#It’s important to remember that imperfect people deserve to be happy too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

junghelioseok · 4 years ago

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heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

Text

Black

Prompts: After POF, Roman takes over the abandoned color black. He becomes the hated side that Virgil used to be. By most, anyway. Janus and Virgil are concered. Patton chooses to ignore it. Romans room is really cold? and boy is he touch starved - anon

(Sanders sides Prompt) Any one of the sides is touch starved. fluff. (You dont have to do this just thought I might ask) - anon

Hello there!! I just wanna say that I love your work and I think you’re such a talented writer. Idk if this is a weird ask but would you consider writing Roman angst with the song “it’s OK I wouldn’t remember me either” by crywank as like inspiration? Thank you so much <3 -anon

buckel up babes this one's a doozy

Read on Ao3

Warnings: implied/reference self-harm by way of self-negligence, pretty intense self-hatred and neglect that could verge on suicidal, but NO ONE DIES, everyone's fine at the end, we don't break shit and not fix it in my house

Pairings: it is platonic found family hours

Word Count: 5697

Do you know what no one ever tells you about the color black?

It’s seamless.

There are no cracks, no tears, no imperfections, because everything’s so dark you can’t tell what’s a trick of the light and what isn’t. Everything blends together. At first, second, even third glance, it’s perfect. Pristine, even. It hides absolutely everything. It’s intimidating, honestly, that level of deception. The way it can make anything look like it’s meant to be there, as if to live the colorless and lightless life is all it was ever destined for.

Darkness has always found a way of feeling like home, even to the ones who are afraid of it.

You either die the hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

Roman hadn’t wanted to go to the wedding. He didn’t want to go, but it’s what Patton wanted. It’s what Thomas would’ve wanted. If Roman hadn’t been so loud. But it hurt, it did, when they said that they shouldn’t go to the callback because there was such a slim likelihood of Thomas winning. Because Roman couldn’t win. But Roman wasn’t supposed to be the villain and do something bad so he sent Thomas to the wedding.

Bruises were supposed to be yellow, or green, or purple, not black.

But if he had yellow, green, or purple bruises, he would’ve blamed a yellow, green, or purple Side. And that was bad.

So he hid them, because as he learned, no one was looking for them anyway. Patton cared when he didn’t show up to the video and then he was there and oh, having someone there, even if they only cared a little, was like rainfall in a desert, it was wonderful, Roman would’ve sung if he thought it wouldn’t make everything worse. But Roman was good, so he never complained, and he did his job to the best of his ability.

But what if his job was bad?

But there are two Creativities, a Roman and a Remus. And no one else liked Remus, because Remus was bad and Roman was good. But Remus isn’t bad, he’s just the opposite of Roman. And Roman didn’t want to be Remus because Remus was bad. But Remus isn’t bad.

Creativity isn’t bad.

Bruises aren’t supposed to be black but they can’t be red.

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain but what else do you call someone who laughs at vulnerability, who scorns people’s earnest attempts to help, who single-handedly ruins someone’s life?

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain, but bruises aren’t supposed to cover every inch of his skin unless he deserves it.

His skin burns. It crawls and aches and screams and darkens into bruises. His throat aches from the wordless screams and the horrible things he’s said to everyone. He’s been so selfish, he’s tried to make everything go his way, tried to make it about him, not about Thomas, because everything they do is supposed to help Thomas, help Thomas, that’s what they’re supposed to do, they’re supposed to help Thomas, not themselves, why is he doing this, why is he doing this?

Because he’s the villain.

Roman cries.

What else is he supposed to do?

He cries until the tears grow thick, sluggish, oozing out of his eyes until he can’t see anything but them, until his breath grows thick and his chest heavy. He cries until he has to struggle to open his eyes because of how swollen they are, how globulous the tears have become on the ends of his lashes. He cries until his head splits and his chest wails from the pain he isn’t supposed to have but deserves, deserves every little bit. He cries until his body is consumed by the bruises.

His costume is a straightjacket. He needs it off. The white hurts now, it burns his arms and cuffs his wrists. He doesn’t deserve it so he rips it off. Every seam that he ruins is another bruise. The rips are so loud they burrow into some soft part of his brain and live there. The white is still imperfect because it’s on him.

Only when his costume lies in tatters around him, his sash torn off and thrown away, far away, does the white look pure.

He cries himself to sleep with a smile on his face.

Far, far away, a black hoodie is tugged back into the Conscious Mindscape.

When Roman wakes, his head is full of static.

His lungs inflate and collapse on autopilot, driven by the merciless pump of some distant machine, turning the crank to draw air in and out, in and out.

His hands are numb, fingertips rubbed raw and inflamed from tearing relentlessly at fabric. He turns them slowly and it’s like watching himself in a video game.

His face is cold. He paws at his cheeks and feels sticky residue, etched into his skin. His eyes stick slightly when he blinks and he doesn’t know if that’s just his face or if there’s something else.

He is swathed in black fabric, an old threadbare hoodie that has gone years unloved, untouched, unseen. It’s selfishness that makes him tug it closer, feel a faint bubble of pressure on his screaming body.

He should get up, he should go make sure he hasn’t hurt anyone else with his tantrum again, he should apologize.

But…what would be the point?

Like Patton asked, does there come a point when someone keeps apologizing so much that you just have to admit they’re bad?

Roman isn’t good. Has he ever been?

Something interrupts the pleasant numbness and it shoots from his chest to the soft points at the base of his wrists, making his hands tingle. He decides he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want it. He wants everything to stop.

He’s selfish, they all know that, he’s just going to end up hurting them anyway, so why bother trying to fix it?

Apathy, his tired brain supplies when he lies there, unmoving, on the ground, for hours and hours and hours, unwilling and uncaring to fix things.

But that can’t be right. Roman is here because he cared too much, he did too much, he was too much. How can he now be the epitome of not caring at all?

If only he never cared, if only he wasn’t so attached, if only.

If only he had been Apathy, maybe he wouldn’t have been so hurt.

His pride got him here. His pride, his wants, his his his. He wanted everything and burned down the things that would’ve helped him get there because he couldn’t do it right. He is the villain and villains always have too much pride.

Pride. Apathy.

Prapathy.

Apride.

I’m not Creativity anymore, he thinks to himself as he lies there, still on the floor as his chest aches and his eyes sting and the sticky residue drips down his cheeks onto the bruises. He stares and stares and stares at the wall and a faint part of his mind that exists outside of the static realizes he never did get around to fixing that crack in the baseboard.

Pride, apathy. It doesn’t matter. There’s a much easier word that he can use to describe both of them.

Wrong.

—————————————————————

“I don’t know, Thomas,” Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t think that’s a valid solution either.”

“But it makes sense,” Virgil protests, shoving his hands into his pockets, “all we have to do is not talk to anybody else—“

“But that will hurt their feelings!”

“But we won’t hurt ourselves.”

Janus and Patton look at each other for a moment before Patton sighs and scratches the back of his head.

“I—I don’t know, this…this feels weird.”

“None of us are happy about this, Padre,” Virgil mutters, “but it’s the best solution we’ve got.”

“Real high bar we’re setting there, isn’t it?”

“Listen, Snake Face, if you’ve got a better idea—“

“Virgil, enough.” Logan shakes his head. “We need to keep thinking.”

“We’ve been at this for an hour, Logan,” Thomas says cautiously, “I don’t know what else you think we’re gonna get to.”

“We’ve already passed the optimal point for productivity, yes.”

“Oh, well, we can’t just give up now!” Patton puts his hands on his hips. “I’m sure if we just keep at it for a little longer—“

“You said that half an hour ago, Patton.”

“And I’ll say it again!”

“Because that’s going to make everything go much easier.”

Thomas sighs as the Sides fall back into bickering. Normally, this wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary—pretty much all they do is argue back and forth—but Logan’s right. They’ve made almost no progress. He finds himself staring at the TV.

Why is he staring at the TV?

He frowns, tilting his head. It’s literally just his TV. Why is he so fixated on it right now? It’s not like it’s gone anywhere, it’s sitting right where it always is. He stares at it most of the day, why is it so weird that he’s looking at it now?

Wait—

“Guys,” he interrupts, still staring at the thing he’s not supposed to be able to see like this, “where’s Roman?”

The room pauses. Then Logan sighs.

“Oh, of course, that’s why we’ve been having such a hard time coming up with solutions, we don’t have Roman.”

At Virgil’s side-eye, he glances around to see similar looks of disbelief on the other’s faces.

“What?”

“Did you…did you just admit we need Roman?”

“He is Creativity, it makes sense that if we are struggling to be creative, he isn’t here.”

“Okay, that makes more sense.” Virgil shakes his head. “Thought you were admitting he was important or something.”

“Please, his head is big enough as it is.”

Janus hides a snort.

“Why didn’t he show up earlier,” Thomas asks, “he’s normally one of the first of you to get here.”

Virgil shrugs. “I dunno, I haven’t seen that much of him lately.”

“Is he…okay?”

“Who the hell knows, he’s Roman.”

“My guess is he’s been in his room,” Logan says, glancing at Roman’s usual spot, “I haven’t seen him either.”

Thomas doesn’t miss the way Janus and Patton glance at each other. “If you two have information now might be the time to share it.”

“Roman…hasn’t come out of his room,” Patton says after a beat, “not since…”

“Wait, he hasn’t come out since the wedding?”

Janus shakes his head. “I’ve barely seen him open his door.”

“That doesn’t…normally happen, does it?”

“No,” Patton says, “and, uh, he doesn’t normally ignore us either.”

“Ignore you?”

“We’ve tried knocking. It doesn’t work.”

“Perhaps Thomas can summon him,” Logan offers, “you have more power than any of us do, he’d have to answer you.”

“Well, here goes nothing. Creativity!”

Someone pops up in front of the TV.

Someone in a white costume with green embellishments and a mustache.

“Remus?”

Remus glares at them, his Morningstar at his side, his costume white, pristine, and light.

“What the fuck have you done with my brother?”

—————————————————————

It’s been weeks.

The fans have accepted Remus as Creativity. They think that the videos are better than ever. They think this was Thomas’s plan from the beginning.

There is one end card where the Sides are watching a movie and some of them spot a dark figure in the corner. Who could this be? Is this the mysterious orange Side everyone has been waiting for? Is this the Side that’s been hurting Thomas so much?

Zoom and enhance. It’s Virgil’s old hoodie. They’re sitting where Remus used to sit. They’re not staring at the screen, they’re looking at the others. What could this mean?

Someone spots the faint outline of a tiny crown perched atop the figure’s head.

And then, well, then it all makes sense.

There was always one Side that messed up everything, that made everything more complicated. There was always one Side that, if you thought about it, you could trace everything back to. There was always one Side that was told he was making the bad choice and yet, never seemed to learn.

They start to put together timelines, evidence, essay-length meta posts on how of course, this is the plan, why didn’t they see it before? Those that had disliked him from the start crow about how they were right, how everyone doubted them but look who’s laughing now. They point out how he’s become a Dark Side, maybe he was always a Dark Side, and how incredible would that storytelling be? To warn against the pressures of society’s expectations, the idea of good versus bad, or authentic versus forced. How of course, they’re wearing Virgil’s old hoodie because they’re the hated Side now. How they’re not looking at the screen because that’s not what they want, they want to be a part of the famILY.

Vitriolic rants. Accusations. Vent fics. The unsympathetic tag is overflowing.

Because who else could the villain be?

—————————————————————

Roman lives in the cold now.

His fireplace isn’t lit anymore. The door to the Imagination doesn’t work anymore. The blankets on his bed aren’t thick enough anymore. He drifts through a haze where only the emergency systems in his brain are online, where only the awareness needed to sleep, breathe, and move the little bits he needs to move are present.

He doesn’t know that there’s nothing behind the red door anymore, that when Janus and Virgil come to knock on it, worried, or when Remus storms through the Imagination and tries to knock it down by force, there’s nothing for them to find.

He doesn’t know that a new door, a black door, leads from his room to the hallway, far away from any of the other rooms. He doesn’t know that it’s so dark back here that no one would be able to tell there was a door if they didn’t put their nose right up against it.

He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care.

A new kind of ache settles in his bones now. Pain is an old friend, but he’s yet to give suffering a proper handshake.

He misses when he could go and ask someone for help.

He misses when Patton would turn to him without any judgment in his eyes, without any ‘well, you know, kiddo—‘, without any ‘let’s start off with—‘, just the soft words of I’m here, I’ll help you. He misses being able to walk up to Patton’s door and knock on it and know that he would be safe on the other side.

Patton would open the door and soften, his mouth curling up into a small smile as he says hey, kiddo, come in. He would sit Roman down on the bed and press a glass of water into his hands. He would rub his back as he drank, taking the empty glass gently and cupping Roman’s face in his hands. He would ask what’s wrong, sweetheart, what can I do? And Roman would say he just wants a hug, he just wants to not be alone for a bit. And Patton would smile and coo about how Roman was always welcome here, sweetheart, I’m right here, I’ll take care of you. And Roman could fall asleep with his head on Patton’s chest and believe that everything was okay.

He misses when he could walk up to Logan and ask for help and he wouldn’t be scoffed at or turned away, he wouldn’t be looked at suspiciously and asked what he really wanted. He misses when Logan could come to him too and just spend time together.

Logan would knock on his door and ask if you have a moment, would you like to walk with me? And Roman would smile and say, of course, he always has time for Logan, and they could go somewhere in the Imagination and just talk. And Logan would say that’s an interesting idea, I wonder if—and they would walk and talk for hours. And Roman could bustle up to Logan’s door and say I’ve just thought of something, and Logan would open his door and be happy to talk with Roman and it would be okay.

Roman curls up tighter and feels nothing.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Virgil. He wishes they could have bonded over their love of Disney, their want to talk about the things they’re interested in, or even the need to just have someone else in the room with them for a bit. He wishes their relationship wasn’t just spitting barbs at each other, each hoping to hit the bullseye first and knock the other one out of the race. He wishes he could’ve done better.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Janus. He wishes they could’ve done this right, that they could’ve bonded over the want to keep Thomas safe but also have him be himself. He wishes that he hadn’t laughed, hadn’t scorned, hadn’t fallen back on his pride to keep himself safe at the expense of Thomas. He wishes that maybe, just maybe, if he had been a better puppet, then he wouldn’t have been dropped so suddenly.

But as it stands now, more than anything he wishes he could hear them when they say the things they say about him because then he could figure out which bruises were theirs and take comfort in knowing that they still touch him in some way.

The bruises are a constant now. From the online hate to the casual remarks from the others to the way that Patton hasn’t even tried to come find him anymore—he can hear that, you know—he can’t turn over without landing on a new smattering of bruises. The hoodie helps to cushion the blow a little bit.

He misses Remus.

Remus was…

…Remus was everything.

Roman misses his other half. Roman misses his brother. Roman misses his Creativity.

When they were small they would curl around each other as if they could fuse if they focused hard enough. They would wrap their arms around each other so tightly that it would be a pleasant ache when they woke, never minding because they were tighter. Remus was always so warm and Roman hoarded every single bit he could get.

Roman was cruel to push his brother away and now he understands how it feels.

He misses Thomas.

He misses when he was allowed to go and see Thomas. When he could talk to Thomas. When his presence was celebrated or at the very least, tolerated. He misses it. He misses helping.

But he’s helping now, by staying away.

He’s cold.

He’s so cold.

—————————————————————

do you remember what it felt like

to be touched?

press of fingertips against shoulders

bump of a forehead against yours

palms meeting and parting a mere second later

in days gone by

do you remember

warm?

humans thrive off physical contact,

we’re not built to hold each other

at arms’ length.

infants will die

if they aren’t held enough.

and I am so

cold

—————————————————————

Something is wrong and even Patton can’t ignore it anymore.

The Sides shuffle uneasily in front of the red door until Remus raises his hand to knock against it.

“Roman?”

Silence.

“Roman, please, please, just—just say something.”

Silence.

“Where the fuck are you, Roman?”

“Don’t yell,” Logan mumbles, “you’ll make him think we’re angry at him.”

Remus takes a deep breath.

“We’re not angry, Ro-bro, we’re just—just please make some noise.”

Silence.

“…we’re coming in, Roman.”

But they can’t. Because as Remus turns the knob on the door, it falls forward. The entire door comes off just to reveal—

A blank wall. With no sign that there was ever a room behind it.

Thomas can hear the scream.

—————————————————————

Roman hears the scream and can’t move. But he can close his eyes and reach out and see what’s going on. After all, he hasn’t done anything, so something must be wrong if someone else is screaming.

He feels something in his chest twist and snap.

“Re?”

Across the Mindscape, Remus’s head jerks up.

“Ro,” he breathes, getting to his feet and rushing off down the hall as the others hurry after him, “Ro!”

“Remus, what’s going on?”

“Why isn’t Roman’s room there anymore?”

“Where are you going?”

They barrel into the hallway and smack into a black door. Logan’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s happened.

“Roman’s become a Dark Side,” he says, fingers scrabbling where the door meets the wall, “he’s—he’s really hurt, we have to help—“

“Move, L, I’m gonna break the door down.”

“You’re not gonna do it without me.”

“Roman!”

Roman turns his head to look at the door. Are they…here? The hoodie rasps against his undead skin and he winces. There are still bruises.

“Roman!”

The door shudders its frame. He could open it. He could. He just has to reach out and—

“Ro!”

Remus.

The door unlatches and his brother pours into the room, letting out a wail when he spots Roman in the bed.

Janus hisses as soon as he crosses the threshold, this room is freezing. It feels as if no one’s moved for years inside, as if the heat has been sucked out entirely. His gaze flies to Remus, who’s over on the bed, his hands scrabbling at something in black material.

Roman.

“Oh, little prince,” he whispers, horrified, “no, no, no—“

“We have to get him out,” Logan orders, startling Remus into action as he scoops Roman into his arms, “we have to get him warm. His core temperature is too low.”

“Shower? Bath?”

“No, if we shock his system we could make it worse. Janus, I need your heating pads, Patton, something warm to drink.”

Janus and Patton vanish.

“Virgil, weighted blankets, Remus—“

“I’m here.” As Virgil ducks away as well, Remus helps Logan cradle the limp and freezing form of his brother in their arms as they begin to rush out of that horrible, horrible room. “You thinking bathroom?”

“Get him to Janus’s, that’ll be the safest place.”

“Got it.”

Sure enough, Janus has no objection and sweeps them inside, setting down the heating pads as Patton bustles in with two thermos flasks and a mug. Virgil pops back with thick blankets as they lay the cold form on the ground. Roman’s eyes blink sluggishly as he stares up at Remus.

“...Re?”

“Yeah, Roro, it’s me, I’m right here, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here faster.”

“What’s…wha’s going on?”

“You’re too cold, Roman,” Logan says gently, “we need to get you warmed up.”

“Oh…”

“It will be easier if we take a few of the layers off,” he explains, still careful to keep his voice low and even as the others scurry around, “is that alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to unzip the hoodie.” Logan works slowly, patiently, stopping when any flicker crosses Roman’s face. “That’s it, you’re doing very well, I’m almost done.”

By the time he’s coaxed the hoodie off of Roman’s shoulders, there’s a little bit of color back in his cheeks.

“Very good, Roman, you did well. Virgil’s brought a few warm blankets and Janus has heating pads for you, do you think you can sit up?”

“Don’t know.”

“That’s alright, you’re doing alright.” Logan glances up at Janus.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, sitting by Roman’s head, “if you can sit up, I can sit behind you and help warm you up, does that sound alright?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, sweetie, we’re going to sit you up now.”

Logan and Janus sit Roman up slowly, only to pause when the long sleeves of his shirt fall down.

“Roman,” Logan asks, trying frantically to keep his voice calm, “are you hurt?”

“Mhm.”

He bites back the fearful response and patiently asks where, how bad, can he see?

“Everywhere.” Roman lifts his arms weakly. “’S all bruises.”

“…can we see?”

“Okay.”

Logan’s hands begin to tremble as he works the shirt over Roman’s head. He wasn’t kidding when he said everywhere.

There’s barely an inch of skin that doesn’t look bruised black and blue. Patton stifles a cry as he drops to his knees next to them, looking at Roman like he’s never seen it this bad before.

Oh, Roman, how did they not know? How could he just ignore him like that?

“Get him covered,” comes Virgil’s voice, “he’s still too cold.”

Janus grabs one of the blankets and wraps it carefully around Roman’s form. It should help distribute whatever pressure they apply so it won’t aggravate his injuries too severely. He takes one heating pad and scoots forward, bracketing Roman’s legs with his own and wrapping one pair of arms around him to press the pad to his chest.

“Can you feel that, sweetie,” he asks softly, “is that too warm?”

“No.”

“Good, good, little prince, you’re being very brave.” He turns away to reach for another and so misses the little shudder that goes through Roman. “Do you think you can handle another if I press it to the back of your neck?”

“Mm.”

“Let’s try, little prince, and if it’s too much, I’ll stop.”

“Okay.”

“Here we go, sweetie—“ Janus presses it carefully to the base of Roman’s skull, just at the edge of the blanket— “there, does that feel okay?”

“Mm.”

“Good, sweetie, you’re doing so well, so good for us, that’s it, you relax now.”

Roman starts to tremble.

“That’s alright,” Logan soothes, “you’re warming up, it means you’re going to shiver a little more, you’re alright, Roman, you’re safe. You’re doing well.”

It certainly doesn’t seem that way once Roman’s breath starts to come in gasps. Virgil nudges Patton out of the way and sits, gently calling Roman’s name until his gaze snaps to Virgil’s.

“Hey, Princey,” Virgil says slowly, “you gotta stay with me now, okay? We’re right here, no one’s angry, nothing’s going to hurt you. Just focus on me.”

He ignores the startled noises when Roman starts to cry thick, black tears.

“Eyes on me, Princey, that’s it, stay here. We’re just gonna sit here and breathe for a moment, okay?” Roman nods and Virgil starts to take big, exaggerated breaths. “Good. That’s it, Princey, you focus on me and you breathe. It’s okay. You’re doing great. Just stay here.”

When the viscous black liquid slows, Virgil reaches out and begins to tuck Roman’s hair back. A moment longer and he pauses, noting how the scratch on Roman’s face is covered in the thick black tears.

“Princey, can I clean your face off for you? You’re doing really well at breathing, I’m proud of you. Can I help you with the rest of it?”

“O-okay.”

There’s a bottle of micellar water and a pack of cotton circles pressed into his hands. He moves in slow, careful strokes, changing out the circles as often as he needs to. A pile of them grows beside him as he works, doing his best to get all the black off of Roman’s face. Roman just cries.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Patton murmurs when Roman’s cry gives way to a wail, “it’s okay, you cry all you need to, we’re not going anywhere, it’ll be alright.”

“We have you, sweetie,” Janus says against Roman’s neck, “we’re here.”

Remus lets out a broken noise.

“Oh, Roman, you didn’t…”

Logan’s head whips sharply around to scold Remus only for his mouth to fall open in shock.

Remus’s costume is bleeding too. The same black that drips down Roman’s face is slowly coloring Remus’s costume again, back to what it normally looks like. Remus’s mouth is agape, staring horrified at Roman.

“Oh, Ro—“

“What’s going on?”

“Check the bruises on his neck,” Remus orders as Janus pulls back the blanket, “are they still there?”

“They’re here, but they’re…lighter, how is that—?”

“Roman is the Ego,” Patton mumbles, “he gets bruised when—when—“

“Oh, shit,” Virgil curses, before quickly hushing Roman’s discontented mumble, “and with all the hate that’s been gunning for him—“

“Oh, sweetheart—“

Roman lets out another sob and the tears run clear.

“The Ego is kept healthy by positive attention,” Logan says softly, scooting closer and rubbing Roman’s shoulder through the blanket, “you’ve been starving, haven’t you?”

“He’s not cold because he’s hypothermic,” Remus blusters, “he’s touch starved.”

“It’s still not safe to introduce him to direct contact all at once,” Logan warns when Patton and Remus look like they want to rip the blanket off, “we have to take it slow.”

“So what do we do?”

Janus just leans down and presses a kiss to Roman’s temple. “You’re so brave, sweetie, you’ve been so strong.”

They watch as Roman’s tears begin to wash away the black.

“We love you, sweetheart, you’re so important to us.”

“Stay with us, Princey, we need you.”

“You’re doing very well, Roman, we’re very proud of you.”

Roman cries, ducking his head into Virgil’s waiting hands as Remus’s costume colors itself black again.

After a long while, when Remus looks like he normally does, Roman shakes his head and looks up at them.

“Where am I,” and he sounds like Roman again, “what’s happened?”

“You were starving, sweetheart,” Patton mumbles, “and we didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“O-oh,” Roman blinks, “is that…is that why I’m so cold?”

“You’re touch starved too,” Virgil adds, “and we, uh, L said it wasn’t a good idea to try and shock you out of it.”

“Try and drink something,” Logan says quickly as Patton reaches for the mug, “you’ve been crying for a while and you’re dehydrated.”

“Is that…hot chocolate?”

“Your favorite, kiddo.”

Remus sits down at Roman’s side as he drinks, staring at him like he’s not seen him in ages. Which, well, none of them have, really.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Roman repeats, looking sheepishly at all of them, “I, uh, well, the last video I messed up a lot. I, uh, I shouldn’t have laughed at your name, Jan—where are you?”

“Right here,” Janus mumbles, giving him a gentle squeeze, “and you’re forgiven.”

“Oh. Uh, that was easy…are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Yes, it wasn’t great of you to do, but I’m not exactly blameless either and…”

He squeezes him again.

“…you’ve been hurting enough.”

“Logan, you too, I—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Roman, but I agree. It’s alright.”

“Why are you all forgiving me so fast?”

“Because,” Remus mumbles, cupping Roman’s head and resting their foreheads together, “this happened.”

They all watch as Roman shudders as Remus shows him what happened.

“Oh—oh—I—oh no—“

“It’s over now, sweetie,” Janus reassures, “we’ve got you. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

“C-can I have a hug?”

“Of course, honey, come here—“

“Let’s get the blanket out of the way, L, is he—“

“It should be safe now, yes.”

“Remus, I—oof!”

“I gotcha, Ro-Bro.”

“It’s still—I’m still—“

“Patton, grab that end of the blanket.”

“This one?”

“That’s it, yes.”

The Sides end up swaddled in the blanket, their heads poking out, as each of them pulls a little bit of Roman into their arms to warm up. Janus and Remus wrap around his upper body, mindful of the few bruises that haven’t been healed yet. His legs are in Patton’s lap, as Logan and Virgil each hold on to his hands. The poor thing is still shivering, still shaking, still a little overwhelmed.

But Janus coos into his ear as his head lolls back, Remus holding him tightly. Logan’s thumb strokes over his palm as Virgil lets him squeeze as tight as he needs to. Patton makes sure he’s off the cold tile and he’s warm.

They’re going to have to work out what to do about the fans, about the videos, but right now they need to worry about Roman.

Speaking of Roman—

“I—I need to apologize to Thomas.”

A cry goes up as he says so, Patton reaching up to pat his knee. “You don’t have to do that right now, sweetheart, rest, it’s okay—“

“I won’t—he won’t be able to rest until he knows what’s happened.”

As if he can hear them, they feel the familiar tug of one of them being summoned. A quick glance around shows that if one of them is going, all of them are, so they appear on the floor of the living room, swaddled in the blanket.

Thomas’s mouth drops open and he rushes to their side.

“I was gonna ask if you found Roman, but I—Roman, buddy, are you okay?”

“I…I don’t know,” Roman mumbles, “but I’m sorry.”

“For what, buddy?”

As Roman begins to apologize, for being away, for hurting Thomas, for being selfish, Thomas just shakes his head.

“No, buddy, that’s not all on you. You—yeah, okay, some things happened, but it’s not entirely your fault. You don’t need to think of it like that.”

“Well said,” Logan mutters, “now help us get Roman to rest.”

“So what Disney movie are we watching and how many pillows do we need?”

A lot, as it turns out, is the answer. And they have to bite back laughs at the way Thomas makes a noise when he’s swept into the blanket too. But Thomas is warm and Roman is still cold and the movie plays on the screen.

“Hey, Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my hero.”

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#sanders sides #dragonbabbles #fic #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #remus sanders

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har-rison-s · 3 years ago

Text

pray, do tell

request: If you don’t mind me asking, request for Loki asking the other Loki’s if they have a s/o in their timeline during episode 5?

a/n: hi ! i absolutely ADORE this idea and i hope i'll write it out respectfully :)) i loved episode 5 so much, except for SOME scenes, and i especially enjoyed multiple lokis sitting around and talking, chilling, that's like... my dream place to be. YOU DON'T KNOW THE EFFECT PRESIDENT LOKI HAS ON ME. like it should be studied in labs and schools cos ??????? that feeling when he's on screen was just something else. also ! kid loki holding alligator loki my beloved <3. i'd love to be surrounded by lokis, me and loki actually have the same personality type so they're like... my people. sorry for the rant, hahah ! this one is a bit shorter than my other loki works, sorry about that :/ also it took me like 40 minutes to find decent gifs lmao. happy reading !! <3

masterlist

mcu masterlist

warnings: nothing really

disclaimer: lokis mentioned have he/him pronouns !

Weirded out by what he's seeing, and not entirely sure it's real, Loki can't take his eyes off it, either. The way alligator Loki drinks his boxed wine is just so fascinating to him, yet weird and other-wordly (he knows those well) at the same time. And he's weirded out more by the fact that he doesn't find a variant of him being an alligator strange in any way. He's had a few trying days, as he said himself.

Loki manages to divert his eyes off the creature with horns on its head and looks to the grapes he holds in his hand. He picks small dirt away from the berries and takes a grape into his mouth with ease. The taste reminds him of many things. His childhood, his home, his family... Thor, Frigga, Odin, Sif and the Warriors Three. Asgard. The Gardens, the waters, the Bifrost. Heimdall. Visits to the city, the markets, the celebrations.

Love.

Loki blinks, fooling himself and others by aiming to portray that he's not thinking about anything important. But he is. She was the most important thing to him, and now... Well, maybe during the New York heist, she's still fine, but after Ragnarok... Loki fears too much to think about it.

He wishes he could remember everything with her that followed New York, but all he has of their future is some worn-out tape in the TVA archives. Perhaps even pictures... He wants to live through all they had now, he wishes he could do that most of all. Of course, there's the finding Mobius and helping Sylvie burn down the TVA thing, but upon remembering her, it all falls into the background.

His first love. Not a god, like him, but she was a goddess in his eyes. He smiles now, subtly, at the fond memories of her. He noticed the little moments he had with her in the tape Mobius had, about his whole future. How beautiful she always was, her subtle way of laughing and going about her smiles and giggles, how exceptional and different her clothes always were, how her hair shined in any light...

“Did any of you...” Loki starts to say, and sighs shortly before continuing, thinking he'll probably regret asking it, “did any of you leave a... a lover behind when the TVA arrested you? Prince or princess?” He looks between his variants. Young Loki shoots him a stern look. “Apologies, my liege. You seem too young for that.” Loki bids him a polite smile, but his brain whirs. “How long have you been here, anyway?”

“Don't know. Time doesn't really... exist here.” Young Loki says and throws a salt biscuit into alligator Loki's jaws. “But no lovers in my lifetime, Loki.” He pointedly looks at the older variant of himself, nodding slightly.

“Not yet, at least.” Loki points out and gets scoffs and chuckles from Boastful and Classic Loki. He looks at them with a furrowed brow.

“Oh, you and your grand plan,” Classic Loki shakes his head before taking another sip from his huge cup. Loki only rolls his eyes, but still waits for answers to his question, “well,” Classic Loki downs his drink, “it would be no surprise to you that I had countless partners before I chose isolation. Partners of any kind.” He winks. Loki nods, understanding how much alike he truly is with his variants. “But I feel there is no one truly... truly made for me. Like midgardians would say - 'the one'.“

“In my case, there were many 'the ones',” Boastful Loki says, mocking Classic's use of words. All other Lokis roll their eyes, “I actually feel like every person in the whole universe was made to be with me. I'm just that irresistible.” He smiles pleasantly to himself. Alligator Loki growls again.

“That's another “liar” from him to you, Boast,” Classic Loki nods his head towards Boastful, who only shakes his head and frowns.

“I had my fair share of men and women before I was taken,” Boastful says, “must have been the same for you, Loki.” He looks at him. “Asgard was truly a giving place.”

Loki chuckles, but looks away from his variants. “Oh, it was...” he says quietly, “it was.” His voice grows even more quiet. Young and Classic Loki exchange a look.

“Do tell us, your mischievousness.” Classic Loki urges him. Loki shoots him a nervous look, then he leans back into the sofa and sighs, his eyes strictly focused on his hands.

“I had plenty before I met... one,” he starts to say, “me and her share a past, and, it seems, a future as well. After New York, I am taken to Asgard, imprisoned, but she is there. I fake my death and rule over Asgard as Odin, and she's there. I help Thor destroy our evil sister--”

“Oh, she was a nasty one.” Boastful says, shaking his head. “We used to have a connection, but then she just... I don't even know.” He shrugs. Loki eyes him for a second before continuing.

“We destroyed Asgard, but saved its people, and saved her. We make for Midgard, and she's there with me.” Loki sighs, his eyes gloomy. “And then... Thanos attacks, destroys half, if not all our people, and...” he can't even speak further. His variants share a look, each having quite the correct guess for what could follow after that. Boastful drinks from his cup in an awkward manner. “But I feel like that's another life I lived. Or another me. I don't know, I feel so... disconnected from her, from what we had. Must be the TVA and this... void. And all that's happened, all I've learned about my future.” He sighs again.

“Meeting her again would be a wake-up call, no?” Boastful asks. Loki shrugs, a sad expression on his face.

“Rather a sign that you're real.” Classic Loki says with a wide, true smile. Loki looks to him as if looking at a mentor. “I often felt like the people I loved and the love I had for them, even if it was not reciprocated, were a reminder that I am real, I exist and I can feel all these things.”

Loki considers his words, and then nods along, finding a truth in them.

“After all, love and all other emotions are the human part in all of us.” Classic says. “And it isn't always bad to feel like a regular human being.” Loki can also find truth in those words. Love makes one feel alive, makes you feel like you're on the right path, found the right person, found your purpose. It doesn't always have to be glorious, it can be small, but nonetheless important to you.

“I used to think humans smaller than us, more pathetic and puny, but...” Loki shakes his head, “we, gods, are just the same, really.” He chuckles sadly. “Having quarrels over the stupidest things, being as imperfect as humans... Sometimes I even felt like I was too good, too perfect for something like true love, which is a pathetic emotion that makes you feel all kinds of other feelings, but...” he smiles, “often times I felt like that, she told me everyone was deserving of love, even me.” His smile grows wider.

“She sounds lovely.” Classic Loki tells him with a kind smile.

“She was that, and more.” Loki nods along. Young Loki imitates the sound of a snore and throws a crumpled piece of paper at Loki's shoulder.

“You're making me extremely bored.” He announces and sits straighter in his chair, looking over the mess that is his palace. “Love's boring.” Young Loki throws a juice carton across the room, making a face.

“You are just too young to understand and know it, your majesty.” Boastful says with a wink, and the next juice carton is flying over his head with a snicker from Young Loki. Classic Loki keeps Boastful tight in his seat so an argument wouldn't arise, and Boastful hesitantly restrains, his drink almost spilling over his cup. Loki watches them with a sappy smile on his features, and decides this is a good place to spend eternity at, even without her.

Permanent tag-list: @hallecarey1 @gabiatthedisco @v0idbella @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @ur-gunna-h8-ths @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @deardeacy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16 @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131 @beverlyparkerr @gasbomb69 @rottenstyx

let me know if you want to be added ! or maybe to a loki list !

#loki request #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki series #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson imagines #loki oneshot #loki one shot #loki odinson x reader #loki odinson imagine #loki odinson imagines #har-rison-s writes #no but how old is kid loki?#how long has kid loki been in the void?#how long has classic loki been in the void?#how long has boastful loki been in the void?#which of them was the first???

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pigeonp0st · 4 years ago

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Hi! Since your taking some request I was wondering if you could do one about Wonder woman x reader where the reader is insecure about her body because she is literally dating a goddess and Diana notice her being distant and always avoiding to look in a mirror. Can it be like super fluffy and all. Thx I am currently binge reading each of your imagines 🥰love you and thx again

Diana Prince x Reader #1

Words: 1918

Warnings:

Self-loathing, Self-harm (not intentionally), body dysphoria , blood. Please don’t read if any of these things will make you upset or triggered!

Notes:

You said super fluffy and my mind didn’t register it holy fuck. Uh...oops? This is really dark and i’m sorry if it’s too far from what you were hoping for. I enjoyed writing it though, so thank you for requesting. (Sorry for spelling mistakes.)

————

You aren’t jealous of her. You aren’t.

It’s just...well...Diana’s a goddess. Literally. Even people who don’t know she’s Wonder Woman would call her that without question, just based on her looks.

And you’re...you're you. You’re you so you get asked often, by dense people not intending to be rude, how you managed to get with her.

You’re you so whenever you’re in a room with her you’re practically ignored. You're you so people’s eyes always widen when you say Diana’s your girlfriend, because HOW.

How, you can tell they’re wondering. Someone like Diana deserves to be with some rich model, not you.

God...you hate this. You hate feeling this way, and you hate that it involves Diana so largely. It’s not her fault the world is the way it is, it’s not her fault you’re the way you are, but it’s hard. It’s hard looking at her and not seeing all of your imperfections mirrored on her loving face.

It’s hard to look at her, and not compare what she looks like with what you look like. It's hard looking at her and not remembering all of the ways you’re undeserving...all of the ways you're not enough.

It’s not as hard as looking in the mirror though. You can stand the sadness when you look at her because she smiles so brightly sometimes, and she’s just so loving that it’s hard to think about negative things when she starts laughing.

It’s hard believing she can’t possibly love you when she’s standing in front of you doing exactly that.

The seconds she’s gone though...the second she’s gone it comes back in full force, and lately you’ve been so overwhelmed thinking about dealing with the ‘after Diana leaves’ that you’ve been avoiding being with Diana as much as you can.

You hate it, and each time you reject her with another excuse you hate yourself just that little bit more too.

—-

You can’t avoid her ALL of the time though, and it’s not like you want to.

Diana comes to your house one day, more unsure of herself than she usually is, and looks around the room like she’s unfamiliar with it.

It hasn’t been that long since she’s been here, you don’t know why she looks so curious about—

“All of your mirrors are gone,” Diana notes, freezing you in your tracks. Then, she glances down to your wrapped hands, eyes wide. “You’re hurt,” she whispers, completely concerned now. She reaches for you but you pull away before she can touch you.

“I’m fine.” You say it through gritted teeth and with adverting eyes, and it’s so clear that you’re not.

It’s so clear that you’re not, but Diana nods her head like she believes you and wraps her arms around herself like the room just got ten times colder.

Everything feels ten times heavier suddenly, too heavy when you’ve been so tired for what feels like ages. Fuck. You just want your girlfriend, you just want your goddess. Why do you have to worry about what the rest of the world thinks?

“Diana.”

She looks up immediately, confusion lined in every inch of her. She’s clearly trying to put the puzzle piece together but she’s missing too many pieces to understand.

You wonder if she’d even be able to understand if she had all of the pieces—if she could see what was happening to you. Could Diana understand something she’s probably never heard about in her island of beautiful women? Something she’s probably never had to deal with?

You don’t say any of that though. You don’t say the words that feel like they’re ripping your insides apart. Instead, you say, sheepish; “wanna watch a movie?” Like nothing is wrong in the world, because maybe if you act like it enough it will become true.

Maybe if you act like it enough you’ll forget last night, the night where you went around shattering every mirror you owned. Some of them with the impact of the floor, and others with your fist.

Maybe if you act like picking which movie to watch is your biggest concern in life, you’ll forget about the medical bills sitting on the counter because some of the glass dug in so deep all you could see was red on your hands, and all you could feel was helpless.

Maybe—

“Sure,” Diana agrees, offering you a comforting smile.

Maybe Diana deserves more than a person that deludes themself to stay tethered

——

You’re an idiot.

Your wallpaper switched from a picture of you and Diana to a picture of just Diana a month ago, but you stupidly forgot that Diana hasn’t changed hers also.

So naturally, since the world hates you lately, Diana’s phone lights up with a call—she completely ignores it while being completely entranced in the movie—and you glance at it to see if it’s someone important, someone Diana would want to answer to.

You pay zero attention to the person who called Diana after you see the picture.

“Diana.”

You don’t register it’s your voice speaking until Diana turns to you. She couldn’t register the sound of her phone ringing but she registers the sound of your voice and you love her, you love her, you—

“Change your background.”

Diana blinks, once, twice, then; “why? I like it.”

“Diana,” you repeat, heart beating a million miles a minute, and voice several pitches higher. “Change your background.”

“Why?” Diana asks again, but it’s softer this time, softer and on the verge of seeing the puzzle even without all of the pieces.

“Because people will—” you pause, your voice hitching, “please...just change your background, please Diana, please, for fucks sakes, please just—”

“Okay,” Diana whispers hurriedly, alarmed by your desperation and quickening breaths, and pulling you into her arms. “Okay.”

But you’re not done. “Not of me, Diana,” you continue, frantically. “Don’t change it to another one of me, okay? Change it to—to something else.”

Finally—finally, Diana tenses under you, hit with a realization that’s larger than her, and larger than her beauty, and something that isn’t really actually about her, something that’s always been about you, that she happens to involuntarily bring out more because of her affect on other people.

She’s hit with the realization on a Monday night, with you still frantic and broken in her arms from just one image. She’s hit with the realization in a home with no mirrors. She’s hit with the realization with a small, quiet mumble of your hardly comprehensible words; “Diana, they’ll think you’re crazy. I don’t want you to believe your crazy for—”

“Why did you get rid of your mirrors?”

It’s your turn to tense and become silent. You even try pulling away but Diana keeps her arms around you to keep you with her (to keep you tethered, because Diana works better than any delusion). “Y/N, why did you get rid of your mirrors?” She asks again, “why are your hands wrapped? Why can we never go out together anymore? Why is your wallpaper just a picture of me and not you, why—”

“I think you should leave.”

“Why aren’t you talking to me!”

Silence. Diana let’s out a stuttering breath and then she’s pulling you closer to her, closer, closer, and whispering over, and over again, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, I'm not angry at you, you’re okay.”

And you're shaking in her arms, clutching her coat, wishing for happiness without delusions.

Then...you’re being honest, telling Diana everything between shaky breaths, and sobs.

You’re giving her the puzzle pieces, not expecting her to understand what she’s looking at, but wanting her to care about it anyways, to find it important, and something worth looking at.

Diana lets you speak even though she’s clearly against half of the things you’re saying about yourself because she wants to understand the puzzle you built while she wasn’t looking.

——

When you’re done, and all that is left is dried tears on more than one pair of cheeks, Diana finally speaks. First though, she asks that you don’t interrupt her. You agree.

“Okay,” Diana sighs, “you won’t believe me—you can’t—but I find you to be the most beautiful person in this world, and any other, in these times, and any other.”

Here, Diana is wrong. You don’t believe this to be anywhere near true about yourself, but when you meet Diana’s eyes you do believe that this is something she believes without doubt.

This is something she believes as simply as the sky being blue.

“And that’s because of what you look like on the outside, but it’s also because of who you are regardless,” she smiles at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes full of nothing but love and concern, and then pain.

“Believe it or not,” Diana starts, voice soft, “I look at you, and everything you are, and sometimes i’m the one who feels undeserving. You feel...brighter than me sometimes. More...more everything, and I—sometimes I feel like you offer more than I give,”

Diana saying that is humorous because all she has ever done is offer, she offers even now after you’ve shown her cracks she wasn’t supposed to see...you’ve come to realize though that if someone feels something to be true... then it’s true to them, and it will hurt them just the same.

“I can not change the way you see yourself, just as you cannot change the way I see you, but I…” Diana pauses, staring searchingly into your eyes until you have to look away, “I want to help you. I will do whatever I can to make you believe me, i’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it and…” another pause, this one longer and sadder…

“I want you to look at me love you, and then when I'm gone I don’t want to be a reminder of your unworthiness, but a reminder of the worth you possess, to me—and so many others.”

“Diana…”

“It’s okay,” she assures, “for now, if you can’t believe you're physically beautiful, I'll show you all of the larger, more meaningful things about yourself until all you can see when you look in the mirror is someone who brings light into people's lives, someone who is loved. Someone who is great.”

And you're crying again now, but this time Diana is the one talking. She is reassuring you, and she’s showing you puzzle pieces, except this puzzle is another one, this puzzle isn’t about the way you see yourself, it’s about the way she sees you, it’s about the way people who matter to you see you, and even the ones that don’t.

This puzzle is larger than the one you showed her, and from the pieces you allow yourself to see, the pieces you’re able to accept right now, it’s a more beautiful one.

For the first time in a long time, you can imagine believing all of the things she tells you. You can imagine it, and when you do you’re sobbing even harder, because yes. Yes, that is what you want.

Diana will be there by your side on the journey to love, like she was there to the last ‘love journey’...but this one isn’t about loving her, it’s about loving you exactly as you are.

Who better to get you to love yourself than the person who loves you most?

#wonder woman x reader #wonder woman imagine #diana prince #diana prince imagine #diana prince x reader #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc x reader #imagine #female reader #fem reader #wonder woman

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shadyteacup · 4 years ago

Note

Hey sorry if you don’t take requests like this but could you write something about Dazai with a fem s/o or crush who keeps saying she hates herself and has very low self esteem like Atsushi and panic attacks sometimes? Again sorry if you don’t take these! If it’s uncomfortable for you it’s okay to not do it!!!

Hey, this is my first time writing something like this, but it's perfectly fine! There's always a first time for everything. Sorry this took so long.. it was slightly triggering, ngl, but I managed, so all's good :D

I kinda made it relevant to my own self.... I didn't know any other way to write this....

Love, know that you are more than enough, and that you deserve love, support and happiness!

Let Me Teach You, What Love Feels Like

Dazai x f!reader

Tw: panic attack, self doubt, self hate

You sat at your desk, trying to come up with something to write. You weren't exactly a writer, just someone who always liked to read and sometimes write. You were a student, but recently you had started your own blog, and turns out, people actually liked your work.

But you couldn't accept the fact that they liked it because you were a 'good writer'. You never doubted your followers, or their tastes, but you just weren't sure if you were actually good enough, or if they were just being kind to you, out of their goodness.

Thoughts like these always flooded your mind whenever you sat to write. Whenever you get any requests, you go over them a million times before posting anything, wanting it all to be perfect for your followers.

But you still thought that you could do better.

You stared at your phone screen, reading and re-reading the request that was sent to you.

You had an idea in your mind, but what if the person who sent this, wouldn't like it? What if they aren't satisfied with what you wrote? What if your effort isn't enough? What if they hate it? What if-

Your thoughts were interrupted by two arms draping themselves around your shoulders.

You jolted out of your spiraling thoughts, and let out a silent gasp.

Tufts of brown tickled your cheeks, as a chin placed itself on your head.

"Hey beautiful", a melodic voice spoke.

"Dazai! You scared the shit out of me!"

You wiggled out of his grasp, turning around to scowl at his handsome face.

He chuckled, booping your nose with his own.

"You look so cute when you're flustered, I can't help but pull such tricks on you ;)"

His cute smirk and light hazelnut orbs filled you with happiness. You loved him so much. He was a dork sometimes, but, alas, he was your dork.

"What are doing, love?", he asks, peering over your head to observe the blank page of your book, and the text on your phone.

"Just writing...", you say,"or atleast, I'm attempting to.."

Your far away look, and the doubt in your eyes instantly told him what you were going through. You were a lot like a certain subordinate of his, and it both pained and hurt him.

You always looked down at yourself. You never gave yourself enough credit. If something that you worked for was successful, you would give credit to the luck, or some stupid coincidence, or anybody else who had merely lent a helping hand. And when it didn't work out, you blamed yourself, calling yourself weak and inefficient. You would easily take the fall for all the misfortunes, and never pat your back for all the good you do. It frustrated him to no end. What should he do to make you realize that you're perfect the way you are? How can he convince you that you are more than enough, and that you are such an important and worthy person in not only his life, but everybody around you? You are capable of bringing a smile to everyone's faces, and your mere presence makes their day. How do you not see that?

When you wake up and look in the mirror, all you see are made up imperfections.

He remembers when you were staring at the mirror one morning, and he had asked you teasingly, "Are you checking yourself out?"

You had merely shaken your head, and replied with a,"There's nothing to check out..."

Before he could say something, you had begun talking.

"I'm not beautiful, Dazai. Look at me. My curves aren't quite right. At some places, they are non existent and at others, they're way too bulging. I'm not pretty, either. My eyes are way too huge, and my nose is slightly crooked. My hair isn't silky, and my height isn't ideal. I'm.... nothing of value..."

You turned to face him, with tears in your eyes.

"I... I don't know why you stay... You can do so much bett-"

He had cut you mid way with a kiss.

"You are the most beautiful person on the planet, Y/N."

You looked away, mumbling, "You just say that for the sake of it... You don't have to, you know..."

He cupped your cheek, looking you in the eyes.

"When you smile, my entire world lights up. That's because you are my world. Your curves are perfect. Your eyes aren't too huge, infact, they're the prettiest pair I have ever seen. The way they shine, and hold so much kindness, beauty and love; they make me fall for you over and over again. Your smile, and your gurgling laughter gives me a reason to live. You are my reason, Y/N. You are perfect."

You blushed. You wanted to believe him; the genuine look in his eyes, the soft smile on his lovely lips, and the gentle tone of his voice; it all made you want to believe him. But you couldn't bring yourself to do so. You couldn't give yourself any credit, and couldn't see the perfect, amazing parts of you that he saw. And he knew that. He could read it on your face. You were flustered by his words; he could see that. But he also saw the doubt. He saw the hesitance on your face.

So he did what he thought was best. He made love to you. He very passionately explained to you, all the best parts of you. He kissed every bit of skin, telling you just how much he adores every inch of you.

It did wonders to your confidence, too.

Now, instead of thinking that everybody hates you, you knew that atleast one person doesn't fully despise you, and that person was Dazai. Although it didn't quite work the way he wanted it to work, it still did something.

So he kept going, proving to you at every opportunity that you were perfect, and deserve all the love in this world.

Right now, staring at your doubtful eyes, he saw just how skeptical you were about your writing abilities.

He was going to change that.

"Say, Y/N, do you want a break?"

You tilt your head in consideration.

"I haven't even written a word yet..."

He smiled, saying,"Maybe your mind needs a refresher. Something to help unclog your thoughts."

He tugged on your wrist, beckoning you to follow him.

"Where are we going?"

He threw on his coat, helping you into yours.

"You'll see", he said, giving you a wink.

Walking down the lanes of Yokohama was one of your favorite pastimes.

Observing the people, the diverse culture and the beauty of the city filled you with content.

He took you to have your favorite ice-cream. The rich flavour and the way it melted on your tongue always made you feel happy.

"This is so yummy!!", you squealed, licking it.

Dazai chuckled ruffling your hair.

"Don't do that! It completely spoiles my look!", you say, trying to fix your hair.

"I love you so much..", he says, voice completely serious, his face adorning a charming but genuine smile.

You blush at the sincerity of his words, and smile.

Your little moment was interrupted by a furry ball running past your legs. The cat looked injured.

"Hey, hold onto this for a moment. I'll go check if that cat is hurt.", you say, handing your cone to Dazai.

He nods, as you begin running after it. He doesn't know why you care so much, but it's probably because of your big heart. Sighing, he begins walking in your direction slowly.

You try to catch up to the animal, turning a corner, and in the process, bumping into a small boy.

The ice-cream in his hands drops to the ground.

He looks at you, devastated and sad, and begins bawling his eyes out.

You try to apologize to him, promising to buy him a new one, but he just wouldn't stop crying. The loud noise of his cries and the exertion caused due to running made your breaths uneven. You tried to push it away, but you could feel your head pulsating with pain. A high pitched tone filled your ears. You tried to block the sound to get some relief, but to no avail. The intensity of the sound, the headache and the boys teary face made you drop to ground, and curl up against the wall.

'You are so useless. Whenever you try to help someone, you only end up ruining it. You always ruin things. Nothing you do is valuable. You cause so much pain to everyone around you. You can never make anyone happy. You are the cause of everybody's sadness. You are a disappointment. Pathetic, useless person.. Why are you even alive?'

Your thoughts were swallowing you. They were pulling you into a deep, dark hole, one that was draining your life out of you. You couldn't stop the shaking of your palms, your whole body trembled.

You didn't realize when the commotion stopped, or when or how the boy left the area, but you could hear a voice, a familiar voice, and you tried to hold onto it. You tried with your best efforts to clutch onto the one ray of light in the dark hole you were in. You used all your might and focused on those words. Slowly, you could make sense of them.

"Take deep breaths, Y/N. I'm here. Don't worry. Just focus on your breathing."

You did that. You tried to hear your own breaths.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

You were slowly crawling out of there, tuning out the thoughts that were trying to pull you in.

"Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in..."

You followed the voice, and felt the angry thoughts fade away.

Once you were almost in control of your mind, you tried to open your eyes, only a little bit. Through the tiny aperture, you saw soft brown orbs staring back at you. Dazai smiled at you, hesitantly raising his hand near your face. Silently asking for permission to touch you. You nuzzle your face in his palm. He slowly pulls you into a hug. Kissing your forehead, he picks you up, and begins walking home.

You snuggled against him, hiding your face in his chest, and closing your eyes.

He just wanted you to have a good time. He had messed up. But it's alright. As long as he was with you, he would help you get out of your spiraling thoughts. He would always be by your side. He would protect you, even if it meant from your own mind.

On reaching back home, he helped you change into comfortable clothes, and laid you on the bed, wrapping the comforter around your body to keep you warm. He made some soup and rice for you. He brought you a tall glass of water, too. He took complete care of you. He fed you the food, cooing you to have as much as possible. You needed the strength. You soon fell into a deep slumber, with his arms wrapped securely around your petite form.

Dazai held you close, and slowly rocked you. He observed your sleeping form, and felt so frustrated. He wanted to help you out of this, and he was trying his best to do so. He was taking small, baby steps, and they were working, too. But it was all too slow. He didn't want you to experience one more second of this. He wants you to never go through that again. But he knows that things like this take time. He's willing to sacrifice everything for you. He loves you, and will always love you, no matter what. He will not stop until you are free of the dark thoughts that plague your mind, and will, at every step, assure you that you deserve all the happiness and live in this world.

Because you matter to him. You mean the world to him. So he will hold you close, kiss your lips, and wipe your tears until you break free. He will walk through fire for you.

He looks down at your face, the way your eyes fluttered every now and then, and the way your rosy, delicate lips were slightly parted, the way a strand of your hair fell onto your face, and the way you looked so innocent and protected in his arms; it all made him love you even more.

He made a promise to you.

"I will always be there for you, my little lady. I will always love you, and will teach you to love yourself."

He kissed your forehead.

"I love you, my princess."

Sorry if this wasn't what you wanted! I tried my best...But do request again, if it isn't satisfactory!

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suchalonelysunflower · 4 years ago

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All I See (a.i)

Pairing: Ashton Irwin x Plus-size! Fem! Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: You are starting to feel insecure and your boyfriend, Ashton, helps you with that.

Warnings: Fluff and a bit of Angst. Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, sorry)

Word count: 1.3 k (short enough but not enough to be a blurb)

Author’s Note: This sums it up. Remember that Reblogs, Comments, Feedback and Likes are super important and you don’t know how much it helps ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋✨🌻

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

Anon : Hi lovely! I really love your writing and I was wondering if you could write some pure fluff with Ash and a plus sized girl? Maybe she gets insecure about her body and he makes her feel better 💖 thanks so much and I hope you have a great day!

“Babe!” Ashton called from downstairs as he started walking up to your room “We are still going tonight, right?”

Calum’s sister, Mali-Koa, is celebrating her birthday in a very known club in LA. She invited everyone she knows and even people she’s never met before, it was safe to say that she was going all out tonight.

You smiled at your boyfriend “Of course! Mali will kill us if we decide not to show up” You laughed “Plus, I was just about to start looking for my outfit, if you want to help you can stay”

Ashton smiled softly and walked up to you, placing a small kiss on your lips. It was funny how even though you’ve been together for a long time, every kiss still brought butterflies to your stomach.

He took a seat on the edge of the bed and clapped his hands together, excited about the options you would bring. You giggled at his childlike behavior as you started going through your closet, hoping you’d find the perfect outfit for tonight.

“I was thinking this one,” You said as you pulled out a black long-sleeved dress, it was flowy and soft and it reached just before your knees “with the black heels and-“

“Isn’t it too hot for sleeves?” Ashton interrupted a confused gaze set upon his eyes “Don't get me wrong, doll. I love the dress but I’m not sure you’ll be entirely comfortable in that”

He was right. Warm weather was settling in and you would barely survive in a club filled with sweaty people. If you wear that you would surely regret it immediately afterward.

You sighed “This is the only long-sleeved dress that I have, though”

Ashton noticed the hint of sadness in your voice, making him frown as you put the dress back in your closet and started looking for some shirts.

“What about this?” You asked again, taking a long-winged sleeved top and ignoring Ashton’s gaze “I have the black jeans that go with it, you know? The one that I bought with-”

“Okay, what is going on here?” Ashton finally asked, shaking his head as he tried to understand your reasoning.

You smiled nervously at him, trying to hide the pinch of anxiety that was starting to settle in your chest. “What do you mean?”

Ashton gave you ‘the look’ and you felt a shiver run down your spine. He knew something was up, he always knew and you loved and hated that at the same time.

Ever since you met you felt like he could read you like his favorite book. He knew everything about you, front and back, and now you feel like an idiot for trying to hide something from him, knowing that it wouldn’t have worked either way.

But how can you explain something like this to him? How can you explain a flaw to someone perfect?

Ashton saw the hesitation in your eyes and sighed “I’m not questioning your fashion choices, love. You have amazing taste. But what’s bothering me is that you are choosing every single item of clothing that could work if we were on the other side of the world” He stood up and walked towards you, softly grabbing your hand “You and I both know that you won’t be comfortable in these, even if you say you are and, last time we talked about this you had your eyes set on that beautiful short blue dress you love so much, saying that it was perfect for this occasion. So, tell me what’s wrong, doll. Maybe I could fix it?”

You looked into his hazel eyes, they were honest and with pure intentions, maybe that’s why you couldn’t hold up his gaze and ended up looking down.

“It’s not something you can fix, Ash,” You said with a tiny voice “I just- I don’t want to wear that dress”

“What made you change your mind? I swear that when you wear that dress your whole face glows with happiness” He said, giving you a small smile “But, it’s your choice, baby, and you don’t have to explain it to me if you don’t want to.”

He was about to pull away his hand from yours when he felt you tugged on it harder. Soon, Ashton's eyes found yours and he didn’t like what he saw.

Your glossy eyes were staring back at him, trying their hardest to contain the tears that were about to spill out of them. Without a word you took out the blue dress from the closet and placed it over your body facing the mirror.

“This made me change my mind,” You said, voice almost breaking when you caught your reflection.

You didn’t look at how teary your eyes were or how Ashton was staring at you with a confused and hurt gaze, already understanding what was going on. No, instead you were looking at your arms, your legs, and your tummy, finding every little flaw, every stretch mark, every molecule of fat completely intolerable.

“This dress makes my arms look like tanks, the long sleeves will cover them. My legs will be on display and I don’t want people to see how my thighs become jelly as I walk or sit or dance or -” You took a deep breath, drowning out the knot in your throat “And it will mark my tummy, showing every imperfection at clear sight. It’s not that I don’t want to wear the dress, Ash. It’s just that I can’t. I can’t let people see me like that when I’m feeling like this”

Ashton’s face was emotionless as he stared at your reflection. You could never tell what was going on inside his head, yet you’ve never seen such sad eyes on him.

He couldn’t understand how or why you saw yourself like that, all he sees is you in your most beautiful way, and it breaks his heart to see you cry because you don’t feel like that’s true.

“All I see,” He said, taking a step closer to you and softly rubbing his hands up and down your arms “Are the arms of the strongest person I know, the arms that can hold you in an embrace you never want to get away from”

Soon, he let his touch wander lower, caressing your thigh as he said “Every mark you see is beautiful; they show how human you are. They prove to me that you are real and not just a dream, cause if you were I know I wouldn’t want to wake up anytime soon”

Lastly, he rounded his arms around your torso, hands placed in your tummy as his face rested on your shoulder.

“All I see is you. Perfect, beautiful, strong, hot, and kind are just some adjectives to describe all that you are, and I’m just saying a few because you deserve the whole dictionary. You are beautiful in every way, my love. And it breaks my heart that you don’t see yourself the way that I see you”

You sniffed, lifting your hand to caress his cheek, eyes meeting through the mirror.

“You believe that?”

“It’s not something I believe, doll. It’s something I know”

You smiled through the tears as you brought your lips to his, believing in every word he said. Now you knew that whenever you didn’t love yourself as much, that Ashton will always have enough love for both of you.

“I love you,” He said softly, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“I love you more” You smiled “Now go! I need to change” You said with a laugh as you gripped the blue dress closer to your heart, knowing that everything will be alright.

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @sarcasticallywitty15 @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @notinthesameguey @myloverboyash @nicebasscalum @bubblegum18

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ginkgomoon · 4 years ago

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Helios- A Character Study

I have always been fascinated by Helios so I’m especially excited about this post! If there’s any other additional information you would like to add, ask, or discuss, feel free to send an ask or a post so I can adjust and clarify for you. But before that, I have other things I want to add that are important regarding my blog- I will be expanding and analysing other characters in MLQC, so not to worry Victor, Kiro and Lucien (and Shaw, Eli?, Savin?) stans! I has't not hath left thee! In addition, before every analysis/study that I do, I will post a hint (such a quote) that will foreshadow the upcoming character/topic I will be covering. I know it’s not necessary and literally nobody does it but this is great fun for me so I also want to try to make it fun for you guys to approach my blog and my work! This is a spoiler buffet. Please don’t read if you don’t want to be spoiled! This is probably the longest post ever on my blog so enjoy :)

“You either die a hero or live long enough to become a villain.” -The Dark Knight

Who is Helios?

??: Do you know what Helios means? The mocking in his face had returned. He suddenly came close and placed his hand on the window behind me. I was imprisoned in his arms and couldn’t move. His eyes drilled into my own. I felt that if I showed even the smallest hint of discomfort or fear, he would use that as an excuse to push me away. MC: Helios is the sun god from Greek mythology- ??: I don’t like that name.

Helios is the God of the Sun, sight and a guardian of oaths. He is seen to be riding a golden chariot to bring the sun across the skies each day from east (where the sun rises) to west (where the sun sets).

Kiro has lots and lots and lots of sun, light, dark and shadow imagery attached to him. Kiro is noted to be everyone’s sun, especially for MC and vice versa as she’s noted to be the one to chase the darkness away with Kiro following through. When he has those stage moments as his idol identity, it’s expected for him to be the guiding light (especially for his fans, the Kirophiles)- “the sun” and “hope” as to what “Kiro” represents, without any impurities associated with that persona. Which is ironic for Helios, who dressed mostly in black without the blonde hair, to have that same name as the God of the Sun working in BLACK SWAN- the organisation with the name literally having “black” in it as well.

“If Kiro is this exuberance and this life, Helios is the opposite of that. It’s what if we took someone who stopped finding reasons to be happy, who stopped finding a lot of things to be passionate about and was just trying to get on day by day- they react to the things that happen to them, rather than going out to look for adventure. Helios lacks a lot of emotion that Kiro has.” -Sean Chiplock, Kiro’s VA

Kiro and Helios

“If I had a dark side… I should hide it from others, right…? Can I really be imperfect?”

There had been a lot of discussion around Helios in relation to his transformation, whether he was acting and what Kiro’s connection with BLACK SWAN is.

To clarify, yes- Kiro is Helios. Helios is Kiro. Just like how Kiro admitted to MC that he’s also the hacker KEY. Helios is just one of the personas that Kiro has (which I will expand on in a future post). This, however, does not hinder negatively on Kiro’s personality, but introduces us to another side of him, one that shows effective in-depth characterisation. Especially when we first view him as the cheerful idol with the power to passively attract others. Kiro first gave off the certain impression to Sean Chiplock that you “don’t take off the calm and quiet person, because you don’t want to see the other side of them”.

Kiro and Helios, which one was the real him? Neither? Or both? -Clinic Date

Before MC has her first encounter with Helios, we have to look more into Kiro’s background and childhood.

Kiro was experimented on as a kid. He didn’t know his name, his birthday or where he came from. Through the experiments of genetic modification, he obtained his evol. Only when MC and the original KEY came to him, did he really strive to fulfil his sense of purpose of “we shall stand in darkness as we defend the light”, and also to protect MC back. His mentor used to be the original Helios, one of the twelve-ranking positions in BLACK SWAN, but went missing when Kiro was 15. Been given the name Kiro, using his idol identity, accepted this as Helios and as of the leader of BLACK SWAN to rid Leto- the true evil of the Season 1 timeline.

It is evident that he does genuinely care about his fans, his career and music despite all of this. This aspect of him is very much true (we see that he exposes a person scamming his fans in Chapter 3 and that in his various dates he dedicates his work to comforting his fans in their everyday lives). However, with this much love and support from everyone with very few knowing his true intentions and darker past, it is easy to “trip up” upon these identities, in a way that he would feel so lonely (as I reiterate what I said above) that everyone would think he’s the perfect man (not saying he isn’t because we all know he is!) without any troubles or experiencing difficulties climbing up the ranks to be where he is now- especially with his evol being charm and control. He would wonder if it’s really him or his evol making people act this way towards him (why he has this much love and attention).

In reality, every teacher who has met him adored him very much. But because of this, Kiro always remained in fear. From the beginning to the end, he had felt that the love and care from others was akin to smoke - surging at first, but from thereafter, dissipates gradually. -CN Stunning Young Idol Rumours and Secrets

He’s like a little sun with no dark spots at all. No wonder people say people say he has a super power. He seems to be loved by everybody… -Chapter 3-1

“A lot of people adore me, but only when I’m doing my thing on stage. They wouldn’t want to see me now...” -Visiting Hours Date

It would be incredibly hard for him to keep this standard and uphold these burdens with his identity as Helios and KEY as well- where everyone would believe those personas of him to be the “vice”- the “evil”, in morality play. Because when the people who love you only know and love this side of you, what becomes of you when you lose it all?

Superstar Kiro was a little angel who received the admiration and respect of thousands and thousands of fans. What the hacker KEY sounded like was someone with malicious intentions.

Kiro didn’t know which one of his identities was more famous. Though of course, nobody would correlate these two polar-opposite identities together. -CN Heavens Home for Children Rumours and Secrets

He always looked so carefree in front of people, smiling and laughing. But when he was alone in the corner, he always looked so solemn and tired. Countless times, Savin had wanted to talk to Kiro about his work, life and feelings but with just a few words, Kiro would always put him to ease. -That Boy Makes Me Worry Rumours and Secrets

However, behind his brilliant smile, I could occasionally feel something different. It was like paper that couldn't be penetrated. After all, he was a superstar. Ordinary people like us wouldn't understand their world, they must have one or two faces of their own behind the screen. -Secret Base Rumours and Secrets

In the makeup room, sitting on the sofa, Kiro had lost some shine he had under the spotlight and looked a little bit exhausted. -Confession Date

In a way, Kiro still staying so pure and happy when others are around is because he doesn’t want people to suffer like he did. He had an extremely rough time when he was young, but his beliefs, light and hope that MC gave him allowed him to fight for better days.

I then thought about the superstar Kiro many years later, who was always shining and effortlessly charming. This made me really sentimental. How many things must he have been through to become strong enough to bring light to other people? -Echoes of Time: Parisian Salon

She looked so pretty when she smiled, and she also had a father who loved her dearly. She was definitely… someone who deserved to live the most. -CN Top Experimental Subject Rumours and Secrets

His dazzling smile conceals something underneath, just like how the dazzling sun shrouds darkness underneath. Hidden in the depths of his own secrets are things even darkness doesn’t know of. If darkness had a mind of its own, it might think it doesn’t fit with this pure and simple youth. Just as how everyone thinks of him as a simple, innocent Kiro, the sunlight casted on him, able to pierce through him completely, with rays of light refracting onto the floor. Actually, since a very long time ago, he no longer was a youth… But now, for her sake, he’s willing to become a youth again. -CN Youthhood Rumours and Secrets

The thing I like most about you is that you never admit defeat and you always stay positive. Every time I see you it's like you’re this brilliant sun and I feel charged of energy. Maybe all the lonely times I’ve been through... was so that I could meet you. -Confession Date

When they were younger, they were together as test subjects for evol. MC promised him donuts. He gave her a stuffed teddy bear. Kiro tried to help MC escape but they got caught and separated. They had spent quite some time together, so Kiro would be able to recognise MC once they had met again. Kiro had to replace another child for a top experiment, and the workers thought he’d die anyway as he was too weak. But still, he had survived and became the first and only successful subject. MC showed him that there was kindness- light- that still existed in the darkest of places. And in the darkest parts of his heart, there was MC to light those areas up for him :)

“Look, this world is so beautiful, and you don’t need to be afraid anymore.” But till now, he has yet to find her. But he remembers her eyes. And one day, he will find her within a vast sea of people.

Kiro remains speechless- quietly listening to the little girl speak. The little girl struggles to pull on his hand. Their fingers interlock together, the warmth from her palm gradually coursing into Kiro’s heart. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.” Kiro turns to look at her - to look at her perseverant brown eyes, looking at how the corners of her lips turn upwards. Kiro slowly learns how to curl the corners of his own lips from her. It’s the first smile to have appeared on his face. “This time, I’ll be the one protecting you.” Kiro says excitedly. He stands outside the airport, staring directly at the sun. “I’ll find you, and protect you. I even have a mountain of souvenirs stored in my luggage- I’ll give them to you! And my purest heart - I’ll give it to you too!” -CN Youthhood Rumours and Secrets

Helio’s Transformation

“Because only you can awaken me from darkness, no matter when.”

When Kiro transforms to Helios, it mainly affects his physical appearance. His hair grows longer and changes to colour, and his black (and super cool) NIRVANA tattoo appears. When he is weak, the tattoo fades (seen in Clinic Date.)

Nirvana- a transcendent state in which there is neither suffering, desire, nor sense of self, and the subject is released from the effects of karma and the cycle of death and rebirth. It represents the final goal of Buddhism.

I looked at his silver hair. It looked very natural with no signs of hair dye. In the serene moonlight, it was very beautiful. It wasn’t dyed, and it didn’t look like it turned silver because of an illness or something. -Chapter 17

Helios’s ring also plays part of his transformation. This is ultimately connected to BLACK CABIN and the 1908′s White House Explosion- when evol was born. From this high-dimensional space, Kiro is able to take on as Helios- who also known to be BS’s first generation of god. He can change upon his will, and influences from BLACK CABIN/QUEEN can cause him to lose control.

The golden hair mixed with the bright silver. He raised his finger, and the silver ring flashed. He muttered quietly, as if speaking to the ring and to himself. -Behind The Curtain Part 6: After Returning

Moonlight shone through the window, illuminating his silver hair with a golden glow for an instant. He buried his face in his right elbow, and large beads of sweat formed on his brow, as if a kind of uncanny transformation was occurring. “NOT NOW!!!” He howled hoarsely, his eyes now golden in the darkness. Residual power inside the Quarantine zone appeared to be affecting him. Violent forces jolted in the tiny space, and coursed through his obsidian ring. -Night Watchman Rumours and Secrets

Chapter 14

He turned and looked at me, his face a pallid white. His smile was still gentle. Suddenly, I felt intensely uneasy.

MC: “We’re going in, right?”

Kiro didn’t answer, his eyes intent on me gleamed with a flash of golden light above. When I looked carefully, I discovered his eyes turned into this exquisite gold like pure amber, or crystallised time.

Kiro: “I command you…”

I have never heard him sound like this before. Stiff, stern and solemn.

“All within my range of control belongs to me. Now walk onto the rooftop, lock the door, and don’t let anyone in… including me... Don’t be afraid. You’ll be okay. I said before, I will definitely succeed this time. I will always protect you.”

In saying this, he believes that his own sacrifices are necessary, no matter what the situation is. Kiro is willing to dim or even smother his own light and sun for MC to be safe and happy.

A black figure suspended in the air behind Kiro, just like scythe-toting Death himself… I seemed to see a golden-winged bird fly by, like a ray of light crossing the sky, leaving a temporary light trail in my vision.

“Death”, “golden-winged bird”, and “light”.

This sentence was highlighted in the chapters’ outline from the chapter contents. This implies the symbolism of the phoenix bird- the mythical bird that rises from the ashes and is reborn again. Kiro was captured by BLACK SWAN as punishment and had undergone modification- and was resurrected as Helios.

Chapter 17

He was standing in front of me. Half of his face was hidden in the shadows, but I could see the sharpness of his eyes and eyebrows. He took the notebook away from my hands before I could finish my sentence.

As MC gets tied to the table, flashbacks from suppressed memories emerge. We see Kiro and MC together being test subjects. (Fun fact- Kiro and MC’s blood type is O!)

White walls. A deserted lab. A cold med table. And a blond boy with agony in his face. Next to him lay a brown-haired girl who was unconscious. …Was that me? I looked at the blood pouring out from the IV. Tears came from my eyes. Kiro… Our lives were connected long before. But where are you now?

She finally realises that Kiro was that boy from the orphanage.

AND I JUST REALISED SOMETHING. HAS HELIOS NEVER OUTRIGHTLY ADMIT THAT HE’S NOT KIRO? LIKE HE NEVER SAID “NO”??

MC: Are you really not Kiro?

??: How long are you going to keep calling me by that wrong name?

(Yes, it’s technically the wrong name because right now he’s called Helios but he’s also technically still Kiro!)

He didn’t sound particularly annoyed, but I felt saddened.

MC: I…

I looked at his face. Every line, feature- they resembled Kiro, but at the same time wasn’t.

MC: I’m sorry… I must be wrong…

I hung my head low. His face may resemble him, but his expressions were so unlike Kiro and I didn’t want to see that.

But my intuition told me that my hunch was not wrong. If that was correct, then one of my paths was already sealed.

Helios: What makes you think that I wouldn’t? You already know where I’m from. Why are you being so naïve? I shook my head. MC: Kiro wouldn’t do this to me… An unknown emotion flashed in his eyes.

Poor Kiro, having to pretend to not know MC and act so cold towards her. It must have been incredibly hard and painful for the both of them. Please just LET THEM BE TOGETHER.

Kiro isn’t risking MC see this darker side of him. He truly doubted if anybody would accept him as Helios, because he was just so used it before as an idol having to act so perfect on screen, showing everybody what they wanted to see.

“MC. Step a meter away from him, and close your eyes.

The golden flashes in his pupils were the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes.

“I command you to forget what just happened. And I command you to forget about me. Remember, I’m just Helios.”

My memories were being erased bit by bit. Kiro was fading from my sight. His smiles, his eyes, his warmth… all of them became vague like a fog and disappeared. I tried my best to hold onto them, but it was all in useless.

Kiro… Even the name I tried to hold on till last was wrenched away from me. He watched silently as MC closed her eyes and blacked out in his arms.

“I’m sorry…”

He apologised again quietly. His eyes that once held warmth and brightness were again now filled with shadows.

“I will find the truth that you’re looking for. I don’t want you to bear that heavy burden. I’ll come back to you some day, but not today. Don’t remember my dark sides. In your eyes, I will always remain Kiro to you. After I take care of everything, things can go back the way they were between us. This time, I’ll make sure that you don’t have to wait long.”

“He looked a lot like Kiro. But it wasn’t him.”

In my palm was a small candy glistening in the sunlight. On impulse I unwrapped the paper and put it in my mouth.

MC: Apple flavour…

It somehow crossed my mind that it was Kiro’s type of flavour.

He wants MC to still have faith in him, and to trust in his abilities to protect her, as the candy is a motif for their relationship and exchange towards each other. (This was the same back in the orphanage when they were together too.) However, as his identity as Kiro, not the Helios she encountered. (Dramatic ironyyyy)

“We shall stand in darkness as we defend the light.”

Thorns Date

In the photo, Kiro looked completely different from what he usually looked like. On the glistening water, a youth held a birdcage, with a glint of melancholy in his drooping eyes. This was the last set of photos before quitting.

Kiro asked for my praise with shiny begging eyes, as if the prior sorrow and blue were all my illusions.

We stood very close to each other, yet at this moment, I felt there was a formed gap between us.

“MC, do you think the imprisoned bird can get out of the cage?”

There seemed to be a ray of golden light flashing through my mind but I couldn't catch it. (The thought that Helios came to see her?? Yes.)

I remember his distance, his apathy, yet puzzling familiarly.

Helios saw the magazine falling from my bag, his face flashing with complicated emotions I couldn’t comprehend. And I felt the familiar feeling of being touched deep in my soul.

“You like gazing at me a lot.”

Standing at the edge of the dark abyss, he opened his arms and leaned backward without hesitation. He fell straightly like a folded winged bird in the moment. (Similes, metaphors and symbolism galore!)

I sat on the ground limply and closed my eyes to avoid the dazzling light. This scene felt so familiar as I had experienced such a farewell.. Why?

My senses told me this man was Helios, yet the feelings from deep of my heart were so real.

“Helios! Do you… know how the imprisoned bird can get out of the cage?”

“Why do you think I will answer this question?” Behind such eyes, there seemed to be something else I couldn’t make out in the shadow.

I seemed to see him unfold a pair of black wings on his back and about to flutter away. No more cages could imprison him and nothing could make him stop. Helios walked from the bright light into the shadow.

He recalled her last question and her sad and confused eyes. Suddenly he recalled an ancient story. There was a kind of bird. It was always trapped in the thorns of fate from the moment of its birth. If the most beautiful thing was doomed to be exchanged with the deepest pain. He would overcome all obstacles to come back to her. And be her sun again.

The story that Helios recalled could be The Nightingale by Hans Christian Andersen.

In Ancient China, one of the forests lived a nightingale, who sang so beautifully everybody would stop and listen. The nightingale was renowned to be the best wonder out of all the things that the travellers abroad had ever seen. However, the Emperor of China didn’t know that such a bird existed, and demand to have it found.

The bird had come willingly to sing for the Emperor, singing so sweetly that tears came out of everybody’s eyes. The nightingale lived in the court thereafter, until one day the Emperor had received a mechanical copy of the bird, golden with precious gems and all. The nightingale had left, and all the courtiers had said that it was an ungrateful creature. It was therefore banished from the empire.

The mechanical bird had stopped working, only being able to play once every year. Five years had passed, and the Emperor fell ill that nobody expected him to live. Death had arrived to the Emperor as he prayed for the bird to sing a note. The living nightingale had appeared again, and had come to sing out of trust and hope for the Emperor. Death went to look at the Emperor’s renowned garden as the Emperor was thankful for the bird’s singing. She sang again, and the sun rose through the window and as everybody thought the Emperor had passed. The Emperor wanted the nightingale to stay by his side but it refused. It cannot live in the palace, but promised to visit the Emperor to sing to him.

Similar to Chapter 14, in this date, Kiro is represented as the bird, trapped in the cage. He had to release what everyone wanted him to be- Kiro, the shining sun/bird trapped in the cage under their control- ironic how his evol is absolute control because his charm would have drawn people this way in as a result. And the only way to be free was to be resurrected, to escape, to disappear from public view- to become free as Helios.

Light Pursuit Date

“Will you forget me?”

Kiro was becoming faint like a water mist. Panicking, I reached out to grab him but he slipped away from my fingers. An invisible wall had come between us and I couldn’t get close to him. This one step was like an unbridgeable gap between us, but it was like a line that we could never cross.

Will I forget Kiro? That sudden question in my head became clearer, and made me tremble in panic.

He had the name of a sun god, but even I couldn’t feel any bit of warmth.

MC: What is Helios here for?

Helios: We meet again, MC.

This was the first time that Helios called me by my name. He was brusque as ever, but there seemed to be a small amount of yearning in his voice. He did not act the way like the Helios that I used to know. His attitude and manners were surprisingly refined… like he was acting out a whole different persona.

The music changed into Por Una Cabeza- the tango song that I was very familiar with.

(I absolutely love the intertextuality that the game has. It’s a Spanish tango song that was also appeared in Scent of a Woman starring Al Pacino where the tango scene featured a blind man dancing with a woman who didn’t know how to dance and was scared of making mistakes. This correlates perfectly for MC and Helios. MC’s body is reacting to Helios as if he was Kiro...)

I didn’t drink, but I felt drunk somehow. Otherwise how else would this reachable warmth and illusion of intimacy familiar?

We were so close to each other, but the distance between us was only one step away, but a step we could never cross.

Helios looked up when he heard my voice. His eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. His blue eyes wavered like a lake sprinkling with sunlight. Surprisingly, there was sorrow, and naivety in those usually unfeeling eyes.

He lowered his head and his chin rested on my shoulder. I have never seen Helios so vulnerable. His hands were wrapped around my waist, leaving no space between us. Helios didn’t answer and continued to keep me pressed to his body. There was a deep aura of loneliness and bitterness about him that was barely discernible from his cold exterior.

Because to me, you were familiar to someone I deeply care about. Because my soul resonates when I am close to you. Because…. of a ridiculous assumption. Did I reach the edge of truth? Or was I just deceiving myself? A thick fog was obscuring me from seeing the truth clearly. I didn’t continue talking or thinking. MaybeI was so vaguely aware that this was the closest I could get to him. Only one step away but a distance I could never close.

MC is also scared. She’s in turmoil. She wants to know the truth but she’s also sitting on the fence with it. Especially due to the memory wipe. It’s like, “maybe it’s better if I don’t,” and “I think you are that someone I care so much about but I can’t be sure about it because even if I ask you, you won’t tell me, and I don’t know what to do.”

Stardust Date

Kiro: That’s right. I’m going to a far, far place. And I will stay there for a very long, long time. Don’t cry when you start missing me. MC: I’m not going to cry!

Kiro: But I will. So promise me, alright? Don’t forget me, even if I leave.

Two days afterwards, I heard him talk to someone on the phone. I’m pretty sure it was his voice, but it sounded like he was a completely different person.

What was he trying to hide? Did it have anything to do with his “leaving”? Was it out of his own will or was he involved in something under duress?

The confident smile on his face as he glided his fingers across the keys fluently, showed his passion for this show. As songs were played after another, he became more focused. I could tell from his expression that he was fully immersed in this performance. As long as he was given a stage and music, he’d become the centre of attention no matter what position he was in. However, the more passion I saw, the more I was scared for his “leaving”. He is the sun- what will happen to his supporters when they lose him? And what about me? What will happen to me?

Light and Shadow Phone Call

MC: Is that melancholy in your voice? It’s unlike you to be down like this.

Kiro: Really? Does everyone think I’m that shallow?

MC: Of course not. But you are the brightest and warmest sun, so it’s easy to be touched by your optimistic side first.

Kiro: But right now, the sunlight is getting too strong that it’s scorching…

MC: Hmm? Is it? right now it’s sunset where you are?

Kiro: Yes. I’m sitting atop of Namibia’s Dune 45 and everything is red. Even the sun is sinking low.

MC: Soon, it will sink beyond the horizon.

Kiro: Yes… Miss Chips, Since you say I’m like the sun, and the sun eventually sets...

Kiro: If I have a dark side, I should hide it from others, right?

MC: Why should you hide it?

Kiro: Because, I don’t want to show you and I don’t want to disappoint others.

MC: But you’re just you, Kiro.

Kiro: I am who I am?

MC: Yes. Why can’t a sun have shadows? Even the real sun has sunspots! People who really care for you will love both the warm sunny side and the occasional dark, depressed side.

Kiro: But I always feel...

MC: Everyone has a side they want to hide in the shadows. No one is expected to be required as perfect. That applies to my little sun as well.

Kiro: Can I really be imperfect?

MC: Absolutely. To me, all sides of you are worth cherishing.

Kiro: Thank you, MC.

MC: What’s there to thank?

Kiro: Because… only you are willing to see the weak and plain side that I’m hiding and accept both my light and my shadow.

MC: That’s why I’m your own personal tree hole! I’ll keep your sorrows tucked away for you!

Kiro: Thank you Miss Tree Hole. I’m so lucky to have you. In fact, you are my sun who gives me light to embrace the world every morning. Thank you, for always being there by my side.

This call is so significant for Kiro, and his battle between light and dark. After his evol went out of control, he’s afraid of hurting his fans and MC. Similes and metaphors are used to compare his evol/different personas as the sun and how it will soon go down. He confronts the truth that he will also have to leave the public view soon, and uses this opportunity of the call to confirm what MC thinks if he had imperfections/shadow sides. And of course, to thank her before he leaves.

Chapter 21 (Winter World)

He was so fast that his moves were a blur. He dodged every attack and landed his own with grace and strength. It was like watching a silver moonlight dancing in flowing moves.

“You seem to be completely ignorant about how weak you are.”

I was trapped in a little cage he made with his body against the wall. The cruelty in his face crumbled the last of my shields. he didn’t stop there. He leaned in with his whole body hemming me into the confined space he created.

Helios: Weaklings should learn to survive on their own. No one will teach you that.

MC: I don’t want to be a weakling forever.

Helios: Then you better figure out how to become stronger.

He dropped his sarcastic tone. Instead, each syllable fell from his mouth with upmost earnestness.

Helios: Use all your strength. Every method you can think of. Abandon your past...even abandon yourself. If you can’t do that, then just go back tot the world you came from.

1562 clutched tightly on his friend’s blanket, refusing to let go. However, in the end, he was shoved onto the ground because his strength was too weak. He had collided so hard that he couldn’t get up for a long while. -CN Top Experimental Subject Rumours and Secrets

If MC hadn’t come, then there would be no real sun in his life. He would only have artificial light. And he would be right- Helios would be just Helios. He wouldn’t bother much about fans or music, but using this identity to climb the system. He had to learn the hard way on how to survive. Nobody was there for him, thus it would be harder for him to feel empathy towards others in situations other than this.

The sun had risen completely. The increasing bright light drowned everything that belonged in the darkness. Helios remembered that day a long time ago. In the darkness, the withered hand touched his head and said faintly, “become Kiro, be the so-called “sun”.

At that time, he had lowered his eyes, nodded blankly, and simply walked out into the night, emitting a false light that was not his own. But today… Helios looked off into the distance, and seeing the dazzling morning light, he remembered the girl… At that moment, he saw the real sun. -Between Light and Darkness Rumours and Secrets

From “Behind The Curtain”, MC fell into the space-time gap and was saved by Helios. Even though he couldn’t see her as they were in different dimensions, she could be influenced by him. This wasn’t the first time that he’s tugged on that bond tying them together to BLACK CABIN. Thank you Helios also for helping bring MC back to her original world.

Chapter 28

Kiro: You should know about everything that I’ve done.

MC: I know that... you’re Helios.

Kiro’s eyes flickered and blinked at me. The golden hair under the now eclipsed sunlight seem to have an extra glow to it. Kiro: Is my name really that important?

MC: Why did you hide it from me? I trusted that you would tell me. That no matter what name you had, you really wouldn’t change...

Kiro: If a superhero were to turn into an arch-villain, would those who always believed in him lose hope? What he want most is for you to be a fairy, free of all cares. Not getting hurt, not getting worries, whose only responsibility is receiving signals and joy and happiness.

Kiro: However, if she is determined to go do something difficult, and she wants to bear this burden on her own... then I wish for her to be a little superhero, who can fly through it all with ease.

Chapter 29

“Don’t get all angry. The person beside you didn't even notice any difference between us. Or put it another way, it seems that “you” aren’t important in this role that you’re playing. Anybody can replace you.” -Anole

Anole is wrong (and just jealous). MC did notice, and plus, he probably wouldn’t have survived in the top experiment that Kiro had undergone in the orphanage. That was something only Kiro would have survived, with his willpower and determination in his heart to make a better life for himself and MC- something that Anole clearly lacks.

I had never seen Helios laugh before. His smile wasn't as dazzling as his golden-haired counterpart’s, but one could say that if the former him was the sun, then his smile was now a gentle moon.

THE IRONYYY. Helios is finally okay with showing this side of him to her, from watching her go through trials and tribulations in the Winter World with the other Helios- of course he wouldn’t want any danger to be near MC, but knowing that she can handle anything after all that she went through, he now knows that it’s better for her to be with him instead. Also he learnt how to smile from her and now he’s smiling again as Helios and I’m just so happy

Whether in the face of violent, nefarious enemies or a wave of blood and bullets, he’d never shown any fear. I got the feeling that he was somehow nervous, or even afraid. Was it because he had to return into the spotlight, back the shower of roses and applause?

Well… when he decided to give all that up and step into the darkness with no turning back, what was he thinking then?

He leaned on the wall and rested awhile, staring intently at the black tattoo on his right arm… he looked at himself in the mirror. His silver strands of hair were tingled with gold, as if bathed in sunlight. And for only that one time, he didn’t avert his gaze from the desire in his eyes. It was like looking at a self portrait—so distant, yet so familiar. It was only now that he realised: this was the moment in his life most worth reliving. Once again, he had become Kiro.

In the PV/Karma (photo down below), we see him wearing black- not as Helios but as Kiro! Again, ironic how he’s holding a comeback concert he’s wearing black, a colour that represents darkness and shadows. It had been noted in the Snooper Rumours and Secrets that this is way out of Kiro’s style wardrobe. However, this signifies a range of things. The two personas are “merging” as he no longer hides this persona to MC- they’re one in the same. It has always been this way and will never change. The colour black also means power and authority, but can mean fear and grief. This is the same outfit when Kiro was doubting himself in the Light Pursuit Date as well.

Right now, if we’re talking moon phases, Kiro right now is in “the void”. Meaning he’s “nowhere”. He’s Kiro but he’s also operating as Helios. He feels nervous to go back but it does come so natural for him to be in the spotlight. He feels stuck at crossroads with himself, especially when he got forced back to perform by Anole.

Ultimately, it’s like he’s saying “no matter what becomes of me, I will always stay true to you.” And I think this is perfectly translated as Kiro says,

“Miss Chips, wait for me.”

(”Wait for me as I fight for us both. So you don’t have to suffer.”) But we suffer either way.

His light and sun has always come from MC. He will always keep running towards his sun, no matter which persona he embodies. This, we can be certain on. (New Season 2 Chapters please don’t oppose this LOL.)

“I await you at the end of the opposite path.”

#26 pages long #I actually love his voice so much #mlqc #mlqc kiro #mlqc helios #helios #mr love queens choice #love and producer #mlqc cn #mlqc en #恋与制作人 #mlqc analysis #mlqc translation #mlqc zhou qiluo #zhou qilou #kiro #mlqc spoilers

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mikaze-discord · 3 years ago

Text

Class S: Love letters

This is the Class S+ Cecil love letters!!

Please enjoy under the cut

TOKIYA ICHINOSE

From Riri:

Maybe it was his midnight-blue hair, or perhaps it was his ocean eyes, but the very moment I laid my eyes upon him my mind immediately thought, “Wow, he’s very good looking… charming... I really like his vibe.” That was the first reason why he piqued my interest, rather, the initial reason why I fancied him. My eyes were drawn to him and the fact that Kay bombarded me with a truckload of his pictures didn’t help at all, I just fell deeper into the hole. But as if that wasn’t enough, she started spamming me with utapri songs and I fell in love immediately. They are all such good singers but there’s one of them who sticks out to me the most, as expected, it’s Tokiya. His voice has this intricate and refined softness that seemed to caress my ears and touch my soul. He has such a sweet (and might I add a handsome) voice, kudos to Miyano Mamoru for that.

So I started watching the anime and through that, I got to know him better. At first, he seems cold with an air of loneliness and uneasiness dawning on him. But as the series progresses, I discovered that he’s a good-natured, warm, and dedicated person who loves singing and music with all his heart and all. He’s hardworking, dedicating everything to his craft. He has pride in it, so when he was told that his singing has no ‘heart’ it affected him a lot. That caused a lot of distress in his system, and the fact that his company is pushing him to pursue other things than being a singer added to that. His passion for his craft is burning, a fire that no one could put out. That’s one of the things that I love about him. He’s dedicated to everything he does. He’s a perfectionist but he’s also a caring person who cares a lot about the starish members. He’s genuinely a good person but that doesn’t mean he’s perfect. He strives for improvement and development all the time. He helps the members whenever they need. Most importantly, his attitude towards his passion is respectable and admirable.

I might’ve said a lot of things but I guess that only means I love a lot of things about him. He’s such a beautiful soul that inspires me to be more dedicated to my passion, to make my dreams come true no matter what it takes. His path towards his dream was rough, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows but that’s life, isn’t it? Despite that, he kept walking towards his dream. He’s admirable, respectable, and irresistibly loveable. That being said, I love all the things that made his character; that made Tokiya Ichinose be the kind of character that he is right now.

PS. Miyano Mamoru played a big part too. His insane talent gave life to Tokiya’s character.

From @poorlydrawnutapri:

When I first watched the Utapri anime like 6 years ago, having a best boy didn't cross my mind. At first, I was just most interested in Tokiya out of all the boys because I just thought he looked cool. I liked how mysterious he seemed and also, his hair, probably just because it was blue tbh. Either way, good design.

However, what really got me attached to him wasn't his looks. I then liked Tokiya's serious personality. I like how he starts off cold and stoic but how throughout the games and anime, he slowly softens up. I didn't just like his personality, I could also relate to his perfectionism and hard-working side, even when he exhausts himself, which is something I admit I also have. I continue to relate to him now after all this time, and that's why he's such a good character to me.

Besides that, his songs are nice to listen to and he has just a very pleasant voice. It's nice just to go listen to his voice after a long day. In a way, liking Tokiya also got me into the whole Utapri franchise: made some friends, made a couple of good memes, all that kinda stuff.

Also, I feel like it's a crime not to mention this so: he thicc. Like, dang, no wonder the guy only eats salads because all the fats he eats goes straight to that ass of his. (I am sorry that you had to read that.)

Overall, I just think he's neat. To me, he's relatable and has a nice character development. Tokiya is and will continue to be my best boy. :)

REN JINGUJI

From @incorrect-jinguji-ren:

Ren Jinguji, the 5th member of Starish is without any shame my favorite character of the Uta no prince sama series. Though often disregarded Ren is and always will be my most favorite and I firmly believe that he has one of the most, if not the most depth in his character. I love Ren a lot however because of his surface charismatic attitude he is usually labeled as a “playboy” or a “lothario”. This is not correct and it should never define him, as he actually is one of the most gentle and compassionate characters of the series. Ren has a very deep surface characterization and personality that is never usually recognized unless you truly take the time to understand WHY Ren acts the way he does, and WHY he makes the choices that he makes. My favorite part about loving characters is being able to accept them for their demons and embrace what others would see as the “imperfections” in them. That Is the best way to truly love them. I love Ren because of his motives, choices, and most of all his passionate loving heart. Although the pain he hides and the personality of who he really is, is hidden under a mask of charisma, he never loses himself deep within.

He’s misunderstood, but he’s beautiful. He’s so deep, from the everlasting devotion to loving his passed on mother, to always cherishing memories and the past bond he had with his childhood best friend Masato, to going against what his brother wants of him because he wants to fight to have a choice and to be passionate about something that he wants to love, because HE wants to love it. Ren didn’t have the love that a lot of people had at such a young age, he made a path for himself and along the way succumbed to the human faults that we all falter from within the hardest times in our life or even dicult events. He almost gave up, just as I know many of us had almost done before, as I know and can relate to, and still do now.

But he dusted himself o and picked up where he left o, making himself happy from once the feeling of being a hollow shell with no reason why he even existed to realizing that the most important thing in the world to him was cherishing the people who made him see the world in colors and seeking the choices that had been stripped from him at such a young age. He broke free from the chains of his family, his past, and his regrets to spread a beautiful pair of rose wings, his own wings to fly. And I hope he always flies. I will always love him, and wish nothing but the best for him whatever that be.

From @chips-and-vodka:

Ren Jinguji- the sexy, charming and flirty member of the STARISH boys. The youngest of the Jinguji family, a troubled child who grew up without a mother. A person who possesses many charms and is blessed with the gift of beauty. A red rose he was, beautiful yet his thorns are to be avoided. Beneath his passionate and seductive mannerisms there is a boy that craves genuine affection, from the one he truly adores and cherishes.

Ren Jinguji to me initially was one with a beautiful, attractive deep baritone, who is voiced by none other than the legend- Suwabe Junichi himself. The voice is an accurate fit of how this stereotype of a charming bishie should be, youthful and sensitive, and at times warm and seductive. His portrayal brings out the appeal of the character, the emotions and thoughts a troubled young adult such as the ‘useless third son’ lived through. Many would see him as a romantic one, one who showers those around him with attention and passion. Within however lives a rebellious soul who distrusts many, but still somehow desires that ray of sunshine that brightens his lonely soul.

Ren Jinguji is one that deserves real love, someone who appreciates him for who he is.

SYO KURUSU

From Jules:

Why do I like Syo, huh? Well, there are a lot of reasons! Some of them are more personal ones. First of all, Syo has always been my best boy, since UtaPri (the anime) exists. So ten long years now.

His fashion style is the first thing I noticed and it immediately intrigued me. I remember that my first thought, after seeing him in season one, was “Woah, he looks really cool!” even though Syo was just in his school uniform! I think what also made me interested in him was his energetic persona. The way he looked up to Ryuya Hyuga and wanted to follow in his footsteps was really sweet to me as well. Syo’s enthusiasm and positive attitude actually encouraged me to become stronger in a way too, if I’m being honest. I, personally, have always found his songs motivating and they made me feel better. I really came to love Syo in his episode in season one. When he talked about his childhood and how weak he was, I really felt with him. From that moment on I cheered him on and Syo definitely became my favorite character. My interest never wavered over the next seasons either.

I also have personal reasons why I love him so much. I just feel very connected and relate to him a lot, y’know? We have quite a few things in common. Syo and I have the same eye color, we have both played the violin since we were little, and were born weak and with pretty much the same health and heart issues. I like to say that Syo “saved” me, which is true. There is also the fact that the blonde and I are both on the shorter side (and regularly get teased for it), too! Though, I’m even a little shorter than him.

But to be more positive again, there is just so much more to him than meets the eye at first! Syo is more than just the stereotypical short sporty character. He really cares for his friends and wants the best for them. Syo’s friendship with every STARISH member is different but still close. He’s also protective of the ones around him. Syo really cares about his little twin brother too, which can be seen in the games and the few times he talked about him in the anime. Syo’s big heart easily balances out his, sometimes, tsundere behavior and I love him for that. This blonde idol is just a great guy and deserves all the love he’s getting and more.

Seriously, stan Syo Kurusu, guys!

From Vic:

Syo Kurusu is my favourite idol within the utapri games and any other form of media pertaining to the franchise. He is my favourite idol because of several factors, one of which being that his voice actor is Hiro Shimono, who voices Zenitsu from Demon slayer and Lucifer from “Devil is a part timer”. Syo is a very outgoing character and is talented in many aspects athletically. Born with a heart disease, he continues to persevere throughout the myriads of life’s problems in front of him.

He’s extremely outgoing and is proficient in the martial art of Karate and desires to strengthen his body more than what it is currently. He is best friends with Natsuki and can communicate with each other proficiently. Syo is my favourite character within the franchise because of his resolve, perseverance and great chemistry with Natsuki and his teammates. Hiro Shimono did the character justice by making his voice one of young, adventurous and energetic. With that said, Syo is a character I truly enjoy within the franchise and wish to see more of him.

CECIL AIJIMA

From Anon:

Greetings, princes and princesses, and welcome to a world of princes, questionably talking cats, and magic! I’m of course talking about Cecil Aijima, our foreign prince of UtaPri! So, why do I like Cecil Aijima? It’s borderline ridiculous, but it’s because of Cecil’s birthday. More specifically, Cecil’s Birthday Cruise card. But, I should start at the beginning.

Back when I first watched the anime, I thought Cecil was a little bit of a brat towards literally everyone, and one of my least favorites at the time. After watching through the rest of the anime though, I started to like him a lot more than I did before. To me, he had matured a lot after season 2, and never turned back to that bratty self. And so, when playing SL, he might not have been my favorite, but I didn’t hate him. Then, that one fateful day, I decided to pull in his birthday gacha. To my surprise, I had gotten the card in my first pull! Then the story dragged me into the Cecil Appreciation Group. I thought the story was incredibly cute. Then I got more Cecil cards so I could read more stories. Then the cycle repeated itself again. And now, well, if I’m writing this, I think you know what happened to me afterwards. I’ll be here, doing my best for him.

From Eden:

The boy with childish like demeanor but continues to have a heart of gold for his friends and wonderful composer.

I remember first watching Utapri in middle school and questioning. "Well shit- this is my life now..." and I didn't really have a favorite character at the time. I was always bouncing between characters like Syo, Otoya, even the teachers. However it was season 2 that made me realize who my true favorite was. Despite his at first cocky nature when he was first introduced, Cecil to me was amazing! His singing was magical, his origins even more fascinating. You wouldn't think Utapri would turn that down the magic route but it somehow did.

As the seasons went on, and as I got more into the series, he just became more of a love to me. His kindness and child-like nature and curiosity, he felt different than the other characters.

I love the other characters, yes but him?

Something about him just felt right! He not only seems to be a protector for those he cares about but also feels like he would be the best person to be around. Always wanting to do anything new and exciting just to peak his curiosity and to learn more. Ever since then, he has always been my favorite. The one and only Annapolis Prince, Aijima Cecil.

#utapri #utanoprincesama #uta no prince sama #Tokiya ichinose #ichinose tokiya #ren jinguji #jinguji ren #syo kurusu #kurusu syo #Cecil aijima #aijima cecil

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