-shizun · 5 years ago

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To tend thee is my care

ACT II

ACT I - Read on Ao3!

Word count: 14,297

Summary: Here

Characters: Virgil, (Non-binary!)Roman, some OCs for plot reasons

Pairing(s): Prinxiety

Warning(s): Angst, negative thinking, swearing, crying, repressed emotions, fighting, insecurity, mentioned toxic parenting (once), overthinking, mention of paranoia (twice), yelling, kissing (Please let me know if I missed anything)

A/n: Will I ever stop projecting on characters? The amount of references to Hadestown in this is embarrassing. There are just so many references in general. (I’ll also explain the classical ones if you would like to check the works out, I promise they’re very good!) The fact that I started writing this back in June and having it complete now and so appreciated warms my heart so much and I’ll never stop thanking you guys. If you still have any questions about the story I’ll be more than happy to answer any doubt you have! I’m very proud of how it turned out and I can’t wait to know what you think about it. I also hope I did justice to the non-binary portrayal, I’m a bit insecure despite being nb myself yeah, makes sense. I hope you liked this little journey, thank you so much for the positive feedback and, all of that being said, enjoy! (The first scene is directly linked to the last scene of Act I, the scenes take place during the same day)

✾✾✾✾

Roman had found his way through the day by preventing his mind from ending up in the same old crush zone place and just keeping on waiting for the moment his club started.

Waiting patiently was something that came natural, he always thought that life was a never-ending cycle of waiting for things to happen, for days to arrive: it was a mechanism he could keep track of and that, eventually, helped him to get through his toughest days.

It started with the simplest tasks, like waiting for that one dinner where you were sure you were going to eat your favorite dish, or waiting for night to come to be able to hang out with his friends.

He thought about how pleased and happy he’d feel once the bad moment was all over, he knew he could get through every villain he encountered because he never failed to reward himself with the simple knowledge of making it through. That alone was enough a trophy to assure himself that, as he had done in the past, the next dragon-witch wouldn’t be unbeatable and that, in any way he could possibly think of, success was always on its way. Patience yields focus, as they say.

And so he waited.

For his classes to end, for him to be able to check his phone, for his countdown until he saw that pretty face again, for when he’d be able to hear the letters roll so easily on his tongue when he pronounced his favorite nickname, because he made it his favorite, or his voice did. He couldn’t decide. That was another thing to wait for. For the moment he’d finally muster the courage to smother his face with kisses. And holy fuck he was back in the crush zone.

He slowed down in his tracks, sure that none was around, and leaned on the wall to his right, letting out a deep sigh in the process, as if he was trying to blow out all of his thoughts. Only that it had the opposite effect.

Every inch of his body could feel that he was thinking about him and wouldn’t let him live it down. His insides just exploded into and endless hot summer day in which you would only feel relief in air conditioning.

Before he knew it he was smiling like an idiot and daydreaming possibilities and illusions that would only make him end up in a dangerous place if he kept them up. He could have hated him, he was a good actor he could have pretended. But that would have done more harm than good to him, wouldn’t it?

Whether tis nobler in the mind to be hated and therefore unable to hurt yourself with delusions, or to damage yourself with your desires, never certain of what may ensue?

« Hey, Ro! »

Roman broke free of his train of thought and found one of the actors right next to him.

« Hi Dave. » he offered a smile, still light-headed from thinking too much after intense hours of Spanish lessons.

« Come on, » he tugged at his fellow actor, he was going to be Cadmus. « today’s the big day, we’re trying a couple of scenes with all the costumes and make-up! » Roman was able to sense the excitement in his eyes even behind those sunglasses that Dave had already on.

They were going to the local theater, where the play was going to be shown for the first time, so they had to leave school to reach it.

Little did Roman know, though, as he had finally made his entrance in the theater, that it would be an uneventful rehearsal for him that day: since Virgil was missing and they needed to focus more on other actors, he could have taken that meeting to rehearse alone or stay in the backstage and let the other group practice on him with the makeup or clothing they needed to get right.

He chose the latter, since he knew being alone with his thoughts would have led him to definitely think about something other than practicing his own lines.

He had been sitting for quite some time in one of the backstage chairs, a very focused girl in front of him, when she seemed to snap back to reality. She took a step back, tilting the brush in her right hand.

« Oh my god, your face is perfect. »

Roman blinked a few times. « You’re too kind, friend. »

« No, I mean it! Your features are so good to work on and I haven’t even done much. » she beamed, then gave a thoughtful hum as an idea crossed her mind: her eyes started darting from her small bag to the boy’s face.

She suddenly bent her head, avoiding eye contact. « You wouldn’t mind if I … tried for a stronger look? » her voice, barely above a whisper, suggested insecurity.

Before he had even realized he was moving, he felt himself nod.

Excitement settled in his chest for some reason he couldn’t comprehend; true, most of the time he felt the same way when he was acting with Virgil, (or anywhere around him lately) or when trying something new, like the anticipation he felt when the costumes for the play were finally done.

But there was something different this time, like he had been waiting for that exact moment for ages but just now he had realized it.

« Oh thank god. » the girl sighed in relief, looking back up at him with a small smile crossing her lips. « Generally the boys I ask tend to … turn me down pretty dramatically. »

Something dawned onto Roman, while she added a quick “thank you” and began working.

Was he supposed to be mad? After all, it was just another type of art and he was all for it, there was no way he would have rejected it. He had even tried to teach himself to use those products before, when he was younger, but one day they had disappeared out of the blue which discouraged him enough to never try again.

He never really mustered up the courage to confront his parents about it, even when he was sure it was their fault.

He tried to let himself relax under the soft touch of the bristles, eyes closed.

Why was he overthinking this when he had been completely comfortable with agreeing on it in the first place? Why did it have to be a problem? Did he care for his group’s judgment? But they got make-up on every year for the productions.

Why was there so much confusion in his mind, yet he didn’t feel any negative emotion towards that moment? Maybe the confusion was due to all the positive things a simple task like that sprouted into him. Maybe he couldn’t just enjoy helping a friend practice.

Or, he was supposed to feel neutral about it.

Or …

« All done! » the girl stepped back and, when Roman opened his eyes again, he was met with a bright smile and a satisfied expression which distracted him from his previous thoughts.

She was quick to hand him her phone, promptly set on the front camera, and waited behind his seat for a possible reaction.

Saying he was lost for words was definitely an understatement.

The first thing he noticed was the red on his lips, a kind of hue he found to look perfect on his skin tone. Then, the flawlessly winged eye-liner, under different shades of red and gold blended on his eye-lids with what could have looked like a professional touch. His hand ghosted on his cheek, where some golden glitter was sparkling on highlighter.

« Oh, I used the imperial red for your lipstick, the name inspired me since it fits your next role as king, but turns out it actually does fit you nicely! »

« Stunning. »

« Sorry, what? »

Roman didn’t realize he had been mumbling in disbelief at his own reflection, despite loving his own image, it had been a long while since he had last liked his looks so much.

« You did such an amazing job! » what once was a timid smile started growing into a more confident one on the girl’s lips as Roman trailed off in his own list of compliments.

« Roman can you- Oh! » Dave had stepped in the room in that exact moment. For a split second, in which only a surprised expression dominated the guy’s face, Roman felt genuine fright.

Then, Dave smirked and leaned on a table. « Oops, didn’t see you there, pretty one. Can I tempt you to dinner tonight? »

« You’re a flattering one, but I’ll have to turn your offer down. »

« Aw- »

« Roman, how dare you! » a feminine voice startled the three of them, revealing a smiling Bonnie. « You’re messing with my bisexuality on purpose, admit it. »

He was literally beaming at all the compliments and positive feedback he was receiving, he had never felt more appreciated in his life, though he couldn’t exactly pin point why.

The two actors brought him to another small room where he had to change into the play costumes, they ran into Lukas in the process who gave Roman a small smile. That was definitely something, as they interacted very rarely.

Bonnie and Dave showed him his two sets of clothes, Pentheus’ and the Maenad’s ones, and left him to try them on. Their first night was approaching, so they had to make sure everything fit perfectly.

Roman went through his lines in his mind while he changed, stopping only to admire the combination between the king’s outfit and the stupendous make-up.

« I should do this more often. » he observed, his eyes lingered on his reflection on a mirror.

What are you talking about, what would you parents say?

He grimaced at the thought, he had almost forgotten about public opinion.

Do you think all your friends would actually approve? Fat chance.

He turned around and inhaled deeply. Who cares, he was simply trying his play’s costumes. What was the pressure in doing that?

Why was he procrastinating on that? It wasn’t that big of a deal. Right?

« Right. »

Roman stared at the dress he had to put on, then his hand went through the fabric; he lifted it and placed it on a chair. Yeah, no, he could do that. It was just acting after all-

Oh, that was it! Acting! He could go through his lines again, thus distract himself.

“What is this costume I must wear?”

Roman had finally gotten out of Pentheus’ clothes.

“On your head I shall set a wig with long curls.”

He put a hand in his hair instinctively. Yeah, he had ended up learning some of Dionysus’ lines too, after all he had to know what to say and when exactly to say it.

“And then?”

He didn’t realize he had actually mouthed that.

“Next, robes to your feet and a net for your hair.”

The vest fell neatly on his legs.

“Yes? Go on.”

He reached for the headband and covered part of his hair with it.

“Then a thyrsus for your hand and a skin of dappled fawn.”

The props where still being perfected, so all he did was take the item with the fake fawn skin; the material felt like little plastic bristles had been attached to some kind of cotton. He placed it around his shoulders, as he should have been a couple of scenes after the one he was recalling.

“I could not bear it.”

« I cannot bring myself to dress in women’s clothes. » he concluded the line, transfixed on his full Maenad dress-up.

It felt so wrong, so absolutely and thoroughly amiss to say that.

Was it because he had said it in the wrong tone? Did he have to try again? Did he want to try again? Maybe if he did he’d say it more naturally, he’d be satisfied enough to shove down his paranoia and he could call it a day.

“I cannot bring myself to dress in women’s clothes.”

His chest felt tight. Yes, okay, that was an ancient play, of course there were going to be things he didn’t agree with. Still … he could think of so many men that would agree with the king.

Was he even a man? What was he thinking, of course he was.

Yet …

He thought of himself as a simple actor trying his best to succeed in his everyday life. He hadn’t really cared about the question until now, or maybe he hadn’t ever deeply posed himself the actual question.

He dared to look at the mirror again.

“I cannot bring myself to dress in women’s clothes.”

He never really cared about what he wore during Carnival or Halloween, though he loved being a prince (as well as zombie royalty!), or what was his role when he played make believe as a kid with his wonderful cousins.

He didn’t feel weird with make up on, he didn’t feel different with what would have been labeled as feminine clothes on.

There was a word for it, he was sure, but he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself.

He put his hands on his hair and let out a sigh. The line kept on repeating in his mind like a broken record.

“I cannot bring myself to dress in women’s clothes.”

Well, true, he didn’t really feel like a girl that much, but he didn’t feel completely like a boy either. Shortly thereafter it would have teared apart his mind.

Was he neither? Was he both? Was he fluid? Could he say he didn’t care? What was even allowed anymore?

He? She? They? Roman was too confused to even think straight, let alone make an important choice.

What would Virgil think about it?

He lowered his hands slowly, as the realization struck him.

Virgil was going to reject him.

He will hate me.

Was this going to change everything? Roman could only see one way out of it: escaping the possibility of being rejected and completely burn the bridges out of the blue. Virgil was probably going to hate him in that case, too, but at least it wouldn’t hurt that he knew they couldn’t be together exactly because of him.

He’ll think I lied to him all this time, he’s not going to talk to me anymore, I’m going to ruin everything, the play will be a fiasco-

He brought his fingers to his cheeks and found them already wet with tears, while, as his hearing finally came back to him, instead of focusing on his inner thoughts, he noticed the uneven pattern of his breathing.

That was when someone decided to barge in.

« Sorry, I have to- what? » Lukas stood in the entrance for a second, then he closed the door behind himself with a soft click and made his way to the other actor. « Roman, what happened? Are you okay? »

He tried hard to compose himself, but he just couldn’t. He shook his head, trying to blink back the tears as he bit the inside of his mouth.

« Let’s talk about it, I won’t judge you. I promise. »

« It’s nothing, you can go back, they need you- »

« I don’t think so. » Lukas spoke so firmly he felt obligated to listen to him. « The meeting is over anyway, I came to tell you. And you seem more in need of comfort than anything else. »

« Maybe I do. » Roman admitted, wiping at his face several times.

« Come on then, let’s change and go get some ice cream from that famous place in front of the library. »

Roman was able to shut his thoughts again. Not for long, though.

✾✾✾✾

Something was wrong.

For a habitual worrier like Virgil, it wasn’t arduous to spot the danger zone, a circumstance in which the tiniest detail could have revealed itself to actually be the beginning of a catastrophe.

It had started during his school trip: he had sent tons of pictures to Roman, who had personally demanded him to do so ever since he had heard of the trip. Despite that, he hardly ever answered as excitedly as Virgil thought he would have been.

Roman had the power to sound just as dramatic via text messages, it was unusual for him to sound uninterested.

After that, there were times in which he didn’t answer at all. Virgil had complained to his classmate, who had the pleasant misfortune to share the room with him at the hotel. At first he tried to brush it off, he told himself that maybe he was just too stressed because of school, but the growing anxiety and discomfort had started to show on the outside as well.

His classmate had tried to calm him down, come up with all the positive outcomes he could find, though he couldn’t shake off the concern in his eyes. That, obviously, told Virgil’s paranoia that he probably believed they were going to stop talking forever.

He pretended his heart didn’t sink every time he checked his phone for notifications and tried to make the most of his last days in Athens.

The lovely illusion of potentially finding Roman waiting for him at the parking spot for their bus didn’t help his overthinking.

Why would he even think he would have showed up, anyway? Sure, he lived nearby, but it was pretty late at night on a Sunday. It was more of a wish. He hoped he could have seen him as soon as he had come back to their hometown.

He had thought waiting for the morning would have been worth the longing.

The first day he had been back to school, they had agreed to finally meet after a week of almost no interactions at all.

Eventually, Virgil ended up at his bus stop, a disappointment in his guts that he didn’t want to uncover and a text from Roman that explained he had been caught up with a test and a Spanish project and he couldn’t have made it.

Not even to say a quick hello and disappear again.

Something was wrong, and it dawned on Virgil the day after, during break, when he noticed Roman hanging out with Lukas and subtly getting out of his sight as fast as he could when he saw Virgil.

He was avoiding him on purpose.

Luckily for him, that wouldn’t have lasted much longer as the play rehearsals took place right after school.

His worries were confirmed when Roman refused to look in his direction or sit next to him, Virgil decided to endure everything for the sake of the rehearsal, even when the teachers gave them suspicious glances at how stiff their performance was.

Mrs. Eagan had even stopped him and pulled him aside to see if he knew anything, if Roman was okay or if it was just a bad day.

The funny thing was that Virgil had been wondering the same thing for about a week, trying to come up with different excuses every day while deep inside he blamed himself. He just didn’t know and it was eating him away.

Maybe it was actually his fault.

Lukas had approached him after the meeting ended.

« Hey. I guess, uh … Have you noticed something weird with Roman lately? »

God, why were they all asking him?

« Apparently, everyone is. »

Lukas’ intense stare bore into him.

« I know something. » Virgil’s head snapped up. So that was why they had been closer than usual; Lukas, much like Virgil himself, tended to stay in class most of the time.

« There is something that is bothering him very deeply, but it’s not my place to say. » he shifted in his feet. « I don’t think he’s going to bring it up anytime soon, so I suggest you talk to him. »

His natural nervous state morphed into a concerned one and, given a nod to the boy, he went to look for Roman.

For some reason, he was exiting the theater building from the back. Virgil saw him yelp in surprise when he grabbed his arm.

« Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or did you intend to ignore me a bit longer? »

Roman stiffed. He should’ve seen that coming. Panic rose to his chest as he searched his mind for an answer, a believable excuse.

You could always pretend.

« I fail to see the problem. »

« Are you actually serious right now? » he didn’t mean to raise his voice, but he just couldn’t buy that.

« I- »

« No, for real, are you being serious? » denial seemed to fuel him even more, to the point he brushed his hands on his face to shake off the disbelief. « ‘Cause last time I checked, you didn’t flee everytime you saw me like I was some kind of deathly virus to avoid! »

« Look, you’re blowing this out of proportion. » that was the first time Virgil despised the sound of his laughter and the way he acted. The first butterfly died in his stomach.

« So in your opinion this situation is totally normal and there is nothing to fix. »

« Precisely. » Roman’s words left his thoughts before he could process the kind of bomb he was dropping. He felt his heartbeat increase. « Have a good day. » he dead-panned, averting his stare.

When he made to turn around, he stumbled on his feet: Virgil had took a hold of his arm again, this time his nails almost pierced his skin. Roman noticed he was shaking.

« Don’t you fucking walk out on me again with no explana- »

Roman pulled his arm away. « What do you want me to say? » he cut him off with a loud exasperated yelling.

All around, the place fell so dead silent that time seemed to freeze. Virgil stared at him wide eyed and instinctively took a step backward.

« What do you want me to say? » Roman repeated more intensely, extending his arms. « Do you want me to go on about how irritating you are right now? » he pretended he didn’t care when he noticed something break in Virgil’s eyes.

« Do you want me to make something up so that I can satisfy you? You know, not everyone is here tending to your needs at anytime. »

Roman tried hard not to let Virgil’s hurt expression get to him, especially when he caught on the fact he was blinking back tears when his gaze shifted to the side.

« Well, I don’t know. I thought we had something going on and I was worried about you. » he emphasized the last sentence, taking up all the courage to look him in the eyes, he failed to believe the conversation was real every time he looked away. « But it doesn’t look like you care at all. »

« You’re right. I don’t. » Roman crossed his arms. A beat, and Virgil intook some breath. « So this should end here. »

« “This”? » Virgil tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowed and he made a face, as if he had just tasted something sour. « Our whole … » he widely gestured. « friendship is just a little nothing that can be discarded whenever you feel like? »

« If I say it should, then yes. » there was no emotion in Roman’s voice. The lack of regret started a bonfire in Virgil’s chest, where once a welcoming hearth used to warm his heart.

« At least look me in the eyes and dignify me of the reason why. » something in his cracked tone was desperate. Roman could feel the shards of his broken voice graze his skin.

Then he acquiesced.

« You. » he pointed his finger to Virgil’s chest, then slid both hands on his jacket and lifted him toward himself ever so slightly. He had imagined a scene like that once, only in that circumstance he wouldn’t have hesitated to lean in further.

« Because of you. Because I wanted to. Because I don’t want to be your friend anymore. » he talked rapidly. « Because I don’t like you. »

After a beat, Virgil talked with a strangled voice, keeping up the conversation had become unbearable. « Is it true? »

Roman fought himself not to break down, say no and tell him everything.

« If it is, I’ll be on my way. »

No, no, no, please I need you here. Don’t.

« It is. »

Please.

And that was all Virgil needed.

That was all he needed to hear before slowly getting out of Roman’s grip while he held his stare. All he needed to convince himself to shut his mind, confirm his worries, turn around and walk away with wide steps.

He didn’t last long.

He hid himself behind the side of his bus stop’s canopy and put his hands on his eyes, the lump in his throat was getting harder to shove back down. The pace of his breathing was uneven.

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

Tears welled up in his eyes but he refused to let them escape, they wet his palms instead of doing their usual journey down his cheeks.

He didn’t want to breathe, because sobs were ready to leave his body shaking and that would have meant that he cared. He regretted caring for someone who didn’t even cherish him in the slightest.

He held his breath so much it felt like choking. His hands pressed further on his eyes.

But fucking damn him if he didn’t deeply care for him.

Yet he had been the one to drive him away without even realizing, he replayed the scene in his head and felt a genuine disgust towards himself and the way Roman despised him.

The way he spit his responses like acid on his tongue, which alimented the fire that burned down all the remaining butterflies in Virgil’s stomach.

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

He tentatively lowered his hands, his sight slightly blurred, out of the crying danger. He let the numbness take over, the same one he felt during fights with his parents.

By the time he got home, he had gotten rid of his red eyes.

The void that weighted him down? Well, he had been mastering the art of bottling up emotions for a long time. That would have taken too much longer to let out.

As he got to his room, he buried his feeeling in his guts and threw himself in his bed, unable to bring back the tears.

Roman, on the other hand, realized with an unbearable aching in his chest he tried to ignore unsuccessfully, that had been the first time Virgil hadn’t called him “Princey”.

✾✾✾✾

April flew by in an instant, between Easter holidays that took up most of the month; and, with the arrival of the most feared and toughest period of school, things started getting serious for all the school clubs. Most of them had outings or presentations to do to a vast public.

And, of course, the play was only getting nearer.

Roman thanked his acting skills when the rehearsals took place most of the days, instead of once, the week before the designated day. Sharing the main roles with someone who would’ve rather slaughtered him to bits with a single glance wasn’t exactly his expertise.

On the other hand, when the night arrived, Virgil had definitely other things to take care of than plotting his former friend’s death.

His anxiety levels where hitting the ceiling and crashing right through it, who thought this was a good idea? Him? Acting? Having the main role? Being the one to open the play? Tragically ironic, he was barely able to speak as the clock counted down an hour before he had to appear on the stage and see the curtains open in front of him.

He was being shoved into the dressing rooms by Anastasia after spending most of the time checking if the backstage group had everything under control.

He couldn’t stay still and tried his best not to jump out of his seat when his teammates started doing his make-up and combing his hair in just the perfect position for the wig to be placed and look almost real.

After he had put on Dionysus’ clothes, the last agonizing minutes were ticking down. He couldn’t find comfort in anything or anyone.

He clutched at the fabric, almost believing that, somehow, he could have conveyed his nervousness into it.

His hearing felt muffled as his teachers encouraged him toward the stage. As he looked around while walking, he locked eyes with the other actors. When he met Roman’s, he didn’t feel any kind of reassurance, especially as he looked away before he could have seen the tiniest of smiles creep its way into his face, a way to help him even in the chaos he had created. Had he noticed, Virgil would have thought he was a hypocrite. Right after, a large part of him would have been the happiest and he would have hated it.

But right then, the majority of him felt uptight.

He placed himself in the back of the stage as he had been instructed weeks earlier, then the spell finally worked as he felt his shoulders relax, the tension in his muscles was released and the curtains opened.

In front of him, the theater was full, the lights were all focused on him and he could hardly make out the facial traits of the audience seated in the front rows.

Virgil had his head held up, his eyes scanned the scene, slowly, he let the moment sink into him and gifted himself some more seconds of full and comfortable silence as the public, expectant, held its breath.

He moved ever so slightly forward. His mind, a few moments earlier, had been crowded with the worst fears of messing up. Now, it was cleared and he felt his steady breathing.

« I have returned! » his voice was earthshaking. « I am Dionysos, the son of Zeus, come back to Thebes, this land where I was born. »

As he transformed bit by bit into the god himself, he didn’t realize how the night was going to turn out wondrously.

✾✾✾✾

The scenes in which Roman and Virgil took part flowed wonderfully.

Because of their fight, the exchanging of lines between them was almost perfectly aligned with the climax of Pentheus and Dionysus’ conversations. They flooded all of their feelings into the characters, improving for the better how the teachers had told them to act. All the internalized emotions were let out, leaving their chests as light as feathers with every half-yelled remark.

The tension could be cut with a knife and the public was hanging at the edge of the seats.

Then, a line was spoken and, for an instant, Roman forgot they were acting in front of numerous people.

« My friend, you can still save the situation. » he couldn’t understand whether or not Virgil’s tone masked some kind of genuine sincerity in his words, or if he had really so much talent to make it seem real.

Roman stilled for a second, letting the words linger in his mind, he didn’t realize the two of them had automatically already shared a couple of lines before he came back to reality.

« This must be some trap. »

« A trap? How so, if I wish to save you by my own devices? » Virgil’s eyes narrowed as he moved closer. Roman’s attention faltered again, some more lines went by while he felt Virgil’s eyes bore into his soul.

« Bring my armor, someone. » Roman looked and gestured toward someone in the back. His expression shifted to an irritated one. « And you, » he pointed his finger toward Virgil, allowing it to brush his chest for a moment while he paced forward. « stop talking. » he demanded. He had began to walk away, after sharing a long glance with him.

« Wait! » Virgil looked like he was having an idea. The magic of the god flowed into the scene and made the king stop in his tracks, the possession of Dionysus was only beginning. « Would you like to see their revels on the mountain? »

« I would pay a great sum to see that sight. »

« Why do you desire this so badly? » Virgil stepped closer again.

« Certainly I would be sorry to see them in their drunkenness. »

« But would you see gladly what is grievous to you? » that would have made anyone reconsider. And maybe it was the whole meaning of the play. To realize that we actually long for what we despise at times, so much that it can happen that we seek it.

« Yes, very much. Sitting quietly under the pines, out of sight. » the king looked like he was hooked on whatever idea the god was having, his expression hazy.

« But if you try to hide, they may track you down. »

« Your point is well taken. I will go openly. »

« Shall I guide you? Will you attempt the journey? » Virgil extended his arm, he felt like he was mimicking a particular scene from Aladdin.

« The sooner the better. The loss of even a moment would be disappointing now. »

The scene went on, the king grew softer as he fell victim of the god’s disorientating spell. And so did the audience. Captured by the characters on the stage, by the deity’s charm, just like in the tragedy.

With the gentle soft touches they sometimes shared, like the brush of one’s curls, with the wrath of the Maenads told by a terrified messenger and the despair of a mourning mother with a clouded mind, the audience was left wondering if they had all just dreamt the same thing as the curtains closed in front of their eyes.

The night had gone splendidly, they had earned a standing ovation and, thus, their ticket for the provincial Theater were now a certainty.

In a moment, the whole crew had found a spot to celebrate.

Refreshing drinks and simple food was placed on a table on which the teens were more than ready to pounce.

Between laughs, even some tears, small talk and relieved sighs, everybody slowly took time to congratulate Roman and Virgil for their spectacular performance, and everytime someone mentioned to Virgil how skilled Roman must have been to be able to spark such talent in him, he struggled to find the willingness to smile and agree. Not that it wasn’t true, but … he would have preferred to have his mind clear from the guy in a moment of happiness. Even when he actually couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that they were in the same room and it hurt already.

Lukas pulled Roman aside as they both finally stopped being lauded.

« Oh my god, not again- »

« Roman, please, you’ve got to listen to me. For real. »

Roman could hear his exasperated tone, an ashamed look crossed his own face.

« Go an try to talk to him. You owe him an explanation. »

« But what if- »

« Nuh-uh, I know what you’re going to say. Won’t happen. I’m sure of it. » Lukas had a particular way to sound concise and believable, one that often helped when a train of bad thoughts started a journey across your mind.

« I’m not entirely convinced. » Roman sighed, moving his hands on his face. He was also very nervous.

« Listen. » he forced him to look straight in his eyes. « I’ve seen his concern when I told him to look for you. » Roman’s expression grew soft, with a hint of guilt. « There’s no way he’s going to reject you, Roman. Nor make fun of you or disrespect you. »

Lukas glanced behind him at the topic of their conversation. « And you have to believe me when I tell you I know he cares a lot about you. »

Roman looked to the ground, he didn’t like the warm feeling in his chest. « Does he? »

« He does. » he took him by the arm and pulled him forward. « That’s why you will definitely fix this. »

Before he could stop him, they had already arrived at their destination and Lukas signed to someone on the other side of the room and said, loud enough for Virgil to turn and notice them, “Look, there’s Bonnie!”. With that, he left his friend to his destiny.

It was an awkward minute until Roman decided to speak up.

« Hey. » Virgil barely acknowledged him. He gained courage and tried again. « Great job today. » as if he hadn’t heard that thirty times already, that’s great Roman!

He watched him shift his glance to the side, catching Lukas and Bonnie’s smiles directed at them, Lukas looked at Roman, then back to him and nodded.

« So you decide it’s worth to talk to me now. » Virgil didn’t even turn to him. « How curious. » he said, a fake surprised tone accompanying that.

The actor sighed, the consequences of his action were showing, he probably hated him by then, but god forbid he’d lose hope or Lukas would have gone as far as setting up a blind date to fix things between them.

« Can you look at me? »

He didn’t know it would have been so easy to make him face him, but he regretted it as soon as he saw his sour expression, his arms crossed in a defensive manner on his chest.

Roman took a deep breath. « We’re both going to agree that I’m an idiot. » the genuine laugh that escaped Virgil’s lips left him in disbelief.

« Absolutely. »

« Great, uhm … Look, I recognize I fucked up. Like, an awful lot. And I want to apologize properly- I am deeply, truly sorry- »

« And an airhead. »

« -and that. » he conceded. « But I feel like any apology I make doesn’t convey how I actually feel. » he paused, Virgil looked neutral, then nodded slightly. He was still willing to listen.

« If you let me, I’d like to explain everything. All those horrible things I said … I was just scared for something bigger. I thought I was doing what was best for both of us and it was stupid of me to decide that in your place. And I, it’s just- »

« Slow down. » Roman didn’t realize he had his hands at the sides of his face and an heaving chest. Virgil held up his hands in front of him. « Listen. »

Roman did his best to calm his breathing as he waited for the other’s response.

« Let’s stop at that for today, okay? » he gained a nod from Roman. « I don’t think this is the time and place to discuss heavy topics. I have to think about it and you do too. Forgiving and trusting isn’t easy. »

« I understand. » Roman sounded already defeated.

« I’m not finished. » he looked up. « I’ll tell you when I am ready to listen. » Virgil had to admit something blossomed in his stomach when he looked at Roman beaming slightly. « Until then, wait for me? »

« I will. » Roman answered almost instantly, his eyes were smiling for him. He stepped back, believing the conversation was over.

« Princey? » he looked up again, seemingly incredulous. He had missed the nickname in a way he didn’t even know how to explain. He had been feeling like when you hold hands with someone but their hand is slowly slipping away, the grip isn’t as strong anymore and your fingers are barely touching. In fear of letting go or being left altogether. That name alone made it seem like his hold was somewhat stronger.

« Just … relax for tonight. We earned it. Mh? » Virgil raised his hand and placed it on Roman’s shoulder, and he felt it was the best comfort he had had in weeks.

He gave Virgil a smile and they parted again.

This time, though, they were both left with hopeful thoughts in their minds.

✾✾✾✾

Princey: Everything alright?

It had been three days.

Three painful days of waiting and there was no sign of Virgil.

Ever since the play, he hadn’t come back to school. One day was the usual, the group always finished pretty late in the night and none would be seen the day after in class. The teachers closed an eye on that.

Roman had begun overthinking; was he really that exhausted? Did he catch a cold? During May was unlikely, though. Was he sick? A fever, maybe? Or something could have happened, to his family for example. Or to him. His heart sank at that thought alone.

« Don’t do that, brain. » Roman quietly reprimanded himself.

He shot from his seat as soon as the last bell rang, succeeding in exiting his class before anyone else in the entire school had even left their desk. And, as he did the other days, he waited.

And waited.

And-

He had lost most of his hope when, almost fifteen minutes after, he was being pulled toward the stairs instead of still standing in the hallway.

Roman hadn’t even seen the figure discreetly exit his own classroom and grabbing his arm: he focused and recognized a hoodie. Black fabric, purple patchwork.

« You’re alive! » was the smartest thing he came up with, an idiotic smile twitching his lips.

Virgil glanced over his shoulder, shooting him a look that simply said “what are you high on?”

They kept descending toward the basement path for the gym. « There’s a class that is staying here for an extra hour. » he explains, releasing his arms afterwards, meaning the school would have been open for some more.

The walked down the second to last ramp of stairs, had a quick flat path, then climbed the last stairs.

« Are you sure they’re not having a P.E. Lesson? »

« Nah. Philosophy. »

Roman grimaced. « Poor unfortunate souls. » after five hours of intense lessons and only a ten minutes break that felt more like ten seconds, people who were up to do a sixth hour without even having lunch could consider themselves heroes and gained everybody’s respect instantly.

Virgil stopped in a spot between the wooden bleachers and a door that led to the outside.

« We have a little less than an hour- »

« Don’t you go home with a bus usually? »

Virgil blinked, taken aback he was concerned with that instead of already diving into his explanation. « I’m taking the, uh, the later one. »

« When is it? »

« In like … » he checked his phone for the time. « An hour, a little more than that. It’s always late anyway. » he shrugged.

« Okay, then I’ll be keeping you company. »

« You d- »

« As for the real reason we’re here. » Roman walked over to one of the first steps of the bleachers,where large dark brown stairs led the way up to the sitting spots. « Shall we sit down? »

Virgil complied. He turned slightly to him.

Roman breathed in. « I got distant because I was scared of your opinion on myself. » he stared into the nothingness in front of him.

A beat, and Virgil was already in disbelief. « Dude, what? My opinion- Roman, why would you believe I think lowly of you? » he pressed his hands on his chest for emphasis, looking slightly wounded but concerned at most. « You know I l- »

« I- Well, it’s … I’m not finished. » he added. « There’s more to that. I feared your opinion on me after I came to a realization. »

Virgil shifted, giving him his full attention, his chin resting on his palm. That was his cue for him to carry on.

But he couldn’t find the right words. And everything was so difficult, the wrong word and he’d lose Virgil. He didn’t even know where to start. He felt like he had forgotten every detail about himself and his mind had gone blank.

« There was once a king. » he felt himself blurt out.

Okay, you could work on that. Tell a story.

« He had some kind of development right before dying. He thought he hated something he actually enjoyed. Which means … it’s never late to learn something new about yourself. However a big thing it may be. » Roman finally looked over to Virgil, searching some kind of approval.

« Well, yeah. I think so too. »

Roman nodded. « Good, okay. Said king didn’t know that, thanks to him, a couple of thousands of years later, a random guy from around here would learn something about himself too. »

Virgil wasn’t sure he was following the correct train of thought. A part of his mind, deep in the back, suggested Roman was going to confess he wanted to take part of ancient rites and rip people’s limbs apart as a sacrifice for the gods. His logical sense told that part to shut the hell up, this was a serious moment.

Had he ever seen him open up so much to him? Sure, they both vented to each other in times of need, when they needed to complain about teachers or parents. Usual teenage stuff.

Sometimes he, himself, revealed some rather personal information when he really couldn’t take it anymore and his mental health decided to do a back-flip and sink down into the abyss of god knows what was going on in his mind.

As for Roman, well, Virgil hadn’t realized until now how much he had always kept to himself.

« Pentheus, in the end put a lot of care in his feminine look, dare I say he was kind of passionate about it, yes? » he attempted, looking over to Virgil again, he studied his reactions, his body language, trying to find out if he was a safe place before he was too late. How did people do this, was there a map or a guide he could follow?

« I’d say so, yes. He asked for Dionysus help, especially. »

Roman suddenly looked like he had just had an epiphany, his voice raising a little. « Yes, right! »

« Are you … asking for my help? »

He noticed Virgil was trying to read through the lines. « I don’t know, it’s just …I am too. Passionate. Uhm … that. »

« I know? I can see that a lot of times- »

« No! No, not in- » Roman started gesturing widely. He dropped his arms in defeat, unable to track back his flow of thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid-

« Alright, we’re struggling a bit, aren’t we? » Roman grimaced and nodded. « You don’t have to tell me right now. » Virgil started.

« I want to! » and the sound in his voice was too desperate.

« Okay. » Virgil continued, maintaining a soft tone. « You can go straight to the point, if you want. I can ask questions in case I’m confused. There’s no need to tell everything at once. » upon finding so much comfort in him, Roman felt the urge to cup his cheeks and kiss the hell out of him for once and for all, forgetting about the mess they’d gone through.

« It isn’t easy. »

« I know. »

Virgil looked around, as if in search of a possible idea, then he simply stuck out his hands from his pockets and offered them to Roman. After sharing a stare to see if he was for real, Roman wasn’t late to take up said offer.

So, now he was holding hands with his crush, whose heart he had broken a month prior, now trying to come out to him. A piece of cake.

He brushed the back of Virgil’s hands with his fingers, trying not to think about all that despite how impossible it was.

He took a deep breath, deciding it was either now or never.

His face shot up, expression determined like he knew exactly what he was talking about. His lips parted and Virgil leaned slightly in anticipation.

« I am non-binary. »

There.

Virgil blinked a few times, his expression didn’t change.

That was … it? Or maybe he was still processing. Or-

Roman couldn’t find it in himself anymore to look him in the eyes, he stared at their still joined hands, hunched over himself.

After a beat, he saw Virgil’s hands release his own from his grip and instead move on his arms and pull him in for the best and fiercest hug he could have ever fathomed to be real.

It wasn’t the first time they’d hugged, obviously, but it was truly the first time after an achingly long period of no contact at all, no talking, no being emotional together at 1 am over puppy pictures of Virgil’s Labrador.

It was the first real hug they’d both shared with someone for a while.

That was also the reason why all the adrenaline and nervousness of the moment decided to ease up under his touch, which caused the first tears to travel down his cheeks in irregular patterns.

As he heard the first sobs, Virgil tightened the hug.

« I have no problem with that, you absolute hard-head. » he gripped the back of his shoulders, pulling him as close as he could.

« I was … so scared. That you would’ve, I don’t know, rejected me. » Roman let out, struggling.

« I know. I’m sorry. » Virgil pulled away just enough for him to see his face. Roman noticed he was wearing a guilty look on his face. It took him a second to understand.

« Vi- »

« No, shut up. I have to. » he still had his hands on his shoulders and stared directly into his eyes. « I’m sorry you felt the need to do all of that because you were scared. And also I’m sorry for attacking you out of frustration. I was too confused to act right. »

« I forgive you. » Roman gifts him a smile after soothing him with the soft sound of his voice.

« I wish you hadn’t been scared. I hate the fact that you were and I didn’t help at all. »

« It’s not like you knew I was, I said pretty mean things instead of confronting you, too. »

« How about we say we’re both idiots and call it a day? »

« Agreed. »

After the hug, the first genuine shared laugh came, too.

« Seriously, though. You don’t have to worry about this, I’m the last person that will judge you. Nothing would change even if you had some overnight realization and you told me about it in the morning. And if you need to look more into it, you’re free to come to me. »

That was how Virgil earned another long lasting hug and a couple of hundreds of thank yous whispered into his ear. Which totally didn’t make him all flustered and shove Roman away. Only you imagined that.

« Oh, I have an idea. » Roman suddenly got up from the stairs and walked down.

« That’s a first. »

« Okay, wonderful, is it too late to go back to no talking? »

Virgil chuckled under his breath, then shrugged. « Enlighten me. »

« We could go shopping together. Like, clothes, make-up, or- »

« Food. »

« You’re the only one that truly gets me. » Roman’s dramatic tone was accompanied by an air kiss. « There’s also the end of the year’s dance coming around, oh! We could get matching clothes! »

Virgil quirked an eyebrow, still sitting down and looking up at him, a smirk crossed his face. « Is this your way of subtly asking me to go with you, Princey? »

As if on cue, Roman’s entire body decided to heat up at once and he very carefully wondered if someone had actually just set him on fire. Maybe that would’ve been an easier situation.

Roman stuttered, who allowed him to be so bold out of the blue? Illegal. That was definitely illegal, that smirk was illegal, and the effect his whole being had on him was definitely utterly mostly illegal.

« ImeanIguessifyoudlike- »

« If you think I caught all of that you’re very wrong. »

« I’m just saying. » he tried again. « If it’d fancy you, then we could arrange something. » he conceded.

Over-dramatic. Poised, like a seventeenth century aristocrat. And so, so deeply infuriating.

« Maybe, when His Royal Highness decides to come back to the present time. »

« So that’s a yes? »

The last bell of the day rang, at which Virgil retrieved his backpack and made his way to the door. « I said maybe. »

Roman followed right after, their next destination was his friend’s bus stop, where they would have waited for more than half an hour.

And he definitely knew that was a yes.

✾✾✾✾

It was like breaking out of a shell.

As much as the inside could have been comfortable, curled up in a silent but pleasant darkness, only once out you could be able to shine bright and experience the real freedom.

Virgil and Roman had spent the day at the most visited mall nearby their school’s town; being able to finally buy whatever you wished with no nervousness was such a cathartic experience. Confidence could only accompany them.

They were walking down the street to reach the train station, bubble teas in their hands.

« Hey, V. » of course, Virgil could only turn so much that his friend had already hit him with one of the bubbles in his drink. It was a simple and effective way of annoying someone, you got the bubble in the straw and then you blew it out toward someone. And, if it managed to crush and let out all the syrup, well, you had to run.

Thankfully that wasn’t the case.

« Something’s telling me you want my attention. »

« Firstly, I always want attention. » Roman counted on his fingers, correcting the other. « But, yes, I have a question. »

« Shoot. » Virgil took another sip of his drink. The nonchalance and general comfortableness of those situations always managed to let him relax.

« Have you cleared your thoughts about university? »

At least, until he wasn’t reminded of something else.

« I suppose. »

« Are you gonna stay in the province? » Virgil noticed his slightly shaky voice, was it trepidation or fear?

« Most likely, yes, I’ll commute. I’m probably going to take up that Cultural Heritage faculty, there’s a lot of history of art. » he looked at Roman. « And also some archaeology exams. »

Roman’s smile grew wider at the news, he remembered one of the first times they talked, he had suggested that himself.

« I’m going to a theater academy. » he finally conceded, eyes going down at the sidewalk he was pacing on while his smile faltered a bit. « It’s a two hours car ride from home. I’ll be staying in an room with some others I think. »

« Well, yeah, it’s the best option. »

« You’re, uh, okay with it? »

Virgil stopped and blinked with an indescribable look on his face. « I’d be mad if you didn’t go there, Roman. You’ve got the talent and the opportunity, too. »

« Alright. » the trademark smile was back again. « You can come whenever you want, anyway. »

« Sure. It’ll be a pleasure to blast angsty songs under your balcony in the middle of the night. »

« Don’t make me take it back, Emo in Black Clothing. »

« Let me be an individual. »

« Anyway, » Roman gestured widely. « I’ll come back during weekends. »

« Honestly, the fact that you think you might get rid of me so easily wounds me, Princey. » Virgil giggled quietly, something he allowed himself rarely.

It wasn’t long after he realized Roman hadn’t been following him anymore after having pronounced the nickname that sparked in him the same warm effect even after a hundred times of saying it out loud.

Virgil turned with a questioning look.

« I have another question. » Roman watched him instinctively shrink in himself. « How did you come up with that name? »

The other tilted his head and arched an eyebrow. « You literally wrote it down on my phone when you gave me your number. »

Roman smiled sadly, biting his lower lip, then shook his head slightly. « I can’t believe you don’t remember. »

« Remember what? »

« Our first year. » Roman stepped closer. « We were our first months into the theater club. I was going off at someone about a Disney play I did when I was a child. You were pissed at me because I was wasting my time and that’s when you called me that for the first time. »

Virgil went wide-eyed. « You remember all of that? »

« I liked it. » Roman shrugged. That was the first time he had really noticed him, the one time he had decided to try and be friends with him, actively failing every attempt. And there he was, years later, finally having accomplished the mission.

« That’s cute of you, Princey. » okay, well, something he couldn’t handle was definitely being called that twice in a day, especially after being described as “cute” by Virgil of all people.

This is illegal illegalillegalillegal.

Roman wasn’t even aware he was being basically dragged towards the train station with his arm linked to Virgil’s.

✾✾✾✾

The chorus had prepared itself behind the curtains.

« Virgil, look at me. » Roman had positioned himself in front of him, blocking his view from the stage. « It’s gonna be fine. You’re amazing, you’ve proved it before and I’m sure you’ll do it again. Just follow your emotions like last time. »

He did really want to believe him, he wanted to give his best performance for his fellow club members. Then why was it so hard to have faith in himself?

He was still keeping a grimace when Roman brought up all his courage and leaned his hands at the sides of Virgil’s face to place a kiss on his forehead.

« I believe in you. »

To assure yourself a good success, it can be required to change something up in order to gain an even larger public.

Cicero was a good example to make: he came up with his sermones for the trials, learnt them by heart, recited them during his prosecutions and had a trusted servant that he had freed afterwards, Tiro, take notes on what he said during the trial. Once it was over, and most likely won, he would go back home and confront his first draft with Tiro’s notes, he would combine them an create a greater sermo and publish it for all the Romans to see.

That was what Virgil was reminded of when the theater teachers told them they had an idea to improve even more Dionysus and Pentheus’ interactions.

Also, that was the reason why he was then standing in the middle of the stage at the provincial theatre at the end of May or early June, Roman in front of him who had just approached him. Or, more precisely, the reason why he lifted his arm to place a finger on Roman’s cheek and lightly push his head to the side, just the little bit he needed.

His eyes scanned Roman’s hair. « This lock of your hair has come out of place, not the way I arranged it under your headband. » he tilted his head to the side, returning his glance on his eyes.

« It must have worked loose, when I was dancing for joy. » Roman’s voice sounded dreamy, almost surreal, like he wasn’t even in that world.

« Well, I will rearrange it, » Virgil took both of his hands in a comforting manner. « Since to tend thee is my care; » he lifted his chin afterwards. « Hold up your head. » he commanded.

« Here, you arrange it; for I depend on you, indeed. »

He raised a hand to move Roman’s hair back under the headband. Both his fingers and the silence lingered, like the stare they kept up.

Build tension.

And they did, in an achingly slow pattern, give the audience little hints.

Like when Dionysus made the physical contact linger, on his hair, on his dress, on his hand when he gave him the thyrsos, when the angered expressions shifted into softer ones, or they stood closer than they should have.

Dionysus was almost as good as Hermes with lies, he was a god of disguises, after all. The god kept on filling the king of fake praises.

« You will spoil me. »

« I mean to spoil you. »

Make them expectant.

Before they realized, they were both in the back of the stage, still clearly visible to their public, while a group of students, the messengers, explained the tale of how Pentheus, once reached the Bacchantes, came to his fall.

Roman was standing in front of Virgil, behind him the crowd of Maenads was starting to get up, slowly, and approach. Virgil stepped closer, putting his hands on Roman’s shoulders.

« And there came a great voice out of heaven. Dionysos’, it must have been, crying: “Women, I bring you the man who has mocked at you and me and at our holy mysteries. Take vengeance upon him.” »

And turn your back on them at the last second.

Virgil shoved Roman to the group, and he fell behind, his back against the Maenads’ arms. The lights on them went off.

« Happy was the hunting. »

✾✾✾✾

« If you need help the reception at the front will be open until you guys aren’t finished. » and with that, the two fellow actors were dismissed by their teachers along with a couple of other group members.

Saying that it had been a wild night of success was an understatement, as Virgil and Roman found themselves at almost two a.m. still fully clothed with their play costumes and not a single bit of make up wiped away.

Way too many people from the audience stopped to greet them and compliment their talent, some had even full conversations with them and never seemed to want to let them go.

When they thought they had finally broken free of the people’s questions, they were met with a local journalist who demanded an interview with the main actors and the heads of the group. They both thought their success was insane, but they couldn’t help but feeling prideful about it.

Mrs. Eagan and Mrs. Michaelis had waited for most of the students to leave with their relatives before deciding they could go home themselves and accompany some of the remaining ones.

They had made sure Virgil and Roman were fine with being left alone in the biggest theater they had ever acted in, trusting them enough since, in the end, both of them had reached 18 already and they were adults in the teachers’ eyes.

So, as any adult would do, they politely told them they didn’t have to worry and they could go home right then and there. They kept their poised stances until the little group was gone.

Then, they grinned at each other and made the most of it.

There was no spot they couldn’t say they hadn’t checked out or touched, they admired props lying around for other productions. Or the costumes they probably weren’t supposed to know about in bigger dressing rooms.

It was hilarious: two actors running around the backstage of a theater, one dressed like an ancient Greek god, the other still in full Maenad look, the fake fawn skin now in his arms.

As they finally went back to the rooms reserved to their school, they started helping each other out, a good teamwork, with taking off bobby pins still stuck in their (very soft, Roman had to note) hair.

They took their precious time in cleaning their faces free of foundation, eyeliner and all the other products they didn’t even know had been used. By that, of course, we mean smearing mascara under their eyes and looking like absolute messes before wiping it off completely.

The oh-so-fun aura died down when it came to take off their costumes and slide back into their normal clothes.

It meant they were done, that they would’ve gone home after that and their experience was over. End of the games, just like that.

Roman didn’t think so.

Virgil had just gotten in his small dressing room, those same ones that you see in clothing shops, when he jumped at Roman storming in immediately after, tugging at the curtain to block out the rooms light.

« What the fuck, man? » Virgil had his body completely pressed to the wall, next to him a mirror and Roman on the other side.

He had a mischievous smile on his lips, one Virgil didn’t really trust.

« I had a thought. »

« That’s a first! »

« Stop doing that, » Roman whined before recomposing himself. « You should help me. »

Virgil wasn’t sure he had heard correctly, did he just say- « What? »

« You helped me with it on the stage, might as well help me out of them too, wine god. » he giggled in such an annoying way that Virgil felt the need to punch his face but also write a poem about how adorable he was at the same time. The duality of a poor tired guy who didn’t know what to do with his feelings anymore.

« You’re the laziest person I know. »

Virgil took the tiniest step forward, then moved his fingers on the front buttons of Roman’s shirt and started working on them.

Silence fell over and now he was painfully aware of his breathing, of the heat rushing to his face which he fought back. But how could he when Roman’s breath tickled his cheeks with every exhale?

He could practically feel his stare, it was that same one sensation of impatience and distraction that eventually forced you to look up in curiosity.

But when Virgil did, he found out he wasn’t looking at him.

Well, technically, he was, but their eyes didn’t meet; Roman’s stare was, rather, lingering on the line of his jaw, then trailing down his neck.

Virgil moved slowly.

Next thing he knew, Roman’s hands were untangling the strings on his clothes.

« What are you doing? » he didn’t mean to sound so quiet.

Roman didn’t take his eyes off of the laces. « I’m undressing you. »

And that was the last straw, because after that Virgil absolutely and very clearly lost it.

He took his wrists and pushed forward: Roman’s back touched the room’s wall with a small thud and his hands were brought above his head, pinned by Virgil’s own.

Virgil surged upward, stopping exactly as his lips ghosted over Roman’s, and everything was clear to him.

Pothos, the desire of something or someone that is far away, that achingly long time you’ve been waiting for the moment to present itself and give you the chance of satisfaction.

With that millimeter between them, Virgil just knew it was still too much to bear. Neither would have felt complete.

It was when Roman finally, finally closed the gap and transformed the longing into passion that he understood. He truly understood it all.

Himeros, the desire of something or someone that is right in front of you, and yet the one that makes you feel like something’s wrong.

It is the concept of love as missing, almost physically, yearning for the object of your dreams to reciprocate your feelings or simply be there.

Virgil pressed his lips desperately on Roman’s; to hell with it, he wanted to feel the wholeness Aristophanes liked to talk about in his myth. He wanted to know what the demon, son of Pòros and Penìa, was like when he possessed his senses. He wanted to understand the link between beauty and life that only the gods could fathom.

He wanted to experience the thousand, then hundred and a thousand more kisses Catullus wrote about, to the point of not being able to keep the count anymore. Or see the same beauty Sappho saw in the objects of her love as she remembered them while lying down with the moonlight brushing her skin.

He wanted to see the world slowly rebuild itself, just like Tityrus had seen thanks to his love for Amaryllis, the tale Virgil, the Latin poet, had narrated. Orpheus’ willingness to go to the end of time, to the end of the earth for Eurydice.

And Roman was able to give all of that to him with a single, gentle touch. Roman was his mean to reach the deity’s realm, the muse that sang to him his epic poem.

For a moment, they believed they didn’t need to breathe at all.

Roman slid his hands into Virgil’s, bringing them down and leaving them at the sides of his face as his own searched for Virgil’s back to hold him closer and pressed their bodies flushed, he needed to understand the completeness.

Begrudgingly, he left the taste of Virgil’s chapstick to leave a trail of slow and gentle kisses down his neck, leaving red marks here and there as he made his way.

Roman shifted, stumbled around and Virgil couldn’t care less when he found himself with his back against the mirror, its coldness a contrast to the rising heat of his body.

They met again in a deeper, open mouthed kiss, tongues having a dance they would have never wanted to conclude.

A myriad of feelings were bursting in their chests, Roman was pretty sure that the butterflies had now become a greater beast, blissfully twisting his insides. He finally had a word for it: it was a catastrophe.

The way Virgil’s nails grazed his skin, how his hands held onto his shoulders, or his fingers just barely brushing the hair on his neck, occasionally tugging at it. Devastating. Their breaths mixed, their hearts pounding alongside, an unbearable cacophony echoing through the air between them.

Pulling apart and diving back in, terrific.

Roman moved away only to take a moment to appreciate the sight and fathom what a tremendous work of art they had done. And it was wonderful.

With every single aspect of themselves, they had created a breathtaking painting, the awe upon the sculpture of Laocoon.

Roman raised his hands to cup Virgil’s cheeks, brushing those beautifully red swollen lips with his thumbs. He allowed himself to smile and catch Virgil’s lower lip between his teeth one last time.

Dizzy, light-headed and catching his breath, he would have sworn he had just experienced the Stendhal syndrome.

Time slipped before they decided to change, give themselves a rest and find a place to sit down.

Virgil melted as Roman refused to let go of his hand, or his arm, shoulder, waist, anything that could possibly indicate that he was still there and it wasn’t all a dream.

« Hey. » Roman suddenly looked up and met Virgil’s searching eyes. « I’m not going anywhere. » his own eyes fell to the hand he had clasped in both of his, clutching it like a life-saver.

« Oh, I- » his giggle sounded a bit too loud. « Sorry, I just. » the right words, where were the right words when he needed them? « Are you sure? » his voice was barely above a whisper.

Wait. That wasn’t what he wanted to say. Where did that come from- what was that sad look on Virgil’s face?

Roman felt the other’s hand tighten around his. « I am utterly and perfectly sure, Roman. I’m exactly where I want to be. »

« In a deserted theater at three in the morning with a nerd from the languages course? »

Virgil chuckled. « Don’t do that, you know what I’m talking about. »

« I suppose. »

« Alright. » Virgil shifted so that he was completely facing him, he took both his hands and held them while looking right into his eyes. « You can tell me if something’s bothering you. »

Roman felt himself blush, he had been exposed, and something was pinching his stomach. He had to let it out.

« It’s kind of weird, but … I’m still kind of afraid you might reject me. And you could think it is because I don’t trust you, which is not true, but I wouldn’t blame you, then you could start hating me- anyone could start hating me at any given time and I’m just- I’m just trying to understand myself, I’ve only started to do so and I’m scared anyone could leave me exactly because of that and it would shatter me. »

Roman breathed in deeply, that was the most he had ever revealed of his dark thoughts, yet it was still so little and he knew he wouldn’t have been satisfied enough with a single conversation.

« I understand how you feel. » Oh. « I think like that, too, sometimes. Often times. And I can’t promise you all that will be gone in the blink of an eye. But we can work on it together, if you’re willing to. »

« We can? » he tentatively glanced up.

« We can. » Virgil reassured, gifting him a genuine smile.

Roman threw his arms around his neck, whispering a thank you in his ear as Virgil returned the hug just as tight.

« Come on now, or the receptionist will most likely fall asleep on us. »

Roman didn’t move as the other got up and felt himself stop in his tracks by Roman’s hand. He turned around, the sitting boy glued his eyes to the ground.

« Can you do me a favor? » his voice was barely above a whisper, like he was actually talking to himself.

« Of course. »

« I’m not even sure about it, but I’ll never be if I don’t try it first. » Roman began explaining. « Can you use neutral pronouns with me? Just you, I want to see if I’m comfortable with it. »

Virgil gifted them a smile. « Certainly. Also, you don’t need to justify yourself, just say the word. »

Roman tackled him in another hug. « You’re the best, holy shit. »

« Please, no, I have a reputation to maintain. »

« What reputation? »

« Excuse you? »

« No, wait I didn’t mean it like tha- Vir- Wait for me! I don’t know the way- »

« You’re going home alone. »

« No wait, I’m afraid of the dark! »

« Good luck with the monsters. »

« How could you say that?! »

Needless to say, in a minute their hands were linked again.

✾✾✾✾

Exams were in ten days.

That night, though, the students from the last year didn’t care. Along with the ones from the other years, they showed up to celebrate their well deserved end of the school year.

The party was something simple, there was music and drinks, but most importantly, there were too many people.

That was something Virgil had never liked; despite that, though, he had found quite a pleasant company. Yes, he had gone with Roman and yes, he had to stop himself before he ruined their makeup with kisses for how gorgeous they looked.

They had made their entrance and, in a second, they were joined by none other than their three favorite fellow actors.

« Imagine we actually did those King and Queen of the night, like they do in those movies. » Dave suggested. « If I were ever to win, I’d give you my crown, Ro-bro. »

« Why would that be? » Bonnie questioned, if she knew something, it was Dave’s love for his personal stuff.

« Because as Cadmus I’ve already done my duty as sovereign so I’m passing my throne to my child. »

« Hearing you say that while I’m older than you is kind of weird- »

« Also! » he interrupted again. « Because you’re the worst drama queen I’ve ever known. »

Roman snorted while Virgil nodded solemnly; that was the Dave they had learnt to know.

« I would say you’re not too far from it either. » Lukas barged in, handing one of the drinks he was carrying to Bonnie. He had left the group to get them a few moments earlier.

Snickers filled the air between them while Dave gave him a mischievous look. « Aw, here I thought you had gone off with your boyfriend. »

« Wait, what? Why do I not know of this? » Virgil protested, arching an eyebrow toward the boy in question.

Lukas rolled his eyes so hard they thought for a second that they couldn’t see his irises anymore. « He’s not. And, for the record, he’s annoying. »

« Huh. » Roman shifted his gaze and looked over Lukas’ shoulder. « I don’t think the feeling is mutual. »

Virgil turned to see a tall blonde and over excited guy waving wildly at them. Heh, he could understand his friend’s motives.

Dave waved back with an idea in mind, yelling a “hello” from a distance, then he grabbed Lukas’ shoulders and shoved him towards the other boy. « Go get him, tiger. »

« I hate you so much. »

The bunch cheered and laughed altogether, checking their friend from a distance.

« And Bonnie, » Cadmus’ actor really had something for everybody that night, didn’t he? « Don’t think I haven’t noticed your heart eyes at that Hiro dude from the Art course. »

As if on cue, the girl went wide eyed and red in the face: it took a couple of encouragements before she was off, too, on her love quest.

« As for you two. » the actor began, pointing his fingers toward Virgil and Roman. « Go have fun already. » he ordered with a genuine smile, then he decided to add on with a softer tone. « Maybe somewhere you won’t be afraid to at least hold hands. »

Oh. So he had noticed how they were subtly standing extra close.

« Are you trying to get rid of all of us so you can hook up with someone yourself? » Roman teased, arching their eyebrow.

Dave simply chuckled and showed them the way to a flight of stairs that led to an outer terrace.

« Don’t be arodiculus, Ro-bro. »

« Did you just- »

« Yes, I did. Now, have fun, lovebirds! » Dave pat each on their shoulders and disappeared into the crowd behind themselves.

Roman shook their head with a small smile, then they extended their arm for Virgil to take their hand, which he very much gladly did. They marched up the stairs and finally they were breathing pure air.

Virgil walked up to the railing of the terrace, letting go of Roman and leaning into the sight of the nightly town.

« I thought I was going to suffocate in there. »

« You should have told me if you wanted some quiet time, you know. »

« Shush, silence is in town. » he gestured to the tranquil city in front of them. « Keep her around. »

Roman laughed quietly. They approached Virgil and they rested their chin between his neck and shoulder, wrapping their arms around his chest.

« Will you ever stop making references to emo bands? »

« Honestly, the fact that you know of them really does say something about you. »

« I’m going to remind you that I could literally throw you off this building right now. »

Virgil set his hands around their wrists and hummed. « Normally I would’ve shoved you away, but I kind of like this, so. »

This time, Roman didn’t pretend they didn’t feel the welcome giddy feeling in their stomach and allowed themselves to look even more delighted than usual when they were around him.

« And I kind of like you. » they admitted, turning their head to place a quick kiss on his cheek.

« You’re a sap, Princey. »

« No, I mean it. »

That was definitely Virgil’s cue to melt right on the spot. No grand gestures needed, simple words of appreciation were enough to push his overload of positive emotions button. Roman had wondered more than once how much he had been neglected affection before they were there to tend to his well-being.

« Ro … you don’t have- »

« I want to, Virgil. » the way they directly spoke into his ear sent shivers down his spine.

« I believe in us together more than anyone else. » they mused, Roman was looking ahead of him, eyes occasionally shifting to the starry sky above them.

They tightened their embrace. « I believe that with each other, we are stronger than we know. »

You’re gonna make me cry. Virgil thought he had actually said it, instead his voice died in his throat as he tried to blink back the heartfelt joyful tears that threatened to make an appearance.

Roman stepped away and he already missed the warmth. They turned Virgil to face him and rested their hands on his cheeks, looking lovingly into his eyes. It was too dark to determine the color, but none would have been able to make them forget their glow.

« I- » Virgil felt in an helpless dire need of intelligent words.

« Sh, don’t say it. » Roman’s smile was far too soft to bear. « I know. »

He didn’t know what to do. He once believed he could recognize what that kind of feeling was, little did he know he was so wrong. It was nothing like he had experienced before and Roman taught him what it really meant.

« I just wanted to thank you. » Virgil admitted before they could stop him. « For opening up to me and trusting me with all the issues that have come to your mind recently. » he went through some of them silently in his memory. « And the ones that have been in the back of your head for far too long. » there was a reprimanding tone in his voice and Roman kind of felt like they deserved it.

« Sometimes it is nice to be reminded I’m not the only one to think about themselves as a bit broken. »

« Which you definitely aren’t. » Roman was quick to retort. « And I should be the one thanking you, so don’t even get me started on that. »

Virgil snorted and nodded slightly.

« In conclusion, » Roman started, pausing dramatically. Then, they leaned in just that essential amount to grant themselves the perfect special effect. Their voice was warm and emotional. « I’m so fucking glad I fell in love with you. »

Virgil didn’t fight his wish to surge up and kiss them senseless.

✾✾✾✾

The chorus of Bacchantes stood, covering the view of the back of the stage. Their gazes were fixated on the ground. They were still, making no sound. Bronze statues.

Dionysus and Pentheus appeared at each side of the stage, walking towards each other and meeting in the middle. The god placed his hand on the other’s shoulder and they both faced the audience.

They broke the fourth wall.

« So ends the play and Pentheus’ story » the king declared, searching for the public’s reaction.

Dionysus scanned them too, after taking a step forward, almost at the edge of the pavement.

The curtains started to close, leaving the god in between.

A cryptic smile danced on his lips as a provocation left his mind.

« Isn’t it the thing we hate or fear the most the one that remarkably fascinates and intrigues us? »

He stepped away. The god had vanished.

The audience breathed in and out, and the curtains met at last.

✾✾✾✾

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