#I sketched this a few days ago but I didn’t know when I would find the time to paint and today the stars aligned🥹🙏

[myokk]

She chances a glance at Sebastian before getting out her copy of Divining the Undivinable from her bag and wishes she hadn’t. He looks uncomfortably big sitting on the tiny tea chair across from her, barely any hints of the boy who had completely swept her away two years ago visible on the sharper planes of his face. When had he - had they - grown up?

Sebastian Sallow was - is - charming, and that had been her downfall. She had successfully avoided his charms the year before, and she isn’t going to let that happen this year, no matter how much her body rebels against her mind and resolve. Because, as she reminds herself, Sebastian Sallow is also manipulative, and cold-hearted, and selfish.

“Well,” she says archly, opening her book. She will not look at him. “I suppose I am still quite ignorant of the practice of Divination, so do forgive me if I have to double-check my readings in the textbook.”

He says her name as she opens the book, and she ignores him. He says her name again. She continues to ignore him. He grabs the book from her hands and puts it the correct way for her. She was looking at it upside-down. Her cheeks heat up and she continues flipping through the pages, as if nothing has happened. She finds page two-hundred and thirty. She pretends to be interested in what she sees.

(Divination is unfortunately not interesting.)

Oh, fine.

“Do you want to start, or should I?”

These are the first words she has voluntarily spoken to him - not including the events of last week, which do not count as they were most decidedly not voluntary - since he called her ignorant a year and a half ago. He somehow looks surprised to see that she has addressed him, and for some reason this fills her with rage and a strange sort of confidence. Why shouldn’t she be able to talk to him?

“Here,” she says, putting her hand out towards him, palm up, ignoring the strange fluttering feeling in her chest when he gently grabs it with one of his. Sebastian looks up at her, waiting for her to continue speaking, and were she not looking at him so intently she would have easily missed the bob of his throat as he swallows nervously. “Show me how it’s done.”

from my oneshot, clumsy🫶🫶🫶

[vanessagillings]

I’m posting the ever-so-rare photo of myself alongside one of my characters based on my childhood because today is World Autism Acceptance Day, and I wanted to show my little corner of the internet who this particular autistic person is:  

I was officially diagnosed in February, at age 38 (I’m now 39). A lot of people thought I couldn’t be autistic.  Some people who know me in real life still don’t.  And until around 10 years ago, I didn’t think I could be either, because I was nothing like the stereotype media portrays. I was told that autistics lacked empathy (untrue), and never played make-believe (also often untrue) and only enjoyed STEM.  I was — and am — an empathetic artist -- and make believe?  I can spend days sketching finely bedecked bears brewing tea or carefully choosing the right words to weave tapestries of fiction — though perhaps my hyper focus was a bit of a red flag.  Even so, how could autism describe me?  I was a good student.  I got straight A's. I didn’t act out in class.  I can make eye contact…if I must.  And lots of girls hate having their hair brushed with an unholy passion, right?  Clearly I swim in sarcasm like a fish, so autism couldn't be why I was so anxious all the time, could it?

If someone had told me when I was younger what autism ACTUALLY is — instead of the nonsense I’d seen on screens — I would have seen myself in it.  I didn’t hear that autistics have sensory issues until I was in my mid-twenties, which is when I first began to really research autism symptoms, and I had almost all of them:  sensitivity to light, smells, fabrics, temperatures, textures, and certain touches, all of which make me feel anxious, I fidget (stim), I never know what the hell to do with my hands or where to look, I talk too little or too much, I have special interests, I have entire animated movies memorized shot-by-shot and can remember the first time and place I saw every movie I've ever seen but I often forget what I'm trying to say mid-sentence, I echo movies and tv shows (my husband and I have a whole repertoire of shared echolalias, making up about 20% of our conversations), I was in speech therapy as a kid, I have issues with dysnomia and verbal fluency, I toe-walk, I can't multitask to save my life, I like things just-so, I’m deeply introverted but not shy, I need to recover from all social interaction — even social interaction I enjoy — and I find stupid, every day things like grocery shopping, driving and making appointments overwhelming and intensely stressful, sometimes to the point where I struggle to speak.  It turns out, I am definitely autistic. My results weren't borderline. Not even close. And while these aren’t all of my challenges, and not everyone with these symptoms is autistic, it’s definitely something to look into if you present with all of these things at once. 

So why did it take me so long to get diagnosed? The same bias that exists in media threads through the medical community as well, and because I'm a woman who can discuss the weather while smiling on cue, few people thought I was worth looking into. Even after I was fairly certain I was autistic, receiving an official diagnosis in the US is unnecessarily difficult and expensive, and in my case, completely uncovered by my insurance.  It cost me over $4000, and I could only afford it because my husband makes more money than I do as a freelance illustrator — a job I fell into largely because it didn’t require in-person work; like many autists, I have been chronically underemployed and underpaid, in part due to physical illness in my twenties, which is a topic for another day.  But it shouldn’t be like this.  It shouldn’t be so hard for adults to receive diagnoses and it shouldn’t be so hard for people to see themselves in this condition to begin with due to misinformation and stereotypes. Like many issues in America, these barriers are even higher for marginalized groups with multiple intersectionalities. 

It’s commonly said that if you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.  This is why it’s called a spectrum, not because there’s a linear progression of severity (someone who appears to have low support needs like myself might need more than it seems, and vice versa), but because every autistic person has their own strengths and weaknesses, challenges and experiences, opinions and needs.  No two people on the spectrum present in the same way.  And that’s a good thing!  No way of being autistic is inherently any better than any other, and even if someone on the spectrum struggles with things I don’t — or can do things I can’t — doesn’t make them more or less deserving of respect and human dignity.

But speaking solely for myself, the more I learn about autism, the happier I am to be autistic.  I struggle to find words and exert fine motor control, but my deep passion and fixation has made me good at art and storytelling anyway.  I find more joy watching dogs and studying leaf shapes on my walks than most people do in an entire day.  More often than not, the barriers I’ve faced weren’t due to my autism directly, but due to society being overly rigid about what it considers a valid way of existing.  My hope in writing this today is that maybe one person will realize that autism isn’t what they thought — and that being different is not the same as being less than. My hope with my fiction is to give autistic children mirrors with which to see themselves, and everyone else windows through which to see us as we actually are.

If you’re interested in learning more about autism or think you might be autistic, too, I recommend the Autism Self Advocacy Network  autisticadvocacy.org and the following books:

What I Mean When I Say I’m Autistic by Annie Kotowicz

We're Not Broken by Eric Garcia

Knowing Why edited by Elizabeth Bartmess

Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, PhD

Loud Hands edited by Julia Bascom

Neurotribes by Steve Silberman

(trigger warning: the last two contain quite a lot of upsetting material involving institutionalized child abuse, but I think it’s important for people to know how often autistic children were — and are — abused simply for being neurodivergent).

Thanks for reading 💛

[we-were-beautiful]

Unraveled Ends Chapter 2

Pre chapter Shenanigans 

a/n: Sooooo long time no post but I'm here now and that's what matters. Writers block hit me like a brick wall after my last piece that I did for the riders quadrant fic exchange back in July, that piece was only supposed to be 3k in words but ended up around 7.8k. I had been working on this chapter at the same time and had roughly 2k words but after I got through the edits on the gift fic couldn't seem to string together a coherent sentence much less moving the plot forward. all my photos for the moodboard/aesthetic come from pinterest. Last bit of info is that we did pick up two beta readers for this story( but I am always open for more if people want to hop in). So big Thanks to @loving-and-dreaming and @curse-bearing-hips for reviewing this chapter. That said we are all still human so there is more than likely some mistakes. And a huge thanks to @whisplion for inspiring me to write this fic. Hope y’all enjoy  

Summary: A tailor in the heart of Velaris finds herself mated to the two most powerful fae in Prythian. Unfortunately for her the mating bond only snapped for her, leaving her to question on how to move forward. Should she wait for her mates to feel the bond or should she go ahead and reject it and live with the gaping hole in her heart  

Poly!Feysand x Reader 

Warnings: None but there is angst

WC:3.1k

The next few weeks are nothing short of hell. I didn’t know pretending like nothing is wrong would be as exhausting as it has been. It was a never ending cycle of waking up, getting ready, going to work, and coming home. At work I was dancing a fine line of hiding everything from my seamstresses and sister and failing miserably. The only small mercy that I have had was that I haven’t had to see my mates. Thank the mother for that; I don’t know how I would have reacted to seeing them so soon after the bond had snapped. Not seeing them however did nothing to dampen the feelings that the two of them would throw down the bond unknowingly. Deep down  I know that they didn’t mean to send those memories and feelings to me, but on a good day it makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t know why it has gotten worse. I was fine for a year of burying the feelings that I have for the two down.

They were so happy together, and I don’t have a place in their perfect lifestyle. I thought that I had seen them around town a lot when they were just my customers but now it felt like every time I turned around they were there. It has increased since they came in to get their outfits for Starfall designed. I swear I ran into Rhys yesterday when I went to get lunch for myself. I ran into Feyre the other night while I was getting the groceries for my sisters and me. The two of them had actually approached me a week ago while I was at the park with my baby sister. They had little Nyx with them then and it felt like someone had taken a hold of my heart and started squeezing. The babe was adorable at two years of age. He's starting to reign terror on his parents who had apparently decided he needed to run off his energy at the park. The two of them are far more friendly with people than I would have liked, but mostly that friendliness was targeted towards me. As they joined me on the bench sandwiching me between them. They ended up chatting my ear off for the better part of an hour. There brushes of hands against my body that were too well placed to be incidental. It felt like a vice clamping down around my heart as I left the park with my sister to head home. Feyre had wanted me to stay a bit longer so that she could continue talking to me about my sketches. 

The physical interactions with them weren't the worst thing though. It was the images and emotions that the two had unknowingly sent down the bond. It wasn’t unusual to get a flash of lust from one of them at any given time of the day. It was inconvenient to just get hit with the overwhelming need for someone when I’m with clients. Late at night though I get the images. Of my mates tangled up in pleasure. Sometimes it was flashes of Feyre's face screwed up in pleasure; other of Rhys’s eyes alight with lust and desire. Those nights sleep was hard to come by. A few of those nights I found myself back in the shop working on my clients orders, anything to keep my mind from lingering on the two people that didn’t know I was bound to them.  I was surprised to be receiving so much from them down the bond given that both of them are powerful Demati. I figured that they would be skilled at keeping to themselves. 

Last night was one of those sleepless nights. It was a damn near endless barrage of want and need coming from both of them. If I hadn’t known that their mating bond had been accepted between them I would have assumed that they had accepted it last night. I left a note for my middle sister in the kitchen before heading to the shop in the dead of night. Being the night court, plenty of people were milling about the streets and shops in the palace of thread and jewels. Thankfully it isn’t one of the nights we keep the shop open for those who live under the stars, I could work in peace and not be bothered by anyone. No customers, no seamstresses, no nosy sisters, and most importantly no over friendly mates or their friends. 

It was wonderful to sit in the shop and do what I love with my shadows dancing around me. The shadows had been my friends since I was a very small faeling. They were more shy when I was out in public but when it is just me they come to life and sing. I had only seen two other people like me. One was my maternal grandfather who was from a court that had long since been lost; and the other was Azriel. Grandfather was able to teach me how to control the shadows and use them to my advantage. But he also told me to keep the gift to myself. Shadowsingers had long been coveted by the courts to be used as spies; and he and my parents were worried that the former High Lord would have conscripted me into his spy network if it was ever found out. I had successfully kept it a secret for nearly 400 years. Though times like this, when the shop is closed and I have the room to myself, I let them loose. A soft smile grows on my face as I watch the playful shadows dance about the room. A few of them try to be helpful by handing me tools and instruments that I need as I work on Feyre’s Starfall gown. 

Feyre’s dress had been coming along beautifully. She had come in for a fitting last week where we were checking the fit on the mock up. The High Lady had all but begged to have a similar fabric to my own. We had more of the fabric left; thank gods for that; the last thing I wanted to do was take a trip to the Autumn court to source more. I lose track of time working on the dress; so much so that I didn’t realize the sun had risen until I heard the lock on the door turn. 

“Sis, are you still here?” Genevieve calls out. Of course she came here. “I saw your note on the counter this morning. I dropped Itty bitty off at school and brought breakfast.” 

I sigh and set my things down to make my way out of the work room. Genevieve stands in the room looking so much like our mother; hair tied up in a worn red scarf, a dark red linen shirt and comfortable leather trousers. Ready for a day at the blacksmith. In her hands she balances a bag of what I assume is the breakfast and two cups in the other. 

“Your shadows are so helpful I’m jealous.” She passes me one of the cups and I take a sniff and immediately am greeted by the comforting scent of coffee “ Were you here all night again?” 

It's not hard to hear the concern in her voice as she takes a once over of me. 

“Yes” I responded, taking a sip of the delicious coffee that she had brought. 

“Ok what is going on with you.” She cocks her head to the side “It seems like you have been stressed this past year. Well more so than normal. This is starting to get worrisome. The number of times you have left the house in the middle of the night and worked through to morning is ridiculous.”

“What’s going on? I know it's not money since I help with the books and we have two sources of income coming in.” She takes a breath. “You can talk to me Sis.” 

“Let's go into the office. The ladies should be coming in soon.” I led her into my office not wanting to state what was going on when one of my employees could walk in. Once we are in the office I gesture for her to take a seat in front of my desk. I take a seat and my chair, bones creaking as I sit on the soft leather. She fixes me with a look telling me to start talking. 

“So I met my mates.” I sigh running a hand through my hair 

“You met your mate. That's good news right.” She starts rifling through the bag of food 

“Mates. Two of them.” She stops looking up at me 

“Two. Is that possible?” Her eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline. 

“It is.” I lean back in my chair. “Incredibly rare but possible.” 

“So let me repeat my earlier question. That’s good news right?” 

“It’s complicated.” I bite my lower lip “The two of them are already mated. Sealed the bond and everything. But the bond only snapped for me.” 

“They don’t know.” Her voice drops in concern 

“No,they don’t.” 

“So what is stressing you out about it? You wouldn’t be leaving the house in the middle of the night over nothing?” 

“They are sending things down the bond. Images, emotions; it’s driving me crazy Gen.” 

“Shit, well can you block them out.” Mom had taught the two of us how to shield from Demati when we were younger. 

“I’ve tried; it only is able to dull it.” I fidget in my seat.  “It also doesn’t help that I keep seeing the two of them every time I go out into the city.” 

“Oh..” She hesitates “Do you mind if I ask who it is.?”  I quickly sent a few shadows out to make sure that the shop was still empty and that there were no busy bodies lurking around the shop. 

“It's the High Lord and Lady.” This was the first time I had ever said those words out loud. I guess I had thought that if I didn’t say it then I could pretend it wasn’t real and that it didn’t bother me. Gen lets out a low whistle.

“That does complicate things. I was going to tell you to grow a pair and tell them but fuck. The High Lord and Lady that… that makes things way more complex.” 

“You see why I am stressed now.” I can feel the ugly emotions filling my chest.

“Yeah, you are in the world's shittiest situation.” She lets out a sigh “It's not like you can go up to them and say hey I am your mate. Fuck I am sorry Sis.” 

I let out a wet laugh, a few tears escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheeks “ There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I just got dealt a shitty hand by the mother.” 

“Are you going to…” She trails off. I know what she was going to say though. It wasn’t something that was talked about often and not in polite company. Rejecting the bond. 

“It’s an option, and I am considering it. I want to ask a few friends of mine in Day about it first though. Since it hasn’t snapped for them they shouldn’t notice but I would like some confirmation first.” It helped that I had friends in other courts that I could gather information from; and there was no better place for information than  the Day Court.

“I will support whatever decision you make. You deserve to be happy Sis, and if your happiness is achieved by breaking the bond then do it.” 

The conversation between us dies after that as she passes me a blueberry muffin from the bag. Seems she stopped by our favorite bakery before heading over here. Time seems to fly too quickly and all too soon Gen has to leave for work leaving me here by myself. Although I’m not on my own for too much longer as my employees start trickling in.

The day seems to stretch on and on as clients make their way into the shop for fittings or to pick up their orders. The dull chatter of my employees and the various customers buzzes in my ears as I methodically pull a small needle through water-like silk. It's hard to make out any distinguishable conversation from behind my office door. Today seems like one of those days when time is just suspended and I can work in peace. There is a quiet content hum from my mates bond; one of the few times that I haven't felt heightened emotions from either of them. 

A soft knock shatters the silence of the office, effectively breaking the spell of tranquility that had fallen over me 

“Come in.” My voice cracks just a bit from not using it. The door squeaks open as a familiar head of midnight hair pokes in. Violet eyes twinkle in amusement as a smile grows across his stupidly handsome face. 

“Sweetheart!” The door swings open the rest of the way as Rhysand swaggers his way into my office like he owns it. I am quick to stand from my desk. 

“High lord.” I give him a polite curtsy, slamming my mental shields up before meeting his gaze

“How many times do I have to tell you it's Rhys?” He laughs before taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of my desk. “ So are you ready for my fitting or should I come back later.”  

Shit… Shit shit shit. I had completely forgotten that he was on my books for his second fitting today. It wasn’t like I was completely unprepared. No his suit was ready for the fitting but I was nowhere near mentally prepared for a fitting and not having slept the night before was going to be the actual death of me. 

“No, you are fine.” I move from behind the desk “Let me go grab your suit and we will get you out of here in no time.” 

“No need to rush, I quite enjoy your company.” I cannot afford to focus on my racing heart right now. I need to get him out of this shop as quickly as possible. I move through the back of the shop with practiced ease quickly locating the High Lord’s suit hanging neatly next to the High Lady’s gown. The two pieces were works of art in themselves that compliment each other. The suit as dark as the night sky embossed fabric giving the illusion of swirling depths. The dress flowed off the hanger like liquid moonlight, the delicate silk the identical twin to my own gown. Small gems sewn into the bodice catch and reflect the light like the stars that will make their journey across the sky on Starfall. For as much as I don’t want to care about the two, these pieces tell a different story. If I wasn’t just a little bit attached to the two of them I would have passed the designs along to another dressmaker and been done with it; but now I painstakingly designed and sewn these garments for my mates. I let out a small sigh before reaching up to grab the suite. Once I get back to my office I am quick to pass the suit off to Rhys directing him to the small changing area at the back of the office. I quickly begin to route around my desk for my supplies.  

An hour, all I have to do is make it an hour and then I will be free of Rhysand for the time being. It feels like forever before he walks out from behind the curtain. It is only years of working with Rhysand that keeps me from gasping out. If the suit was beautiful on the hanger and dress form it is absolutely stunning on the male it was made for. Rhys makes his way over to the platform and mirror in the office stepping up before moving to fuss with the cuffs. 

“This is a beautiful suit Sweetheart.” He moves to pick off the smallest piece of lint on the  collar. I move to stand behind him to begin the process of adjusting the way the suit sits on Rhysand.

We continued the song and dance that we had done for many years to get the suit to fit him perfectly. I can't help the small ache in my chest as I circle around him placing pins and chalk lines where minute alterations need to be made. Rhys is beaming the whole time chatting away like we hadn’t seen each other just the other day. I can feel the long day in my bones, my hands ache from the countless hours of work. My fingertips are raw from the amount of times I have jammed pins and needles into them. While I try to appropriately match Rhys energy, it's easy to tell that he isn’t buying the act. 

“You seem tired.” He arches a brow at me as I move to pin the hem of his pants. 

“My mates kept me up last night.” A mischievous glint grows in his violet eyes.

“Oh. They kept you up .” He teased but hidden in the back of his teasing tone seemed to be a bit of jealousy… possessiveness. 

“Yeah the two of them kept sending all of their emotions down the bond last night.” I sigh looking up at him from my spot on the floor 

“Two mates…” He stumbles with his words. He hasn’t done that since he was a teen and I was helping my father with his fitting “The mother has blessed you.” 

“Blessed or cursed.” I put the pins down. 

“Cursed.” He questions

“The bond only snapped for me.” A small sad smile grows on my face.  My mental shields are intact and stronger than ever and it's not like I can tell Rhys that he and Feyre are my mates. 

“Have you told them?” He questions, holding a hand out to help me from the floor 

“No. The two of them have already sealed the bond and have started their own perfect little family.” It feels like an Illyrian has punched me in the gut as I make this confession to him “I don’t want to ruin that for them.” 

“So what are you planning to do?” He tilts his head looking at me in sympathy “ Because you seem to have wilted these past few months. 

“I have a few things I am thinking about doing. I want to seek out a few friends in Day first before committing to it.”

“Committing to what Sweetheart?” he gazes at me with concern 

“Breaking the bond.” And as those words leave my lips you can see the color drain from his face.

Tag list: @rachelnicolee @goldenmagnolias @jesssicapanigua @sweetorangeblossom @cat-or-kitten @alowint @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @coldpeachkitten @esposadomd @araneea92 @saltedcoffeescotch @persephonesalvatore

[seumyo]

Idia never thought he’d be the type to have a muse. Inspiration wasn’t something he sought—it either struck at odd hours between gaming marathons or never came at all. You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite.

You were effortlessly poetic, weaving words together like they were spun from moonlight and ink. You had a way of finding beauty in things he never noticed about himself, piecing together metaphors and prose that made him sound like something out of a fairytale.

A writer who’s ultimate weapon is a pen and paper.

You write like a poet who can never run out of words.

Effortlessly so.

The first time you showed him one of your poems, he had expected it to be about something grand and abstract—love, nature, time. Instead, it was about him.

It wasn’t grandiose or overly sentimental. It was simple. Soft. A quiet sort of admiration captured in careful lines—how his hair burned like foxfire in the dark, how his voice curled around words like an autumn breeze, how the glow of his screen reflected in his yellow eyes like constellations trapped in glass.

He had read it once, then twice, then a third time, his heart hammering so hard he thought it might short-circuit his entire nervous system.

God, it’s like reading a declaration of love from years ago.

“I-I… um… wow…” he had stammered, his fingers twitching at his sleeves. “You… wrote this?”

You simply laughed.

“Of course I did. Who else would I write about?”

He didn’t know how to answer that.

So instead, he drew.

A few days after your conversation, that is.

Idia had always been good at art—sketching was second nature to him, a quiet hobby he indulged in when he needed to clear his head. But now, every idle doodle, every sketch in the margins of his notebooks, was of you.

The tilt of your head when you peered into his screen. The way your eyes softened when you looked at him. The delicate curve of your fingers as you held your pen, lost in thought.

He didn’t show you at first. It felt too raw, too personal. Like, if you saw it, you’d know just how much space you had carved into his thoughts, how easily you had settled into his world without even trying.

Maybe that was the point.

To show you how much you meant to him.

But then, one evening, as you sat together in his room—you’re lost in your writing, your boyfriend sketching absentmindedly—you caught a glimpse of his notebook and gasped.

“Is that me?”

Idia tensed, his fingers twitching as if to slam the book shut. But you had already leaned over, your gaze locked onto the pages, your eyes wide as you traced the lines of your own face on the paper.

“You’re insane,” you whispered, your voice filled with awe.

“This is amazing.”

He hunched his shoulders, his hair flickering between shades of pink and blue. “It’s not a big deal…”

“It is to me.”

Your fingers brushed against his, and Idia felt the warmth of your touch settle deep in his chest.

“You write about me,” he muttered, his voice quiet.

“I guess… this is how I write about you.”

You smiled, nodding. “Then I guess we’re even.”

His heart pounded, his fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie.

“Y-Yeah… even…”

But you weren’t done looking. You turned the pages slowly, taking in every sketch. Some were detailed, inked carefully with soft shading that made your features stand out, while others were simple pencil sketches, quick and loose. Some had little notes scribbled in the margins—things like Her smile was really pretty today or I think she’d like this outfit—and the further you flipped, the harder it became for Idia to breathe.

“You’ve been drawing me this whole time?” you asked.

Idia swallowed hard, feeling like his soul was about to eject from his body. “I-I mean… you’re… I like drawing you.”

You hummed, shaking your head. “No one’s ever drawn me before,” you admitted. “And definitely not like this. It’s like a commissioned self-portrait.”

He ducked his head against his desk. It’s all too much for him, and yet, he yearns for more.

“Well… no one’s ever written about me before either.”

You reached for your notebook and flipped to a page filled with fresh ink. “I wrote something new,” you told him. “Do you want to hear it?”

Idia hesitated, but he nodded.

You took a breath, then began reading.

Your voice was steady and soft, weaving words like magic.

You spoke of constellations hidden in the depths of golden eyes, of firelight that flickered and burned but never consumed. Of hands that danced over sketchbooks, creating entire worlds with nothing but ink and quiet devotion. Of a boy who lived in shadows and blue-tinted neon, who never realized he shone just as brightly as the screens he spent hid behind on.

By the time you finished, Idia was gripping his sketchbook so tightly his knuckles were almost turning white.

“…T-That’s—” His voice cracked, his throat dry. “That’s… about me?”

“Of course, Idia.”

His mind was racing, his chest aching with something he didn’t know how to name. He didn’t understand how you saw this side of him—a version of him that is raw—in ways he had never expected. And for once, instead of wanting to hide, he wanted to let you see more.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached for his pencil and turned to a fresh page. “C-Can I draw you again?”

Your smile grew, and you leaned into his side, your fingers resting over his. “Only if you let me write about you again.”

Idia let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding.

“Deal.”

But somehow, he knew he would never stop drawing you. Even if time catches up to him and he could no longer hold a pencil. There will always be a way for him to draw his muse.

Just as he knew you would never stop writing about him.

Two halves of the same story—lines and words, ink and paper, art and poetry intertwined.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[rinhaler]

It'll Probably End With Me Being Forgot

CHAPTER SUMMARY : you never thought you and yuuji were the type to keep secrets from each other, but he doesn't need to know megumi kissed you. maybe he already knows... why else would he be acting so weirdly?

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, consensual sex, vaginal sex, creampie, cum eating??, face sitting, praise kink, drug taking, bullying.

WORDS : 6.6k

notes : am I actually posting wusyaname on a friday?? wild

       LAST CHAPTER┊MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

“Nervous for tomorrow?”

Yuuji whispers as he lies flat on his stomach with his arm over yours. Nervous is a good word, a very apt word for how you should feel.

It’s Monday tomorrow.

Your alarm will be ringing in a few hours for you.

It’ll be your first day back at university since you were spiked. It’ll be the first time you go to your class and see the girls who publicly humiliated you. And it will be the first time you are in the classroom with Megumi again since you destroyed each other’s sketch books.

Nervous would be a good way to describe what you should be feeling.

But, honestly, after this weekend and seeing how little Toji needed to do to send the fear of God into his son, you didn’t feel nervous.

Megumi is a paper man, and his father had no hesitation to piss on his parade, making him a small pathetic pile of mush. You aren’t nervous, not one bit. You're confused however, and you're wracked with guilt.

Because you've decided not to tell Yuuji about the kiss.

So much has happened, so much has changed in so little time. It wasn’t so long ago that you could barely pry Yuuji away from your soft folds as he devoured your intimate flesh. He couldn’t get enough of you.

And you were always close to being late for class.

Today, however, you wake up and he does nothing but press a gentle kiss into your shoulder and instantly goes to get shower and dress for class.

Is he losing interest in you?

It's a ridiculous thought you shake away immediately.

He’s probably just… No.

What is wrong with him?

Or maybe it’s you. Something is wrong with you.

There's no use dwelling on it now, not when class is right around the corner. It’s best if you just focus on getting dressed and talk it out with him later.

You decide to swap out your usual paint covered leggings and baggy t-shirt for a nice pair of figure-hugging jeans and a scanty crop top. If that doesn’t remind him how much he loves being intimate with you; you don’t know if anything will. You finish painting your face with light makeup as Yuuji re-enters the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Not even a glance in your direction.

It’s only been a day since you had the best, most intimate sex of your life. And now he isn’t even registering your existence. Your lip wobbles as you try and hold it together. It’s dawning on you what’s going on.

This is Megumi’s fault.

He’s got inside of your fucking head and he’s messing and warping with your sense of self and your worth.

Why did he fucking kiss you?

Yuuji knows.

He must know for him to be so distant with you. No, he doesn’t, you argue with yourself. You breathe through pouting lips and try to bat away the tears forming in your lash line.

You startle a little when you feel Yuuji’s hand cup your shoulder. You turn to face him, seeing that he's already dressed. That’s why he didn’t look at you. He was getting ready for class! He isn’t ignoring you.

Of course he doesn’t know about Megumi kissing you, how could he?

The hand on your shoulder travels upwards to cup your face. His lips find yours and every insecurity you’ve ever felt in your life dissipates. He pulls away, resting his forehead on yours, the tips of your noses touching gently together.

He's searching your eyes.

“You look amazing princess,” he states. Your eyes shut softly and a tear finally breaks free and rolls down your cheek. He quickly swipes it away with his thumb, he even warns you that you’ll ruin your makeup if you don’t cut it out. “you don’t have to do this today y’know? A lot happened to you, take another day… hell take another week if you need to.” he assures you.

God he’s so fucking sweet you think you might get tooth decay if he says anything else to you. He kisses your lips again, and then your forehead before crouching down and resting on the balls of his feet. He holds your hands, delicately rubbing his thumbs over your soft skin as he waits for you to speak.

“I want to,” you tell him honestly, “but I think the longer I leave it the harder it’ll be.” you confess. He nods. He brings your hands to his lips and kisses softly.

“Let’s get you to class then. I wanna show off my pretty girl.”

His fingers interlace with yours. It’s weird that you aren’t running through the halls together. You’re early, only by a few minutes, but still. You’re strolling through the building with not a single care in the world.

You lean back against the wall outside of your classroom, the usual spot where you’ve lost count of how many times he’s kissed you too intimately for public viewing. This time, he does kiss you, but it’s soft and gentle.

He has so much fear in his eyes. He’s terrified about leaving you here. With those vile fucking girls and that piece of shit he thought was his friend. You smile, though.

It’ll all be okay.

Yuuji scowls as he hears giggling. Your blood runs cold. The girls snicker as they see you and walk into the classroom. He wishes he could get them expelled or something. Anything to keep them away from you.

He notices the time on his watch, it’s creeping dangerously close to 9am. Regardless of how early you got here, Yuuji is still going to be rushing to his class. He engulfs you in a hug and you smile warmly.

“Text me if you need anything. Okay baby? Anything.”

You start to speak but you both notice a familiar silhouette out of the corner of your eyes. Megumi. You knew you’d see him again sooner or later, but his presence is all consuming and downright miserable.

Yuuji frowns, but nothing more. He knows Fushiguro isn’t so imbecilic to try anything in front of him. You hold Yuuji’s face and turn him to face you. His loving brown eyes stare into yours. Every crease and every pore of your beautiful face. He can tell from one minor change if you’re okay. So he’s examining hard.

“I’ll text you Yuuji, promise.”

He kisses you one last time and stands in the doorway as he watches you find somewhere to sit.

Megumi and the girls are sitting near the back, so he smiles when he sees you take a seat in the front row closest to the door. You smile back when you see him mouth ‘I love you’ to you. You do the same, and finally he runs down the hallway to his own class.

It's a pretty painless class all in all, you were definitely expecting worse. You hear the girls talking in an insanely high pitch as they attempt to flirt with Megumi.

But of course, he's his usual stoic self. You do your best to avoid turning to look at them. However, when you hear them snicker and say things like ‘she pissed herself in the club’ you want a hole to form under your seat and suck you into nothingness. Your eyes bulge when you hear something you hadn’t expected.

“Shut. Up.” Megumi speaks in annoyance. You know he isn’t defending you, he hates you after all. But it still makes you smile to hear the girls try and defend themselves.

“I thought you hated her Megumi!” the redhead whines.

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

Regardless of your three bullies making unnecessary comments in the back, there are three students around you that offer their support, telling you that they heard what happened and that they hope you’re okay.

It's nice knowing that you had other people around you and not just your boyfriend. Your classmates didn’t know the full extent to your ordeal, of course, but it was still appreciated.

You're surprised when you see Megumi begin to pack away early. Apparently, he has a dentist appointment. He ignores you as he walks by. He gives you nothing but the gust of wind that breezes by from his stride.

While everyone is getting on with their work for the last thirty minutes of class, your teacher approaches you to discuss your sketchbook.

If nothing else, you know the trauma of being spiked in the club would provide a perfect sob story to get you more time on your work.

You still hadn’t pinned the blame Megumi for ruining your sketchbook. What would be the point? He’d only retaliate that you did the same to his.

You took full responsibility for the ink incident, but with the help of your drugging ordeal, he offers you a hefty extension on your work, thank God. He spends the remainder of his lesson talking with you and giving you tips on how to create a new body of artwork.

“Megumi actually started again from scratch, for some reason, and he’s managed to get a lot done in a short period of time.” he tells you.

You nod along as if you don’t have a clue as to why Megumi would start again. You actually do feel a little bad that you ruined all of his hard work.

You were just as bad as him in that aspect.

He clearly puts a lot of time and effort into his drawings, but you ruined them all in an instant. But you only feel a little bad, since he did exactly the same to you.

But is it fair to be so petty?

“Perhaps you could ask him for some advice.” your lecturer suggests.

Your lips pull into a straight line. You have to think of something civil to say that won’t expose your burning hatred of the black-haired menace.

“I’ll think about it.”

Logically, you know that nothing bad will happen to you; but you begin packing away early so you can immediately sprint out of the room.

Without Megumi holding the girls back, you're worried that they might try and do something to you. You stick to your word and leave the room as quickly as your legs will take you.

Yuuji will be finishing his classes soon, too. You consider going to the sports hall to meet him, but you know he’ll be showering again and changing before coming to meet you. You head towards the exit, deciding it's smarter to wait by his car instead.

As you're rushing, you collide with another student. Thankfully neither of you drop anything like a classic cliché, however it is a cliché that the student you ram into happens to be Megumi.

Isn’t he meant to be at the dentist?

Before you can get away, he covers your mouth with his palm and pulls you into the boys toilets. He locks you both in a cubicle and he remains straight faced as you began to cry.

“Shut up, stop screaming, I’m not gonna do anything.” he tells you. Your chest is heaving, but you nod. He seems sincere, but it’s hard to tell with him. He uncovers your mouth. Your eyes squint as you examined his nose.

He looks like he wants to kill you when you began to smirk.

“Too much sugar on your donuts, Megumi.” you speak as you wiped a finger over your own nose. His eyes bulge as he understands what you mean in an instant, quickly swiping the back of his sleeve over his nose to clear away the coke he’d snorted. “What do you want from me?” you wonder.

“Yuuji seemed unusually calm when he saw me today.” he begins. You raise your eyebrows, prompting him to continue. “I can only assume that you didn’t tell him that we kissed.”

Your heart stops as he speaks. You raise a finger to your lips and repeatedly tell him to be quiet. Anyone could be in here listening to you talk. “First of all, you kissed. I slapped you away.” you whisper-shout. “I should tell him, really, I have no reason to protect you. Especially after this.” you threaten, he does nothing but roll his eyes at your idle threat.

“Unless you liked it,” you want to argue his point, but he interjects immediately. “I was high so don’t flatter yourself.”

“You’re high now, do I need to worry? Have you got more misery in store for me? Or are you going to do as your daddy tells you and leave me the fuck alone?” you question.

He leans back against the wall on the cubicle you’re squashed in together and he observes you. He thinks it must be nice to have as much power as you do, knowing your enemies weak spot.

His will always be Toji.

“I’m actually done with you,” he explains. You’re sceptical, it seems too good to be true. “I found out something very exciting at your parents house. Do you want to know?”

“I don’t care, honestly.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you anyway. It’s more fun for me that way, but just know you’re fucked… and it has nothing to do with me.” he explains as he opens the door. You push him backwards so that you can leave first. You look at him in the mirrors above the sinks before walking out.

“Goodbye, Megumi.”

You’re loitering around parking lot waiting for Yuuji. You recognise a car that pulls up, and you smile when you see a familiar face.

It’s Toji.

He beams when he sees you. You walk over to him and give him those polite rich people kisses on each cheek. You smile again when you notice another person step out of the car.

This car isn’t Toji’s; it’s hers. She introduces herself as Tsumiki, Megumi’s sister.

“Nice to meet you.” you tell her.

“Did the brat give you any trouble? We came to pick him up, wanted to keep an eye on him.”

You lie, shaking your head. You’re sure he’ll manage to shake the information out of his son if he really wants to. He examines the space around him, waiting to see when his son will turn up. You can tell he’s apprehensive. He’s never been a hands-on father before. It’s all new territory for him.

He notices you examining Tsumiki. He knows exactly what you want to ask, but you're too scared. You don’t want to sound offensive or rude.

“She’s not mine princess, my ex-wife’s kid.” Toji fills you in.

“Dad she didn’t ask,” Tsumiki huffs. “Sorry about him.”

“Don’t apologise for me she wanted to know; look you can tell by her face. Right?” he gestures you, he's looking at you over his sunglasses with raised eyebrows, so you nod.

It isn’t lost on you that she doesn’t have the same jet-black hair as the Fushiguro’s. But genetics works like that sometimes, however in this instance your instincts are correct.

Eventually Toji’s spawn arrives; looking meek and submissive under his father’s intense glare. Toji questions why he looks so guilty, but Megumi doesn’t say a word.

Tsumiki is clueless. She knows about a girl who got spiked after the police came to question Megumi, but she has no idea that girl is standing before her very eyes, and it was his fault after all.

Toji has no intention of telling her.

“You’re really sticking around then, huh Toji?” you ask with a cheeky smirk on your face. Megumi scowls, he was furious that you were daring to have banter with his fucking dad. He still hates you, but he knows he needs to be smart around you now. Only because his prick of a father is staying for the time being.

“Yeah, I am.” he replies. “Maybe I’m expected to be a decent father and learn from my mistakes, yeah?”

There's something about Toji that makes you feel safe. He's like your guardian angel. You feel untouchable with him nearby. And Megumi fucking hates that.

Those few hours you spent with him in your father’s study are the closest you’ve felt to having a real parental figure in your whole life.

The family all move to get into Tsumiki’s car. But before they can leave, they're all drawn to the yelling, sprinting, pink-haired boy approaching you. He wraps his arms around your neck and smothers your lips in passionate kisses.

“Hello to you too, Yuuji.” you giggle.

“We need to go home, I need you home, now.” he explains. Tsumiki coos over the cute display. Toji snickers, while Megumi is seething. Yuuji says quick hello's to Toji and Tsumiki while point-blank ignoring his ex-best friend.

“Someone’s keen,” Toji chuckles, “Wrap it up kid. Don’t wanna end up with one of him, do ya?” Toji speaks gesturing his thumb to the side, pointing directly at Megumi.

Your face flushes with heat, at that.

He’s so forward and he doesn’t care. Tsumiki smacks his arm lightly as she gets inside of her vehicle and starts it up. You and your boyfriend step closer to your own car, but before you can leave Megumi moves towards you.

“So fucking cute.” Megumi starts. “Such a shame that you're keeping secrets, right?” he torments. Yuuji continues walking to the car door so he can take you home.

“No one is listening to you Fushiguro.” Yuuji tells him as he snaps open the door. He's about to duck inside, but Megumi has one last thing to say.

You're panicking. Is he really going to tell him?

Is he really about to spill, right fucking now, that you shared a kiss?

“Get in the fucking car ya little bastard.” Toji hisses as he grabs under his sons arm and tries to pull him away. Megumi snatches it back and gets closer to you. But he keeps his body positioned so that it's facing Itadori.

“I walked past the sports hall earlier, Yuuji, very interesting presentation I saw through the window.” Megumi smiles evilly. Yuuji slammed the door and gets closer to your bully.

“Shut the hell up,”

“Agreed, shut your fucking mouth.” Toji speaks as he slaps Megumi upside the head. “You deaf kid? I said: get in the fucking car.” he finishes, finally dragging his son around and shoving him into the backseat. “Can’t fucking help yourself, can you? Stop interfering in that girl’s life.” you hear him in the distance before slamming the door and sealing Megumi inside.

Whatever doubts you had about Yuuji this morning are quickly dashed. He buries them in a coffin and forces the nails in as he practically rips your clothes off your body.

He can’t keep his hands off you.

His gentle fingers caress each and every inch of your body while his lips do the same with soft, peppered kisses.

The days of him thinking you're made of glass seem like a distant memory as he fucks you. The slow, deep, lazy sex you had at your parent’s house is long forgotten.

He's like an animal, really giving it his all as he fucks you from behind. You're screaming and crying into the pillows. He doesn’t fail to tell you how much he loves you, either.

But you already knew that.

You convulse around him, and he empties himself inside of you. It's deep and creamy, and he's enamoured by the equally thick and creamy ring forming around the base of his cock as he kept drilling into you.

And it doesn’t end there.

He doesn’t care that your cunt is stuffed full of his seed. Yuuji pulls you around like a ragdoll as he lies flat against the bed.

His face is your throne.

And you're royalty in his eyes.

“Please princess, please. Need you to sit f’me, okay?” he looks up at you with pleading eyes. Something Yuuji Itadori has never been shy about since the day you met him is his love for eating pussy. In these few months you’ve been dating, you’ve never been let to forget that.

He praises what tasty slick you have, the best he’s ever consumed. So, to have you deny him of his fountain of youth, from his taste of heaven, has been unbearable.

“Need it s’bad baby. Please. Pleaaaase let me taste you.”

Who are you to deny him?

His arms lock around your thighs. You hold one hand against the wall to stabilize yourself and your other laces through his pastel pink locks. You bite your bottom lip as he sucks at your sensitive bead.

He's so needy and desperate; you can tell he hadn’t gotten to enjoy licking at your folds for a few days. It makes you shudder when you feel him suck his cum out of your hole and spit it back in.

“Oh God…” you sigh. Your heart rate soars. You aren’t going to last much longer. But that's a good thing for Yuuji. That’s exactly what he wants. “Yuuji—!” you cry.

His palms slap onto your ass and he pulls your heat closer to his face. He really wants you to sit. He squeezes your flesh tightly, it's a signal for you to cum. He doesn’t dare pull away and risk wasting a second of consuming your flavour as you straddled his head.

You can hear him though.

He’d be saying something like ‘go ahead and cum, princess’ so you do. You hum and groan through the pleasure of his tongue laving and sucking your clit and he loves the way your legs tremble.

You climb off of him and he sits upright. He locks a hand around the back of your head and pulls you in for a crashing intimate kiss. You think he might want to go for another round for a minute, but it slows. He kisses your cheek before turning you around and pulling you to lie down with him. Yuuji plays with your hair and your eyelids feel heavier.

“What was that all about, Yuuji? Not that I’m complaining.”

He wraps his arms around you and kisses into the crown of your head. “Does there need to be a reason? I just love you baby.” he reminds you, kissing you again.

“I love you too.” you smile. But you can’t relax, because something is playing on your mind. It had been playing on your mind the whole car ride home, but you didn’t want to mention it. It was even in the back of your brain while he fucked you into oblivion. “What was Megumi talking about before? The sports hall presentation?” you query.

You feel Yuuji’s body tense up against you.

Maybe you should have kept it to yourself.

“What? Are we listening to Fushiguro now?” he asks, anger clear in his tone.

“No! It’s just—”

He rises to his feet, quickly pulling his clothes back on and heading towards the bedroom door to leave.

Hopefully he’ll tell you in his own time.

His stare is kinder as you approach him later. He welcomes you to join him on the sofa with open arms. So, you hop quickly towards him and sit in his lap. You nestle into his chest as he strokes your body sensually with his thumbs.

“Hey,” he whispers hoping to get your attention without startling you. Your eyes find his, those beautiful hazel hues, and you feel as safe as can be. He looks… sad. His eyes are glossy, and he kisses your forehead forcefully. “What we did today princess, I need to do that every day.” he tells you.

“What do you—?”

“Please, please don’t make me explain. I love you, you get that, right? So please, I need to be with you like that every day.” he tells you. He's literally begging you. Begging for your body every single day. That isn’t something you could promise.

What has gotten into him?

“Yuuji I just don’t—”

“Baby!” he yells. He feels you jump in his arms and pulls you closer into his body again, shushing and cooing.

He’s sorry, he is, he’s really sorry.

He doesn’t know what’s gotten over him, he never ever yells at you.

You don’t understand and he can’t explain just yet.

“You know I’d never make you do anything you don’t wanna, right baby? Just this one thing, I need you to do this for me.” he tells you. His two hands hold your whole face and he looks at you with those pleading eyes. You don’t know what’s going on, but you can’t refuse him when he’s looking at you like that.

“Okay.”

You do as he asks, every single day.

It’s only Friday, but you wonder how much longer this is going to go on before he gives you the explanation you're patiently waiting for.

But it didn’t come.

He had the perfect opportunity to tell you when you went out for your usual Friday lunch into town, but he chose not to. Instead telling you about his classes.

You kiss him goodbye as you head towards the art building.

Would Fushiguro be so stupid as to think he’s still entitled to share your cubicle space with you?

Yes.

He doesn’t look at you though, maybe he’ll leave you alone today. Although that seems painfully optimistic.

He almost ignores you as you come in and find your seat. But he can’t completely, how could he when you looked like that? You’re always so glamorous and well put together, usually. But today, you’re in sweats with no makeup.

You’d be embarrassed to tell anyone the reason; but the truth is you were so fucked out from Yuuji going to town on you every single night with no reprieve.

“Not looking so high and mighty today, princess.” Megumi mutters. “In fact, you look depressed.” he adds.

“God. My fucking God. Seriously. Christ. Shut the fuck up.” you moan. Maybe the sentence was a little extreme. But with Yuuji keeping secrets and Megumi getting his digs in, you couldn't take it. “Did you... never mind—” you decided to keep schtum.

You wonder for a brief second if the reason Yuuji was so desperate to be intimate with you was because he knew about the kiss. But if he did, you’re sure Megumi would be in a hospital bed rather than in your personal space.

“No, I didn’t. Stop fucking talking about it. It didn’t mean anything so shut your fucking mouth.” Megumi hisses through gritted teeth. “Neither of us want anyone finding out, seems like one thing we agree on, so stop bringing it up.” Megumi finishes.

You nod in agreement. If anyone finds out, you'll be mortified. Although you didn’t do anything wrong – it would seem so much worse than it is since you didn’t immediately confess the truth to Yuuji. Although, he seems to have a dirty secret of his own.

“Interesting that you decided to keep it to yourself, though. Why?” Megumi contradicts himself as he presses for more information. You lean over to him, hissing back at him just as he had to you.

“Don’t you think you’ve blown into my life like a hurricane and fucked up enough?”

You sit back upright as your lecturer approaches your cubicle. He commends how well the two of you are getting along, going as far as to compliment you for taking Megumi under your wing.

You cringe with embarrassment as he mentions the fact you’d discussed him helping you build your sketchbook back up to full health. Megumi smirks at that. Your lecturer leaves you be, and your eyes weld shut as you feel Megumi turn to you with a wicked grin.

“What do you say, princess? Gonna let me help you out?”

“I’d rather die, actually.”

“That can be arranged.”

You scoff, deciding it would be best to focus on your work once again. You need all of the help you can get in restoring it to its former glory.

Your blood freezes over as you feel Megumi’s seat scrape across the floor. He has no reason to get up other than to go to the bathroom or to taunt you.

He brings all of his own equipment and he doesn’t use paint so he had no use for going to the sinks to get water to clean paintbrushes. You jolt as you feel one of his hands rest on your shoulder and the other on your thigh. He lets his head settle carefully on your other shoulder.

He's examining your sketchbook.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask him.

“You’ve done more work than I expected in such a short time, especially after your… unfortunate drinking incident.” he hums, the vibrations go through your ear and make you shudder. He smirks at that. “I think you can do better than this.”

“Okay.” you huff. “Now, tell me what you really want.” you utter, it's like he's undeserving of the effort of your breath. Complete derision drips from your tongue.

He turns his head so his mouth is level with your ear; he wants each and every word he speaks to cut deep.

“I was just wondering if Yuuji has told you about the sports hall presentation I stumbled across yet.” he whispers. The soft lilt in his tone tumbles straight into your ear canal. You want to turn and face him, but when your head moves a little you consider that his lips might find yours again.

“Why don’t you tell me Megumi?”

He tuts, and tuts, and tuts some more. “Oh… I couldn’t do that.” he expresses. “You heard my old man tell me not to interfere, right? I’m sure Mister Perfect will tell you when he’s good and ready.”

He's being sarcastic and patronising. But still, he's right. You’re sure he’ll tell you…

All in good time…

You gather your things and leave class. It actually doesn’t irritate you that Megumi is walking by your side.

He’s quite tolerable when he’s quiet.

You're a little confused when you arrive at the car park. Yuuji’s car is nowhere to be seen. Toji’s is, though. He steps out to say hello to you again.

“Somethin’ wrong sweetheart?” he wonders.

“Yuuji’s car isn’t here, I don’t—”

“Get in, I’ll take you home.” he says as he opens a door for you to hop in. You nod in agreement. But you think you better text Yuuji in case he comes back to find you.

Having Toji around is really coming in handy for you.

And maybe, just maybe, it’ll help Megumi work through his issues too.

The car ride is awkward as Megumi refuses to speak. Toji makes him sit in the back, like a little kid.

His dad doesn’t care that he's pouting, though. He's being sweet and talkative, asking you about your day and your classes. He picks up on your appearance too, but he isn’t rude about it. He simply asks if everything is okay, and you nod.

You think so, at least.

He waves goodbye through the window as you get out of the car. You're staring at your front door as Megumi gets out and sits in the front. They drive away, and you're still staring.

Why were you so nervous?

Your stomach sinks as you enter the bedroom you share with your boyfriend. He halts all movements and he looks like a deer in headlights.

He's… packing.

Why the fuck is he packing?

“You’re leaving me—?” you ask him.

“No! Baby, I didn’t want you to find out like this that’s why I came home early.” he tells you as he comes closer to you, but you back away, and it made his heart ache. You’ve never avoided his touches before, you’ve never evaded his desire to love you. “Please let me just—”

“You are. Oh my God! You’re fucking leaving me!” you cry. He's rambling about how badly you need to listen to him, to hear him out. But you can’t. “It's really something that I should have trusted Fushiguro over you.” you spit. You immediately regret saying it, but it's too late to take it back now.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Don’t dare try and take the moral fucking high ground when you’re packing your bags to run out on me.” you clap back. He runs his fingers through his hair and sits with his head in his hands on the side of the bed. “You know what?” you ask as you drop to your knees. “I’ll help you pack.” you lie, zipping up his suitcase and picking it up to throw down the stairs.

“Stop it! Put it down!” Yuuji shouts. He wraps his arms around your body so you could do nothing but wriggle and writhe against him.

“Let me go! I hate you! I fucking hate you, Yuuji!” you bawl as you do all you can to get free. Tears stream down your face as you lie to him. You just want to hurt him like he's hurting you.

But it's not just hurting him.

It's killing him to hear you say something so vile.

He knows you don’t mean it, but it's still the worst pain he’s ever felt.

He manages to pull you down onto the bed and subdue you. His eyes water as you burst into loud, unforgiving tears and cover your face. He’s gone about things in the worst possible way. He should have known it would turn out like this, but he really thought he was doing the right thing.

“Baby.” he whispers.

You uncover your face and he was hovers above you. You stop crying for a moment, and he hates how bright and shiny your face was with glittering tears.

It’s his fault.

And yet, for some reason your heart is racing. His face lowers and your hands clasp around the back of his head. Your swollen puffy lips found his in a deep, bruising kiss. You feel all of the air in your lungs escape. You couldn’t get enough of him. How could you say you hate him when you there is so much tension between you to kiss him like this?

But you remember his suitcase and push him away. You swipe the back of your hand over your lips and gather your breath.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, why did you kiss me? Stay the fuck away from me Yuuji.” you pant, your tears breaking free again.

“BABE! Please! You’re so fucking stubborn will you let me talk?” he yellS. “I’m not fucking leaving you, I promise. Not like you think, I need you to let me explain.” he states. You're receptive, but still terrified.

“Not like I think?”

He opens his arms, inviting you inside. You're hesitant, but allow it. He lets out a little chuckle and shakes his head when you ask him if he’s met another girl.

You are and will always be the only girl for him.

He pulls you both down, so you're lying on your sides with your heads on the soft pillows. Your eyes focus on his as you allow him to speak.

“The presentation Fushiguro was talking about, it was about a trip. And it’s mandatory.” he tells you.

This is the best possible outcome.

He isn’t leaving you and he hasn’t met someone else.

Did he really think you were going to go crazy over a weekend trip?

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want us both to be upset about me leaving. I just wanted to love you as much as I could and have as much sex as possible before I had to go.” he sniffles.

That’s not the type of thing you say when you’re only leaving for a weekend. Your lip wobbles and your eyes filled again.

This is killing him.

He doesn’t want to fucking go. He doesn’t.

“How long will you be gone?” you weep. His eyes close as he tries to hold back his own tears. He isn’t ignoring you, but he knows as soon as he answers it's real. “How long Yuuji.” you whimper.

He breathes. Tears leave his eyes silently, but he quickly wipes them away. “Three months.” he answers, his voice cracked and broken. You break down into tears again and he hugs you closer to him. How are you going to live without him for three whole months? “I’m so- I’m so s-sorry.” he mutters, trying to control his breaking voice.

“Where will you— How far are you g-going?”

“It’s um, a tour of Europe.”

You feel your heart tear and tear with each sentence he speaks.

You’ll be alone in the house with no one to come home to and cuddle each day and night. No one to talk about your day with or tell you about their own. You’ve had relationships end and felt less pain than this.

He's quite literally your other half. The only person who could possibly complete the puzzle of your heart and you're losing that for three months.

“Please just uh- I need you to,” he stumbles over his words. Unable to process what he was actually about to ask, to speak. “Please tell me you don’t really hate me. You don’t, do you? I love you, I love you. Please, I need you to tell me you don’t really hate me…” he speaks with minimal voice breakage.

Tears roll out of his eyes but he manages to keep strong. You, however, are a mess. How could you say something so abhorrent to the man you love, the person you loved more than anything in the world? You wrap your body around him. Crying into him heavily and kiss him all over.

“I love you Yuuji, I’m so so sorry.” you blubber. “I could never hate you. I’m sorry, Yuuji I’m so fucking sorry. I love you; I do. I really fucking love you.”

You're sick. You don’t want to eat, to go to the bathroom, to sleep. You don’t want to waste a single second of time with him.

“I have to leave on Sunday.” he speaks into your hair, almost silencing his voice. After tonight you have one day together. One day before he leaves you for three months.

“I feel like I’m dying.” you confess. He kisses your neck before speaking again.

“I know. Me too.”

© 2021 fuwushiguro | © 2024 rinhaler

[qkopi]

I hope this doesn't sound weird but can you do hcs about twin!miles both liking the same girl then they find out she has a twin sister 😭

omg anon… u literally had me gagged w this idea like..😧😨😏🤭😜SHOW UR SELF‼️😭

and honestly i didn’t know whether you wanted to be with miles or milo, so i js took it in my hands and decided milo would be my man🥰 but it can go both ways so🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

════════════════════════

pairings: milo x reader, twin! sister x miles / miles x reader, twin! sister x milo

cw: none

a/n: this can honestly go both ways, either you date miles or milo idc🤷🏻‍♀️

════════════════════════

by the way t/n means twin’s name

milo wouldnt take an interest in you at first since he didn’t really like socializing in class

he would just do his assignments and listen to his music

but as the weeks went by,

he would catch himself staring at you

taking a glance at your beauty marks (basically a mole on your nose, on your cheek, or above your lip)

or looking at the bracelet you wore everyday

mans would be sketching your side profile, not even noticing it until the end of class

at home, him and miles would be talking about their day at school and suddenly they got into the topic of girls

“dude there’s girl in my class and she’s new to visions, she’s amazing, she’s funny and really pretty and-”

miles kept on rambling and rambling about the girl as milo kept scrolling on his phone but still listening to his brother

“look, here’s a pic”

miles took out his phone and went on instagram to show milo who he was talking about

it was you.

milo quickly took miles’ phone and started scrolling through

you only had 1 post and a highlight of yourself

“woah, watch it, ‘Lo!”

miles took back his phone, getting worried that milo may accidentally like something from a long time ago

“my fault..” milo seemed embarrassed by what he just did.

“what you think she’s pretty too?” miles grinned, but inside he was worried, he didn’t want to like the same girl as his twin.

“no, she just.. has unique features, that’s all.” milo muttered, feeling a pit of jealousy in his stomach.

miles clearly knew he was lying but he just shrugged it off so there wouldn’t be an argument between the two of them

the past few days, milo had been trying talking to you in class but fails miserably since he didn’t know how to approach you

this was also part of the reason why milo got jealous, miles was always so nice and outgoing with everybody that he had no problem to have a simple convo with anyone

today again, milo tried talking to you but you rushed off to your class, not giving him enough time to say anything

“tomorrow, i’ll talk to her.. eventually..” milo mumbled under his breath as he sighed.

as milo was going to his next class, he then saw you, again, walking with a few friends.

“hey, miles. when did you get braids?” you asked, but it wasn’t you, it was your twin sister, t/n, but milo didn’t know that.

“uh, i’m not miles.. i’m his twin, milo.” milo responded, feeling a bit nervous.

“oh, sorry about that.. i’ll make sure to take note of that!” t/n said as she went back to her friends.

meanwhile, milo was screaming of joy internally as he went to his class. he actually got to talk to you without hesitating or stuttering over his words.

though the next day, didn’t go so well..

when milo tried talking to you, you greeted him with an awkward look since this was the first time someone talked to you in the certain class.

“hey..” milo sat next to you, taking you by a surprise.

“uhh… hi?” you said questionably, never interacting with this guy before.

meanwhile this made milo feel weird. did you forget him already? did you think he was miles again? or maybe you had already took an interest miles and thought talking to milo would’ve been weird?

yea this boy was panicking.

there, milo sat through a painfully embarrassing situation as he tried his best not to even spare you a glance anymore.

at the end of class, he saw you packing up and begin to leave until he took your wrist.

“look, t/n, i’m sorry if i weirded you out-”

“t/n? oh, i think you confused me with my twin. did you two talk yesterday?” you asked.

“yeah, actually she thought i was my twin brother, miles, but we have different hair so..” milo trailed off as he realized he was rambling.

“i’m milo.” he finally said with a sigh, wanting to get it out of his system.

“y/n.” you gave him a smile.

as you two were talking in the halls, the two of you also met your siblings.

“y/n!!” your twin ran up to you and gave you a hug.

“miles, this is my twin sister, y/n and yes, i know we look exactly alike but don’t worry, you can tell us apart just by our bracelets!” t/n showed her wrist, she had a gold bracelet meanwhile you had a silver one.

“this is..” miles didn’t have any words to describe it as he and milo looked at the two of you.

you and your sister looked exactly alike, same hair length, same facial features, same height and it didn’t help when you guys had to wear uniforms at visions.

“so this is why you were so shocked when i showed you a picture of t/n..” miles realized, giving milo a knowing smirk.

“what’s he talking about?” you asked, before miles could answer milo had already put his hand around miles’ mouth.

“well, it was cool meeting you two, uh, me and miles are gonna be late for class, uh, bye!” milo grabbed his brother as they rushed off.

“i think he’s into you.” your twin teased once the boys were fully gone.

“shut up..” you chuckled, rolling your eyes playfully as the two of you headed to your next class.

“uh-huh, just know miles is mine.” she put up a proud smile.

“didn’t want him anyways.” you responded.

then, miles and t/n got together first, as you and milo just took your time and let everything go slow

on dates, milo would always take you out shopping and getting some food after

miles and t/n would go out doing fun things together like going to the amusement park or play at the arcade

sometimes, all of you would go on a double date and do the same things together

at the amusement park, miles and milo would pictures of the both of you with the huge stuffed animal they won for you

both miles and milo would look at the picture and suddenly argue

“shes so cute..” “nah, mines way prettier”

“i-“ “well.. he didn’t lie.”

and when you two met their parents, clearly, t/n warmed up to them real quick, being respectful and outgoing at the same time but that didn’t stop them from wanting to get to know you too.

“yes, and what about you, y/n? is my milo giving you a hard time?” “mamá..” “no mrs morales, he’s really a great person to be with.”

oml there was also this one time where miles and milo invited you and t/n over to just chill at their place

but when you got there, milo was shocked.

“mami..” “what? is it bad?”

you had cut your hair, it was short, compared to t/n’s, who still had her long hair

“no.. you look.. so beautiful..”

you were turning hella red, not expecting milo to be that straightforward

meanwhile t/n was gushing to miles and pretending to fake cry.

“they’re so cute..” “mi vida, that’s literally us…” “why can’t i be treated like that?” “WHAT?”

clearly, t/n was just joking as she loved miles with all her heart

miles literally followed her everywhere, drops her off to class not caring if he’s late, sketched her multiple times in his notebook whenever he was bored, and more😻

™︎ qkopi | tumblr

[elenthyaolyenths]

DAY 13 - «On Thin Ice» Good Omens AU - Triptych Tribute for @blairamok

Part 1/3: "Falling Angel" Aziraphale

Please, listen to this

Change everything you are

And everything you were

Your number has been called

Fights and battles have begun

Revenge will surely come

Your hard times are ahead

Don't let yourself down

Don't let yourself go

Your last chance has arrived

Best, you've got to be the best

You've got to change the world

And use this chance to be heard

Your time is now

Falling Angel, your time is now!

(yes I know this Muse song has another sense in the On Thin Ice universe - for Crowley. Well, our Fallen Serpent will show us what IS a true Survival, tomorrow. ;-)

[Previous] [Next Day] [First Day]

Don't forget to 💕/ reblog ;-)

Personal challenge: a simple sketch each day

Goal: forcing me to keep things simple - inking, shading, just a few sashes of colour

Improvement pursued: to get the movement, the emotion, finding how to add depth, learning how to leave things barely finished

Max time allowed: 2 hours, as usual for my Daily Challenges. Well, this is a very special Tribute for me, and I was on a three-days break. So I didn’t really set a timer for the « On Thin Ice » sketches. Plus, I drew them quite in the same time and on the same file to be sure Crowley and Aziraphale would match. I guess I spent more or less 3 hours on the lineart for each one of them (the clothes and the figures needed a lot of time), plus 1h30-2h on the colouring/shading for each one.

Be aware that in my first sketches for this project, Crowley and Aziraphale were supposed to train on the same ice rink, and I dearly wanted Crowley to be watching Aziraphale, and Aziraphale was supposed to glance back to him. I had to give up on this idea later – because the figure I chose for Aziraphale definitely couldn’t allow such a shared glance. (but, hello, it will be a triptyque ! So, guess what? About the third part… :-p)

About Aziraphale, as my « Falling Angel ».

« On Thin Ice » author, @blairamok, describes the Hydroplane ice skating figure as very representative of Aziraphale, and the drawing reference pictures were numerous enough to get some solid inspiration. It’s a complex skating figure. I have watched some ice skating tutorials on YouTube – because I wanted the movement of the clothes and hair to be accurate and, if I understand everything properly, even a slight alteration in the position of the arms can make you fall. Such perfection ! That IS the right move for Aziraphale !

I told sooner on my Gymnast !AU challenge that I appreciated drawing Aziraphale with realistic curves more and more each day – even if it still triggers me sometimes about my own shaming roundnesses. I realised my way of doing art – and my mind too, maybe - was evolving when I got back to check references in the amazing Blair artworks (link AO3). A few months ago, I felt insecure watching Blair’s Aziraphale, which seemed to me too much plump and very soft – not a « good sportive look », I thought then. But now I like him more and more, so maybe my way of thinking is changing, and I think this is for the very best.

My Aziraphale is performing a difficult figure, so he is using all his muscles into maintaining his balance. He seems so statuesque, so powerful, yet very focused and oblivious to the world around him, with his eyes shut. That is why he couldn’t share a glance with my Crowley. T.T

.

Maybe this is my way to guess Aziraphale’s behavior in the so-awaited « On Thin Ice »  next chapters. Focused on his own training, trying to ignore Crowley’s sassyness but still secretly impressed by his partner’s skills. Because they share the same love for Ice Skating, even if they don’t show it in the same way.

Blair, if you ever read this, thank you. For your artworks, for making us dream about a wonderful story that still remains to be told.

Thank you for « On Thin Ice », for your so-kind message last week, and for everything else.

I have faith. I’ll wait for your story. But even if it doesn’t exist yet, I am already dreaming about it, and this is priceless.

[Previous] [Next Day] [First Day]

Don't forget to 💕/ reblog ;-)

[morganski-19]

The One with the Cafeteria

Fourteen Years Ago

Eddie sits at an empty cafeteria table. Pulling out his crumpled lunch bag, only a few snacks and half a squished sandwich inside. He takes out the pretzels, popping a few in his mouth while he draws something in his sketch book. Trying to decide what the best way to draw the creature he’s thinking of.

A group of football players pass his table. Bursting out in laugher after a jumbled whisper. Eddie tenses his shoulders, having a feeling it’s about him. With his hair that’s a mess that falls right below his ears, the way he dresses outside of the town’s boxes. He’s not exactly fit to be the popular kid.

Still, he could go without the passing remarks. He already was held back one year, he didn’t need more scrutiny.

A tray is placed gently across from him. He doesn’t think anything of it. Better to ignore the torment before it happens. But when he takes the chance to see who’s in front of him, it’s anything but the people who like to make fun of him.

This time it’s the girl that sits in front of him in math class. Nancy Wheeler.

“Hi,” she says with a soft smile. “You’re Eddie, right?”

Eddie cautiously nods. “Yeah.”

A person like Nancy Wheeler still never sits with Eddie Munson. He wonders why she’s really here.

“All my friends are in a different lunch period, and you had an empty table, so I thought I could join you.” She looks nervous, fidgeting with the sides of her lunch tray. “Would that be ok?”

Eddie shrugs. “As long as you’re good at avoiding random paper balls, then yes.”

Nancy furrows her brows. “Paper balls?”

Almost like she summoned them, a wadded-up piece of paper hits the back of Eddie’s head. He goes back to eating like nothing happened.

“They actually throw shit at you? What do they think this is? A fucking movie? Think of something original for once.”

Eddie snorts. “I don’t think their brains are big enough for original.”

Nancy laughs. “You’re funny.”

“And you’re committing social suicide just by talking to me. So, you’re either extremely brave or extremely stupid.”

She tilts her head to the side. “I could be a little bit of both.”

“Nancy Wheeler, full of surprises.”

“Why do they throw stuff at you anyway?” She asks after a short silence. “It seems so random, I’ve never seen them do that before.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Not everyone here is that accepting of the gay kid whose dad’s locked up and got held back a year. People start rumors, now the town hates me.”

Nancy makes a face, Eddie bracing himself to get hit with another piece of paper. Or an insult.

“Well, I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t know enough about me to make that decision.”

“And you don’t know enough about me to assume that about me. I don’t hate you because you’re gay, or your dad’s in jail, or that you’re repeating your sophomore year. I don’t know enough about you to hate or like you, but I’d like to.”

Eddie puts down his pencil, crossing his arms. “Like to what? Hate me or like me? Gotta pick one, Wheeler.”

He’s frustrating her, finding joy in it. A different joy than the insults he slings back at the homophobes that ends up with blood running out his nose. A joy that will end up making both of them laugh like nothing else matters. The joy of a friend.

Eddie could really use one of those.

Nancy rolls her eyes. “I guess we’ll have to see about that, won’t we.”

“I guess we will.” Eddie shuts his sketchbook, sliding it back into his bag. “So, what really happened to the people you eat lunch with?”

“Ditched me for their boyfriends, or changed over the summer. I always heard starting high school would change things, just didn’t know it would happen so fast.”

“Oh fuck that, you don’t deserve people who treat you like that.”

“No, no I don’t.”

They spend the rest of lunch talking, laughing. Each day finding each other at the empty lunch table. Talking through the halls if their heading the right way. Pairing up for the math project. Even though Nancy is ten times smarter than Eddie is about this, but she still picks him anyway.

Slowly, they start picking each other more. Spending time outside of school as well. Getting sick of the cafeteria and finding a quiet spot in the library. Becoming the friends both of them deserved.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low,

@thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady,

@apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic,

@fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging,

@potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @gregre369

@my2amgaythoughts, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @emmabubbles

[pascalcampion]

Under the Boardwalk.

I was at Lightbox a few weeks ago and I bumped into a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. ( hey Francis! We need to do lunch) He was laughing because he said that he had just seen a trailer for this thing I did some work on years ago. It took me a minute to realize he was talking about Under the Boardwalk. Movies do take a while to get done.

Anytime I see a movie in a theater that doesn’t come from Pixar, Disney, Illumination or Dreamworks, I clap my hands in my mind. It is SO hard to get to the finish line. Each movie that you see is the result of a series of small miracles.

I did a couple months of work on it. I was think it was in preproduction at the time. It was called Jersey Crabs at the time and there were only three people on it. At least, I only met three.

There was Chris Zibach, Ericka Stewart and David Soren.

I had just come off of two rather long and hard productions and I was a bit burned out about Art direction, production design or just… design in general.

When I first got an email about this, I wasn’t sure. But I went over to Paramount to meet with all three of them.

And you know what? They were fantastic.

Ericka was the producer and she had this no nonsense approach. Tell me your price, I’ll tell you if we can do it, if not we’ll figure something out. Boom. Done. She cut to the chase and any time I had a question she would reply within the hour. Her feedback was always short and precise, and she was always encouraging. After I was gone, she emailed me a couple of times to follow up on this or that. She didn’t leave any loose ends AND, something that is absolutely remarkable in this industry, she would reply to emails. She didn’t simply reply when she needed something, but when I would ask her if I could send recommendations, or if there were any other projects going on, she would send me an email back. I think the longest it took her to reply was TWO days, which is incredible.

Chris Zibach. It wasn’t immediately clear what Chris’s role on this was. I knew he was an artist. I had met him a few years prior while visiting a friend at Dreamworks TV I think. He was quieter than Ericka. Not sure if he was shy or I was simply too aloof for him to talk to me. For whatever reason, when I saw him, I thought of Tim Burton. Maybe the genius in him? Not sure. Later, I learned he was the production designer. I was surprised because that is something I typically learn on the first meeting. I was also unsure of his role because I hadn’t seen any of his work before and he didn’t act like any of the production designers I had met before. He wasn’t bombastic or sure of himself. He wasn’t trying to win me over with his talent or past battlefield experiences. He was humble. Yes, I think that’s probably the right word. Humble. But at the time, I couldn’t figure out if it was humility or something else.

It became clear after the first few designs of his I’d seen and especially after I had done a sketch for a moment that I couldn’t quite picture. I wasn’t understanding what they were looking for and Chris did this thirty second sketch that was SO clear, SO readable and SO easy to work with, and I was. OH! Ok.. he’s the real deal.

I love Artists like him. I wish I had worked with him more actually.

And, David Soren, the director

That was such an interesting meeting.

You know how sometimes you are hesitating on a project and you meet the team and all of a sudden it all flips? That’s how it was for this. I didn’t know what this story was based on, I didn’t find crabs particularly interesting, and the story, as it was pitched, wasn’t what I gravitate toward.

But David, wow. He had this energy in the meeting, this confidence. He was good at talking but he could listen AND hear you. He could also answer questions. Any type of question regarding the art, the story, the schedule, the planning. I didn’t know much about him but I came away very impressed.

I gave it a shot and now, I feel I was lucky to have been asked because, even if I was only on this for a very short while, it was one of those candy like work experiences. All good, nothing bad. Short and sweet and really fun.

There was a moment when I was drawing this big long scene that was supposed to be in the middle of a battle and I stopped, look at it and laughed on the inside because I had just realized I was being paid to do this and THIS was SO much fun.

I don’t know what my job was, what I was supposed to bring to the project. I didn’t understand why they had me do these designs when Chris’s work was so different and so unique already, but all three did a good job at quieting those thoughts.

I was working from home and they were on the lot. If I remember correctly, they would send me emails to broadly tell me “ There is a flood there, there is a battle there, there is club, a hotel, etc etc” and I would just do some images on what I thought it could be.

They already had some character designs, and Chris had done a few images, so I wasn’t totally going from nothing.

Each time I would send a set of images, I would get an email back the same day or the next day from either Ericka or David telling me something nice. Never from Chris though. I always wondered why but now I am realizing it was because he was too busy getting the whole thing off the ground.

I would get notes sometimes but not very often. Chris would do little drawers or notes on my images and, again, they were always minimal except for that one set piece and always clear.

I don’t know what the movie is like. I was still working on this when I started with the Peanuts Special which would occupy my life for the next three and a half years.

But I do know that I remember this as a very fun, loving and carefree work experience, which have not come around very often in my career.

Thank you Ericka, Chris and David.

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[lxvsiick]

O U R

PART 04 | emergency (written)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Y/n was sat hunched over her art project, a pencil in her hand, scattered sketches strewn around her when Jungwon had texted her. Now, she was on the way to the enHYPEn Tau Sigma frat house. Although she would rather be sitting at her desk, y/n thought that being away from her overcrowded desk would lessen her stress for a bit.

Y/N pushed open the door to the party, greeted by a wave of music and laughter that felt jarringly out of place compared to her quiet workspace. She scanned the room full of people, but Jungwon was nowhere in sight.

Instead, her eyes landed on a familiar figure through the crowd of people—one of Jungwon’s senior friends, standing by the drinks table with his back to her. She immediately recognized the tousled black hair and tall frame. Letting out a sigh, y/n pushed through the swarm of people and made her way over to him. 

“Sunghoon, where’s Jungwon?” she asked, amplifying her voice so it could be heard through the loud music. 

He turned around and y/n froze.

This guy wasn’t Sunghoon–although, he kinda looked slightly similar. This was the guy she had unintentionally assaulted with a book in the library a few days ago. 

“Oh—uh—sorry! I thought you were someone else. I didn’t mean to—uh, sorry again. For, you know, dropping that book on you.” She felt her face flush as she rambled, words spilling out uncontrollably. The guy blinks at her.

“I-it’s alright, really.” He said to her, his mouth slightly opened. There was an awkward beat of silence as they stood there. He kept staring at her, clearly trying to say something, but nothing came out. Y/n shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, biting her lip. She didn’t know if it was the lights from the party or something else, but for some reason, he was looking at her like she was the most interesting thing in the room.

She cleared her throat, breaking the tension. “Right, well… I should probably, um, go find my friend.” She gestured vaguely toward the crowd.

“Y-yeah, sure,” he replied, still staring at her like he was lost in thought.

With a quick, polite nod, y/n awkwardly excused herself, practically spinning on her heel as she wove through the crowd, her mind buzzing. That was unexpected. 

After wandering for a bit, y/n found Jungwon in the kitchen with Sungho, who had a goofy grin on his face.

“Jungwon!” Y/n yelled, catching the two’s attention.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Jungwon asks, pocketing his phone and raising his eyebrow. Y/n brows knitted together, and her eyes squinted as if trying to make sense of what she’d just heard.

“What do you mean? You texted me saying that there was an emergency and that I had to come.” Y/n tells him, pulling out her phone to pull up the message. Jungwon blinks, his eyes widening slightly, confusion flickering across his face. He pulls out his phone to check his message and then turns to Sungho with a glare.

“Sungho hyung stole my phone and ran away earlier.” Jungwon explains, eyes narrowing at Sungho who had an innocent expression on his face.

“So there’s no emergency?” Y/n asks, making sure. Jungwon turns to her and shakes his head.

“No emergency.” He confirms. Y/n lets out a sigh.

“Alright. I’m going home.” Y/n tells them. Jungwon frowns at the girl and waves goodbye. On the other hand, Sungho had an amused expression on his face as he waved goodbye to the girl. As y/n’s figure starts to disappear, Jungwon turns to Sungho.

“You know something.” Jungwon tells him, eyes narrowed. “I’ll find out.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

PART 03 | PART 05

MASTERLIST

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© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[reki-of-the-valley]

Summer Time (Family) Madness

lmao it's been like 6 months since the last time the last revision. And like 2 and a half years since the end of this fic. But alas. At least I'm still working on the revisions. So here's an updated chapter 6!

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AO3 | Original Chapter 1  | Original Chapter 2 | Original Chapter 3 | Original Chapter 4 | Original Chapter 5 | Original Chapter 6

It wasn’t uncommon to find Langa hidden under the counter at DopeSketch. Normally, it was to avoid having to interact with any of the customers; Reki was just naturally so much better at the whole customer service part of their shared retail job. Now, however, Langa found himself more often than not with a book on his lap as he sat cross-legged on the floor. Now, he spent his shifts groaning about the homework that was assigned on summer break of all times. 

Thankfully though, DopeSketch really wasn’t the busiest shop in town. Langa could get away with his time wasted watching videos instead of reading his novel, or all his lost minutes staring at the same math equation. Barely anyone entered the little shop, and those who did never stuck around for more than a few minutes, browsing the few shelves of skateboarding equipment. So, during the shifts where Langa remained cooped up in the small shop, watching the sun beat down on the smiling people in the streets, he got to do homework. If he had to explain to someone what he was being paid to do, the most honest answer he could muster was that his paycheck covered the cost of someone playing the role of a babysitter for a store that most definitely would not up and run away. Or maybe he was being paid to keep his grades up since he had nothing better to do than work on his assignments.

It was a miracle Oka still gave him shared shifts with Reki. It didn’t take a genius to know that employing two best friends was not the ideal recipe for productivity, but maybe the man knew how lonely it could get in the shop. Maybe that was why he let the boys keep each other company during their long shifts. And that was what they did; even if they silently did their own separate thing, at least they had each other. As long as they were together, everything would be okay. As long as they had one another, the day wouldn’t feel eternal. And sometimes, a calm and silent afternoon was exactly what they needed. 

Langa groaned as he leaned back against the counter, tipping his head back in annoyance. He had tried, he had really tried to get a head start on his summer schoolwork. He had really tried to power through his assigned readings as fast of possible. He had tried to get it over with as soon as possible, but that determination was too good to be true. When it came to actually doing it, it proved itself much harder than anticipated. And Langa hadn’t been proud to admit that his reading skills could almost rival his handwriting. 

“I don’t get it.” His eyes fell shut as another sign fell from his lips. “Why do we need literature? What’s the use of old books no one cares about? Even in English, I sucked at it. I just…” The world reappeared before him, brighter than he remembered it to be just a few seconds ago. “I don’t get it! And I just don’t care!” 

A pen was clicked a few times as Reki hummed to himself. He must have been sketching in the margins of his notebook instead of doing the math problems he had said he would be doing. He had to have been; the pen strokes were far too methodical and repetitive to be that of writing. 

“I don’t know, man. Something about culture and it’s important we know about our past.” A smile broke across Langa’s face as he peeked out from under the counter just as Reki surrounded the last part of his statement with air quotes. “But I can help you if you want. But in exchange,” red hair fell to the side as Reki leaned over to get a better view of Langa, “you gotta explain to me our next English project. ‘Cause like, that man talks way too fast for me to catch a single thing he says. I’m pretty sure I understand those American sitcoms better than him, and I never know what’s happening in those.” 

Langa chuckled as he agreed on their deal. Reki would be helped with some English homework and Langa wouldn’t fail yet another written assignment; this friendship definitely had its perks beyond the whole having a friend thing. And it wasn’t even like Reki was exaggerating about their English teacher; the man really did speak way too fast. It also did not help that he had the heaviest accent Langa had ever come across, occasionally slurring his words and making it hard for even Langa to perfectly understand what was being said. But at least he had the advantage of being completely fluent, even if his grades didn’t always reflect that, which meant he could rely on the instruction sheet rather than the verbal expectations. 

Silence reigned once more in the little shop, both boys having returned to their individual activities. Quiet, methodical pen strokes echoed against the walls; the sound of rustling pages made its place in the song being composed in the little skateboard shop. It was quiet and relaxing, peaceful even. 

Langa had come to appreciate watching Reki work his crafts, be it doodling in the margins of his notebooks or his repetitive shaving of a board. Whether he knew it or not, he made the funniest faces as he concentrated on his work. Sometimes he would furrow his brow, leaning closer to the paper before straightening out to continue adding endless details to his drawing. Other times, he would stick his tongue out as if that was what helped keep focus on his work. And once he completed something he was particularly proud of, his eyes would glow with pride as he held his piece up to the light. That was the face Langa liked the most; it was the face of someone who was proud of themselves, and Reki deserved most of all to be proud of himself. He deserved to be proud of himself, to see himself the way Langa saw him. None of that frustration that would often overcome him as he would huff and rip the page out of his sketchbook or notebook. No more crumpling and tossing of masterpieces he simply could not see. If it were up to Langa, none of that would ever happen again, but for now, he would content himself in collecting Reki’s trashed art. Even if they weren’t up to Reki’s standards, they would always be works of art to Langa. 

Langa loved watching Reki draw. It was quiet and tranquil, a moment where Reki wasn’t bouncing around, talking with his hands, words stumbling over themselves as he went on and on. And as much as Langa loved Reki’s endless energy, he also deeply appreciated the calm moments they would share. But as with everything else, good moments must come to an end, the door chiming as a customer walked in. 

“Welcome to Dope— Oh, hey Emily!”

Langa perked up at the name. Emily? Why was she here of all places? Langa had purposely avoided telling her where he worked in hopes of getting away from her. Dope Sketch had been the only place Langa could go to escape the teasing remarks and those eyes that stared straight into his soul. It was the one place where he felt safe from her badgering questions about his oh-so-obvious crush on Reki. Work had somehow become his little slice of quiet heaven, and now that bubble had burst. Now, she had found him and his hiding spot. 

Reluctantly, Langa pushed himself off the ground only to smash his head against the counter and crash back down. He held the top of his head as she let out a whiney cry of pain. 

“Dude! Langa!” Amber eyes fell onto him, eyes filled with worry and shock. “What’s up with you and hitting your head lately?”

If Langa had known the answer, he would have told Reki. Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe it was all those distractions, distractions disguised as the people hovering around him. Maybe it was Reki and just how absolutely distracting he was, be it while he would sketch, his face will with concentration, or when he would kneel next to Langa, his beautiful eyes still wide and filled with worry.

Between Reki and Langa, there was no doubt that Reki was the more accident-prone one. He was the one constantly sporting bandages for his sprained ankles and wrists. He was the one scraping his knees after wiping out from trying another new trick he had found on the Internet. He was always the one laughing as he fell on his ass, his board flying from under his feet. Reki was so much more the accident-prone one, at least when it came to skating. When it came to their daily lives, Langa was starting to believe he was the clumsy one, if the last two weeks were any indication. He was the one tripping over his untied shoelaces, eating pavement as Reki choked on his laughter. He was the one splitting his eyebrow open on a window frame in the dead of the night. He was the one smashing his head against the counter instead of greeting his cousin.

“Is he… Is he alright?”

Emily’s head poked from above the counter, her hair a curtain for the nook under the counter. She must have climbed onto the counter to see what mishap was happening away from her prying eyes. And given the frown that pulled at the corners of her mouth, she mustn’t have been proud of clumsy Langa.

A flood of memories washed through Langa at the sight. It wasn’t the first time she had looked down at him like this. Somewhere, somewhere long lost to the fog of memory, this exact situation had happened. But somewhere in those memories, there had also been smiles. A flash of a faceless childish grin. A flash of a girl hanging above his head. A flash of blond hair blocking the sun. Some distant chatter. A storybook. A treehouse. Grass. Laughter. Summer.

Reki pulled Langa from the floor, pulling him out of his impromptus trip down memory lane. He looped his arm around Langa’s waist, holding him tightly as if he were afraid that Langa would drop back down to the ground as soon as he would let go of him. Or maybe Reki feared that Langa had concussed himself; thankfully, that had yet to happen. A miracle, really. 

Langa let himself be guided towards the stool Reki had been using earlier. He let his body crash against the wood as soon as he felt it brush against his thighs. If Reki was asking him to sit, then Langa could not refuse. He could never refuse Reki, no matter what it was he was asking. He had learned that the hard way, and there was no way he was going through those torturous days without Reki ever again. No way, especially not when Reki was this close, squeezing his way between Langa’s knees, his rough yet soft fingers holding onto Langa’s burning cheeks. Especially not when he was letting Langa hold on to his waist as he steadied himself onto the stool. Because obviously he needed something to steady himself; otherwise, he would have risked falling again. And he couldn’t fall again. Or was it too late for that? 

Reki was so close. So fucking close. Langa could practically count the freckles scattered across his nose, his cheeks, his forehead, his ears… He could almost count every short lash of Reki’s. And he was talking so softly to Langa. His voice was just so mesmerizing, so magical. 

“How’s your vision? Do things look blurry?”

“Not more than usual.” A frown pulled at the corners of Reki’s mouth; so much for cracking a joke to lighten the mood. “My vision is fine if that’s what you’re asking. I see just fine. It was an accident; didn’t think I was that far under the counter.” 

 “And your head? Does it hurt? Do you feel dizzy? Do you feel like—!”

Now, had this been some teen summer romance blockbuster, then maybe Langa would have quieted Reki with a spontaneous kiss. And maybe that would have been the beginning of the best summer of Langa’s life. But Langa was no movie protagonist and, while he was gutsy, he wasn’t that impulsive. So instead, he simply tightened his grip on Reki’s waist, interrupting the boy’s panicked questions. 

“I’m fine, Reki. I barely bumped my head against the counter. I’ve dealt with far worse in the past and I’ve survived every one of those blows.” 

“You smashed your head against my window frame the other day! I don’t know dude, but that’s kinda worrying! You could be concussed or something! Like, it’s not normal or good for you to constantly be hitting your head! You’re,” Reki’s voice dropped, his eyes finding Langa’s, “you’re not lying to me, are you?”

Reki had never made it easier to smile. “I’m fine, I swear. And I’m not lying to you, I promise.”

Reki huffed as Langa held up his pinkie finger. A light chuckle fell from his lips as his hold on Langa fell away before returning, his own finger curled around Langa’s. A promise had been formed and sealed, a promise that could no longer be broken, at least according to the rules of pinkie promises. But that touch didn’t linger, Reki finally backing away from between Langa’s legs. 

“I’m getting you some water and you better not have moved when I get back, you hear me?” 

Langa scoffed but still gave Reki a curt nod. There was no point in arguing with Reki; if he had to tape Langa down to the chair to keep him from getting up and wandering around, then he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. So Langa knew better than to try to argue. He simply watched the boy dash to the backroom where their bags were stashed. 

It never took much for Langa to look absolutely smitten. All he needed was a door swinging shut behind Reki, leaving Langa hidden from judgement. All it took was that adorably serious expression on Reki’s face as he ran off. All it required was for Reki to be, well, Reki. Everything about Reki was enough to leave Langa floating, because Reki was adorable. Seriously, absolutely adorable. 

“He sure it touchy with you.” 

Langa jumped at the sound of the voice, having forgotten about the girl standing by him. She had since gotten off the counter, but still, she leaned over it, eyes also glued to the door. The English almost sounded strange, like a foreign dialect taking over a safe space. Emily’s presence felt wrong, as if she had no business being here, next to him. Her presence left Langa annoyed once more, the feeling tugging on his insides. Work had always been one of the places where it truly was just him and Reki. Sure, sometimes Manager Oka would pop in, but most of the time, it was just Reki and Langa. Most of the time, it was a space for just them, somewhere where no one could burst their little bubble.

Dope Sketch was one of the few places where Langa didn’t feel self-conscious every time he snuck a glance at Reki. It was the only place where he knew he wouldn’t be caught by anyone. It was the only place where he felt he could be so unapologetically himself, knee-deep in his feelings without the fear that someone would bring it up, tease him about, or worst of all, call him out on his dumb crush. Here, at work, it was a land that belongs to only Reki and Langa. 

“He’s just treating me the same way he treats his sisters when they get hurt.” Langa’s tone was sharp and dry, leaving little room for a retort from the queen of annoying. “Probably just his brotherly instincts kicking in or whatever. It comes naturally to him to be caring, y’know?” 

“Uh-huh, sure.” Emily clicked her tongue as she climbed back onto the counter to sit cross-legged on top of it. “You keep telling yourself that, Lover Boy.” 

Langa had gotten his fair share of nicknames over the course of his life. He had gotten used to being called a variety of names by the people surrounding him. Reki often teased him by calling him Prince Langa, a name which made no sense to Langa given that he was the furthest thing from a prince. His mother still called him her little man or her baby, which, the more Langa thought about it, were hilarious things to be called. And Emily had gotten into the habit of calling him whatever passed through that thick skull of hers, though she did tend to favor the twig insult. There had been so many names that had shaped Langa, but Lover Boy had never been one of them. Lover Boy was… it wasn’t Langa. It was a name for someone with confidence, someone who was a smooth talker, things that were definitely not Langa when it came to people. Those were things that left Langa’s inside squirming with discomfort. It was a name he wanted to run from, and the best way to do that was by completely changing the subject before Emily could ever bring it up again. 

“Hey, Emmy? Did we have a treehouse as kids?” 

Emily scrunched her nose as she turned towards Langa. Her brow was pinched, looking strangely at her cousin. “Yeah? Grandpa built it when I was 10, but had to take it down that same summer for some unknown reason, don’t you remember?” 

Langa shook his head with a shrug. 

“We spent nearly the entire summer in that tree. But why bring that up now? That’s so random.” 

Langa shrugged once more. He wanted to change subjects and had had a flashback right after hitting his head. It was random, but that was the thing with foggy memories: they reappeared at the strangest of moments. 

“Seeing you looking down on me reminded me of that summer, but I wasn’t sure if it was a real memory or just my brain making things up. It’s just… It’s all a little haze, like every summer memory overlaps. I can’t really tell what happened and when, except the really big events that often got us in shit. Like that one time everyone thought I broke my arm after I fell from a tree? The first time we were allowed to go to the park alone and got home like an hour after the set time? Or that time we accidentally splashed paint on Grandma’s carpet?” 

“Oh man! She was so pissed at us! The stain is still there, you know? Almost faded, but you can still see it if you know where to look. And like, I was so sure she was going to rip our heads off that day.” 

“Yeah, she was not happy about that one. But the treehouse…” Langa leaned back on the stool, careful to not tip over and crash once again. “The memory feels fake. It’s like I had made it up to give myself some resemblance of a real childhood.”

“But you did have a real childhood, Langa. Sure, it was maybe a little unconventional with all your snowboarding training and competitions, maybe a bit of a gifted kid childhood, but you did still have a childhood. Your parents still took you out to the park when you were a kid and weren’t such an antisocial mess.” Emily stuck her tongue out at Langa’s pointed glare, grinning at the low blow. “But for real though, you had a pretty normal childhood otherwise. Like your parents used to push you on the swings for hours on end when you were a baby. Apparently, you like those things so damn much that the only time you would cry was when someone took you out of your swing.”

Langa slumped down on his stool, ducking his head in embarrassment. The swings were one of those vague baby memories he still had. He had forgotten the whole of it, but he did remember the wind in his face and how much liked it. Still likes it, actually. That had maybe played a big part in why he had gotten into snowboarding in the first place. Maybe that was why he still loved skateboarding so much. All Langa wanted was to be able to fly.

“We spent summer after summer together, playing in the basement and outside and all around the grandparents’ house. And you even throw the biggest temper tantrum ever in the supermarket because your mom didn’t get you the cookies you wanted.” 

“I did not do that.”

Emily snorted at Langa’s defensiveness. “Uh, yes you did. Auntie Nanako even has the pictures to prove it and she showed them tome. Something about despite not being pleased with her yelling child, she needed physical proof of you being a total brat out in public so that if ever you have kids and want to kill them for screaming in a public place, then she’d show you that you were no better despite being the quietest, shyest kid ever. Something about every kid throwing a temper tantrum at the most inconvenient of times. And then you’d just have to deal with it and understand your kid’s point of view of some shit like that?” 

Langa bit the insides of his cheeks, not quite wanting to believe the story. His mother had always insisted that he had been an exceptionally easy child, though a little worryingly emotionless. He would rarely argue or cry, so the possibility that he had been an absolute monster in the middle of a supermarket because of a box of cookies, it felt wrong. It felt impossible. Out of character. Fabricated, especially since Langa didn’t like cookies that much. 

“But it’s not because you weren’t part of the popular group at school or that you didn’t hang out with the other kids at the park after class that you lack a childhood. Childhood is… It’s a lot of things. Like trying to teach you how to do ballet. Or watching movies during lunchtime. Or playing video games in a basement.” 

“I think you mean repeatedly hitting me with a Wii remote because I somehow managed to beat your high score on Just Dance.”

“You weren’t even trying!” 

Langa chuckled at the girl’s outburst. “Just have to learn the mechanics of the game to win. You don’t actually have to be good at dancing. Or dance at all.” 

“You…”

Emily huffed, but it wasn’t long before her frown broke into a grin. Laughter spilled from her lips as Langa swatted her hand away, dodging her attempt at a hair ruffle. Because even if they were going down memory lane, Langa sure as hell was not letting her treat him like he was 5 years old again. 

“I know you feel like you’re a big weirdo and you didn’t have a childhood since your past doesn’t look like some American Walmart Thanksgiving commercial, but I can guarantee you had one. And a damn good one, for that matter! And you also definitely made mine a whole lot more memorable and fun. Like, I don’t know what I would have done without my little baby cousin to play with all summer long. Most probably would have turned out a whole lot worse than I have had you not been there to entertain me and keep me in check.”

Despite Emily’s teasing tone, it was her sentimentality that really stood out to Langa. And he never knew what to do with that. He didn’t know how to respond to the girl who always seemed so energetic, always so ready for the future. She wasn’t one to reminisce, tripping over memories from the past. Or at least, that was how Langa had always perceived her; that wasn’t the Emily he knew. To him, she was someone who lived to tease and annoy him, wholeheartedly. She wasn’t one to smile as softly as she was now, a light mist covering her eyes as the ancient years rolled by like a silent film. Those brown eyes, they were made to shine from mischief and scheming, not from the threat of tears. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, Langa felt something in his chest. His heart? Was it beating? If it was, it sure wasn’t the same heartbeat as when he was around Reki. It also wasn’t the same heartbeat that would race as he would slide through the world on a board. No, this time, it was going slower, feeling calmer. It beat with such a different feeling that Langa could not name it. It wasn’t excitement; it wasn’t anticipation. Was it perhaps nostalgia? Safety? Was it remembering what it was like to be a little kid, scrapping his knee as they played soccer against the garage door? Was it finding his first best friend, the person who had once been so important to him? It wasn’t anything like being with Reki, exciting and energetic and new, but still, it was nice. It felt like forgetting the distance that had estranged him from the girl who had been his only friend for so many years.

“Em,” Langa felt himself choke up, but he had to say something. He couldn’t remain silent. He couldn’t let the moment die. He couldn’t leave things unsaid, things he’d later have to bury deep within himself because it would be too late. He couldn’t let this moment pass, let the words fester until there would be no one to say them to anymore. “You also—!”

“Sorry it took so long! I just couldn’t find my water bottle anywhere, but I finally found it!”

Reki’s head poked out from behind the door as he held the bottle in the air. Almost like magic, all signs of tears vanished from Emily’s face. She perked up, a grin lighting up her face. And with such a grin came the dawning realization that all hell was about to break loose, the girl leaning dangerously close to Reki. 

“You should feed it to him.” 

Never had Langa felt so mortified in his life. He didn’t even dare look at Reki; his eyes remained on Emily who was now giggling hysterically to herself as she kicked her feet in the air like a child. For the first time since landing in Japan, she didn’t stumble on her Japanese words. They came as naturally as if they had been English. There had been no hesitancy whatsoever, which only made it worse for Langa and his stupidly burning cheeks. No need for a mirror to guess the color of his face; the blossoming heat was the only indicator he needed. 

“You feeling sick, man? If you need anything else, you’d tell me, right? If you’re not feeling well, you can go home. I’ll tell Oka what happened, don’t worry about it! I promise he’ll understand and I’m totally capable to working alone! You don’t have to worry about me at all!” 

Emily may not have hesitated, but bless her word for word translation passing over Reki’s head. And bless his not asking what she meant; explaining would have been far too awkward. Otherwise, there would have been more hesitancy in Langa’s grabbing of the water bottle before chugging down half of its contents. 

“I’m fine, Reki. Really. You have to stop worrying so much about me. And Emmy’s just being a bitch who thinks I can’t do anything on my own.” 

“Not my fault you were a mega crybaby back when you were a kid.” The shrug was just for show, but the twinkle in her eye was the real jab. “Took you forever to figure out chopsticks, I was convinced the grandmother was going to have to feed you until the day you die.” 

“Wait, but if I remember correctly, weren’t you the family’s crybaby? Because I’m pretty sure I saw you sobbed uncontrollably that time your pink spoon was dirty and you were forced to eat with a purple one.”

“I—!"

“I can’t imagine either one of you crying.” Reki’s voice cut through the argument, both turning towards the boy. He was glancing away, refusing to meet either of their gazes. “You guys are both just so… not like me.” 

The forced, bitter laughter that fell from Reki’s mouth broke Langa’s heart. Crying had always been a sensitive topic for Reki. He had never liked how easily his emotions could get the best of him. He hated how easily tears formed at the corners of his eyes. Just the idea of crying left him insecure, feeling like less than those around him. And Langa, well, he hated how Reki felt obligated to bottle up his feelings, not wanting to let others see his sadness or distress out of fear of being seen as less.

Langa remembered the first time he had seen Reki cry. It had been a hard time for both of them. It had been hard on Reki who had been holding back his tears until the dam broke free, a flood of tears pouring from his usually bright amber eyes. All his sadness, all his stress, all his insecurities had been let out, a ticking timebomb that exploded at the worst possible moment. And it had been hard on Langa who hadn’t known what to do. He didn’t know how to comfort Reki. He didn’t know what to say to him either. He didn’t know how to deal with everything that was happening so quickly, all around him. 

Since then, Langa made sure to remind Reki that crying wasn’t a bad thing. There was no reason for him to be ashamed of the tears. They weren’t a weakness. They weren’t a character flaw. It didn’t matter what other said or did or how they looked at him. None of it mattered; all that mattered was that Reki knew that crying was natural. All that mattered was that he didn’t find himself hating himself more for letting it all out. 

“Someone willing to let others see them cry is the bravest and strongest kind of person out there,” Langa had once said when Reki looked like he was holding back tears. “Not only are they honest with themselves, but they’re also not afraid to let others know how they’re feeling. There’s no point in hiding when you’re hurt.” 

It wasn’t every day Langa knew what to say, but in that moment, he remembered his mother’s words. They had been said to him when he was at his lowest, but still, he hadn’t taken them to heart. Still, he hadn’t let himself cry. But thankfully, Reki had listened. Thankfully, Reki had let it all out, weeping into Langa’s shoulder, hiccupping muffled words into a soaked t-shirt until he passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Reki didn’t need to be like Langa. He didn’t have to put up some emotionless person. He didn’t need to be ice cold like Langa. He didn’t need to look like he was ready to fight whoever got in his way or brush off everything anyone said. He didn’t need tears to be foreign to him. 

Reki, he was allowed to be emotional. He was allowed to be messy with his feelings. He was allowed to care about everyone around him and he was allowed to feel something about what as being said about him. He was allowed to cry his frustrations out if that was what helped him because Langa would be there. Langa would always be there. He would always be a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold if Reki so wanted. 

Emily’s fingers curled around Reki’s forearm, leaning in closer than strictly necessary. “Don’t cry! I was kidding, you know! Langa is more than capable of taking care of himself! See? He can drink all on his own!” Her fingers dug into Reki’s skin, nearly breaking it as she gestured frantically at Langa with her other hand. “See? He’s a big boy! Totally capable of using his weird lanky body all on his own!”

Had it not been for the far more natural and pretty laughter that bubbled out of Reki, Langa would have hit his cousin upside the head. Or thrown the water bottle at her. Really, anything to shut her up. But Reki was rubbing at his nose, a grin slowly making its way across his face once more. There he was, smiling and bright, just the way Langa like it. Because while Reki was allowed to cry, it didn’t mean Langa liked it. If he could have it his way, he would have kept Reki happy for the rest of eternity. If he could keep Reki laughing, then there was nothing Langa wasn’t willing to do for that. There was absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do to see that pretty smile blossom across Reki’s face. 

“So,” Reki straightened himself out as he fell back into his more cheerful and professional voice, “can I help you with anything? Looking for anything in particular?” 

Emily slid down from the counter, her eyes scanning the environment as she hummed. It was obvious she hadn’t come here for anything at all; all she knew of skateboarding was that they had wheels and Langa could go fast on his board. Other than that, she had never shown interest in the sport. 

“Not really?” Langa rolled his eyes at the girl’s words. “I mean, I was looking for something, but that was mostly company from you guys. I’m just so bored at the apartment with Auntie Nanako at work and Langa’s not there either and there’s just so much tv and doomscrolling a girl can do in a day.  So yeah, I was just bored and wanted to check out where you two spend your days.” 

Reki leaned against the counter, his eyes following Emily’s gaze and fingers. “That sucks. Can’t you visit around or something?” 

“Not fluent enough and definitely can’t read anything. I’d be lost in a matter of seconds.” 

Her fingers swept over rough boards and smooth helmets. The colors reflected against her skin, staining her momentarily as she moved across the little shop. She seemed so out of place here, surrounded by loud t-shirts and colors. but at the same time, Emily seemed at ease. She browsed as if she were in any other shop, her eyes flickering between the many pieces on display. There were no questions or disgust in her eyes; there was an understanding that this was just another sports shop.

“Well, you know how to skate?” 

Emily turned back to the boy and shook her head. So much was obvious; she didn’t have the scars that Langa had or the fearlessness. She was dainty and princess-like, the exact opposite of what a skateboarder should be. Or maybe she did have what it took to be a skateboarder. Maybe Langa was just afraid of the sudden direction of this conversation.

“I tried to do a bit of figure skating back in the day, but I highly doubt that’s the skating you’re referring to. I always had to be careful to keep my bones intact since, you know, dancing and all that.”

“I can teach you if you’d like. I promise I won’t let you get hurt. You got my hand to hold for as long as you need and want.”

Reki’s smile was… Emily’s laughter… Everything started to fade out. Everything but the ringing in Langa’s ears. Everything but the tightness in his chest. Everything but the twist in his gut. Everything but the choking sensation building up at the base of his throat. 

Everything was fading. Everything was buzzing. Everything was going to hell.

Oh no.

[2nd2tar]

years ago i used to be really active on quotev. i did a few quizzes and read a few stories here and there, but the main reason i was so active on it was the communities. on one of these communities, i met a girl my age whom i think about almost daily. we quickly became close, messaging eachother relentlessly. she lived in South Africa and i’m from the U.S. so the difference in time zones tended to be a bit of a blocker- but despite that, she’d stay up late to talk to me, and i’d get up early to talk to her. she was quite literally my best friend, but things ended up transcending past that.

we never dated per say, due to distance and other factors, but that didn’t keep us from talking to eachother as if we were together. i don’t think i’ve ever loved someone the way i loved her. i’ve been in relationships before and i’ve never had anything close to what we had. i’m not the sappy type, but the way i felt about her- i don’t know how i’d even try to articulate it. she was quite literally my everything.

we’d talk about the what if’s- if i was an exchange student and by chance ended up at her school, or vise versa with her ending up at mine. we’d talk about our families, our friends, the events happening around us. we spoke to eachother for years, both by message and voice.

i was a lot younger and a lot stupider then as opposed to now. i kept having nightmares that my parents would find out that i was talking to people online- that i was talking to her. so in an act of impulse, i sent her a final message, “I’m sorry.” and deleted my account. i figured that if i cut ties before the hypothetical of if my family did, then it would save me less pain.

i believe that may have been the biggest mistake of my life.

i’ve revisited quotev since then and searched desperately for her account, to no avail. all i have left of her is a couple photos and some sketches i made of her at the time.

I dream about her once every few months. sometimes the dream revolves around her, other times she’s there as a bystander. at times i feel i may be so delusional that i see something in real life that reminds me of her, and i think for a fleeting second that maybe, just maybe, she’s here. if i catch a glimpse of long red hair, if i see a certain butterfly, if i see someone wearing that same grey shirt she used to love. If i hear certain songs that she introduced me to, if i watch alice in wonderland, if i hear an accent or a voice similar to her’s. i regularly think about how things could have been. if i hadn’t been a coward, maybe i’d still know her now.

i regularly think about how she is now. we were both only 13 or so when we first met- i know i’ve grown so much, so it causes me to wonder about her. to this day i keep a clock set to what her time is, so i know the general time of day she’s going through. i know it’s silly, but it makes me feel a little bit closer to her.

i wonder if she thinks about me as much as i do her. wherever she is nowadays, i hope she’s okay. i hope she’s living the life she’s always wanted. i hope her family situation has gotten better. i hope she’s surrounded by people who love her- people who really really love her, more than i ever could.

[nickeverdeen]

https://www.tumblr.com/nickeverdeen/759892946103468032/accident?source=share

It's okay I can do it lol I might not remember exactly what I said that day but probably it was something in these same waters:

A jesse imagine with a fem!autistic!reader, just the same context as the first hcs you posted for someone a while ago. So, jesse and reader know each other, but this is set before they start dating. They know each other, they have brief talks sometimes (around ellie because she's their common friend, or in the in the gatherings at the millers when everyone is invited for dinners, etc) and, you know, he has a crush on her. Would even be cool to have some details in the imagine like since when he started having feelings for her, what was his first impressions of her, how did he got to know she was autistic (did someone tell him or he noticed something by himself? Or it was just a common knowledge in jackson for everyone?). But because she's introspective with people she doesn't really have intimacy, he finds hard to approach her in a way of finding a connection to her, he doesn't know if he would scare her or make her feel uncomfortable if he was too bold. So he begins to notice (by watching her) that she likes to paint and draw sometimes (he's pretty sure he heard someone say that it was one of her hyperfocus), he sees that she sometimes paints ellie's tattoo with markers or makeup when they hang together on her place, and he's pretty sure he saw Joel sitting on tommy and maria's couch and letting reader draw on his hand with a pen in some of the gatherings, when they were both bored.

So he has an ideia. He goes through his stuff until he finds some sketches his 12 year old self did (In my headcanon, he thought about getting a tattoo when Cat came to town and he found out she did tattoos, but he eventually let that idea go). Well, now he has a pretty good reason to have a tattoo. if it doesn't work, at least it will be covered by his shoulder.

So... Yeah he shows to her by the end lol I won't give details on this one tho, I'm pretty sure her reaction or anything that would be written after this point you would plan better than me.

I love you so much, cariño, and I’m so sorry again that you had to rewrite it

————————————————

A Sketch of Connection | Jesse x autistic fem!reader

Summary: The thriving community is a refuge for survivors, where life is beginning to feel a little more normal for Jesse when he meets you.

———————————

Jesse stood just outside of the mess hall, leaning against the wooden post as he watched the world move around him. His gaze was focused on you, sitting a few yards away with Ellie, both of you engrossed in some quiet activity. He couldn’t help but smile, noting how your concentration on whatever you were doing seemed to block out the noise and chaos of the busy day around you.

He’d been trying to get closer to you for a while now, ever since Ellie introduced you both. She spoke of you often, mentioning your incredible talent for painting and how you seemed to find solace in your art in a way that few others did. Jesse had noticed it too, in the small things—how your hands would twitch and fidget when you were in a room full of people, how loud noises would make you flinch slightly, or how you would sometimes eat your food in a very particular order, as if certain textures didn’t sit well with you.

Ellie had mentioned once, offhandedly, that you were autistic, something Jesse hadn’t fully understood but had since looked into. He learned about stimming, about the sensitivity to certain stimuli, and how social interactions could sometimes be challenging. It made him more aware, more cautious in his approach. He didn’t want to scare you off or make you uncomfortable, but he was desperate to find a way to connect with you beyond the surface-level conversations they shared at Miller’s house during group dinners.

As he watched, he noticed how you seemed completely absorbed in drawing on Ellie’s forearm with a marker, probably adding some intricate design around her tattoo. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you do that. He’d even seen Joel let you doodle on his hand once, a rare occurrence considering how much Joel guarded his personal space. It was then that an idea started forming in Jesse’s mind—a way to get closer to you, to understand you better, and maybe, just maybe, open a door to something more.

Later that night, he rummaged through his old belongings, finding the sketchbook he’d kept as a kid. Flipping through the pages, he found what he was looking for—an old sketch he’d made when he was about twelve. It was of a wolf, fierce and wild, something he’d thought was cool back then. Jesse had briefly considered getting it tattooed when Cat had passed through Jackson, but the idea had faded away. Now, though, it seemed like the perfect excuse. If nothing else, it would be a conversation starter, a way to share something personal with you.

The next morning, Jesse found himself in front of Cat’s place, the small parlor she’d set up in her spare time, tattooing those who wanted to leave a permanent mark on their skin. He explained what he wanted, showing her the old sketch.

Jesse sat down in the worn, comfortable chair in Cat’s makeshift tattoo parlor, a small room she had converted into her own little artistic haven. The walls were lined with sketches and ink samples, a testament to her skill. He handed her the sketch of the wolf he’d drawn years ago, watching as she studied it with a critical eye.

“This is good,” she said, nodding in approval. “Didn’t know you were an artist, Jesse.”

“Not really,” he replied with a shrug. “Just doodles from when I was a kid.”

Cat raised an eyebrow, still examining the lines of the drawing. “Well, it’s better than half the stuff people bring me. Where do you want it?”

Jesse hesitated, then lifted the edge of his shirt to expose his shoulder. “Here, I think. It’s kinda personal, so I’d like to keep it hidden most of the time.”

“Personal, huh?” Cat murmured, setting up her equipment. She nodded towards the chair, and Jesse shifted to give her better access to his shoulder. As she prepped the area, she kept glancing at him, clearly sensing there was more to the story. “So, what made you finally decide to get it done? This sketch’s been in your drawer for years.”

Jesse bit his lip, debating how much to share. Cat had a way of getting people to open up, even when they weren’t sure they wanted to. “There’s this girl,” he finally admitted, the words coming out quieter than he intended. “Y/N.”

Cat’s hands paused for a moment, and she shot him a knowing look. “Ah, so this is about that pretty girl Ellie’s been talking about.”

Jesse felt his face heat up, but he chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it is. I wanted a reason to talk to her more, something to connect us. She’s… she’s really into art, and I thought maybe if I got this, we could… I don’t know, bond over it?”

Cat smirked, clearly amused. “That’s sweet, Jesse. I didn’t peg you for the romantic type.”

He laughed, a little embarrassed. “Well, I’m not usually, but she’s different, you know? I just want to get to know her better, without scaring her off.”

“You’re doing something right,” Cat said, her voice softer now as she began to work on his tattoo. “From what I hear, Y/N’s not the easiest person to get close to. But you’re willing to take it slow, let her come to you. That’s good. Shows you care.”

Jesse smiled, relaxing into the chair as the familiar buzz of the tattoo machine filled the room. “Yeah, I do. I just hope she sees that.”

Cat worked in silence for a while, focused on her art. When she finished, she wiped down the tattoo and admired her work, giving Jesse a satisfied nod. “Looks good. You’re gonna knock her socks off with this.”

Jesse glanced in the mirror she held up, taking in the new addition to his shoulder. The wolf looked fierce, just like he’d imagined it would all those years ago. But now, it carried a new meaning, one tied to the hope of getting closer to you.

Cat cleaned up her tools, then glanced at Jesse with a teasing grin. “Don’t worry, Jesse. Your pretty girl’s gonna love it. And if she’s smart, she’ll see you for the good guy you are.”

Jesse’s heart skipped a beat at her words, and he couldn’t help but grin back. “Thanks, Cat. I really hope so.”

As he left the parlor, the new tattoo burning slightly under his shirt, Jesse felt more determined than ever to show you just how much you meant to him. And with Cat’s words echoing in his mind, he couldn’t wait to see where this new connection might lead.

He waited a few days before approaching you, nervous about how you might react. One evening, when the sun was beginning to dip behind the mountains, casting a golden glow over Jackson, he spotted you sitting on a bench outside, your sketchbook in your lap. Jesse took a deep breath and walked over, trying to keep his usual easygoing demeanor despite the knot of nerves in his stomach.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted, taking a seat next to you. You glanced up, a small smile tugging at your lips, which gave him the courage to continue. “Got a minute?”

“Sure,” you replied softly, closing your sketchbook but keeping your hands fidgeting with the edge of the cover.

He hesitated for a moment, then pulled at the collar of his shirt to reveal his shoulder. “I, uh, got a tattoo the other day. Wanted to show you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, curiosity piqued as you leaned in closer to get a better look. Jesse noticed how your fingers stilled for a moment before you reached out, hesitating just before touching his skin. He nodded, giving you permission, and you gently traced the lines of the tattoo with a featherlight touch.

“It’s… really good,” you murmured, your voice carrying a hint of awe. “The wolf, it looks strong.”

Jesse smiled, relieved by your reaction. “Yeah, it’s something I drew when I was a kid. Thought it would be cool to finally get it inked.”

You nodded, your focus still on the tattoo. “It’s a good design… you used to draw?”

“A little,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “Not as good as you, though. I’ve seen your work—Ellie brags about it all the time.”

A small blush crept up your cheeks, and you looked down, clearly pleased but unsure how to respond. Jesse decided to take the plunge, hoping this would bring you closer.

“I was thinking,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “maybe… you could design my next tattoo? I mean, if you’re up for it. I’d love to have something of yours.”

You looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise. “You… you want me to design something for you?”

“Yeah,” Jesse said, his tone earnest. “Only if you’re comfortable with it, of course. I just thought it could be something we do together.”

You took a moment to process his request, your fingers idly tracing the pattern of the tattoo again as you considered it. Finally, you nodded, a small but genuine smile on your lips. “I’d like that, Jesse. I’d really like that.”

Relief and excitement washed over him. “Great! We can start whenever you’re ready. No rush.”

You nodded again, a bit more confident now. “Maybe… tomorrow? We can meet here, and I can show you some ideas.”

“Sounds perfect,” Jesse replied, his heart swelling with affection. He’d taken a step closer to you, not just by asking for your artistic help, but by showing you that he valued you—your creativity, your thoughts, and your presence in his life.

As the two of you sat there, chatting softly about possible designs, Jesse couldn’t help but feel that this was the beginning of something special. And as you began to open up, sharing more about your art and your ideas, he knew that whatever this was, it was worth every moment of patience and understanding.

[castielmydarling]

Suptober 2023-Day 3: Inspired

Pen to Paper-672 words on AO3 or below Summary: Dean is away from Cas longer than he likes so he finds a creative way to past the time.

Sam leaves the bathroom giving Dean a quick ‘good night’, the sorry again is left unsaid but Dean hears it all the same.

“Night, Sammy.” Dean clips. He knows it’s not his fault but that doesn’t leave Dean any less annoyed. He heads into the bathroom for his own quick shower. 

Almost a week ago Sam had come to Dean with a quick milk run hunt. ‘Two days, tops’ he said, Dean wasn't really up for it since it meant having to leave Cas behind. 

Before the Empty Cas’ powers weren’t the best but now they seemed to be failing him more. The past couple of weeks have been especially hard, he’s been so tired he’s sleeping more and more. Dean knew Cas would probably insist on coming, always one to put his needs last. 

Sure enough when Dean told Cas about the hunt he started getting out of bed saying he was ready. One look from Dean shut that down. 

“I know you want to help and believe me I want nothing more than for you to come but you’re not ok. And don’t give me that I’m fine crap because I know you’re not.”

Cas sighed conceding that Dean was right. The silver lining was Jack would be staying home too so at least this meant he could have some quality time with him. 

Dean packed quickly, if he waited too long he’d never leave. He went back to the bed, pulling the covers over Cas. He reached down, gently stroking his hair back before giving him a kiss on the forehead. “Sam says two days, we’ll do it in one and I’ll be back before you know it, ok?”

Cas nodded. “Be careful, Dean. I’ll miss you but don’t rush on my account.”

Dean smiled. “Always am. You just rest up and don’t worry about me, ok?” He gave him another quick kiss and set off. 

That was five days ago. 

Sam’s milk run of a hunt turned into a whole damn Costco shopping trip. After the third day Cas was ready to ignore Dean’s pleas to stay home until Jack finally convinced him it was safer for them both if Cas stayed. 

This was the longest they’ve been apart since the Empty and Dean hated every minute of it. He scrolled through the (very) few pictures of them on his phone but it wasn’t enough. He would remedy that the second he got home but for now he did the next best thing-he drew.

He took the notepad from the hotel desk and just started sketching. He didn’t even know what he was drawing until it took shape, Castiel’s eyes. He used a blue pen to fill them in but it didn’t do them justice. 

Then it was his hands. Before they got together he vaguely knew Cas’ hands were big and he liked that. But once they were on him? And those long fingers in him? Well, he became obsessed.

Soon he filled up the notepad with sketches of Cas’s eyes, hands, maybe even some NSFW body parts. Eventually he had to get another pad from the front desk because not only was the hunt taking too damn long but he couldn’t stop drawing. 

Dean finishes his shower and heads to his room. He slowly opens the door trying to not wake Cas in the process. He’s unsuccessful. 

Cas stirs from under the covers. “Dean?” His voice was rough from sleep. 

Dean lays next to him, pulling him close. “Yeah, it’s me. Go back to sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“How many gallons of milk did you get?” he mumbles, sleepy. 

Dean laughs, “More than enough.”

Cas is back asleep before he can say anymore. 

Dean is exhausted but he’s not tired, not yet. He grabs a pad of paper he thankfully has next to his bed. He does want to take more pictures of him but the urge to draw him like this, in his bed, asleep and peaceful is too strong to resist. 

[scotianostra]

Happy 98th birthday Scottish comedy great Stanley Baxter born in Glasgow May 24th 1926.

Stanley was a child actor who started his career in radio on the Scottish edition of BBC Children’s Hour.

After gaining a degree at the University of Glasgow, he joined the entertainment services during national service where he met comedy actor Kenneth Williams and film director John Schlesinger. Their influence persuaded him to become a performer rather than a teacher.

He returned to Glasgow and spent the next three years at the Citizens Theatre, where he was highly successful, and later appeared in panto with Jimmy Logan. He left Scotland in 1959 to work in television.

He won a Bafta for light entertainment in 1959, for co-hosting the satirical sketch show On the Bright Side. He won two years running, in 1973 and 1974, for The Stanley Baxter Picture Show, and again in 1981 for The Stanley Baxter Series.

Some of his best-loved comedy sketches include Parliamo Glasgow, in which the Glaswegian dialect was presented as a foreign language. It included phrases such as “Izat a marra on yer barra, Clara?” and the uniquely Glaswegian word “Sanoffy”, as in “Sanoffy cold day”.

He remained a favourite of the Scottish panto circuit, often playing the gloriously costumed dame alongside Angus Lennie, Jimmy Logan or Ronnie Corbett, until he retired in 1992.

In 1994 he returned to radio, appearing in plays and sitcoms. In 1997, he was honoured with a lifetime achievement award at the British Comedy Awards. The Stanley Baxter Playhouse ran on Radio 4 from 2006 until 2014.

Even though he retired from TV comedy some 30 years ago, Stanley Baxter continues to hold a special place in the viewing nation’s heart.

He eats well, likes a glass of wine and enjoys a quiet domesticated life. Well into his 80s he was still cycling and swimming. Even when he was in the public eye, he shunned personal publicity, rarely doing interviews or appearing on chat shows.

In his retirement he has written an autobiography but refuses to allow it to be published until after his death, not apparently because it contains any hugely scandalous stories of his celebrity friends, but because he didn’t fancy schlepping round the country doing promotional appearances, press interviews and book signings, let’s hope it is a good few years before it is released then!

A widower since 1997, he says he doesn’t find it difficult to fill his days. “You wonder how you ever had time to work,” he says.

“I miss talking to actors. I can relate to actors better than real people. I have so few friends left. "I suppose I’m a bit of a loner. I’m not the kind of person to drop in on the neighbours.”

In 2020 Stanley in an authorised biography, The Real Stanley Baxter told for the first time of his struggles to come to terms with his sexuality, his efforts to keep the fact that he is gay secret and the effect his troubled marriage had on his life.

The book charts the career of Baxter, who was born in Glasgow in 1926, from his early days as an entertainer in the Army, where he met Kenneth Williams. The Real Stanley Baxter explores the complex relationship with his wife Moira, his early sexual encounters as a teenager, and the strenuous efforts he made to maintain his privacy in later life, including taking legal action over the publication of the diaries of actor Kenneth Williams, a long-time friend, after he had passed away.

Baxter described his discomfort with his homosexuality in the book, writing: "Anybody would be insane to choose to live such a very difficult life. There are many gay people these days who are fairly comfortable with their sexuality, fairly happy with who they are. I’m not. I never wanted to be gay. I still don’t."

If you want to know more about Stanley I recommend watching the feature length documentary, Stanley Baxter's Best Bits - and More, it’s on 5 and you don’t have to sign in to watch the show, it’s just over an hour long so settle down with a cuppa before viewing. https://www.channel5.com/show/stanley-baxter-s-best-bits-and-more

[caspira-writes-fanfiction]

Finding Family (Fizz's Found Family)-Chapter 8

Flying (pt. 2)

“You’ve never been to Gluttony before?” Asmodeus was sitting opposite Fizzarolli in the back of his blue limousine, smiling to himself about the way Fizzarolli was looking over each detail of his outfit for the evening as if he didn’t come up with half of the ideas himself. It was almost as if he didn’t believe he was wearing it. Fizzarolli seemed to be determined to catalog each hand sewn bead to memory. It made Asmodeus happy, he’d made the correct decision in ordering a second custom outfit for Fizzarolli. “Enjoying your sparkles?”

Ozzie’s foot nudging against his own was enough to rouse Fizzarolli from his trance. Winning Mammon’s contest a little over a week ago had changed more for him than he imagined it would. When Fizzarolli went to meet with Mammon the day after winning, he was greeted with five new costumes and a whole new set of Mammon branded props! When he returned to the penthouse after his workday that day, he was received with a sparkly invitation to one of Queen Bee-Lzebub’s parties. That’s where they were headed to now, that’s what this new outfit was for.

“There’s so many of them. More than the showgirls costumes used to have.”

Asmodeus chuckled. “It’s Gluttony, you’re supposed to be excessive.” Asmodeus was also dressed up for the occasion. His outfit was like nothing Fizzarolli had ever seen Lust wear before. He remained in his boots, halfway up his legs and drawing the eye even higher. He opted for shorts on the bottom, tight and made of leather, with a jeweled belt buckle in all of Ozzie’s colors. His blazer was also made of leather and underneath he wore a body chain that hung like the most intricate and commanding necklace down his whole chest. Fizzarolli knew the piece of jewelry also hooked around Ozzie’s shoulders under his arms and chained itself halfway down Ozzie’s back.

“This is a new outfit for you, too. I’ve never seen you dress like this in Lust.” It wasn’t a bad thing, though Fizzarolli found himself worrying about how much he was allowed to stare before it became weird. That’s part of the reason why he’d been studying the hand beaded corset (that also worked as a battery pack if he wanted it to) and teal silk shirt with balloon sleeves and intricate embroidered details. Even his pants and ruff had extra details sewn onto them. For the second time in the span of a fortnight Asmodeus had managed to create an outfit for Fizzarolli right out of his dreams.

“It’s Gluttony, you’re supposed to be excessive” Lust repeated. Fizzarolli blushed. He still wasn’t comfortable with excess, Asmodeus noted. He wasn’t so averse to it that he’d refused the outfit, though. He’d gotten quite excited when he saw Ozzie’s sketches. He’d made design tweaks to the outfit himself and he still seemed amazed when the outfit arrived at the penthouse yesterday. Asmodeus was happy he was amazed, though. He deserved to shine tonight, this party was for him after all.

“Before we get there, a few ground rules” Asmodeus continued.

Fizzarolli interrupted. “Oh, there’s rules tonight?”

“You’ve never been to Gluttony before. Do you want to walk into your party unprepared?” Fizzarolli stayed quiet. “You have nothing to worry about, first of all. Bee is going to love you.”

Asmodeus talked about Bee-Lzebub like they were close. Ozzie didn’t talk about his friends often.

“She throws a great party, she knows how to keep the energy high.” sort of like someone else I know, Ozzie thought. “But she talks before she thinks sometimes. Nothing she says is mean spirited. You’ll know if you’ve made her angry.” Asmodeus knew that Fizzarolli could take a punch. He could give one right back and play it off most of the time too. But this was Fizzarolli’s first time out in public with his new stretchy limbs, and his first big public appearance without Mammon attached to him since he won the pageant. He knew Fizzarolli was excited, but he was also worried that someone would say something that would get Fizz’s feelings hurt.

“Don’t piss off the Queen Bee, don’t take offense. Understood. Any other rules?”

“No Beezlejuice” Fizzarolli stuck his tongue out in a teasing pout. He already knew that, he was on too many medications, it wasn’t safe. “I already told her about that, though. She won’t push it on you.”

Fizzarolli wondered how many deadly Sins knew about his personal business. Mammon did, Belphegor did, Asmodeus did, and to some extent Bee’Lzebub now did as well. He was only three away from collecting them all. Pretty impressive for a scrappy little imp from the Greed Ring.

“Her food is good enough, I think I’ll be able to have a good time without the booze.” The two of them nodded. “This isn’t my party though.”

“You’re the excuse for her to throw one.” Asmodeus laughed to himself. “Well, she doesn’t really need an excuse to throw a party. But she saw your show, she was impressed. You’re the guest of honor.”

“Is that why you’re dressed so nicely?” Fizzarolli’s hand reached out and his finger curled around the smooth gold chain.

“Maybe I was jealous, maybe I wanted to sparkle tonight too!” Asmodeus liked the way he could make Fizzarolli blush almost as much as he liked the confidence that this past week has given Fizzarolli. Asmodeus also liked the way Fizzarolli’s knuckle danced across his nipple. That had to be intentional.

“Oh, you wanted to compete with this?” Fizzarolli’s hand slid back to his corset, which was a kaleidoscope of beadwork. Gold shimmered in flecks between magenta and aqua; violet, olive, fuscia, and cerulean collided in fireworks all along Fizzarolli’s body. Fuck glitter, he’d never been shinier.

Both of them had a laugh together before the car slowed to a halt. The guest of honor had arrived.

The skies were yellow like honey, and the honeycomb imagery didn’t fall short on Fizzarolli. He chuckled as he looked up at Queen Bee-Lzebub’s castle after stepping out of the limo.

“Queen Bee” he laughed, looking up at Asmodeus as he got out of the limo as well. “This is her hive.” Asmodeus chuckled and nodded.

“Are you ready?”

The Hive was huge. A towering atrium with hoops and….lava? No. Beezlejuice decorated the outer parameters of the room. The biggest disco ball Fizzarolli had ever seen towered over the center of the atrium, sending glittering flecks along the room as light hit off it. Large swaths of fabric swagged from the ball’s pole outwards to the upper balconies alternating blue and pink. It almost looked like a circus tent. Fizzarolli wondered if it looked like this all the time, or if this really was all for him. The lights went dark shortly after the two walked in. For a moment, Fizzarolli felt like a kid at the circus again. He felt the same excitement forming in his chest that he did the first night he saw a circus show.

“Awoo Awoo!” Atop the disco ball appeared a mane of golden plasmic light. It reminded Fizzarolli of the beautiful horses from his circus, but this was even better. It was lighter, and more colorful than horses were. It was golden, a deep honey with flashes of orange and cyan and watermelon swirling throughout. It was glorious. The lights raised and Fizzarolli could see the rest of Bee-Lzebub standing atop the globe.

“Kings, Queens, and Rotyal In-Between’s are we having a good time to-night?!” Fizzarolli heard the room howl and cheer in response. Fizzarolli decided to howl, it made Asmodeus chuckle. “Good, good. I am your host, the Queen Bee of Gluttony and I’m ready to get fucking wild!”

More cheering. The energy was electric. Fizzarolli was buzzing. He still couldn’t comprehend that he was here, that this was apparently for him.

“But first, I need all you freaky little bastards to give your warmest, loudest, freakiest welcome to our guests of honor. Coming all the way from the Lust Ring…..The King of Kink, The Lord of Lube, the Duke of Dicktown: Lust himself…...King Ozzie!” More cheering. A spotlight flashed onto the two of them. Fizzarolli howled again and clapped for Asmodeus. The two exchanged a glance.

“And our real king tonight…...the comeback kid from Greed. Hell’s favorite tie breaking champion, the King Clown himself...the one...the only…...Fiz-a-Rolli!” Bee was distinct with every syllable as she said Fizzarolli’s name. Confetti burst from everywhere and rained down on the crowd as Bee-Lzebub dove from her position above everyone else and into a hole nearly as narrow as her, into a golden vat of her bub.

She would do well in the circus, Fizzarolli thought.

Queen Bee appeared from another hole in the ground, the golden liquid following her and swirling around the room. Fizzarolli hadn’t even noticed the cheering, he’d been so mesmerized by Bee-Lzebub’s performance. The way that gold seemed to float in the air with her, swirl into a big cloud, and explode into….cotton candy?! Fizz was full belly laughing by the time the Queen had come to greet them.

“Ozzie! Baby!” Bee-Lzebub flew towards the Sin, stopping short to nuzzle Ram and Bull. She was buzzing, flying so that she hovered at Asmodeus’s eye level. “The energy is crazy good tonight. And fuck! What is this tasty little snack?” Bee flew up and around Ozzie, inspecting both him and the clown next to him from every angle.

It could have been inferred that Bee-Lzebub was referring to Fizzarolli as the snack, or the way Asmodeus’s ass fit in his pants. Maybe even the both of them were the treat she was referring to. It wasn’t, though. Bee could taste energy on people and she’d known Lust since the beginning of Hell. She knew what Lust tasted like happy, mad, sad, and everywhere in between. There was a hint of sweetness on him tonight that she hasn’t ever tasted on the Sin. It was faint enough that she knew not to make a fuss out of it, strong enough that she knew she’d made the right decision by naming Fizzarolli the king tonight.

“Bee, babe. You’ve outdone yourself again.”

Bee-Lzebub’s attention turned Fizzarolli a moment later, but not before Fizz had already extended a hand up to her height. She was still buzzing.

“Holy Shit!”

“Fizzarolli. Nice to make your acquaintance, your highness.” Fizzarolli retracted his arm as he extended his legs so that he was nearly eye level with both of the Sins. He stayed a few inches shorter out of respect.

“Holy Shit!” The Queen repeated. She took Fizz’s hand in two of hers and shook it vigorously. “You were not able to do that a week ago! What the fuck have you been up to?”

Fizzarolli and Asmodeus smiled at each other. “You like my dildo arms? They’re new.” Fizzarolli’s tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth.

Asmodeus tried to hold it in, but couldn’t contain his burst of laughter.

This moment was sweet, like honey. Bee-Lzebub smiled, she laughed too. “O-okay! You are a little freak. I like you.”

Fizzarolli didn’t like the word freak in any context, much let alone when applied to him but the burn of being called a freak was softened by being told he was liked. It didn’t feel hollow when she said it. The way she looked excited about his new telescopic abilities almost mirrored Fizz’s own feelings about them.

Bee-Lzebub, still holding Fizzarolli’s hand, pulled back and twirled him around. She howled once more. “King Jester is in the house!” A few more hounds near them howled, but not nearly as many from a moment ago. The party had started. “Come on, you twisty little thing. Let’s see what these dildo arms can do!”

Fizzarolli didn’t have much time to think about it. Queen Bee had his hand and she was flying up. The arms only extended so far. Fizzarolli did as was natural to do in this sort of situation. He took a deep breath and counted to three (quickly).

He crouched, he jumped.

Fizz was flying.

It was like the circus again. The swaths of fabric draped around the ceiling in alternating colors mirrored the tent of the Big Top. Fizzarolli was high in the sky and laughing his ass off. Bee-Lzebub had let go of her grip on him as he flew into the air, Fizzarolli did a flip. Bee caught him as he started falling and did that three more times before putting Fizz on her back and heading straight for a stack of hoops in the middle of the atrium. Both of their eyes narrowed. Bee was laser focused on making it through the middle hoop. Meanwhile, Fizzarolli was concentrating on his timing.

Three, two, one. The clown jumped and landed on top of the top hoop. He bent backwards, wrapped his tail around the hoop, turned himself into a ball, and fell back through the hoop. He managed enough force to swing back up and land on his feet, just barely. He held his arms out in victory but only for a moment before they were grabbed again and Fizz was being carried up to the ceiling. Bee’s top set of arms were holding Fizz’s, she was flying upside down as they ascended. It felt like the trapeze, when he was little. This could have been anyone from his circus family holding him right now. The two of them were laughing as they floated.

When they were high enough, Fizzarolli was being thrown again. This time his objective was clear, he was reaching the pole that the disco ball hung from. Fizz stretched his arms out but purposefully missed. His legs hooked around the pole instead and Fizz spun from the top, all the way down. Just before he reached the bottom, Fizzarolli’s hands caught the pole and Fizz flipped so that he was right side up. He ended up landing on his butt, straddling the pole on top of the disco ball. He couldn’t stop laughing. He hadn’t had this much fun in years.

“Everybody, your king for the night!” Bee’s voice was loud, but the cheering was louder. Fizzarolli felt the energy in the room, it was electric. Had he done that? He could get drunk off of this feeling alone, he was on top of the world right now. The spotlight shining on him lit him up like the mirror ball he was sitting atop of. If ever there was a time for Fizzarolli to shine, it was now.

Fizzarolli ended his performance by standing again, falling backwards, and doing a back flip. It had been a long time since he’d done one of those, but he was feeling confident. Besides, he trusted that his aerial partner wouldn’t let him fall. That would really hurt the energy of the night. Fizzarolli had guessed right. After a third flip mid air he landed on something soft. When he looked up, Bee was laughing at him, he was cradled in her arms. Fizzarolli laughed too and jumped down from a much safer height.

“Well shit, little man. You really do know how to put on a show. You are welcome here any time.”

Fizzarolli beamed with pride.

“Let me get you a drink” Bee-Lzebub was already ushering Fizzarolli over to a lounge area off of the atrium on the first floor.

“Oh, I can’t-” Fizzarolli was cut off by the Queen’s laugh.

“Yeah, I know. Oz already gave me the whole lecture. And hey, I respect it. So if you’re thirsty tonight come to me or Vortex, okay honey?”

Fizzarolli had no idea who Vortex was, but he wasn’t going to argue. His question was answered soon enough when he was walked over the bar where Asmodeus was chatting with a large gray and black hellhound.

“Tex!” Bee flew over to the hound and gave him a quick nuzzle before dropping behind the bar next to him. “You found Ozzie, good! Can we get a fruity little drink in the clown’s hand please?” Bee, a natural hostess turned to Asmodeus and gave him her full attention next. “Have we gotten you a fruity little drink yet?”

“Not yet, we were just-” A large hurricane glass appeared in Ozzie’s hand, orange and red with a little umbrella on top.

“Sex on the Beach, bitch!” She winked at Asmodeus.

Fizzarolli made his way to the bar with enough time to hear that. A moment later, Tex was handing him a drin. It looked pretty similar to Ozzie’s drink, but more his size. He started to question what it was but Bee-Lzebub interrupted him next.

“It’s your night to shine, baby. You need to sparkle inside and out!” The queen rubbed three of her fingers together over his drink and glitter rained down and into the glass. She waited for him to try it, and groaned when Fizz hesitated. “It’s safe, I promise. I just told you about the lecture Ozzie gave me.” Her tone lightened. “Go on. It’s just orange juice and grenadine.”

“And magical glitter” Fizzarolli replied. Bee laughed, it was light and carefree.

“Yeah”

Nobody did anything, so Fizz took a sip of his drink. It was sweet, and Bee was right. It did just taste like orange juice and cherry syrup, but it sparkled. He felt great! When he gave Bee-Lzebub the thumbs up, she took that as a sign to continue with the house tour.

“Sweets and eats are over here. Get your fill, enjoy enjoy. There are no rules here tonight. Oh!” She stopped and turned back to Fizz who was following in tow. “The brownies. They’re safe for you. Actually……..they might help with some of that pain Oz is always complaining about. Loosen you up a little, get elevated.”

Fizzarolli turned behind him when Bee’s attention flew over his head and she gave a pointed “What?!” Asmodeus was giving her a look. “It’s safe! I asked Bell last week. Don’t be lame, Asmodeus.” Bee snapped her fingers and grabbed a bottle of bub out of thin air.

“You’re trying to get me high” Fizzarolli asserted.

“Hey, that’s your choice. I’m simply giving you the option. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya” Bee-Lzebub took a drink. “Anyway, get your party on, baby. Have some treats, have some eats, get your dance on. You’re in good company tonight.” And just like that, Queen Bee-Lzebub was off flitting around the crowd checking in on everybody.

Asmodeus hadn’t been lying when he’d made the joke about Ozzie having Bee’s order over a year ago. The buffet table was organized appetizers and finger foods first, then the meaty stuff at the end. Desserts had their own spread farther down. Chips with at least 12 different types of dips lay on a large lazy susan. Next to it were fruits, mini weenies, shrimps and cocktail sauce, crackers and cheeses, sandwiches, dumplings, and walking tacos. There was also a taco bar, a mountain of chicken wings, pizza, gyros, and burgers. The dessert bar was just as crowded with options.

All of it was delicious. Fizzarolli did his best to sample as much as he could. There were dips with flavors he couldn’t even describe. He hadn’t been wrong when he’d assumed he would be more than happy with the food tonight.

The brownies were fucking delicious.

“They’re safe Ozzie. Belphegor said. You trust Belphegor. I hear you say it all the time.” It was a little over an hour later and Fizzarolli had just finished his second brownie. Bee was right about it loosening things up. He was fuzzy and excited and happily sitting in Asmodeus’s lap, starting in on his sixth chicken leg of the evening.

“Just because it’s not going to interact with your medications doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be supervised.” When Fizzarolli pouted, Asmodeus clarified. “You’re slippy.”

The laugh started deep in Fizzarolli’s chest and erupted in a croak. Asmodeus could only smile at the clown. He was glad Fizz was having a good time.

“I’m just saying, you don’t have to babysit me. You’re a guest of honor too. You should be enjoying yourself!”

Asmodeus chuckled. “Who says I’m not?”

The moment was interrupted by another booming voice approaching them. “Little Jester!” Fizzarolli was very confused, but when he turned to the large imp calling out to him, his eyes lit up. “Well, you’re not so little anymore, are you? You’re the clown now.”

“Buttons?” He hadn’t seen Buttons in years. He’d visited Fizzarolli while he was in the hospital recovering. Him and his brother, Patches, had made his first pair of horns. But things had gotten busy, he hadn’t even realized how much he’d missed the man until he was standing right in front of him. How did he even get here?

“You put on quite a show, kid. How does it feel to be living the dream?” Fizzarolli scrambled out of Lust’s lap and extended his leg closer to Buttons. He wrapped the man in a large hug, his arms wrapping twice around them.

“You’re here!”

Buttons laughed. “I’m here, kid. Yeah. Patches too, and Sloppy Joe. Few others.”

“How?” For a second time, the former clown laughed at Fizz’s responses.

“When the Queen comes to your shop and asks to invite as many circus people as possible for tonight, you listen.”

This had to be a dream. Or a drug. The brownies were making him hallucinate. Fizzarolli turned back to Asmodeus. “Is this real?” he mouthed. Fizz turned back to Buttons when the king confirmed that he was, in fact, real.

“Do you want to come back and see them? I know they’re all dying to see you.”

Fizzarolli’s head shook eagerly. He smiled and turned back to Ozzie. “Go have fun! I’m visiting family!”

There were only a handful of his circus family waiting for him on the other side of the atrium, near one of the bars. Most of them were much older than the average demographic here, but they were just as energetic when they heard Fizz jingling towards them. They whooped and hollered for him, a few pulling him into a hug while another blew an air horn for him.

Barb should be here.

Fizzarolli had largely been a child while in the family circus, only in his last handful of years did he get to participate in any of the adult gossip flitting between tents. But Fizzarolli was grown now, and the adults had all been drinking for a few hours already. Fizzarolli happily listened as he got caught up with everybody. Buttons and Patches lived in Gluttony now. They owned a tailoring business. They’d acted surprised when Fizzarolli hadn’t realized his corset was made by them, as if anybody else could be as whimsically opulent. Sloppy Joe, the old cook, also worked in Gluttony. He still cooked. One of the old horse performers, Wendy, moved to Wrath and works on a ranch. She gives horse riding lessons on the side. Ariel, one of the aerialists that worked with Barb was in Pride now. She’d always thought sinners were interesting.

Everyone was interested in Fizz's noodle limbs. Everyone was interested in learning about Fizzarolli being cozied up in Lust’s lap.

Another hour and a half later, everyone was interested in learning how Fizzarolli managed to get Asmodeus out onto the dance floor with him.

The attention and support from his family had given Fizzarolli one hell of a confidence boost.

Many many snacks, sparkly drinks, and dances later everyone’s eyes were on Fizzarolli once more. How he’d managed to convince Bee-Lzebub he didn’t know, but he was warm and tingly and so fucking excited. He’d liked when the eyes were on him, he was feeling good, he wanted a challenge.

“Alright, Jingles. On your signal.”

Fizzarolli nodded at Queen Bee. The lights dimmed again. Bee took Fizz’s hands and for the second time tonight they were flying. They started much like the last time, with Bee throwing Fizz into the air, letting him flip, then catching him. Then, when Fizzarolli was firmly planted atop the mirror ball, Bee clapped and two long silks dropped from the ceiling for him.

Fizzarolli was no aerialist by training, but this past year had made him delusional enough to try. After Asmodeus had managed to convince him to try and work towards acrobatics, Fizzarolli managed to convince Mammon to put silks in the Little Top so he could practice after hours. Or well, so Barb could practice. Fizz had only done this once, but he’d watched Barbie do it a million times. He was stronger now with these new limbs, and he had a metric fuck ton more confidence. Bee promised she wouldn’t let him fall.

The room went quiet and the music changed. Fizzarolli grabbed the silks and like he knew how to do, he worked one around his foot, shimmied up, and began to climb. He wasn’t the most graceful at it, or the most consistent. Barb would probably be laughing at him, but he managed to climb to top of the silks. His tongue stuck out with determination as he remembered how Barb wrapped one silk around his leg, an extra catch for when he fell. He’d confirmed the sequence just minutes ago with Ariel.

One deep breath.

The music swelled, Fizzarolli let go of his grip on the silks, the audience gasped, and Fizzarolli fell. His body stopped, dangling upside down and hanging on by his knees at the height of the disco ball. The crowd erupted with cheering. Fizzarolli was dizzy, but giddy. He looked down below him and saw Asmodeus looking up at him.

“And you said you’d never do aerials” Ozzie chuckled. Fizz’s grin grew three sizes. His arms outstretched down towards the other.

“Catch me!” He called, letting go of the hold on his legs and plummeting down straight into Lust’s arms.

“Are you having fun tonight?” Oz asked once Fizzarolli had opened his eyes again. Fizzarolli didn’t need to respond for Asmodeus to know the answer. That look of wonder had been on Fizz’s face all night and Asmodeus just couldn’t look away.

Fizzarolli thought the plush fabric of the seats in Asmodeus’s car were soft and nice to lay on. He said goodbye to the skies yellow as honey, as sweet as Queen Bee. He liked Bee-Lzebub. She knew how to throw a party, that was the best time he’d had in a long time. Maybe ever. And how she managed to find his circus family? People he’d long since thought had forgot about him…..it was so sweet he could cry. Fizzarolli’s leg extended across the car and hooked around Asmodeus’s. He then retracted his leg, pulling himself right into the Sin’s lap.

He wouldn’t be so bold sober. While they’d definitely grown closer in the ten or so days since winning Mammon’s competition, but they were far away from having anything close to a label. Fizzarolli had spent more than one night in Asmodeus’s bed since then, but not every single night. Tonight though, he was hoping he would get to.

“Hello” Asmodeus looked down at Fizz with amusement.

“Hi.” Fizzarolli looped his hand up and around Asmodeus’s shoulder, catching his other hand and pulling himself into the other’s side but only for a moment. The beautiful and intricate not-a-necklace was keeping Fizz from being able to properly cuddle into the other’s side. His hands started trying to work at one of the clasps he knew was in the back.

“Can we take this off please? It’s beautiful to look at, not comfortable to settle next to.” Fizzarolli’s whole body relaxed just a bit more as he felt a hum reverberate through Ozzie’s chest.

“Oh, I see. You need a cuddle.”

Asmodeus obliged when Fizzarolli nodded, finding himself oddly comfortable with the way Fizzarolli curled up against him and settled against his chest. When Fizz let out a content sigh, Asmodeus felt pride.

“I had a really good night, Oz.” Asmodeus placed his hand against Fizzarolli’s back, to keep him close and safe. Fizzarolli’s hand rested against Ozzie’s chest in agreement.

“I’m glad. I had a feeling you and Bee would get along.”

“She’s soooooooo nice and her food was so good. Fuck, Oz. I could cry. It was beautiful. There was so much to choose from.” Asmodeus rubbed Fizzarolli’s back and let the jingly little demon in his lap ramble on. “And she found Buttons! And Patches! Did you know they made this?” Fizzarolli pulled away from Ozzie’s chest to run his hand down the corset.

Asmodeus chuckled. Fuck, he was cute. “I did know.”

Fizzarolli continued. “They live in Gluttony now, they run a shop. Ozzie I have to go there someday, I bet it’s magnificent. Their tents were always filled with the most glittery things. They were so good at mending. They made me my horns! My very first horns. I still have them, but they’re old. Made out of scraps! And-and Wendy. She has a ranch! Out in Wrath! She saw one of my tour shows, I didn’t even know!” Asmodeus continued to rub Fizz’s back. He was adorable. “And Ariel helped me with the silks.”

“Amazing performance, by the way. You never told me you knew how to do that.”

“I didn’t.” Asmodeus’s expression turned to confusion. “When you convinced me to try the acrobatics, I convinced Mammon to put silks in the little top. After hours, Barbie would practice, she’d show me.”

“But tonight was your first time actually doing it?” Lust was amazed.

Fizzarolli shook his head. “Did it once before….hmpf.” Fizz pouted. “I did it once.” He waited for Asmodeus to say something, but he didn’t. Fizz felt compelled to fill the silence. “I know that’s probably pretty reckless, but Bee promised me she wouldn’t let me fall. But I didn’t need her promise, I didn’t fall.”

“It was a very compelling show.” Asmodeus agreed. It had been more than that. He couldn’t have taken his eyes off of Fizzarolli in that moment if he had wanted to.

“Oh you liked my performance, did you?”

Asmodeus smiled. “I did. Very much so.”

“Do you think the silks draped over your bed would hold me? I could try again tonight” Fizzarolli was now sitting more upright than he had been before. One of his hands was wandering up Asmodeus’s chest, Asmodeus stopped the other one before it could reach past his belt buckle.

“I don’t think the bed is rigged for trapezing. Not tonight.” Though Ozzie would make a note to look into that for the future.

Fizzarolli pouted. “We can still have some fun tonight though, right?” Fizz’s hand brushed against Asmodeus’s cheek. His other hand tried once again to get below the Sin’s belt. The sin smiled down at him and shook his head. He placed his hand over Fizz’s gently.

“Not tonight, Fizzy.”

Fizz’s pout was larger than ever. “But why not?”

“How many brownies did you have tonight?” Fizzarolli’s laugh should have been answer enough.

“Fuck if I know.”

“Exactly.” The silence rang loud and Fizz had to accept it. He sighed and curled back up against Asmodeus.

“Can I still stay in your bed?”

How could Asmodeus say no to a face that cute? He was more than happy to keep Fizzarolli close for the night. “Of course.”

The two of them stay seated in comfortable silence for the remainder of their ride. Oz had assumed that Fizzarolli had fallen asleep by the time they’d arrive back at the palace, he happily carried him. Fizzarolli liked the feeling of being carried.

“Hey Oz?” Fizzarolli asked as they reached the elevator. The Sin blinked in surprise and looked down at the other.

“Yeah, Fizz?”

“Why does everyone think I should wear glitter around you?”

Lust was confused. “Who thinks that?”

“Fucking everybody.” Fizzarolli leaned back in Ozzie’s arms so far that Oz was afraid he’d fall. The sin had to reposition the lanky noodle of a clown in his care.

“Specifically around me?” Fizz nodded. Ozzie paused and thought about it. “I thought you wore glitter because you liked it. You like to jingle, you like to shine.”

Fizzarolli giggled. Fuck, that’s cute.

“Do you like to wear glitter, Fizzarolli?”

Fizzarolli had never really thought about it, he had never really considered the choice. He’d had a fair amount of say with his outfits in the circus, but he’d never been completely in control. He’d never worn much of it either, outside of experimenting with some of the other performers on off days.

“I guess I just want to know if it’s me that gives off glittery energy, or if you’re like, known to have a kink for it and I’m just unaware? It’s just….it’s come up multiple times. And then there was the magic glitter tonight and….am I supposed to be in glitter? Do you like me in glitter?”

Fizzarolli loved to hear Asmodeus’s deep laugh with his ear pressed to his chest. Asmodeus took a moment to think.

“I think you shine with or without glitter.” It was faint, but Asmodeus could feel the way Fizz’s energy shifted. He was blushing, wasn’t he? “But-” Ozzie’s hand traced a line along the boning of Fizz’s corset. “It is a nice touch.”

A shiver ran down Fizzarolli’s spine as Asmodeus ran a finger down his torso. He’d never given much thought to his opinion on glitter before. Maybe it would be a topic he would have to revisit. He definitely liked this corset, and he really liked the attention Ozzie was giving him while he was in it.

“Don’t do that when you won’t sleep with me tonight.” Fizz’s hand is in Asmodeus’s face. The Sin chuckled.

“I literally will be! You asked to sleep in my bed tonight.” Asmodeus’s took Fizz’s hand in his own.

Fizzarolli’s tongue is long, and it stuck out halfway to the Sin’s face. “Don’t get literal with me, Duke of Dicktown.”

Ozzie’s expression remained light, his tone always edging on a laugh with Fizzarolli keeping him in good spirits. “Well, I could still help you out of these clothes…..if you’d be so agreeable?”

Fizzarolli’s laughter was the only real answer they needed.

For a second time this week, Fizzarolli had flown higher than he’d ever dreamed possible.